Hey, he wouldn’t be the first man to think I was a bitch. And probably not the last. I cared about him being angry, but not that much. I had gone down that path before and I didn’t feel like going down it again. It all seems like such a good deal going in, doesn’t it? You love him, he loves you, you move in together, start staying in on weeknights to eat dinner and watch series together. You start picking up his socks because you think it’s just the one time. Then it’s just a few times. Then it’s all the time. You don’t feel the bars of the cage closing in on you. Soon you can’t write anymore. You gain happy relationship weight and lose your edge. And without your edge you can’t think that cleanly anymore. You can’t be as precise somehow. You’re distracted.

Nope, never again. Jack could pout as much as he liked but he knew what he was getting into when he met me. For my own sanity right now, I needed to keep Jack and the story in neat, separate little boxes in my mind. I padded barefoot into the study and glanced around, wondering if I had the energy for another hour or so. Jack had left earlier, probably to blow off steam. I suppose it had been our first fight.

I wondered if he’d expected me to stop him, to run after him and beg him not to go. It’s not that I was against the idea of handing over the reigns of my whole like to some man. What I resented was knowing that the second I did that, he’d be looking for the next thing to take from me, and the next. They’d never, ever, ever admit it, but men actually want a woman they can’t have completely. Oh, they’ll push for all of you, but once they have all of you… they suddenly aren’t that interested anymore. Jack could think I was a bitch, but I didn’t care. He liked how free-spirited I was? How strong and put-together and mature I was? Well, I got that way by keeping the reigns of my life firmly in my own hands. By being a bitch, basically.

I flicked off the study light and decided I was too tired this evening to do any more work. As I turned on my heel to walk back into the darkened hall and up to my bedroom, a grey smudge flashed before my face. Before I could understand what was happening, another grey smudge followed and then pain flashed down my spine as something closed round my neck. I screamed but in the very next instant a hand came swiftly to my mouth and clamped it shut. Eyes hot with tears, I squirmed as the grey shapes in the darkness closed in around me and worked to bundle up my arms and hands.

Something dry was thrust into my mouth and I felt myself being dragged, my bare feet squeaking on the wooden floors as I struggled to stand. Oh god. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Muffled voices whispered to one another as I was hauled outside, where the air was so crisp and cool it felt like it stung my toes. Nothing I did could stop the two hooded men who were on either side of me now, heaving me out the back door and over the gravel path. A scrap of black fabric descended over my eyes and I screamed internally.

But it was too late.

Everything was black. All I could think of was Jack. The thought that he could be in danger because of me was too much to bear. I thrashed uselessly against limbs I couldn’t see, but they held me back with ease. The cloth in my mouth tasted vaguely bitter and sent panic all through me. I fucking knew it. I knew they had been watching me. Why had I ignored my instincts? Why hadn’t I been more careful about all this? And now not only were they going to kill me, the story of the year would never make its way into print…

I bolted upright as I tried to remember if I’d closed my laptop. If somebody really wanted to hack it, they could, but I had enough under password protection that they wouldn’t be able to get to it quickly, at least. I had to think. But the world was suddenly moving very quickly.

I heard the low rumbled of a car starting and soon I was flung inside, the door slammed, and the gravel beneath crunched as we pulled off with a jerk. Everything was quiet, and the hand at my throat told me I should be quiet too. These were pros. Stinging tears streamed down my cheeks and wet the fabric blindfolding me. Sweet god, where they going to kill me?

After a while it made no sense to kick back and fight anymore. I was only exhausting myself, whereas their ability to restrain me seemed endless. I stopped struggling, and pricked my ears to the subtle sounds around me. Without the use of my eyes, and with wrists and ankles bound, I felt completely unable to tell in which direction we were travelling, what kind of car we were in, how many people were in the car…

When we finally came to a standstill I was so terrified I thought for sure I’d throw up. My heart pounded silently in my chest as the men hauled me out, slammed the door shut, and took me into what had to be a small room. Had we been driving for five minutes? Twenty-five? My thoughts were racing so fast it could have been anything. Something told me that struggling now would earn me a swift reprimand. So I went limp and let them shove me this way and that way, wondering whether I’d been brought here to be killed, threatened, or interrogated. The men worked quickly and without mercy to tighten the cords at my hands and feet, then flung me into a hard chair.

I cowered in the darkness of my hood, my ears desperately trying to ascertain who was around me and what was going to happen next. For some reason, I smelt bleach and wet cardboard, along with my own hot breath as I panted inside the hood and tried to stay calm.

“You can go,” said a voice, and I imagined I could see dim shapes moving through the weave of the hood fabric. I heard footsteps and a door open and close quietly. Then silence.

