Chapter 6 : Playing Dumb

Eden POV There's a weird silence in this hotel room. I used to pray for the same silence in my foster family's home. Everything was loud and chaotic and ever changing. I would sit still while the world blurred in movement around me. This silence is different from that. This is a penetrating, bleeding silence that slowly cuts at my surface until I fall into a lump of shredded discard. There's nowhere to hide in this room, to feel vulnerable, and they see that. "I told the police everything that happened," I say at last, breaking the tensile silence. Erik waves his hand in the air, swatting away an imaginary bug. "I'm aware of what you told the police, Eden, but I don't believe you." I swallow. "I don't know anything else; I promise." "So you're gone for three days, but you don't see or hear or know a thing about where you went? Let alone, who took you in the first place? You can see how that seems very unlikely, right?" Trying to avoid Erik's eyes, I look to his son, who couldn't be much younger than the bank robbers who took me captive. He offers a kind grin but it falters shortly after. "Eden, look at me, not my son," Erik bites. "You know something, and you aren't telling me about it." I can only shrug, making sure I keep my end of the deal with the bank robbers firm. They didn't hurt anyone, and they didn't screw over Grand Dominion Bank. Plus, my memory of those three nights was kind of muddled in hindsight. "Answer me!" I flinch on impulse, his volume and tone rather crude for what his son said would be a harmless conversation. My hands turn over in my lap, my palms blotchy and damp with nervous sweat. My head is spinning and I'm thankful I didn't eat dinner before; I would have thrown it up by now. "Okay, Father, relax," Asher mutters. "Give me a minute with her." Erik reluctantly paces out of the room and into the hall. I wait until the door shuts him out completely before I gasp, taking my first breath in a while after I'd held it for so long. Asher kneels on the floor in front of the bed. He has gentle, but rather enigmatic, eyes. "I'm sorry he yelled, but it is very important that you tell me what happened during and after the robbery." He rests a hand on the edge of my knee, and I inhale sharply, recalling the way Ryder had touched me there me in the car after the heist. For some reason, I was okay with Ryder's intent, but not right now, not with Asher Donahue. I can't tell him anything that could get the brothers in trouble. "Can you tell me if you saw their faces at all? They didn't wear masks when they walked in." "The one that went into the vault had a hat on before, and a scarf. I couldn't really make out his face. I told this all to the police and they said—" "I know," Asher cuts in. "But we don't work well with the police. We're going to do our own little investigation, okay? So can you tell me what kind of place they took you to? Could it be a house or an apartment or a warehouse—" "Warehouse." I nod, faking my enthusiasm. "By the harbor. I could hear the boats." His eyes widened with that claim. "Oh, okay. Very good. Anything else you can tell me?" "There were four of them." He pauses. "The security cameras in the bank showed eight masked assailants leaving out the back door." Eight? What the hell were the brothers expecting in conquest for that tiny, silver box? "There were a lot of voices," I backtrack, realizing my error. "I only counted four." He brushes his fingers down my wrists, a little worn from the plastic ties I'd slipped out of twice before. "Your arms were tied in front of you when you left the bank, right?" I nod. "You didn't at any time try to undo your blindfold or fight them? I mean, typically people have their arms tied behind their backs to limit that kind of reaction," he speculates. "I was too scared, I—" I sniffle, my mouth left agape in terror. I'm not upset over the memory of being kidnapped the first time. This second time is much more petrifying. "I didn't want to do anything that would make them hurt me." He looks sympathetically at the gash on my cheek. "So, that mark on your face. That was done by our guy?" "Yes, he threw me in the car and smacked me with his gun," I reply. "I didn't do anything wrong, please. I was just at work, doing my job, and then I was forced to leave, and then I was thrown into a different car today and—" "Shh," he breathes, his hand fitting perfectly against my bloodied cheek. "I understand you're scared. I don't want to make things worse for you right now. It's just very, very important that the item they stole is returned to us." My wonderment is too strong to bed down. "What was it?" His head cocks and pulls his hand away, his thumb dragging needlessly along the new wound on my face. "It was a family heirloom, Eden. I don't know if you're aware of my family name and what it means, but we don't need safety deposit boxes for money. That trinket; it was priceless." My body aches more and more with his claim. I don't want to sell out the brothers, but I also feel guilty for lying to Asher. The box obviously