Page 45 of Knot Innocent
As I stare out over the water, a niggling voice in my head spies an opportunity and urges me to run headlong into the waves and never come back. Why suffer a miserable existence? End the pain now.
I don’t realize I’ve crept toward the rising tide until the water nearly touches my shoes. “I won’t do it. I don’t want to be a monster like him, but even more, I don’t want to be the coward he was.”
The next day, I show up for work at the last possible minute and keep to myself, only doing the minimum before cutting out as soon as I’m able. Tuesday goes pretty much the same. I haven’t spoken to Birdie, Jackson, or Knot, and as much as I hate to admit it, I feel like shit because of it.
I’ve had plenty of moments where I wondered if Jackson could be right, if I am being stupid. Shortly after, I always remember what my father’s public defender argued when vying for a lighter sentence. Early onset dementia caused him to become violent.
While the judge dismissed the claim of the questionable medical diagnosis, the seed was planted, and I’ve never forgotten it. Regardless of what Jackson thinks, I’ve decided to take the path of least regret.
Wednesday morning, I enter the training room a little before our scheduled session. My mood this morning is dark, and I want to work on the bags before sparring to ensure I don’t take my anger out on an innocent opponent.
The decision turns out to be a mistake.
The first thing I see when I open the training room door is Austin “Spatch” Madden with his arms around Birdie. I see all kinds of red until he lifts her off her feet, yelling at her to break free. Get a grip, asshole. He’s only training her.
Swamped with relief, I berate myself for wanting to rush in and run away at the same time. I’m not a coward, but just this once, running away wins. I snatch some tape off the wall and wrap my hands as I walk to the woods trail to find a tree instead.
I avoid showing up early again on Thursday and go straight to the gym when I arrive on campus. The sight greeting me this morning is no better. Kai stands behind Birdie, spotting her as she does low-bar squats. He’s not looking at her ass as she dips down low, but my blood boils anyway. Fuck this.
I head for the range.
Birdie
“Give me one more, Birdie!” Kai yells.
Legs quivering, I sink low—the easy part. The trip back up is a different story. My legs nearly buckle as if I’m loaded with five tons of extra iron. Calling up every bit of oomph I can muster, I start the trip back up as a groan from deep in the pit of my gut spills from my mouth.
By some miracle, I make it upright again, and Kai guides me back to the rack. As the weight lifts from my hands, I moan. I might collapse on the floor right here. Kai slaps me on the back. “Nice work, Rookie. Now go hit the showers.”
His encouraging gesture nearly sends me to the floor, where I would likely remain for several hours. Thankfully, I hold steady on my feet and only stare at my would-be resting place until my legs can carry me away.
With my overzealous training instructor’s back turned, I let the victorious smile slide from my face. It was just as fake as the one I wore for Spatch yesterday. And, just like yesterday, Bastien didn’t show.
I’m sure he’s around here somewhere, but he’s avoiding me now. When Bastien didn’t report for Monday’s training session that he mandated, I figured I had two options. I could forget the whole learning to defend myself thing, or I could reach out to any of these other capable operatives for help.
Spatch was the obvious choice for hand-to-hand practice. While I would have preferred to weight train with Sadie, her team is currently deployed. Spatch assigned the task to Kai instead.
The former SWAT bomb disposal officer is always a nice guy. During today’s training, he was overly friendly and encouraging. Though I’m sure it wasn’t intentional, he came across as patronizing. During the entire session, I don’t know which I did more of, rolling my eyes or wishing I could punch his teeth in.
With my legs no longer protesting movement, I drag my ass to the locker room and shower to go to work. Well, to go upstairs, anyway.
I’ve been working a lot since Sunday. There’s nothing else to do here except sleep and eat since I haven’t returned home. As such, I’m running out of things to do. Detective Cooper has often updated me on the case, though the news hasn’t been good.
No cameras caught the attacker’s face at the biergarten, and he parked far enough away from the facility that he couldn’t be connected with a vehicle. So, basically, the case has gone cold. That doesn’t bode well for my current living situation.
I’m stuck here since I’m too afraid to go home where I’d be by myself. Knot and his wife, Trish, offered to let me stay with them, but there was no point. I’m already secure here, and their vast estate still wouldn’t be home. Pretty soon, I’ll have to do something or go crazy. Until then, status quo it is.
After getting cleaned up, I take my time grabbing breakfast from the café before going upstairs. My ass hasn’t been behind my desk for thirty seconds before a tall figure darkens my door. Expecting, or maybe hoping it’s Bastien, I pop my head up only to slump when it’s just my boss. “Hi, sir.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed. Expecting someone else?”
Scoffing in response, I shake my head. “Not really. No.”
Knot slants a skeptical brow, but he doesn’t call me on it. He appears to be waiting me out, but I’m not in the mood to be manipulated, even with the best intentions. In a quick pivot, I ask, “Any new work for me?”
“No. And with all you’ve done between Sunday and now, I believe you’re all caught up until sometime next year.”
“I’m sure that can’t be good for my job security.”