I couldn’t tell if the feeling washing all over the surface of my skin just then was heat or ice cold. I listened with keen ears as a chair was pulled up beside me. Internally, I recoiled at the thought that I would be hit, or grabbed again. But there was nothing but silence.

“Jack O’Connor,” the voice said eventually.

Indeed. Jack’s face was in my mind’s eye. Why hadn’t I told him I loved him? Why had I been so stubborn and difficult when he was clearly the best thing that had ever happened to me? How long before he came to rescue me? I suddenly felt a deep pang of self-pity. Just a few moments ago I had been so happy to shrug him off. Isn’t life funny? Just the moment I had sincerely convinced myself he was starting to cramp my style, I wished more than anything that he was here right now to get me out of this mess. I seriously began to wonder if I would regret that the last thing we’d done with one another was fight.

“You’re living with him. Correct?” the voice said again. I tried to figure out if I was going to respond, but soon the moment faded and I was unable to speak anyway.

I heard him clear his throat. It was difficult to tell how old he was, or of what nationality. He sounded scarily robotic. I nearly leapt out of my skin when I felt something touch me on my side. His hand.

“A professional or… personal relationship?” he said and traced up my ribcage till his fingers hovered just below my breast. The nauseous feeling returned and I tried to squirm away from the touch.

“Of course, nobody cares if you’re fucking the guy,” the voice continued. “But that’s not all you’re doing, is it?”

I was about to say how I wasn’t going to talk, how I resented being abducted like this and how I wouldn’t speak a word to him, no matter who the hell he was working for… but just then the hood was whisked off and I blinked to let my eyes adjust to the light. My hair lay ruffled over my face, but I could see it all clearly: a bare interrogation room with a cheap pine door, two chairs, dirty linoleum floors. The man on the other chair was propping his elbows on his knees, peering at me with menace, the hood in one hand.

“Look, you’re not in any trouble, so don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you…”

I couldn’t help but laugh scornfully at this.

He raised a single eyebrow.

“Who are you?” I said, as calmly as I could manage. Though my heart was still pounding inside I managed to make my voice sound fairly convincing. He nodded and leaned back.

“Why don’t I ask you some questions first, huh?” he said. I could feel his eyes all over my body. I knew a little about how interrogations like this worked. If it had come to this point, if he had to resort to intimidating me like this at all, then I knew I was the one in the position of power. I had an inkling of what was coming: men don’t pull women into scary rooms like this unless they intend to convince them to do exactly as they’re told. But there was nothing in the world I resented more than a man who thought he was in charge of me. I bit down on my jaw.

“Jack O’Connor. Do you even know who he is?” he asked. His voice was a dead monotone. I stared at the floor, silent.

“He’s probably told you that he’s an ex SEAL, right? Good guy? Now, I already know that you know he was dismissed, but do you know why he was dismissed?”

In my worst nightmares, in my vision of hell, this is how people talk. Threatening, arrogant. If my hands weren’t bound I don’t know if I could have resisted punching that smug face right now.

“Okay, I see, you’re not going to talk to me. That’s fine. Let me talk to you, then. Look, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Clearly. But it’s not your fault. Let me explain something to you. Your boyfriend is a very, very dangerous man.”

I couldn’t help looking up at his dark, dead eyes. I said nothing. I had to remember that everything said here was likely to be bullshit.

“No, no of course you don’t believe me. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger though, hasn’t he? And you both are rather… intimate as this point,” he said, and this time his eyes were again on my body. I felt his gaze crawling all over me. I swallowed and tried not to think of being followed, of being spied on. Of all the secret, delicious moments I’d shared with Jack being… watched.

“Oh, you were more than happy to agree to write a story for him. To stir things up.”

My throat felt dry.

“You see, that was a mistake on your part. To agree. Trust me, you don’t want us as enemies. But look, we understand, you didn’t know. But you will know soon.”

“Know what?” I blurted.

He laughed, then cracked his knuckles.

“We’ve been following Jack O’Connor for months now.”

He reached underneath his seat and pulled out a manila envelope and waved it at me, before opening it up. Inside were large pictures of building rubble, like the remains of an explosion. Some had disturbing images of wounded, bloody people, many of whom looked dead. He showed them to me calmly. I spied other papers in the envelope: documents with FBI letterheads and heavy black retraction bars scribbled all through them.

“You see, the problem is that you’ve got the wrong story. O’Connor is lying to you. Him and his team’s disobedience cost the lives of almost twenty people. These people” he said. The final phot in the stack was almost too grisly to look at. A boy in glasses, no older than 20, lay dashed on the ground, blood pooling disgustingly all around his head. I twisted to look away.

“Oh? You don’t like that? I thought these shots were beautifully framed. Took them myself” he said and put everything back in the envelope with a sinister smile.

