part0032

A whole day passed before I saw him again. And it wasn’t for a lack of trying; I looked high and low for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Part of me wondered why I was so determined to find him, but then the other half of me was afraid to know the answer. So instead, I spent the day practicing reading people and learned a great deal about the security guards that patrolled the perimeter.

The one whom I had nicknamed Reuben, not only had a love for the sauerkraut and roast beef concoction but also secretly enjoyed listening to Broadway musicals. I caught him putting the headphones in while on a walk and with a quick slip of the wrist, I bumped into him and pulled the music player from his back pocket, quickly reading the caption before dropping it to the ground and apologizing for not watching where I was going.

I watched Mathias some more too, knowing what I knew now, I wondered if my analysis of him would change, but as he bandaged the hand of one of the ladies who worked beside Bhreac in the kitchen, I found it impossible to imagine that such a man was capable of anything horrible. I even spent time comparing him to Hart, knowing very well that Hart was not afraid to get his hands dirty, and yet the more time I spent around Hart, the more I learned that he wasn’t as beastly as my first impression would have indicated .

One of the maids, whose name I failed to remember but recognized in crossing paths, was clandestinely having an affair with the guard who stood watch by the pool. However, that one took a little bit more tact than the others in an effort not to be seen.

I had followed the maid out to the pool house. At first, nothing seemed suspicious about her carrying a stack of towels to restock until I caught the slightest of sideways glance at the guard, and then his returned smirk. A moment later, he called over his radio, mumbling an excuse before following her into the shack.

I was so enthralled by what I was seeing, ducked down behind one of the potted palm trees that I hadn’t seen the Captain walk up behind me. He cleared his throat, making me jump a foot in the air.

“Care to explain?” He eyed me from above, his large body casting a shadow over me, blocking out the sun effectively.

I glanced back at the pool shack as the maid exited first, canvassing the area to her left and then right followed by the guard thirty seconds later. I looked back up at the Captain. “Not particularly,” I said, before walking away onto my next unsuspecting subject.

It wasn’t until the following morning that I found myself in Hart’s office, but despite rereading the handwritten note in my hand, I was beginning to wonder if I had found it too late. Hart was nowhere in sight. The little white card with a gold border was neatly folded on my nightstand when I woke this morning. The inscription read: Meet me in my office. –H.

Flipping the card over in my hands once more, I reread the perfect penmanship. Even his writing had a way of being immaculate, precise, controlled. I huffed and tucked the card into my pocket, venturing further into his personal space.

His desk was tidy and clear of clutter short of a map that was tucked away under his keyboard. The lines across the paper drew me closer, my curiosity getting the best of me. Sparing a glance toward the doors, I checked to see if I would be interrupted before pulling the paper free. Expecting to find a map of the island, or maybe even tidal currents, I was severely disappointed to find something else entirely. It was a map of the constellations.

The white dots and dashed lines depicting constellations and major stars stood out in contrast to the dark bluish-black paper. Scribbled in a silvery ink in the center of the paper was a simple note—a date. With a thin underlying score under the words, “TODAY!”

Suddenly I heard Hart’s footsteps approaching, the rap of the metal clasp outside his door. With haste, I folded the map up and slid it back under his keyboard and took a few quick steps over to the window just as he walked into the room.

“Good morning; how’d you sleep?” Hart carried a stack of folders in his arms and his cell in one hand.

I looked outside the window, trying to slow the adrenaline that raced through my veins before I let Hart see me. He was an expert at figuring me out—he had proven that already—and he only needs to see one of the indicating signs of my shallow breathing, quickening pulse or flushed face to figure out what I had done.

Turning to look over my shoulder, I watched as he threw the folders down over his keyboard, hiding the map, and looked at me. Our eyes just barely caught each other’s.

“As you keep reminding me,” he said, turning his attention toward me, studying me.

He was making me uneasy. I turned away from him and walked across his office to the large painting on the opposite side of the room, pretending to be more interested in the artwork than anything.

