****
Chelsea paced back and forth along the length of the living room area of the suite she had checked into with Johan only a few minutes before, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at the floor beneath her feet. She knew, in the back of her mind, that she was not doing any favors to herself; but as she turned sharply and counted the steps to the other end of the room, she couldn’t help herself.
They had driven for three hours; that was the most that Chelsea knew. She was not even certain that they were three hours away from the city she lived in. It seemed somehow as if Johan had doubled back at some point, as if she had seen the same vague landmarks—a stand of trees, or a particular unfamiliar sign—more than once, though she couldn’t be sure. Fatigue throbbed in her bones, waging war with the adrenaline surging through her veins. Chelsea felt as if there were tiny bugs underneath her skin, making her tingle, making her nerves twitch inside of her.
Johan had given her exactly an hour and a half before they left; he had told her to bring her laptop out, log into her work station, and then dismissed her to pack her things while he went in and downloaded whatever files she was supposed to have been given, the information that had led to the CEO of her company deciding that she needed to be eliminated. “Why didn’t he just fire me?” she asked out loud, glancing at Johan. He was seated on the other end of the room, reading a book; a perfect picture of tranquility. Who the hell is he, anyway? Chelsea wondered, frowning at the sight of the man reading. The front cover of the book gave her no clues as to what its contents might be; Chelsea couldn’t make heads or tails of the foreign words, and there was no picture to provide any context. What the hell kind of guy carries two guns, three knives, drives a sports car, and reads in his downtime? Johan glanced up from his book, his expression almost bored.
“Because, he can’t be certain that you don’t already have the information—or didn’t already have the information. If he fired you, that wouldn’t do him any good.” Johan licked his lips, smiling slightly. “If it gives you any consolation, he’s after the criminal mastermind who decided to roll on him, too.” Chelsea felt a shiver work down her spine.
“That doesn’t exactly make me feel great about my chances. He’s killed three people already.” Chelsea remembered—bleakly—a fortune she had gotten once at a Chinese restaurant: “Three can keep a secret, if you get rid of two.” She wondered if Rosen had received that same advice, or if as a lowlife, the epiphany came naturally to him. She started walking more quickly, feeling like a lion trapped in a cage.
The hotel they had come to was much nicer than Chelsea would have expected; the suite was as big as her apartment, with two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchenette. It was obvious to her that Johan had had much more lead-time than she originally thought; the room they were in was already booked when they arrived. “Who do you work for?” Chelsea asked him suddenly, stopping in mid-step.
“That really isn’t your concern,” Johan pointed out, glancing up from his book once more.
“I would think it is,” Chelsea countered. “I mean—as far as I know, you’re just…you might even be working for Rosen. Holding me here until someone can come and get me.” Her feet started moving again as the adrenaline flowed through Chelsea’s veins, making her heart beat faster.
“Because Rosen would want you to be comfortable while you waited?”
“Why not? Lull me into a false sense of security.” Johan laughed.
“His goons could have snatched you out of your apartment at any time. They didn’t. I could have grabbed you on your way to your car this morning and drugged you to bring you here.”
“That is probably the least comforting thing you’ve said to me all day.” Not that he’s been exactly chatty. Chelsea looked down at the floor, numbering her steps as she made her way from one end of the room to the other.
“You should stop pacing,” Johan said, his voice perfectly level. “It’s making you more anxious.”
“Well excuse me!” Chelsea countered, her feet coming to a stop in spite of her protest. “I just spent three hours on the road with someone I don’t even know, I have no idea where I am, and my morning started out with being told that someone wants me dead, and I have an hour and a half to pack up anything I couldn’t bear to lose, because my house might get wrecked—who knows?” She crossed her arms over her chest, pinning Johan down with a stare as brittle anger built up inside of her. Chelsea fleetingly wished that she hadn’t outgrown the kind of tantrums that had marked her toddler years; it would be so satisfying to throw herself onto the floor kicking and screaming. “Someone could come in at any moment and try to kill me. How the hell are you so calm?” Johan’s lips twitched and Chelsea’s anger deepened at his amusement.
“Because I know that someone could come at any moment and try and kill me, or you—or anyone,” Johan said. “At any time.” He shrugged. “Or you could get hit by a car. You could get struck by lightning. Hell—people have been killed by animals falling out of the sky. The difference is that right now you know someone is out to get you. At least right now there’s someone between you and your death.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have a fabulous, detached attitude about my entire life going to pieces around me,” Chelsea said, carefully keeping her voice low. She could feel the anger rising inside of her, the temptation to raise her voice, to scream, to shout, making her throat tighten.
“You should do something to relax,” Johan said matter-of-factly. “Take a bath, or get a massage. I’m fairly certain the mini-bar is well stocked.” Chelsea clenched her teeth, suppressing the shriek of indignation that threatened to rip through her throat at the dry, almost bored tone of Johan’s voice.
“Take a bath?” she asked him finally. “When someone could bust through the door at any minute, you suggest I take a bath.”
“You’d have ten minutes or better to get dressed before they broke in on you,” Johan pointed out. “Or if you don’t mind fighting naked, you could use that time to find a weapon.” Chelsea stared at him in utter disbelief.
“Are you even listening to the words coming out of your mouth right now?” She bit off the rest of the words that threatened to tumble past her lips as she heard the volume of her voice rising. Johan set his book down, regarding her for a long moment. Chelsea felt a thrill of instinctive fear at the sight of him seated a few yards away, absolutely still, completely silent.
“I’m going to need you to calm the fuck down, Chelsea,” Johan said, his voice a low almost-growl. The sound sent a shiver down Chelsea’s spine; somehow his accent was more pronounced, the rasping edge of his tone sharper. “Go take a bath. You look exhausted, and if you’re going to keep moving for the next few days, you’re going to need to sleep at some point.” Chelsea felt her mouth go dry; there was something about Johan’s absolute stillness that reminded her of a predator about to strike. “If you aren’t in the bathroom and running a bath in the next five minutes, I will pick you up and carry you there, and instead of a nice hot bath, you’ll have a cold, fully-clothed shower.”
For just a moment, Chelsea’s brittle rage rose up, and she reveled in the thought of defying him, of telling Johan that she was not about to do what he said, that he wasn’t in charge of her and she would take a bath or not as she damned well pleased. But after the satisfying fantasy played through in her mind, she felt the fatigue of her inadequate sleep, even less adequate caffeine, and the stresses of the day come crashing down around her.
She turned away from Johan, walking quickly in the direction of the master bedroom. “I’m not doing this because you told me to,” she shouted over her shoulder, casting a resentful glance in the direction of the back of his chair. Chelsea knew it was petty; but she couldn’t resist saying it, as she closed the door behind her and began to strip off her clothes. Irritation carried her through as she peeled off her jeans and tee shirt, as her arms tangled somehow in the straps of her bra. Chelsea flung her clothes away from her with bitter disregard for where they ended up, muttering to herself as she twisted the knobs on the taps. “I need to calm down, he says. I look exhausted he says…maybe, Johan, that’s because I am exhausted, because my entire life is falling to pieces around me and I have no idea what the hell is going on.” She plunged one foot into the water and hissed, reaching out blindly and turning the cold water on to lower the temperature.
Chelsea climbed over the high lip of the deep tub, appreciating it almost resentfully. As she sank down into the water, the bitter words crowding their way past her lips began to ebb, and she felt her muscles slowly relaxing as the heat swirled around her. Try as she might to hold onto her resentment, the warmth and support of the water surrounding her began to lull her mind, even as the ache of fatigue flowed out of her body. She found a ridge in the wall of the tub and rested her head on it as drowsiness overcame her.