I'll Help You Hide From Them

Aftermath

I groan weakly when I come to again, suddenly terrified when I feel arms dragging me. It takes me a moment to be able to open my eyes and make sense of what's happening. I see a tall man with dark hair pulling me along the floor by my ankles.

My body tenses up and I start struggling, pretty sure that this is an assassin sent by the shooter. The guy stops before dropping me. I frantically try crawling away but feel something being slammed against the back of my head again, sending everything into darkness.

-

When I wake up again, I almost instantly scream for help but recognise the voice talking to me.

"Detective, how are you feeling? Why the hell did you leave the safehouse?" The security guard, O'Malley, asks me, sounding a little annoyed.

"I had to do something." I murmur despite the throbbing pain in my skull.

"Don't do it again, it's only by chance that I found you when I did." He adds, getting me to follow a light to be sure that I'm not too badly concussed.

I don't answer but focus on the light attentively.

"Come on, you're fine, you should know you scared your friend to the point of tears." He reminds me.

"I did?" I check.

He nods, helping me to my feet and walking me to his car. As we're walking, I start to question what happened.

What if this security guard is also in leagues with the shooter? He might have said he was honoured to meet me but it could just be so he can silence me when I'm at my weakest.

At this point, the knowledge that I'm being paranoid doesn't seem as silly as it usually does.

How much is Kier paying him to make a fool out of us?

"You're lucky that I passed my medical training with flying colours so that I can treat those other injuries of yours." He adds sourly as he starts driving.

"None of them are serious." I mutter.

He sighs, changing the gears on the car. "I had this one tough case where I was protecting someone who was looking to harm themselves, they were completely suicidal, you see? Be honest with me, do you want to end your life?" He asks me gravely.

Is there a right way to answer that?

"I don't really know for sure." I murmur nonchalantly.

He gives me a sorry look as we keep driving. We stop after twenty minutes for him to search me to make sure a tracker wasn't planted on me while I was unconscious. Once he's sure that there's nothing he gets me into another car for security reasons again.

With the thought that he could be in leagues with the shooter, I analyse his appearance. His short black hair almost has a military style to it, giving him a much meaner look. Any faith I have that I can survive a dangerous situation with him as my enemy is crushed when I look at his ripped arms. Part of me is thankful that he's wearing a shirt over a vest to spare me from being intimidated by what I'm pretty sure will also be a muscly torso as well.

If he wanted to, I think he could actually rip off my head.

"How did you find me?" I murmur nervously.

"What do you mean?" He asks me.

"I was dumped in the middle of nowhere. I didn't know where I ended up but you were there when I came to." I point out.

He looks frustrated by this. "I've got connections on the streets. If someone under my care goes missing, I can organise an unofficial but effective manhunt for them. Someone of your description was seen by the river. If I had been there later the tide would've drowned you." He explains.