Page 21 of Pulse Zero
I’m legitimately surprised that he doesn’t offer some kind of commentary. I could tell how badly he didn’t want to go back into that room earlier, but I still half expected he would break.
As I get deep into research for my next job, I almost forget he’s out here. I don’t, of course. That would be stupid. But an hour passes, and he hasn’t spoken a word.
Spinning my chair, I face him to see his head leaned back against the wall and his eyes closed. I know he’s not sleeping because the fingers of his free hand are tapping against his thigh while the ones of his bound hand tap against the pipe.
“I’m impressed.”
His eyes fly open, already alert.
“You went a whole hour without speaking. I feel like you should get a reward.”
His lips stretch into a smirk.
“Not that kind.”
His face falls into a pout.
“One question. You get to ask me one question for every hour you stay silent. I may or may not answer, but I’ll give you what I can.”
He shifts on the ground, the metal of the cuffs clanking against the pipe. When he falls still, his gaze is down in contemplation. I can see the restraint vibrating under his skin, the effort it takes him not to fire off something reckless just to provoke me.
“One,” I repeat.
He doesn’t waste it.
Eyes looking up, he asks, “Why did you take me?”
No bravado, no innuendo. Just the question he should’veasked a week ago.
“Because someone hired me to.”
He waits, but when I don’t elaborate, he says, “Riveting. Do you do motivational speaking on the side? That’s not even a fucking answer.”
“It’s the only one you get.”
His stare sharpens, jaw tight, calculating, trying to decide if he wants to gamble his partial freedom. He pushes anyway.
“Who hired you?”
I click my tongue. “I said one. You can have another in an hour.”
His eyes flash. “That’s such bureaucratic villain bullshit.”
Without responding, I spin my chair to face my computer again. I hear him inhale through his nose, slowly like he’s getting ready to argue. He lets it out in a gust.
“Fine,” he says instead. “I’ll be good. I’ll be quiet. Gold star for me.”
My gaze drifts back to him, and I arch a brow as a warning. He raises his free hand, drags his finger and thumb across his lips, zipping them shut before flicking his wrist and throwing away an invisible key.
Another hour passes while I try to stay focused on work, only occasionally giving him my attention to make sure he really is being good. He shifts periodically, testing the handcuffs with small movements, but he doesn’t speak. Once when my eyes are on him, he opens his mouth, probably a reflex, and then snaps it closed again, glaring at me like the near fuck-up was my fault.
Restraint is not his natural state. Watching him force it is…compelling.
I check the clock on my screen before facing him once more.
“Time.”
“Why did the person who hired you hire you to kidnap me?”
