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“Cyrus?” I hear her squeak.
I lift my eyes from the end table and look at her. “What is it, Carmen?”
“Who’s Ghost?” She worries her bottom lip as she wraps her arms around her center.
I let out a breath, then round the couch and step into the kitchen. “Someone worse than me.” I retrieve a glass from the cabinet and grab the bottle of bourbon from the corner of the counter. “What did you hear?”
“Can I have some of that?” she questions, ignoring my comment about Ghost and pointing to my glass as I pour the amber liquid.
I nod, then snag another glass and pour her some as she moves into the kitchen and perches herself onto the barstool. I’m expecting more questions, but they don’t come.
For a few beats, we both sip silently. I watch her eyes bounce around the room, no doubt looking for a way out. “You can’t leave without me knowing.”
She shoots her stare back to me. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”
I set my glass down and lean onto the counter. “Carmen, my job is to watch people and their patterns—to predict their moves. You can’t lie to me.”
She looks at the counter and swirls the drink in her glass. “Why can’t you just let me go? I swear I won’t say anything.”
I shake my head. “I already told you it isn’t that simple.”
“Why not?” Her calm, low voice is gone and replaced with the feisty one she uses so well.
“Spitfire is so damn fitting. I see why you chose it.”
She slams her glass onto the counter. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” I tip my head.
“Ignore my questions and make me feel all warm and fuzzy instead. You’re going to kill me, Cyrus, so stop trying to charm me. It’ll only make shit hurt worse in the end.”
“That liquor’s got you loose, I see,” I remark with a laugh.
She rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “Fuck off. I just want to go home.”
“Why?”
Her face scrunches. “Why what? Why do I want to go home?” I nod, and she shakes her head. “No. You don’t get an answer from me until you give me some.”
“Ghost is my boss,” I throw out, complying with her demand. “Now tell me why you so badly want to go home, because from our time before, it seemed you were trying to escape something.”
She throws her hands in the air. “Why wouldn’t I? You fucking kidnapped me!” She doesn’t even comment on the escaping part, but it’s fine. I’ll figure it out eventually.
“You’re here for both our protection, Carmen. And I’ve already told you I have no intentions of killing you.”
“Yeah? And how do I know that you’re telling the truth? Hell, all you’ve done is lie to me.”
“Lie to you?” I raise a brow at her.
“About who you are, what you do. There is probably more.” She waves her hand.
I round the corner, shaking my finger. “No. I never lied about who I was. I simply never told you, same with my job. And I made it clear that night at the hotel that the less people know, the better when it comes to me.”
She huffs, then picks her glass back up, turning her back to me as she downs the rest of her drink. She knows I’m right, and it pisses her off. “Just—leave me alone. It’s bad enough I’m stuck here against my will. I don’t want to have to stare at your face too.”
“Why? Because you know you can’t resist me?”
She turns around, her face screwed tight. “No. Because you make me fucking sick. You think you can avoid answering me by seducing me. It’s not going to happen.”
