4

I could only stare blankly at him while my heart sank, my belly felt about to turn and the air felt too thin in my lungs.

My lack of answer brought the man from the window to the table.

“Remove your mask,” he said, calm and imposing, a deep voice meant to boss the whole world around.

I did, so full of a sudden, choking fear I couldn’t think straight.

The man took a hand out of his pocket and grabbed the tablet. He seemed to compare something on it with me before showing it to me. My knees threatened to buckle when I saw my own mugshot on screen.

“This is you,” he said, far from asking.

There was no way to deny it. Even with my hair dyed dark, it was plain to see that was my own bloody face, only four years younger.

He stared at me as to drill a hole through my skull. I tried to hold his dark eyes while the other man read from his computer.

“You were arrested in Buffalo, New York, back in 2019, charged with possession of narcotics with intent to sell. Sentenced to ten years, you were paroled for good behavior in two. But you never reported to your parole officer and your ankle monitor was found smashed in an alley. You’ve been in the wind for the last eight months.”

I swallowed hard, hearing those words straight from my police record, unable to look away from the man that still stared at me.

“Well, not exactly in the wind,” he said, circling the table toward me. “You came to town, got yourself a fake ID and applied for a job here.” He took three quick steps to come stand only a foot away from me, his dark eyes burning in rage. “You. A fugitive felon. The whole company could have gone down the drain because of you.”

I shook my head, finding a thread of voice that sounded like a crow’s cawing. “What? No! Nobody knew! Only me! Nothing would happen to the company if they found me!”

He pulled his mask down slowly, revealing his hard cheekbones, pointy chin covered by a stubble, sharp straight nose. My eyes widened in disbelief as I recognized no other than Salomon Ellis. Big Ellie. In the flesh before me. And by his looks, fighting hard to keep from killing me with his own hands.

I stiffened when he shortened the distance between us. He was a little shorter than me, but his glare from only inches away made me feel a midget facing a mountain.

“But now we know, don’t we,” he said, grinding his teeth to keep his voice down. “So we have to do something, or risk being charged with helping a wanted fugitive.”

I just lost it. My eyes welled and the whole room spun around me.

“No, please!” I mumbled. “Please, don’t call the cops! I can’t go back! It’d be for life! I can’t! Please! I’ll leave and never come back! I’ll do anything! Just don’t call the cops on me!”

Big Ellie raised his eyebrows, listening to my pathetic gibberish as I turned to the other man and back to him, babbling like a drooling idiot.

“You’d do anything?” he asked, his voice cold and sharp like a knife.

I nodded eagerly, wiping my nose on the back of my hand, my eyes still full of tears, sweating and panting as if I’d just run the thousand yards sprint. His other hand came out of his pocket and I froze when he grabbed my crotch.

“Anything?” he repeated.

I could only watch him in utter shock, feeling his fingers like a claw grasping my jewels through the slacks.

“Leave us.”

I think the man at the table dematerialized, because I never saw him leave the room. But a heartbeat later, the door closed behind me again and I was all alone with Salomon Ellis, who didn’t hold only my nuts in his fist, but my whole life.