“What was this all about anyway?” I asked, pulling the note out of my pocket to show him. The simple note seemed to distract me and made it easier for me to focus, but Hart remained unreadable. Instead, he walked over to me and gestured to the sitting area at the back of his office. It was then that I realized for the first time that there was a fireplace there. The light cream-colored stones had been polished smooth and cut in a way to look natural and still modern. Had that always been there?

The sun came through one of the windows just so that the corner seat on the sofa had been warmed. Deeming that this was where I wanted to be, I sat down—not only to feel the sun on my shoulders, but it protected my back and forced Hart to stay in front of me, where I could easily see him.

Hart followed behind me, another black folder in his hands.

“You know, I’m starting to dread those nasty things.” My eyes darted to the folder in his hands.

He seemed to understand before adding, “Well then, I won’t break the pattern.” His words sent a shiver of alarm down my body, causing panic. He immediately realized his slip up and added, “Calm down. It’s nothing you can’t handle.” He pulled one of the chairs closer to me, buffered by the coffee table between us and laid the folder down, before explaining, “The best way to navigate the Showing is to blend in. We don’t want you to stand out any more than the other girls—you must get through without being noticed.” Hart’s eyes caught mine, ensuring I was listening. “But to do that, you need to appear as if you belong, and the best way to do that is not be surprised by anything.” He paused, his voice growing more serious. “You need to expect the unexpected.”

“Precisely why we are doing this.” He grunted.

Picking up the folder, he held it a moment longer, the suspense was killing me. “Focus on containing your reaction. Distance yourself from what you see, change the image in your mind if you have to, but remain unaffected. There will be people at the Showing who will be looking for a trigger, something they can use to gain the upper hand—you must not give them the satisfaction. ”

“I thought I was going as your guest.” I stared at him, puzzled. “Won’t you be at my side the whole time?”

He nodded, “Yes, as much as I possibly can, but in the case that I get called away, you need to be able to stand your own ground.”

I shrugged. “Shouldn’t be that hard.” I would be walking into a room of sex-driven men. How was that any different than college or the nightclub?

“You think that.” It was clear how little I knew by the way he looked at me. He opened the folder and laid down the first photograph. It was a guy in a dark red blazer and crisp black jeans. In one hand he held a glass of champagne, in the other, he was grabbing some poor woman’s unexpecting ass.

Not a moment later, Hart spoke up, “You’re allowing your emotions to be on display. Even if it’s only for a millisecond—that’s all it will take for someone to read you. To remember you .”

Maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as I thought. “I’m human.” I blurted out. “I have emotions. I have reactions. That’s not a bad thing.”

“It is when you are trying to be invisible. Something like this could happen to you. How would you react?”

Admittedly, I would probably turn and smack the smug look right off his face. Hart knew where my thoughts were going.

“Violence will only stir them more, drawing attention to yourself. Instead of one set of eyes on you, you now have ten. You need to be creative, cunning, and forgettable.”

“So, what, are you saying I do nothing?” I stared at him in disbelief.

“No, I’m saying, that you can’t draw any more attention to yourself. Walking away is certainly an option, but there are other ways of gaining the upper hand. This is only meant to get you thinking in the right kind of mindset. Let’s try again.”

Taking a deep breath, I forced my mind to go blank and tried to prepare myself. He flipped over another photo. This one of a girl wearing some sort of dominatrix outfit, black stilettos, and a topless corset. She hovered over the body of a thin man, his arms and legs were bound to the four corners of some sort of whipping bench.

I remained impassive to what I saw, mostly because I had heard of things like this before, and what I had previously imagined in my mind had fallen pretty spot on with the image before me. “Please tell me we won’t run into that,” I said, feeling slightly abhorred.

“You might.” His eyes caught mine and I realized he wasn’t joking. “Good job remaining impassive until you asked the question.” Hart acknowledged my efforts. “But there will be instances where you will see something and then have to interact with someone. Even then, you have to remain in control.”

“That’s easier said than done.” I shook my head. “This is all new uncharted territory for me…”

He seemed to understand. “I know.” But refused to let that stop him.