“Operation September was a highly confidential mission vital for national security. Your boyfriend, however, upset the apple cart in a big way. Now, being the gentleman that I am, I pulled some strings to get him and that sorry team of his excused. My father was a marine, you see, and I hate to see that much talent wasted, what can I say. We had an agreement. Keep quiet and fuck off. But your man broke that agreement. And now my ass is on the line. Do you understand where I’m going with this?”

In truth, I didn’t. Jack hadn’t mentioned anyone making any deals. He’d never mentioned this guy.

“Jack was set up. He didn’t know what he was doing. He knew what was in that building, and you wanted to kill him for it,” I said all at once.

He sighed.

“Will you just think for a minute? It would have been nothing for us to finish them off. Nothing at all. I’m going to blow your mind here: Jack knew. Jack knew exactly what we were doing, and went along with it. He’s always been a cocky asshole. I should have killed him when I had the chance. Now he’s trying to blackmail us.”

“That’s a lie,” I said quietly. He only laughed again.

“Look, I don’t care what bullshit story he’s given you, but it doesn’t really matter. Here are your options. You go ahead and write what he tells you, and we’ll see to it that both you and him are found dead of unknown causes in that nice house of yours. Work for us and you name your price. Any position you want, a neat little book deal, a house somewhere nice, anything, just say the word.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“Jack O’Connor is a good man.”

Now he laughed out loud. I was taken aback. He looked at me like I was the biggest fool in the world.

“You really believe that? So you think you guys just bump into each other and just like that, you’re the one he chooses to write his big fancy expose?”

I said nothing.

“No offense, ma’am, you seem real nice, but think about this for half a second. He’s playing you.”

“Bullshit.”

He was laughing again.

“Hey, so um, I was gonna ask, how’s it going with the police finding the guy who broke into your house, huh?”

I had almost forgotten about that.

“Strange isn’t it? A random burglary, nothing of value taken, and the guy assigned to the case asks you out a second later?”

“I asked him out,” I said, but my mind was reeling. Why had nothing come of that case? Why had I been so eager to forget all about it?

“No matter. He came after you because he knew he could manipulate you. Let me guess, he’s told you he loves you, wants to settle down and all that crap?” he said, a nasty glee in his eyes. I suddenly felt unbearably embarrassed.

“Jack O’Connor is a good man,” I said again. I had to remember that he was only threatening me like this because he was desperate. I trusted Jack. I had to trust him.

“Okay, if you like. But the deal stands. You will not publish any article. You work for us and mine him for information, something we can make a case of and take him down like we should have months ago. Or …you guys can both finish up your romance together in a grave somewhere.”

I couldn’t keep up with the speed of my thoughts. Was Jack behind that burglary? Surely, it couldn’t be? I refused to believe it. But one look at this man’s face and I knew I wasn’t at liberty to mess around here. He had the face of a man who could slit your throat as easily as ask you the time. I had to think fast. If I resisted, he’d push me, or they’d go after Jack if they hadn’t already.

“I don’t want money. I already have money,” I said at last, changing my tone. He nodded slowly.

“I already told you, you just tell us what you do want then.”

“I’ll think about it. In the mean time, I can’t dawdle forever. He knows the article is almost finished.”

Here the man took a long, slow look at me, as though he was waiting for me to crack, waiting for some sign. But then he nodded again and stood.

“You’ve made the right choice. We’ll take everything you’ve written till now. And you’re going to tell me, from the start, everything you know.”

I stared at the floor.

“My notes are in my office,” I said, and my ears rang as I wondered if he was about to deliver a blow down on my head or to simply unknot the ropes. I winced as he moved closer.

“You know that if you fuck with me, you’re dead, right?” he said. It wasn’t even a threat. He said it merely like a fact, like the plainest truth. I nodded. For a moment I felt him looking at me, looking through me. So what? It was true that Jack had seduced me. Hadn’t I been more than willing?

I thought of Jack’s warm, tender kisses. His sweet lips. I thought of the photo of the dead boy, his glasses still intact even though the entire left side of his head was not. I thought of Jack’s strong arms around me. I thought of the hood. The feeling of wanting to throw up had long gone and in its place was the weird sensation that I had no internal organs at all, like I was simply empty inside. But I couldn’t let on that I was afraid. When the hood was yanked over my head again I made no noise this time, and went quietly as I was roughly thrown back into the vehicle.

We drove on but this time my thoughts were beginning to crystallize and clarify. It was good that they were underestimating me. It was good that they thought I was a foolish woman who was thinking with her heart and not her head. I could use that. For the time being, I had my life, and Jack had his. I cannot describe the almost sexual thrill I felt from that fact alone. I had a plan. I had the next few minutes to iron it out in my mind before this car stopped again and they yanked me out.

But maybe that was all I needed.