Page 29 of Pieces Into Place

I pull the cookies out twelve minutes later as the smell of sugary baked goodness permeates my apartment. I’ll take him some as soon as they cool off. I look outside again, but the spot where he always parks is unusually empty. That’s odd. Maybe he has diarrhea. Please let him have diarrhea. I can make fun of that for days.

I march back and forth in my apartment, my feet slapping the worn hardwood floor. I pause every so often to crane my neck toward the oven, watching for the last batch of cookies that will be done baking shortly. Part of me wants to use this anxious energy to go running, but I know it won’t do anything to help my nerves and only make the situation worse. So instead, I shove a cookie into my mouth and keep walking.

Glancing out my window at least once every fifteen minutes yields the same discouraging result: no sign of Kane. He never takes this long when he’s on duty. Even if he is irritable, he always shows up if he’s supposed to protect me. The longer he doesn’t show up, the more anxious I become.

By seven o’clock, it’s been hours since I’ve seen him, and a strange feeling begins to settle over me: disappointment. Maybe they’re taking him off assignment, maybe I’m not in danger anymore. The thought brings a pang of sadness with it; strangely enough, having him in my life made me feel a little less lonely and a lot more alive than before these past few years.

Kane is also easy on the eyes, so it hasn’t exactly been a hardship to see him every day. He has a handsome, chiseled jawline and hair that always seems to be just purposefully out of place. A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth every time I see him despite that he usually annoys the crap out of me. It is nice having someone around who cares about me, even if he is being paid for it.

Two hours later, I placed the cookies I’d been baking into a tupperware container before changing into comfortable sleepwear. Kane has failed to return this evening.

I’ve just tucked myself under a warm blanket on the couch and pressed play on an episode of Criminal Minds when a loud motorcycle engine revs outside. He won’t get any of my cookies now, I think firmly.

A frantic knock sounds at the door seconds later, followed by Kane’s voice calling my name in an urgent tone. “Olivia! Open the door. Now.”

I jump up and swing open the door to see a figure standing in the threshold, drenched in sweat and chest heaving with panicked breaths. “We need to go,” he says urgently, hurrying past me as he scans the apartment.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my heart pounding and my body shaking as fear begins to creep through my veins.

“They know where you are,” he snaps gruffly. “We have five minutes to get out of here.”

“Ok,” I exclaim, my legs feeling like lead weights beneath me as the panic begins to take hold. My mind reels with questions; I have wondered if this day would ever come and now that it’s here, I feel overwhelmed and unprepared. “I need to grab some of my stuff,” I say quickly.

“There’s no time,” he replies sternly. “Where’s your cell phone?”

I point in its direction, still on the couch where I had left it moments before. “Over there,” I say.

Kane picks up the phone and deftly removes its back panel, tossing it aside. He slides out the SIM card and inspects it for a moment before quickly placing it on the kitchen counter. With a swift movement, he flips the switch of the garbage disposal and drops the card in, watching as it is consumed by whirring blades. Then, he drops the husk of the phone to the ground and crushes it beneath his boot heel, shattering its plastic chassis into pieces.

“Let’s go,” he says, grasping my arm firmly.

“I need clothes!” I cry, suddenly realizing I’m wearing little more than a tee shirt with no bra underneath and sleep shorts.

In response, Kane reaches for my jacket near the entrance and then scoops up a pair of slippers, handing them both to me in one swift motion. “Put this on for now. We can worry about it later,” he says hurriedly.

I pull the clothes onto my body with haste before scrambling down behind him as he draws a gun from the back of his waistband. He scans our surroundings quickly before beckoning me forward with a nod. I move to follow him in line, reaching out to lightly grasp at his shirt sleeve as if tethered to him. Once we reach Kane’s motorcycle in the parking lot, I pause in resistance.

“I can’t get on that thing,” I shriek fearfully.

He whirls around, eyes blazing with a mix of authority and concern. “Olivia,” he says sternly, “this is not up for debate. If you don’t get on this motorcycle, I will have to make you. Now go!”

I swallow my fear and step closer. He reaches out with strong arms, effortlessly lifting me onto the seat behind him before handing me a helmet. The engine roars to life as he briskly fastens it below my chin.

His voice is gentle but insistent when he takes my hands and wraps them around his waist. “Hold on tight.”

Trembling, I grip him tight and feel the bike surge forward. His body presses into mine as we speed away together, wind blasting us in all directions. The cold air bites my bare legs in the space between my slippers and jacket. I close my eyes and hold on as tightly as I can.

We ride for about ten minutes before Kane pulls into a small driveway and parks the motorcycle. I let my hands fall from his waist as he gets off the bike and stops in front of me to grab the helmet from my head.

I suck in a breath as the cool air hits my face. Kane gently grabs my chin and lifts my face to look him in the eye, a move that is unexpected and surprisingly tender.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I will explain everything later. We need to go inside and grab a few things and get out of here. It’s going to be alright.”

I nod while biting my trembling lower lip. I haven’t felt scared in years, but right now I’m terrified. Of staying. Of going with Kane. Of Shaemus’s enemies, who I thought had long forgotten me.

“Olivia,” Kane calls. “Come inside. I need to grab a few things. It will be cold where we’re going.”

I follow him into what appears to be his small apartment and Kane heads for the bedroom as I stand in the small space of the living area. It’s minimal, neat and tidy. He has no personal effects or evidence of his personality on display, much like my own home. The one thing that catches my eye is a framed picture sitting on the fireplace mantle.