We continued like that. I was curled up on the couch, watching, waiting, and trying to predict what outrageous image would come next. The farther we went into the stack of photographs, the less that seemed to surprise me.

Hart seemed to notice as well, giving me little nods of encouragement when I messed up and the occasional smile when I managed to remain unfazed. After the twentieth or so photo, he reminded me, “Just remember, you can’t prepare for everything, but you can focus on regaining your composure as quickly as possible. Sometimes that can work.”

The tension built around us, reaching uncontrollable levels. His fingertips reached for the corner of the next photograph, hovering for a second longer than normal, but I could not have prepared for that.

The image was of the Sicario, the same photograph he had shown me not so long ago in this very office and yet—even though I had recognized it and should have known it was coming—I still reacted .

My eyes darted across the photograph, the recognition so easily readable on my face, but as I looked as Hart that moment, I realized that he never expected me to pass this one.

“However unlikely as it might be, you could be faced with a situation like this. Recognition is one of the easiest to catch. A woman in your local grocery store that you’ve seen before, the bagger at the checkout, an old classmate in passing on the sidewalk—.”

Cutting him off, I added, “Your friendly neighborhood hitman.” I bit back the urge to roll my eyes and instead stared at him in a level glare.

“If you recognize them, they will know you’ve crossed paths before. Savoy might have men hiding in plain sight. They could recognize you—use it to your advantage.”

I nodded; it was a valid point—I’d give him that. We continued through a few more photographs before he flipped another over that I had seen before.

I stared at it quietly, not giving much away but inside, I was tearing myself apart. Looking back at him, I spared little effort in hiding the pissed expression now plastered on my face. “Something’s clearly wrong with you.” I pushed myself out of the seat and away from him.

The image of my parent’s accident was still fresh, imprinted into the forefront of my mind. It was of the crime scene, the upturned vehicle, the tire marks on the pavement, the scattered broken glass of the windshield, and the snapped branches of the trees nearby.

He let me pace the room for a few seconds before he finally spoke up, “You think I’m cruel for bringing up a painful memory. There was once a time I would have thought it cruel too, but the sooner you accept what happened, the sooner you stop letting it control you.” Hart walked over to me, stopping a few steps away. His voice was quiet, “Take a moment to appreciate this small victory.”

I turned on him, angry and ready to pounce. “What victory? ”

With a steady and piercing gaze, he stepped forward, into my personal space. His body so close to mine, I could feel the heat radiating off my anger and recoiling off his calm, cool body.

“The one where your mind overpowered your emotions, enough so that you didn’t trigger a panic attack.” The corner of his lips curled into a tiny smile. “I’d consider that a victory, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re infuriating, you know that.” I rolled my eyes before storming out of his office without a backward glance.

Back in my room, I plopped down, exhausted from the morning’s exercise and still mulling over Hart’s cruel twist—even if he had proven a point. The truth of the matter was that he was right—again . I grumbled, turning over to hug the decorative pillow. For the first time, I didn’t let my emotions swallow me up… completely.

In a sort of peculiar way, my rage had helped me focus, to keep the panic at bay. Too bad it did very little to squash the explosive levels of annoyance I had for Hart at the moment. Playing the event back again, I searched for any other explicable reasons why this time was different. Was it because for the first time, I had started to grow accustomed to seeing him, to being around him, and I wasn’t frightened?

Not entirely, anyhow.

My mind strayed to the handwritten scribbles on the constellation map and how the penmanship perfectly matched the card I had received this morning. Pushing myself up against the headboard, I wondered what it all possibly meant. What could he possibly want with a map of the stars and today’s date?

I wasn’t sure, but I knew where I could find the answer. With a newfound step of determination, I leapt out of bed, down the hall, and down the stairs again .

Not a moment later, my head was buried in an astronomy book, trying to find the missing link. In the span of twenty minutes, I had skimmed over a hundred pages belonging to a handful of various books and came up with one overlapping coincidence. All of the signs pointed to one particular crucial event, marked on this day—a meteor shower, visible to only the southern hemisphere.

