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A soft smile spreads across her face, and once again, I hate the way it threatens that fight-or-flight voice inside of me with how sincere she makes it look.
“It’s a name I got stuck with in the Marine Corps.”
“Is it a sexual reference?” I ask. as if I’m irritated with her wasting my time, when, honestly, I have nothing but time to spare it seems.
She scoffs. “I’ve often wondered if that might’ve made things easier for me.”
Her smile slips away when she notices the look on my face.
Alani often told me I have the angriest resting bitch face, but it comes with the territory of being responsible for so much too soon in life.
“I’m a psychologist. The guys started calling me that because they felt like I was always in their heads, trying to be slick and get them to talk about their feelings. The nickname has followed me my entire career.”
“So, not because you’re fucking all the men out there?”
She doesn’t cringe away at my vulgarness.
“My man is back home, recovering from an injury. There aren’t very many single members in Cerberus.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I ask, my suspicions growing and growing.
“I want you to feel safe.”
“Can’t exactly feel safe when I’m not allowed to leave, Slick.” I snap out her name like an insult.
“If it makes you feel more comfortable, you can call me Dr. Sullivan or even Brynn. That’s my first name.”
“Does this ‘make friends with them, give them a little information so they feel a bond,’ work on those Marines, Slick?”
She never falters, never clenches her jaw once in irritation.
“No one is going to hurt you here. You aren’t in any danger.”
“I was told the same thing before. I went days without anyone hurting me under Raul Cortez’s watch, but the pain always comes.”
She eyes the empty edge at the bottom of the bed as if she’s wanting me to offer it for her to sit down on, but we’re not fucking besties. I don’t want any one of them any closer to me than they have to be.
“It took us a while to get the video from Lindell because they cycle every ninety days. With the help of BBS, we were able to verify your story about being abducted.”
“I don’t know what a BBS is,” I mutter.
I refuse to get excited. She may have been able to verify my truth, but she hasn’t told me I’m free to go, even after accusing her and her team more than once since she walked in here of being my captors.
“BBS is Blackbridge Security. We have a really great IT specialist, but their guy, Wren, is the best in the business.”
She’s not lying about being a fucking psychologist. She’s like every other one I had the displeasure of meeting while working in the hospital. For people who say they’re there to listen, they sure do love the sound of their own fucking voices.
“Am I free to go?”
She gives me a soft smile.
“You’re free to go, but before you bolt out of here, I wanted to talk to you about some resources we have.”
“I don’t need your resources.”
“We have connections at the American Embassy. We can help you to have it fast tracked, but they won’t let us take you across the border without a copy of your passport.”
I could tell her that I don’t have a passport, that becoming a fucking parent to a teen girl at the age of twenty didn’t exactly leave much time for traveling the fucking globe.
“How long will that take?”
“A couple days.”
“And if I don’t have one?”
Her smile falters. “Longer.”
“You can’t get me across the same way I was brought here?”
The woman looks like I slapped her in the face.
I guess that’s a no then.
I push away the covers on the bed, feeling like I should apologize for having the shoes given to me on while I was in it. But I had no clue what I was going to be facing with these people.
“We can get you in touch with counseling services.”
I have no idea why her words piss me off as much as they do. I’ve said them too many times myself when people come into the emergency room having been victimized in one form or another
“I’m fine.”
She gives me another weak smile. If she’s been doing this for very long, then she knows I’m full of shit.
“Your apartment was cleaned out in Plano. It’s been rented to someone else. We can help you get back on your feet.”
“I need to see my sister,” I hiss. “She’s not safe.”
I don’t know if either of us will ever be safe again. There’s too much evil in the world, too many chances to get hurt, for me to ever stop looking over my shoulder now.
“What will you tell her?”
I freeze, turning my attention back to her.
