Page 12 of Under His Control

To someone who doesn’t know her, it would seem far-fetched she’d go to such lengths. They would be wrong. I witnessed her outstanding acting eight years ago.

“If that were true, shouldn’t you be at the hospital?”

“That’s where she was before I brought her here,” Officer Brent says, his expression unfriendly. “Though I’m starting to think that was a bad idea.”

It was.

“Did you see the accident?”

“I responded to her emergency call and saw her damaged vehicle.”

Is the cop in on it too? Is he even really a cop? I scrutinize his uniform. WENORA POLICE is written in curved text on his badge, and his utility belt isn’t for show. A police cruiser is also parked behind my car.

“This wasn’t my first choice,” Penelope says. “I was going to stay at a motel but it’s closed. I just need somewhere to sleep for the night. Nothing else. I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

Sure, I’m less suspicious she’s lying about the accident. It’s still foolish to let half of a pair of traitors into my house when the other half is probably waiting somewhere for their turn to strike. Since I already likened Penelope to a scorpion, I’d be the dumbass frog carrying her on my back.

But it’s hard for me to tell her to get lost again as I hold her gaze. She’s waiting for me to reject her. The unsettling sorrow in her brown eyes reminds me of the first time I met her twelve years ago.

I remember thinking, Who hurt you, sweetheart? Why are you so sad?

I felt this deep compulsion to comfort her and told a stupid joke I can’t recall now. It earned me a tiny smile, yet it had felt like a victory.

Without a word, I step aside and widen the door. This is probably a bad idea but turning my back on her seems worse. Penelope was like a daughter to me for three years. I used to care about her once. A small, reluctant part of me still does despite her betrayal.

Gratitude shines in Penelope’s eyes and she takes a step forward. Officer Brent grabs her upper arm, stalling her. An inexplicable urge to bend his fingers backward until he’s howling like the wind comes over me.

“You sure about this?” he demands. “My offer still stands—”

“I’m sure. Thanks for everything, Officer Brent.”

Penelope tugs her arm out of his grasp and steps over the threshold. Officer Brent levels another glare on me. I return it. Fuck this guy. I shut the door in his face and lock it, then turn to face Penelope. She gives me a tired smile.

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Don’t make me regret it. If I get even the slightest hint you’re up to something, I’ll throw you out into the storm.”

“I’m not up to anything, I swear.”

I scoff. “You swear? I’m supposed to trust a perjurer’s words?”

“Are you the same person you were eight years ago?”

“You have some nerve to ask a question like that.”

Because of her, I’m not the man I used to be. The one I worked hard to be.

“You’re right. That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

She lowers her gaze, clutching the straps of her large handbag like she’s waiting for me to change my mind and kick her out. She has good instincts. A part of me is considering it.

I indicate the coat rack and the wooden bench that doubles as a shoe rack to my left.

“Put your stuff there. I’ll be back in a second.”

Walking away from her lets me breathe easier as I head to my bedroom. I grab one of the pillows from my bed, swap the case for a fresh one, and get out a blanket from the closet.

When I return to the living room, Penelope is out of her winter wear, standing awkwardly by the coat rack with her bag on the floor beside her socked feet. I pause, taken aback.