The signs were there—the painstakingly warm weather, strong sea winds, the hushed Spanish spoken by most of the household. I had to assume that meant I was somewhere off the coast of South America.

But what was Hart’s interest in it all?

I let the pages in my hand fall flat, clasping the book shut in a thud, one after the other and returned them to their respective homes before setting off to figure out what Hart was up to.

I smiled, holding a little piece of paper out at arm’s length, admiring my handy work. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see that the sun had already set, dinner was already served, and the house was quieting down for the evening.

Setting off to the pool area, I tucked the note away in my pocket and paid very little attention to those I passed in the halls on the way. The last thing I needed was to attract attention, remember Hart’s exercise this morning.

A nervous sigh escaped my lips as I made it through the patio, regaining my composure as soon as the guard came into view.

The guard, standing alone at the outermost gate, wasn’t an outlandish man; most of his features catered more on the ordinary side, but he wasn’t without his attractions. His simple features were symmetrical in nature, and in witnessing his conversations in passing, I found him to be a most agreeable, kind, and charming man. I could see why the maid had taken a fancy to him.

The spotlight just above the gate’s entrance would be my biggest concern.

As I approached him, his characteristics became more defined. With short hair and a cropped fringe, he filled the blue uniform well, so well, in fact, that he blended into the night sky with ease. Had it not been for the soft opaque overhead light above him, I might not have seen him. My eyes evaluated him quickly, taking in as much as I could before he noticed me approaching. I closed my eyes briefly, forcing myself to regain composure and to look at anything besides the side piece holstered at his waist.

A moment later, he saw me, our eyes locking in a curious stare.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be out here,” the man said.

I wasn’t aware that I had a curfew—that had been news to me, but I refused to react.

“I know, I only wanted to pass this along,” I said, casting my eyes down to the ground as I retrieved the note I had just written, tucked away safely in my pocket. “A maid gave it to me just a little while ago.” In fear I might talk my way into a trap, I resisted giving any more details than necessary.

The guard took the note without hesitation and began reading it almost immediately. That was my cue to leave. Turning before our eyes met once more, I waved over my shoulder, and said goodnight to the man, before venturing back to the entrance of the patio. But I had no intention of going back inside.

Stopping just before the door, I turned around, amazed that my plan was working flawlessly. The guard moved away from his post in a desirous trot toward the pool house, freeing up the window that I ultimately had to seize that moment. I darted across the textured limestone, mindful of how light my steps were and stopped at the gate, remembering the key card access needed to exit.

Admittedly, I hadn’t thought that bit through and was left with no other choice but to scale the gate. I backed up a few feet, bent my knees slightly and bolted toward the gate, jumping as high as I could. My fingertips barely caught the top lip of the metal bar, but it was enough to pull myself up.

I leapt down onto the soft grass on the opposite side of the fence, but I couldn’t rejoice yet. While no alarm had sounded, and I heard no shouting, I wasn’t in the clear yet. I made a dash for the tree line and refused to look back.

The woods soon surrounded me, embracing me in the eerie sounds of nightfall—insects came alive all around me. The sound of rustling leaves moved by the occasional breeze. It was all welcomed, a sweet reprieve from the household chatter, or the monotone radio calls.

I knew what I was doing would bring about another wave of consequences, but in my quest to figure out why Hart was so interested in the meteor shower, I had developed my own engrossment with the idea of freedom—even if it was only for a short while. There was no way off the island, at least not one I could manage, but that didn’t mean I had to stay cooped up in the house.

Darting through the woods on quick feet, I refused to slow down. Leaves and small twigs grazed my legs, leaving me with a few scratches but nothing major. There was a new moon tonight which aided in shielding me as I moved, but made the already dangerous path, treacherous terrain.

Finally, the trees started to clear, revealing a small grassy field at the cliffside. I could hear the soft, repetitive bursts of water as they stroked the shore below, a hypnotic ebb and flow. This was where I would spend my fleeting moments of freedom; I curled up on the patch of grass and turned my attention to the midnight sky. With no moon to pollute the atmosphere, each and every star was visible, far more than I had ever seen in my lifetime.

