A Dangerous Captive (Completed)

26. Silver Masks

I'm Afraid Of Americans - BONES UK

(edited)

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Adelaide

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Though when I looked back into his eyes, ready to turn away and retire to my chair, his gaze held me captive for a fleeting moment.

His eyes told me something that he didn't need to say aloud for me to understand.

This isn't over.

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No matter how much my body ached for rest, it never came, leaving me agitated and impatient in the morning.

Translation, I wasn't in the mood to deal with other people's bullshit.

Unfortunately for me, it didn't matter what I wanted to do, it's what I needed to do.

With a heavy heart and a cup full of coffee stronger than a bodybuilder, I let myself be dragged by Malcolm into a secluded room.

Instead of sitting down, I leaned casually against a wall, careful not to alert the sniper of what was in the pocket of my baggy cargo trousers.

Silence settled in the room and neither of us dared break it, me staring at my coffee, Malcolm staring at his hands.

A few more moments of silence passed before Malcolm finally had the guts to break it.

"Why'd you do it?"

He slowly lifted his up and look at me from where he was sitting, his body tense. When his eyes met mine, I had to smother a smile.

It seemed like he was afraid of little old me.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

His jaw clenched at my veiled answer.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

I took a sip from my mug and rested my head against the wall keeping my eyes trained on his face.

"I'm afraid I don't, could you be more specific?"

If it was even possible, his jaw clenched further and his fingers turned white from the pressure he was exerting on them.

Inside, I was jubilant that I managed to get under the skin of a man who had so effortlessly riled me up only a few days ago.

Power is a thrilling thing to have.

"I-," he sighed and raked his hands through his hair, huffing in frustration.

I let a small smile pass through my poker face at his discomfort. 

It was time.

"Well, Malcolm, I have a question for you too."

He lay his hands on his knees again and looked at me expectantly.

I took another sip of my coffee.

"Was it you that shot the first twin?"

He seemed confused at first, his eyebrows furrowing before he quickly covered it up with a stoic expression.

His eyes scanned my face, processing not only my words but my body language.

Smart man.

"Yes."

My right eyebrow quirked up in surprise and he took it as permission to recount his steps.

"Well, I thought that the time you had given me would be too predictable so I took the liberty to change the time I shot."