He withdrew his thumb, rolling his eyes. “Already told you, Grace. People want you dead.”
“Yes, yes.” I waved a hand. I knew that part. “That’s why you made it look like I was. What I don’t get is why you care, and now that you have me here, what are you planning on doing with me?”
“Let me worry about that.”
Kelly took my bicep and dragged me down the hall. Damn, I muttered under my breath when I saw the toilet. It was separate from the bathroom and the window sat high near the ceiling, mocking me with its microscopic size.
Kelly nudged me inside and now that I was there, I realised how busting to go I really was. I spun around, hands ready to slide my dress up, and paused. Kelly was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, watching me.
“Privacy,” I snapped.
“Is totally overrated,” he finished for me.
“You’re not going to stand there and watch me pee.”
He turned around, giving me his back, and leaned against the doorframe again. “Hurry up, Grace. Gettin’ hungry.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass if you haven’t eaten for ten whole days. Get out and shut the door.”
“Just go, would you?”
“No,” I told him.
Bitch, my bladder screamed at me in protest.
“Pretend I’m not here.”
My brows winged up. Was he serious? Pretend there wasn’t a colossal dude standing right there in nothing but a pair of sweats that were somehow inching lower by the minute? I cocked my head as I stared for a second at the tattoo covering his back. A grim reaper with red eyes stared back. He was standing at the front of Hell’s Gates. One skeletal hand was held up, a bony finger pointing at me, beckoning me forward. It was chilling. And familiar.
“You’re a Sentinel,” I breathed in horror.
Kelly tilted his head, looking at me over his shoulder. “Fuck, babe. You still haven’t gone?” Ignoring my comment, he reached for the door handle and shut the door. Suddenly I was alone. I tucked that little piece of information away to think on later and went about my business. When I was finished, he took me to the bathroom so I could wash my hands. I took my time, stalling, because I really didn’t want to go back to the chair. In the end, he got fed up and dragged me back.
I eyed the chair balefully. “Don’t make me sit down again. My ass is still numb.”
“Want me to massage it for you?”
I huffed. “Would you stop?”
“Can’t,” he said and nudged me into the narrow kitchen instead. He wedged me in the corner, making sure an attempted escape would mean having to tackle him like a linebacker first. “You make it too easy.”
Kelly got a loaf of bread out of the pantry and sat it on the counter next to where I stood. Going to the fridge, he came out with butter, cheese and tomatoes. The thought of eating made my stomach growl loudly as I watched him butter the bread.
He looked up, pausing his movements. “Hungry?”
I pursed my lips. “No.”
“No?” He raised his brows. “I make a mean grilled cheese and tomato sandwich.”
“Of course you do,” I retorted. “Because you’re a mean person. If you were nice, you’d be making a nice grilled cheese and tomato sandwich.”
Kelly barked out a laugh as he started slicing cheese from the block of cheddar. “You worried my sandwich is going to beat you up?”
“I wouldn’t put it past anything you made,” I muttered snidely.
He chuckled as he layered the cheese over the bread. My stomach growled again. Without even looking at me, he handed over a slice of cheese. His response was a grin when he felt the piece of cheese leave his fingers.
There was no harm in eating, was there? It would give me energy for a proper escape. And maybe appearing amenable might get him to answer the question that had been running through my head on repeat since I first saw him. I nibbled on the edge of the cheese as I watched him slice tomato and add it to the sandwiches.
“Kelly.”
“Mmm,” he replied, not looking up.
“Your parents. It wasn’t a murder-suicide, was it?”
Kelly paused and I almost missed the way his hand shook a little before he drew a deep breath. The tremor stopped when he regained control. He finished making the sandwiches and put them on the pan heating behind him. Then he turned around and gripped the edges of the counter on either side of me, trapping me in. “How ‘bout you tell me what you were keepin’ from Casey that got him so upset. Then I’ll answer your question.”
“Really?”
“Yes, babe. Really.”
I’d tell him anything to get the answers Casey was so desperate for. “I have cancer,” I said simply. “I was going to tell him, but he found out from someone else.”