My journey had been worth it. Not long after I settled, a shooting star flew across the sky in a blaze of bright white burning fire, the tail of the comet a muddled radiant flicker of orange and yellow.

I stayed like that, content, curled up underneath the starry night. It wasn’t until I heard the snap of a twig that I turned around, my heart beating audibly in my chest. I wasn’t ready to go back.

“Who’s there?” I blurted out. “Show yourself!”

I could hear movement, the whistling of grass blades, the sway of branches, the swish of fabric—it was growing closer.

My heart pounded; my body filled with adrenaline at the thought that I was about to be snatched again and dragged back to the house.

“Are you going to fight me off?” He asked, staring at my shoulder wide stance, and raised fists. “That would certainly be…entertaining.” I barely saw the corner of his lips curl as Hart walked toward me, a blanket in his hands.

Seriously, how did he always do that?

“How did you know I was out here?” I spun around, keeping him in front of me. “Did I trip an alarm or something?” The thought had only just occurred to me, and I wouldn’t have put it past him to have hidden sensors or the sort in the woods.

He let a chuckle escape his lips, “why are you always so surprised? I knew you were here because I wanted you to be.” Hart smiled again when he saw the confused look plastered on my face. “The constellation map,” was all he said as a way of explaining.

“So…you’re not going to…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

He shook out the blanket, the fabric snapping in the air before lying flat over the grass. “Punish you?” He offered. Before he continued, he gestured to the blanket, and I took a seat hesitantly.

“No,” he said, “Not unless you try to make a dash for it.”

Nodding my head, I could accept this.

It only took me a second to put the pieces together—having a better understanding of how Hart worked. “It was all a ploy—.” Shaking my head, I added, “A devilishly clever ploy at that.”

“You’re learning. ”

I tilted my head to the side, pondering. “You left the constellation map out so that I would find it—knowing my curiosity would be too much to resist.” Looking at him, I asked, “But how did you know I would try to come out here?”

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “But I had good reason to believe with your nature, you’d end up fighting against the rules.” His words were soft, and his body warm, the heat radiating off him and gravitating toward me.

“And this was all a lesson, huh?” I shook my head in disbelief. “You really have no reservations when it comes to messing with people’s lives, do you?”

“I would consider this as more of a suggestion, a sort of seduction.” Hart turned to me, a small shimmer of light in his eyes. “Learning how to get people to do what you want without force can be a powerful tool. I found something you wanted—a sense of freedom, a moment of solitude, an escape from prying eyes and overbearing guards—and I let that drive you. With a simple suggestion, I was able to get you here…” His voice shifted, an octave lower, “…alone with me.”

“Easy now,” I warned him, my eyes flat and voice level. “I bite.”

He laughed so full and genuine. It was as if I was seeing him for the first time, not at all fazed by my menacing scowl. “That makes two of us.” He shot me a devilish glance.

“Why lead me here then?”

He smiled, pointing to the sky. “That is why you are here,” he said with a smile so rich, so pure I couldn’t help but feel his effects, looking up at the sky as a shooting star fell.

It was strange to see him sitting beside me, his shoulders relaxed, his back not as straight; he still looked like his normal self but less frightening. I glanced up in anticipation for the next meteor to come across the dark sky, avoiding his eyes when he looked at me.

After a moment, he asked me, “What are you thinking about?”

In truth, my mind was lost, somewhere back home, imagining how different the night sky looked in New Orleans. I spared a glance at him, “Home,” I said, just in time to watch another comet fall in a tragic downward blaze of glory. I rubbed the goosebumps away, sparking a bit of heat back into my cold body. The ocean breeze was relentless.

Hart slid his jacket off, wrapping it around my shoulders before I could protest.

“This doesn’t change anything,” I said, being honest. “One good act can’t wash away the things you’ve done.”

For a moment, I thought he might not have heard me, but after another long and silent pause, he said, “I don’t expect it to.”