means a lot to him and his family. Whatever is inside of it, if anything at all, could be so priceless that it's irreplaceable. I would be responsible for the loss of that silver box and the meaning Asher obviously equates to it. I shake my head, my eyes tear-filled and inflamed. "I don't know anything, Asher. I'm sorry." He lowers his volume to the point that I almost miss his words entirely. "I cannot guarantee your safety unless you cooperate with us, Eden." Fighting back more tears, I reply, "I can't tell you information that I don't have, Asher. I'm sorry. You were robbed that day, but I was taken hostage. If I knew anything at all worth sharing, I would have told the police earlier today, and I would tell you and your father, as well." Something tells me he doesn't believe a word I've spoken. He stands, looking out the window over the lively city around us. With his back turned to me, I can't spoil this opportunity. I bolt toward the door, charging into the hallway and just narrowly avoiding Erik's grip. Asher isn't far behind my lengthy paces, my feet rushing toward the stairwell at the end of the hall before I jump clear over a few steps at a time. Asher's hand is outstretched behind me, daring to grab my shoulder and coming so close to doing it, that I can feel the hovering taunt of him about to catch me. I reach the bottom floor at last and break out the set of doors, running straight for the large, lavish front desk in the middle of the building. I turn the corner around the circular desk, distracted by my need for help that I entirely miss the strong wall of muscle that I ram into. My head smacks into the shoulder of the stranger, my eyes rattling in my head while I try to compose myself. Asher stops directly behind me, panting with each breath while I hold a hand to my wounded, stinging cheek. My eyes follow his, landing on a tattooed brute that I recognize. Next to him is a lean, handsome blond man with a slender grin pressed into his lips. F*ck. It's them. "The Golden brothers," Asher grumbles. He looks at them like they are gum on the sidewalk. I try to get out of their way, the Donahue son reaching for me. I flinch, yanking free of his hold the second he touches me. "You should consider coming back upstairs with me, Eden. Now." I swap a look between the brothers and Asher, aware that I have to keep their cover hidden now, more than ever before. There's obviously bad-blood between them. I pant, "I shouldn't—I just got home and now—please, Asher—" "Eden?" Dante tastes my name, my thighs trembling in response. "That sounds really familiar. Is this the girl that was taken in that odd bank heist a few days ago?" Before Asher can reply, Ryder cuts in, "The Donahue family is in the business of robbing banks and tormenting tellers now?" Asher shoots me a look. I recoil. "The heist wasn't my family; it was against my family. They stole from our deposit box. My father and I were just seeing if Eden had any extra information she could share that would help solve this puzzle." Dante crosses his tattooed arms over his sleek, purple shirt. "Judging by the cut on her face, Asher, I'm assuming you did more than talk with the woman." "You know the rules," Ryder snickers. "No business is to be conducted at the Lamont Lounge." "Come here, darling," Dante says, helping me to escape Asher's grip. He taps my chin to get a good look at my bleeding cheek. I dare to pull away from his hands, but it's all I've been thinking about for the last twelve hours. Ryder waves over a hotel employee, one that doesn't seem bothered by the disheveled sight of me. "I think the Donahue family is forgetting the rules of the hotel," Ryder breathes. "Can you make sure this woman walks out of here safely and gets home in one of our cars?" "Of course, sir." The petite receptionist leads me away from the three scariest, most impossibly strong men I've ever met. I inhale the nighttime air, thank the receptionist, and reluctantly climb into the back of a waiting car. I feel I can trust this man to take me home because he works for the twins. If they wanted me, they would've kept me.... I'm not sure how I feel about that.. When I finally make it to my apartment, to my amazement, Jack is neither being promiscuous nor playing video games. He is curled up in bed, alone, snoring along to the waves of his deep slumber. I finally break, falling into the couch and muffling my cries into the pillow nearest to me. I weep in fear, in confusion, and at the sight of the brothers. The Golden brothers, at that. Dante's knuckle tattoos make a lot more sense now. The last three days have been hectic and unnerving and impossibly dangerous. But in that same breath, it was an exciting and new time for me. I was liberated and satisfied with my impulsivity after so long of training my mind to be apathetic to change. I dare to fall asleep, my sobs almost calm, but a light knock on the front door pulls me from the small sectional in the living room. I waltz toward the door and look through the peephole. "Oh, my god." I throw open the door and fall into their arms.