"Paige, listen to me- I'm not here to hurt you," the words came from Jase's mouth cool and rehearsed.
I wasn't sure what to say, or how to react. I almost wanted to urge a smart retort from my lips, but there was nothing. I forced myself to acknowledge some fundamental truths; Ant was here, I had just received assurance from the CIA of my safety, and I no longer served any purpose to Jase. And yet... and yet... hadn't I told myself I was safe previously? Hadn't I been promised I would be protected? Hadn't Ant sworn to do that once before, and hadn't he stood aside on Jase's command? My brain ran through it's scarily fast automatic scan of danger perception. The circumstances I'd lived through aside, every woman had a similar system.
I'm alone with two men. They're in the military, who protect their own. I'm on a military base, they'd cover it up. My only exit is behind them. I'm fourteen stories up. I have no one to call. I'm wearing flimsy pyjamas. I have no weapon.
"I needed to talk to him about this contract, Paige," Ant's hands were still raised as though he could halt my destructive thought process.
Nothing they're doing is demonstrating any possible danger to you. I forced myself to swallow. Jase took a step forwards, his shoe grinding a piece of glass into crushed splinters against the tile and I stepped back in instant reaction, dragging shards along with me. I ignored the sharp pain. After all, I'd felt worse.
"Easy," Jase mimicked Ant's submissive hand gesture, lazily holding his palms in the air for a moment before dropping them. "You're bleeding," he raised a brow and pointed his eyes to my foot, which had traipsed a smear of crimson in my hasty retreat backwards.
I scoffed, quite accidentally. I hadn't meant to do it aloud, but the notion that Jase felt it necessary to point out that I was bleeding as though it should be any cause for alarm was laughable. I found words, not necessarily the ones I wanted to say, but the ability to speak reached me at last.
"I'm sure I'll be fine," I stated hoarsely, a bitter smirk playing in the corner of my mouth. I survived much worse at your hands. I still couldn't look him in the eye, but I held my gaze up so I could at least be prepared for any movement. Jase held his ground for a moment, far too long for my liking, and eventually retreated to the couch and sat in the furthest possible position from me. Ant walked over, slowly and calmly, an imploring look of apology on his face.
"Hey," he soothed, standing close enough to lower his voice to a soft dulcet tone whilst not invading my personal space. "I wouldn't have called him over if it wasn't important. You have to take my word on it, but he's someone we can trust. And I have to go over this stuff with him tonight, I don't want to leave any loose ends when it comes to safety after I leave, okay?" He bore his penetrating blue gaze into mine. "Let's clean your foot up and you can go back to bed."
No, I screamed inwardly. Who did he think he was? He wanted to send me to my room like a child whilst he and the person I feared the most and trusted the least drafted their plan for my future? It was ludicrous, and yet... I said nothing. As Ant's large hand connected with my arm with soft pressure to guide me to the kitchen, I did nothing. I silently obeyed, feeling completely and totally at a loss with how to react. I hobbled to the kitchen island and pulled myself up on to the work surface, suddenly conscious again of the small pyjamas. I could feel Jase watching from the corner of the room, his presence was like a piece of furniture set ablaze, flames licking the ceiling. Ignoring that very real manifestation of danger was exhaustingly strenuous, I felt myself wanting to flicker my eyes to him every second to make sure he hadn't moved. Ant retrieved a first aid box from on top of the fridge and quickly cleaned the small wound.
"There's a little piece of glass stuck, do you want to take it out yourself?" He looked up, but his diplomatic manners meant nothing to me by this point. I shook my head, totally unphased. What was a small cut to me now, really? I did wince slightly as I felt the pressure against the arch of my foot and slight sting as the shard was removed, but I tried my very hardest to maintain control. Jase couldn't have the satisfaction of seeing me in pain again.
"Did you get up for water?" Ant asked as he smoothed a small dressing against my skin.
"Yes," I muttered, the blazing focal point I didn't dare look at calling to me from across the room. His weight shifted. I think he moved. He might be getting up. I fixed my eyes firmly to my own bedroom door.
"Here," a glass dripping with cool condensation was placed next to me. That was my cue. I eased off the counter and waited for Ant to stand slightly in front of the living area before I walked towards my door. What did I expect Jase to do? Suddenly lurch up from the couch and hurtle himself across the room at me? Still, Ant's body was the obstacle between us I needed to feel marginally safer as I took my hasty steps, forcing the door shut and locked with frenzied urgency as soon as I was over the threshold of the bedroom. A lock won't keep him out. There were two bedside tables and two dressers, one wide and large with six deep drawers directly opposite the bed, the TV sat atop. The other was taller but much more compact, and I had a better chance of moving it. I heaved all my significantly diminished body weight against it, surprised at the furniture's obedience as it slid across the carpet slowly but surely. Thank goodness for military budgets and flat-pack furniture. The drawers wouldn't exactly sit tight against the door, but a good portion of it was pressed up against the entrance, causing a significant if not total obstruction to anybody who would try to enter. You'd better hope there's not a freak fire overnight.
There was nothing else I could do now. Nothing except sit in bed and obsess over why Ant would have called Jase here, what merit he could possibly bring to the situation, and why on earth he suddenly considered him an ally. "You have to take my word on it, but he's someone we can trust." What in the world made Ant believe Jase was trustworthy? He believed it enough to violate my trust in bringing him to the apartment whilst I slept, which made me feel sick to the pit of my stomach. Or was Ant just the same? Perhaps he didn't care.
"... these are the Lillian tool caddies, they're going to come to you all stacked together. Imagine using your paintbrushes, or your markers..." The stark glare from the TV flooded the room, HSN showcasing garishly patterned and atrociously overpriced storage boxes. "He's someone we can trust." How in the world was I supposed to believe that?