I pulled his jacket around me, thankful for the warmth. It smelled like him—of sandalwood and the ocean. I wrapped my arms tight, “Thank you.”

He nodded an acknowledgment but turned his attention back to the starry sky.

We watched another four comets fall. They were falling faster now, one every thirty seconds or so. “You don’t think I have what it takes to survive?” I said, breaking the silence.

Turning his attention back to me, he said, “I know you don’t.” His voice wasn’t icy or cold, or inhumane, but purely factual. It was the truth, or in his own belief, he saw it to be true. I wasn’t so sure myself.

We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, watching the meteor show late into the night. I thought it was crazy how this probably happened all the time, but the world was asleep, not many would even know this was happening around them.

When I thought the conversation was over, he added, “That is why we are doing the lessons; unfortunately, I only have so much time to teach you. You’re the one who has to face them—not me.”

“You think I’ll fail.” It was another blatant observation.

He didn’t answer me, which told me everything I needed to know.

He was being so forthcoming to my questions; I was on a roll and intended to take full advantage. “The other night,” I said, pulling his attention off the stars, “you came into my room. Whose blood was that? ”

In that moment he debated not telling me, but for whatever reason, he said, “It belonged to one of Savoy’s men,” he said, again his voice was impassive, not giving much away.

“Belonged?” I said, noting the past tense. “As in, he’s…?”

He looked at me but didn’t say the words. I didn’t need him to, I could see it in his eyes. It was the same lost look I had seen the night he sat beside my bed. The man was dead.

I should have been more shocked in that moment, surprised, angry, or afraid, but I wasn’t. Part of me had spent the last few weeks building up the notion that Hart was capable of killing, that he was a killer. And it didn’t make me more afraid of the man; he had killed one of the men who were after me. I should have felt safe with him, but even then, I wasn’t sure that was right either.

“Why did you kill him?”

Hart pondered on his words for a moment, debating how much he should tell me. “He ambushed one of our trucks, stole my cargo, and was indirectly responsible for the death of several of my men,” he said, recalling the events. “When he was captured, he was brought back here,” Hart said, looking back at the stars, only, he was conflicted, he didn’t want to tell me the rest.

“You tortured him, didn’t you?” I said, my voice steady, unwavering.

Hart pulled his gaze back down, level with mine. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought Hart was trying to protect me from the truth. But why?

“Yes,” he said, watching me intently, waiting for me to react, but I didn’t. And even that shocked me. Why weren’t the memories of my torture resurfacing? Why wasn’t I freaking out or panicking? And why was I sitting here next to the man, not further convinced he was more of a monster than before?

“What did you find out?” My curiosity won in the end.

But even then, I knew that was where he drew the line. Whatever Hart had uncovered from the man, he didn’t want to share .

“I have every right to know,” I snapped, suddenly angry that he might not tell me. “Savoy wants me dead, and I need to know why.”

He debated for a minute, after finally turning to me and admitting, “Savoy is a dangerous man, Addy.” His gaze was serious, deadly. “He has already raised the bounty on your head; he will do anything to find you.”

Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined those words would be spoken in that capacity.

“What does that mean for me?”

“It means, for the time being, I’ve increased the security details around the island as a precaution. After tonight, you’ll have to stay closer to the house, where you can be watched.”

“What about the mole?” I pulled the jacket closer. “Have you found anything?”

“Not yet.” He tried to lighten the punch by adding, “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have a bounty on your head.” I replied, a bit bitter.

“I have before,” Hart said, looking at me, our eyes catching each other’s.

My eyebrows arched, curious to hear more. “How did you get rid of it?” I asked.

Hart shrugged his shoulders. “I killed everyone stupid enough to engage, and then the man who fronted the money until finally, no one dared come after me again.”

“Great,” I said, suddenly doomed to live in fear, running for the rest of my life.

“Come on; the show is over, and it’s getting late.” Hart stood up and offered his hand. Without a second thought, I took it, and he pulled me up off the ground.