blanket was folded on the floor. It even had an outlet with a charger and, of course, a small toilet at the end of the room.
“If I tell you to go in there, you will do that immediately, no questions asked. If you hear a gunshot, a shout, a fucking explosion, you will go in there, close the closet from the inside, slide the panel back in place, and lock the security door. You will have the phone I gave you on you at all times. If you ever end up in the panic room, you are to dial the emergency contact and give them the code you find on the other side of the security door.”
“Deal. When you are shooting Léon, I’ll be in Narnia. This is getting better and better.”
He was transparent in his nervousness. His cocky façade became brittle when he was tired. I felt sorry for him, I did, but I wasn’t his therapist. If I was confident and calm, he’d trust me and eventually calm down himself.
“Michael, I’m serious. Do you remember all the instructions, or do I need to repeat them?”
“Sure. I get it. Closet. Panic room. Phone, emergency contact, and code on the door.”
“You will never leave the cabin without my permission, understand?”
Michael gave me a droll look. “Will there be lunch-time walks, or do I get a pee pad?”
I lifted my eyebrow. “Bathroom is right over there.”
He smirked, the corner of his full mouth lifting in a sensual curve, and he was looking at me, the provocative glint in his eyes scraping at my patience. Jesus, this kid’s coping mechanisms were all over the place. I was tired from a whole day of driving, and I still needed to bring in the supplies from the trunk. I turned away and left him there, without another word.
After unloading the groceries, and checking on the backup generator, I locked the cabin for the night. The security system was connected to my phone, so I went through the usual checkpoints on the app, and switched to night regime.
When I was done, I heard Michael in the bathroom. With my body stiff and sore, I stretched in the living room and did some push-ups to get my blood pumping. It cleared my brain a little. I stood up and halted. Michael stood braced against the bathroom door, a towel around his slim hips and a lascivious smile on his lips.
His chest was smooth, his belly flat, only lean muscles and milky skin, a contrast to his tattooed arms. His small pink nipples were pierced with pointy silver barbells. His half-naked form made my throat go dry. Damn.
“Don’t stop on my account. I’m enjoying the view,” he said.
He was going to drive me crazy. Luckily, I’d been around for long enough to be able to keep myself in check. I’d lived through being a gay man in the Marines and the Bureau. I could handle one cocky kid.
“Go to bed, Michael.” I kept my expression neutral.
Sighing, he sauntered off to his room, and banged the door shut behind him.
I made tea and opened a book.
Vincent doesn’t like me doing yoga
Michael
Vincent had been right, the boredom was dangerous. I had way too much time to think and way too little activity to exhaust myself. I slept barely four hours the first night. Second wasn’t any better. My brain was a mess. I dreamed about Vincent making me go through the forest naked, holding a gun to my head. I woke up terrified, and so fucking confused, I had to get up. Vincent blended in with the killer in my dream, and I had to clear my head, or I’d have had another nightmare right away.
I opened the door to the cabin and looked out, the chilly night air assaulting my half-naked body. Trees, trees, trees fucking everywhere. Mist floated on the lake, visible in the light of the half moon. Surreal. Sinister. Fuck. This is not helping.
A door clicked behind me, and the light in the living room glared suddenly.
“Michael! What are you doing?”
I swiveled around.
Vincent stood in the door to his room, dressed only in his pajama pants. His muscled torso was covered with salt-and-pepper hair, narrowing into the world’s most perfect happy trail, the V of his abdomen worthy of a Greek statue.
Exactly what I need to distract me from nightmares.
“Michael, close the front door.”
Still in a haze, I did what he said.
“What are you doing up?”
“I have… issues with sleep,” I mumbled, my eyes pinned