Where Loyalties Lie

12

“Succinylcholine,” I explained to the man trapped behind wide, unmoving eyes—awake and coherent but held prisoner inside his own body. “As you’re in pharmaceuticals, you’re probably familiar with the anesthetic. Normally, it’s used in combination with other medications for surgical procedures.” I lifted his leg and began to remove his dress shoes. “On its own, the drug induces paralysis and eventual asphyxiation. It’s got to be awful to be under the effects of such a powerful paralytic. To have things done to your body without your consent, all while you’re perfectly aware and unable to resist.” I tsked as I slid down his pants and draped them carefully over the desk chair by the window. Next, I pulled off his jacket and unbuttoned his dress shirt while foam began to collect in the corners of his mouth. “It’s an absolute nightmare but, in this case, rather fitting, wouldn’t you say? I bet plenty of defenseless little boys out there would agree with me.” I pulled the covers over his chest, as if tucking him in for the night, then hovered over his face so that our eyes could meet. “You’ve been very naughty, Chad. As you gurgle on your last breath, betrayed by your own body, I want you to understand that you did this. You brought this upon yourself.” Before pulling away, I removed his contacts from his eyes, then placed them in their case in the bathroom. By the time I returned, Chad no longer had a pulse. I took a picture as evidence and cleaned up after myself, ensuring the room looked perfectly undisturbed upon my departure. Using a technique I’d been taught many years before, I engaged the chain lock on the door as I left, making it look as though the room had been locked from the inside. The last touch, a “do not disturb” hanger on the door handle. I had already ensured cameras were not in use in the hallways. I might have been seen on elevator cameras arriving on his floor, but there was no proof what room I’d visited. With my hands in my pockets and a lightness to my step, I slipped from the hotel without a trace. OceanofPDF.com Chapter 5 Emily Friday’s class brought an onslaught of tension and awkward glances, at least as far as I was concerned. Tamir was his usual stoic self, totally unruffled and radiating cool confidence. I felt like the building furnace had malfunctioned and immersed the gym in a sauna-like heat. Judging by the fact that I was the only one drenched in sweat, the temperature spike was purely a personal problem. I might have been a hot mess on the inside, but on the surface, aside from my fountain of sweat, I kept myself aloof and distant. Each time Tamir’s cutting dark eyes turned my way, they were met with an immovable iceberg of impassivity. A sweaty iceberg, but an iceberg, nonetheless. I was stronger than my desires and wouldn’t allow logic to be swept away under the guise of need. I might have wanted to explore the chemistry that sizzled between us, but that wasn’t what I needed. I didn’t need a man at all, but if I did open up to one, it would be to someone respectable and honest. Someone who wouldn’t put me right back where I started. Someone I could trust. I wasn’t sure what that looked like, but I knew it wasn’t Tamir. He had secrets, and I couldn’t see how trust could be established on a foundation of lies and deceit. With that in mind, I kept my distance the entire class. I didn’t even allow myself to look in his direction when it came time to leave. I grabbed my things and ran, hurrying home to spend my Friday night alone in my apartment. Sometimes, when I was lonely, I got angry with myself for my situation. It had been my own doing, after all. I would drink or binge watch some inane television show, and when my pity party lost its appeal, I reminded myself why I’d left. Why it had been necessary to move myself across the country and cut myself off from everything I’d known. That was when I put my big girl panties on and admitted that I’d done the right thing. A few months of solitude was worth the outcome, and it wouldn’t be forever. One day, I’d settle into my new life, and I’d be in a better place than where I started. One day. Until then, I spent the weekend alone, as I did most weekends, working and cleaning my apartment. Monday was a long, grinding day at work. Traffic was slow, which left far too much time for internal retrospection. Tuesday wasn’t far off, but at least it allowed me enough time to run home after work and change before going to class. Most days, I was forced to change in the tiny restaurant bathroom and rush from work straight to the gym, but when the restaurant was half-empty, my boss sent me home early. I lived close enough to make the quick trip home before class. My apartment was on the fourth floor in a mostly residential neighborhood. There were six apartments on each floor, and mine was one of the two farthest from the elevator. I’d gotten to know three of my neighbors although, admittedly, not well. There was a young family across the hall who was always on the go and paid me little mind, as I was outside their tornadic nucleus. Nearest the elevator was a middle-aged man who looked to be in finance or some other low-level white-collar gig. Both tenants were pleasant enough, but I usually just smiled and walked past when I saw them in the halls. The apartment directly across from me was a different story. Mrs. Timmons was an elderly woman who lived alone, except for her two Siamese cats. She reminded me of my tita although Tita had never been a cat person. She’d had a vicious little chihuahua named Taco. He was affectionate to the family, but the second an outsider stepped foot near our house, Taco went ballistic. Poor thing had the heart of a pit bull in the body of a rat. When Tita passed away, my father agreed to keep the dog but refused to allow it inside. In a matter of weeks, he got out of the rickety fence and came to grips with reality when he took on an actual pit bull. It did not go well for Taco. I adored my tita, crazy dog and all, so it came naturally for me to form an attachment to Mrs. Timmons. I enjoyed our little visits. If my tita had been alone in the city, I would have wanted someone to check on her for me. On my way home, I knocked at the old woman’s door and waited for her to answer. As usual, her foggy eyes lit through the haze of cataracts when she greeted me. “Sweet Emily! What a lovely surprise.” She reached for my hands and clasped them both, figuring out early on that I wasn’t exactly the hugging type. “You want to come in? I just got some new cherry sours.” She started to turn for her candy dish, but I stopped her. “Actually, Mrs. Timmons—” “Honey, I’ve told you, call me Grace."