Page 94 of Seven
Something pinched inside my chest. I wanted to say things. But I knew he was right. If I wasn't somewhere safe, he's be at risk. And for him… I was willing to be what he wanted me to be. An object to move out of the way so he could do his job.
"Why am I listening to you?" I muttered.
"I don't think this is something we should discuss right now."
I released a loud sigh, walked to my bedroom, pulled a duffel bag from under the bed, and started stuffing it with jeans, T-shirts, a few bras, socks, the charger, a half-empty bottle of Xanax, my laptop that sat on the bedside table.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Seven standing on the threshold, watching me.
I paused and turned to him. "It's getting too dangerous. What if I want to take it back? What if I don't ask for a refund and just cancel everything?"
"Once you book the job, there's no going back," he said with finality.
My hands shook and I threw them up in the air. "What if you get caught? What if you're seriously injured? Or what if you die?" My voice was wobbly and didn't sound like my own.
He shrugged. "If that's what happens, then that's what happens. We don't back out of the job when things get challenging."
"You're okay with that? Okay with just disappearing like this? Like you haven't even existed in this world?"
"I don't care. I've been fortunate enough to have this life."
"It's not a life, Seven. And even if you don't care, I do."
The silence stretched between us, thick as blood. His eyes caught mine, held them for a second that felt like forever. Then he walked over to mybed, zipped up my duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, and said, "We really should go, Kimmy."
"Hold on," I said as he walked over to the front door.
He stopped and looked at me.
"We can't leave evidence that we know each other, can we?" I supplied, rushing into the bathroom to grab the most incriminating item. He was waiting in the same spot when I returned with his leather jacket. "You said your DNA is too precious. I'm not sure I cleaned it well enough."
"Nice catch," he said. "Thank you."
Seven walked ten steps ahead of me, just enough for plausible deniability if anyone was watching. He pretended to be scrolling through his phone while carrying my duffel bag.
We slipped through the rear lobby of some hotel I'd never heard of, where the floors gleamed with polished veins and the glass was spotless. There was no concierge on duty.
Cameras were present, naturally, but we were wearing disguises that Seven had evidently prepared and stored in his vehicle beforehand. A large, brimmed hat obscured my face, and a green puffer jacket made me look at least twenty pounds heavier.
He wore a gray coat that reached his ankles and a baseball cap that peaked out from under the sweatshirt's hood thrown over his head. It wasn't perfect and I doubted his intention was to completely erase us. Perhaps all he was trying to do is buy us some time while whoever was tailing us tried to match our description of before to after.
I didn't know what kind of before and after this was, but it felt that way. It felt like life before Seven and after, somehow. Not beforethat nightand after anymore.
We reached the bank of elevators, which he passed. He just kept on walking, disappearing around the corner.
I didn't follow.
He'd told me on the way here that he'd meet me on the third floor.
Instead, I stopped and pressed the button.
A few seconds later, the elevator opened with a sigh.
I got in, rode up to the third floor, and got out. He was there, at the end of the corridor, moving toward the sign indicating stairs. We climbed two stories, then entered the corridor again, and walked to the service elevator.
Seven pressed the button to the twelfth floor.
There was a moment, in the close box of space, when the world grew very small and we both existed in it together. I caught the faint scent of laundry detergent—cedar, or something meant to pass for it. It mingled with a scent of leather and my own shampoo and it felt like we were blending into one.
