Chapter 21

Mia’s POV

It’s been two days since we arrived in New York. Kaitlyn barely leaves the room, which says a lot. I honestly don’t think they’d track us down all the way to a different continent, but I just wanted to make sure she was okay. The look she gave me when I found her was something I never saw from her.

I don’t think she’s in the right state to be alone right now. She was scared, terrified even. She’s been shaken up ever since. I wonder what happened. From what she said, no one hurt her. So then why has she been so out of it?

No one gets into that state if nothing happens, and I’m bound to find out what it is. I swear if someone hurt her, I’ll fly all the way back to France to make sure they pay. I’ll fucking swim if I have to.

“Anyway, you should really get that checked. It sounds like a hairline fracture from the way you’re describing the pain.” Sloane’s voice cuts through the phone, bringing me out of my thoughts. My fists were already in a bad condition since that talk with my father, then I made it worse by beating all those people up when I was trying to find Kaitlyn. I couldn’t exactly use a gun since it would cause attention.

“Okay, I’ll come in tomorrow.” I reply before hanging up. It’s a little past midnight right now, I’ve been tossing and turning in bed for almost an hour and I couldn’t sleep so I called Sloane. She’s been doing better, she got the divorce finalized and he’s left her alone since then.

I stared at the door as I sat on my bed. I let out a sigh before pulling the covers off me and getting up from bed. I haven’t been able to sleep, not even because of jetlag but because my thoughts are corrupted with Kaitlyn. I don’t even know why I care so much, it’s annoying.

I walk down the stairs and go to the kitchen. Maybe a drink will help me sleep. As I enter the kitchen, I’m met with Kaitlyn. She was wearing an oversized shirt of mine, she’s been wearing my clothes ever since she was staying here. I hated sharing anything I owned, but what other choice did I have? Buy her clothes? Maybe I should buy her clothes.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” She was seated on one of the island chairs, elbows on the counter as she held a mug in her hands, a teabag hanging from it. “No, I couldn’t sleep so I went down to get a drink.” I reached for one of the cupboards on top and grabbed a glass and filled it up with some wine.

I turn to face Kaitlyn, the counter between us separating us. I took a sip of my drink and studied her for a moment. She was staring at her mug as if it was the most interesting thing in this room. I clear my throat to bring her attention to me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” She nods as she plays with the mug between her hands. I lick my lips before speaking, “Why were you so shaken up when I found you?” I ask slowly, I didn’t want it to seem like I was forcing an answer out of her or that I was pressuring her to give me an answer. Though I really needed to know what happened.

She tenses up at my question, straightening her posture and taking a sip of her drink. She sets her mug down and lets out a slow breath. “I don’t know, I just–” She tries looking for the right words. “Gunshots freak me out.”

I tilt my head and furrow my brows. “I’m sorry, you were a cop and you’re afraid of gunshots?” If she’s afraid of gunshots why would she choose a job that deals with them so much?

“I know it’s weird, okay?” Her voice grew defensive. I didn’t mean to offend her, I’m just quite confused why someone would be a cop when they’re afraid of gunshots. I take a sip of my wine as I think of my next words.

I set my glass down and look at her. She avoided eye contact, looking everywhere but in my direction. “It’s not weird,” I rested my elbows on the counter the same way she did, leaning my upper body on the counter. “I mean I too was once afraid of gunshots.” I shrug, keeping my tone light as if this was a normal conversation.

A scoff escaped her lips as she looked at me. “Please, you fire a gun like it’s muscle memory.” The corners of my lips turn up. “Yeah, well after you kill so many people you kind of get used to the noise.” Her eyes squinted for a moment, but her eyes stayed on mine.

“Is that what you tell yourself?” She asked softly. Her question caught me off guard. “That you’re used to it?”

“It’s the truth.” I clench my jaw. It is the truth, I have no energy in me to care about that sort of stuff anymore.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” My gaze hardens on her since what she’s saying right now is complete nonsense. “I think the noise still gets to you but you force yourself to believe you’re used to it so you won’t have to face what you’ve become.” Our eyes stay locked on each other, even when she takes a sip out of her mug.

I push myself off the counter and turn around to refill my empty glass. She’s just saying total bullshit right now, trying to get in my head. I pour the wine into the glass, pouring myself a bit more than I should have.

I turn around to face her, leaning on the counter behind me. There’s more space between us now. “Why are you scared of gunshots?” I changed the topic, not wanting to talk about myself anymore.

