“Oh!” The excitement in Addison’s voice is not at all what I was expecting. Maybe she’s better at pretending life is all right when it’s in shambles than I am. “And like palm readings?”
I have to smile at her enthusiasm.
She keeps talking as she finishes gathering the clothes. “I went to see a gypsy in New Orleans once.” She peeks over at me as I walk closer, taking a seat on the far end of the sofa. I have to, so I can hear her over the sound of the guards still walking through the safe house to make sure everything is in place. As in, cameras. I know those fuckers are putting up cameras.
I have to keep my mouth closed, my teeth grinding against one another at the thought, and keep the anger from showing as she tells me her story of the woman she met by Café du Monde. I swallow thickly as she tells me about New Orleans, a place I’ve never been.
She’s still feigning an upbeat attitude and I’m trying to keep up. I wonder if she can pretend like this when she lies down. When there are no distractions and sleep evades her. Just the thought of what my mind will do to me tonight, makes me grab the throw blanket on the sofa and wrap it around me as if it could protect me.
“I wanted to get my coffee grounds read and all that too, but I didn’t have time.”
“Seven kids?” My brows haven’t moved from their raised position since she casually mentioned that little fact the palm reader told her. “She said you’re going to have seven kids?”
I didn’t hear the rest of what she said about the reading as I stared off absently, pretending to listen but really thinking about tonight and how I know I’ll cry again. I feel helpless, hopeless, and pathetic.
Addison’s expression pales and she purses her lips before she carefully says, “Pregnancies.” She doesn’t hide the pain in her eyes when she clarifies. “She said seven pregnancies. She also said they wouldn’t keep.”
Fuck. I can’t even look her in the eyes as I struggle to tell her I’m sorry. She only shrugs it off before pulling up on her bag to close it.
The sound of her zipping up the bag is accompanied by the sound of Eli walking back into the room. With his dress shirt sleeves rolled up, the tattoos on his arm are on full display. They’re all in black and white with lots of detail. A compass that fades up his left arm catches my attention, but the tone of his voice brings my gaze up to his.
“The rooms are ready. We’ll be downstairs at all times.” Eli’s blunt and has a hint of some accent. Irish or British maybe, I can’t tell. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
“I don’t want to stay here,” Addison tells him again. Her shoulders rise and fall quickly as her breathing quickens. “I’m not with Daniel anymore.” Her voice cracks, but she continues, “And I don’t need a safe house. I need to leave.”
Eli’s expression is unmoving. I almost question if he’s heard her as the silence stretches between them. The only sounds are from the other men behind Eli in the hall as they walk downstairs to their section of the safe house. “I understand.” Eli’s initial response takes Addison by surprise. She even flinches slightly, but then he adds, “There are some precautions that need to be taken first. But in one week, give or take, we will take you to wherever you want to go, and leave you alone.”
Alone.
I hate that word.
“So, we’re supposed to stay locked up in this fucking house?” Addison’s anger rises as she asks the question, each word getting louder than the last. I watch as her blunt nails dig into her palms as she fails to rein in her anger.
“Main Street has several shops and a few restaurants. We have no objections to you walking the block… however, someone will be with you at all times.”
My mind has been reeling all night with everything that’s happened. I’ve been here for nearly two hours, and I’m only just now realizing why we have to stay here under house arrest with guards for one week. And then we can go free.
One week.
“He’s going to kill them.” With my gaze fixed on the sheer curtain, draped in the moonlight from outside the window, the crushing feeling in my chest returns. “One week until the war is over.”
Addison turns slowly to face me, and I sink back further into the sofa.
“I’m being held hostage until my family is dead.” My throat closes slowly like it’s suffocating me, and my eyes burn hotter as the pain diffuses through me.
I’ve lost Carter. I’ve lost the chance to influence him because I failed.