Counterfeit Love

"What?" I asked when she was finished with the bed, kicking out of her shoes, dropping down on it, then pinching her brows together.

"It's going to be really weird to sleep in a room with a window," she admitted.

"Your container apartment is cool and all," I said, kicking out of my own shoes, going ahead and dropping down on the other side. It was a California King. We could fit two people between us comfortably. Still, she stiffened a little, casting sideways glances as me. "But I can't imagine not seeing the sunlight all day."

"I don't stay inside all day," she told me, rolling her eyes. "I thought it was weird at first. When my mom first brought me there. I even worried as I looked at the building that it would give me flashbacks. I was... I spent a lot of time in a basement," she told me, giving me a few more pieces to that part of her history. Giving me a little more kindling to the fury burning inside for her. "In the end, I think the fact that it was windowless gave me a lot of security. It was safe. Safe was really important to me."

"How old were you when you first went to Hailstorm?"

I had a feeling I wasn't going to like this answer.

Her head turned on the pillow, her blue eyes met mine. "Sixteen," she admitted, voice rough.

Fuck.

Sixteen.

So all that shit that had been done to her, all that misery that was described in detail in that file of hers, that had been done when she'd been sixteen. A child.

She didn't want pity from me. It was proving a lot harder than I realized it would not to let any of it show on my face. "I'm glad you found your place."

"Me too," she agreed. "Even if half the people there wish my mom would run the place until she was old and senile rather than have to work for me."

"That's bullshit. They all like you."

"You can't possibly know that," she insisted, rolling her eyes.

"I do. I know you. So I know that."

"That was, wow," she said, a smile pulling at her lips. "That was cheesy."

"You love it."

"I don't hate it," she admitted.

"So, are we ordering food, or are you going to do this whole freakout routine on the bathroom too?"

"Well, you order food. I will clean the bathroom. Then we can talk about the plan."

"I'm pretty sure the plan is simple. Find him. Kill him. Make sure the body isn't linked back to us."

"Yes, well, details go with that."

"Details are boring. I'd rather watch movies and test out that hot tub."

"I still can't believe there's a private hot tub."

"Well, for eight grand a night, it better. Are you going to want to clean the hot tub too?" I asked, dreading the idea.

"They're full of chemicals that kill bacteria at high temperatures. It should be fine for you."

"Oh, come on. You want to go in too."

"I've never been in a hot tub," she admitted.

"It's like an outdoor bath with clothes on. Or no clothes on. Bather's choice."

"I didn't bring a bathing suit."

"You have three suitcases meant for families of four, and you didn't pack a bathing suit?"

"You have one bag and you did manage to pack one?"

"Nope. But pretty sure a bathing suit is just underwear with fancy material. So we both have it covered. Come on," I said when she didn't look swayed. "I think there might even be a TV in that outside cabinet. And some alcohol in the minibar."

"I don't really drink."

"You don't drink at all or just don't do it often?"

"I don't like feeling out of control." And I think that said a lot, didn't it?

"Well, you can have one. Or I can have one for you. You know you want to."

"Alright. Fine. But I have to get started on the bathroom," she told me, rushing off to do just that.

It was about an hour later that we were sitting at the real wood dining table in our ridiculous suite, eating room service, when I asked her something that I was sure we had both been pondering for a long while, but both refused to voice.

"What are we supposed to do tomorrow, angel?" I asked, watching as her gaze slipped up then down quickly.

"You know what is going to happen tomorrow. If you're having second thoughts, I'd like to know that now, so we can head back to Navesink Bank tonight."

"I'm not having second thoughts. I just need to know the logistics, babe," I told her, surprised I had to explain since she was all about the details normally. "What is his schedule? Does he live alone? Where is the best place for this to happen? What are we supposed to be doing with the body after? Am I going in alone?"