I guess the jig is up.
Chapter 8
Caitlin
I give them my full display of fuck-nuts. Every agent who questions me leaves rolling his or her eyes.
And then after a night in jail, and the realization that this may be the rest of my life, I shut down completely.
No more talking. No cray-cray. Nothing.
They’d get more out of a catatonic schizophrenic than they’ll get out of shut-down Caitlin.
So when I’m called out of my cell to meet with my lawyer, I barely register it. I hardly see the tall blonde with the firm handshake. I don’t hear what she’s telling me as she pushes some papers across the desk.
“Ms. West? Do you understand the charges against you?”
I can’t bring myself to answer.
She frowns. “You do understand that I’m working for you, right? Are you afraid of Mr. Tacone?”
I blink once. Twice. What is she saying about Mr. Tacone?
“What?”
“Is that why you won’t cooperate with me?”
I straighten in my chair and attempt to finger comb my mess of hair out of my face. I glance down at the papers she put in front of me. Lucy Lawrence. That’s the name of my attorney. “What’s happening?”
She cocks her head and gives me the “are you nuts?” expression I’m so used to. “Mr. Tacone hired me to get you out of here. Are you willing to enter into the plea bargain I described?”
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, would you mind repeating it?”
She’s patient with me. Now that I focus, I see she’s extraordinarily beautiful and the perfect mix of a sharp professional with the human kindness that’s often missing from her type. “You enter a guilty plea in exchange for returning the full amount and we emphasize the fact that you’re a graduate student in computer science and this was just an experiment on your part. You didn’t believe it would actually work.”
I blink some more. “I-I don’t have the money to return. It’s”—I clear my throat—“gone.”
“Mr. Tacone will pony up the missing funds.” She gives me a sharp look. “And I have no information about that arrangement.”
The world starts to take shape around me again. I’m in a room. With a lawyer Paolo hired to get me out of here.
“Yeah. Okay. Where do I sign?”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” I’ll definitely make a deal with the devil to stay out of jail. I was already dead in there. I take the pen from her and sign.
Four hours later they walk me out of my cell, return my personal effects and release me.
I blink in the sunlit room. I’m still moving slowly, as if through molasses, or maybe it just feels that way. I’m in a bubble. There are people all around, but I don’t see any I recognize. I pull on my jacket and clutch my bag and step out the door and into the sun.
And fall straight into Paolo Tacone’s arms.
Paolo
I hold Caitlin, but she’s dead weight. There’s no life in her face, in her posture, in anything about her. That flame that’s usually so bright in her is completely out.
If I could go back in time and make a different arrangement with Caitlin West, I would. How I thought I could watch her go down for the crime she committed because I held her brother’s balls in a vise, I can’t imagine.
Nothing ever felt so wrong as when I watched her arrest televised on the news. That photo of her flashed on the screen, the picture of her in handcuffs being led away.
I’m pissed as hell it took so long for my lawyer to get her out.
I will seriously commit murder if I find out she was mistreated in there.
“Come on, doll. Let’s get you out of here,” I tell her.
She lets me maneuver her into the car. She docile. Easy to manage. Possibly in shock.
Is this what shock looks like?
“You okay? Talk to me.” I say when I speed away and she still says nothing.
“Where are we going?” she asks dully.
Cristo, I would do anything to make her feel better right now. “Where do you want to go?”
“Your place.” Her tone is flat, but I’m relieved by the answer. At least she didn’t ask me to drop her at home. I’m definitely not willing to leave her alone in this state.
“What do you need, doll? You hungry?”
She turns to look at me, but I don’t get the feeling she’s seeing anything. After a long moment, she says, “I want you to hurt me.”
The flush that runs through me is both lust and fear. My body responds to her request, but my brain rebels. Hurting her is the last thing I want to do right now. And it scares me that she thinks she needs it. But yeah, I’m not going to deny her anything. I’d give my left nut right now if it brought her back to life.