Her posture stiffens as she looks down, playing with the ceramic in her hands. “It’s a long story.” She murmured. “We have all night.” I frown at her.

She meets my gaze and lets out a breath. “Fine, I’ll tell you.” I put the glass of wine I was holding down on the counter behind me. “But you have to promise you won’t ever bring it up again.”

“I promise.” I nod as I put my hands on the counter and rest my weight on them.

She sits up now, crossing her arms in front of her. She lets out a slow, long breath as if preparing herself for what’s coming. “I had a best friend. She was my partner, partner in crime,” She clarifies. I kept my gaze on her even if she’s avoiding eye contact right now.

“There was a murder and we were one of the people who were in charge of the scene, the evidence, everything.” She explains further. “And since we were involved with the crime scene, we were taken hostage by the people who were responsible for the murder.”

She cleared her throat before speaking again. “We were walking one night and next thing we knew we were drugged and taken away.” The way she spoke was so fragile, like she could break at any moment. I shifted uncomfortably from where I was standing. I don’t like where this is going.

“She woke up before me so they beat her up first. I had no idea how long they had been beating her up for answers, when I woke up she was barely conscious.” Her voice cracked at the end. I took a step closer.

“Since she was barely conscious, they asked me questions. When I didn’t give them any answers, they put a gun to her head.” Her breathing quickens, I can tell she’s reliving the memory right now. I regret asking why she was scared of gunshots, I regret starting this conversation in the first place.

“I didn’t know where the murder weapon was, I didn’t have answers. I swear I didn’t.” She says as if trying to convince me. “But of course they didn’t believe me so they shot her.” She whispered like she was terrified it would happen again if she said it out loud. I take another step closer, the counter was now the only thing separating us again.

“I stayed in that place for five hours with her lifeless body just laying there, her blood spilling all over the room.” She sniffles as she wipes a tear away. She lets out a shaky breath before trying to compose herself again.

“Did you know who did it?” I ask softly. I hate how she had to go through that. It makes so much sense why she was so shaken up in that building. The gunshots and the blood on her clothes, it must have been like reliving that moment. There’s an ache in my chest, I can’t decide if it’s sadness or anger. Seeing how much this affected her makes me want to kill whoever put her through that.

“I just know he has a tattoo on his neck and blonde hair, that’s all I remember.” I rack through my brain trying to see if I know anyone who fits that description, but no one comes to mind. I will find this person, and I will make sure he’s paid for what he’s done to Kaitlyn.

We stayed silent for a few moments. I give her the time to compose herself, deciding not talking about it and not asking questions is for the better. I wouldn’t want to add onto what she’s already going through. I don’t take my eyes off her for a moment, I study every move she makes.

“I’m sorry.” I put my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants. “Please don’t feel sorry for me.” She huffs. I do feel sorry for her, who wouldn’t? Imagine having to watch your best friend die in front of you. If someone killed Sloane in front of me I don’t think I’d ever recover from that.

“I’m not– I mean, that’s not why I’m apologizing.” I really suck at this sort of thing. “I’m sorry for being so selfish. If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought you along. Well, I shouldn’t have brought you along in the first place. All I thought about was myself.” Her expression softened as she looked at me.

“Well, what’s new?” She says playfully, breaking the ice between us. A smile breaks through my lips, I couldn’t help it. The Prescott I knew was back. And somehow I’m relieved by that.

“In all seriousness, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I stay smiling and she does too. “If you wanna leave, I understand. I mean, you said so yourself, I fire guns like it’s muscle memory.” Her smile grew just the slightest bit.

“I’ll find you a safe place to stay in for the time being, I’ll have someone stay with you to make sure you’re okay. Just tell me what you want, Prescott.” My voice was sincere, and soft. I never talked to anyone like this, I never even thought of going through so much trouble for someone who isn’t Anton or Sloane. 

She stayed silent for a while, and I was so sure she’d want to leave. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. Anyone who gets involved with me is automatically in danger. It’s like a curse.

“I think I’ll stay for the time being.” She nods before getting off the chair and heading upstairs. I have no idea why I care for this girl so much, or why I’m willing to go through so much trouble for her. 

Was it really a good idea to have her stay with me longer? It’s quite a risk having her stay here with me, an ex cop in my own home. But I’m convinced she’s left that life behind. She assaulted a cop for fuck sake. She could’ve turned me in and told him I was holding her hostage, but she helped us escape. That may seem like it’s nothing, but it’s a lot. She chose a side that night. You don’t cross a line like that and expect the precinct to welcome you back with open arms.