Hired for secrets

He is dangerous

Dawn was breaking when Sofie pulled into the driveway of her safe-house and it felt like a new beginning. The golden rays of the rising sun danced over Philip's face. He was sound asleep on the passenger seat. The tortured expression he had for most of the drive from the blinding headlights shining into his dilated pupils was finally gone and he looked peaceful. There was a subtle smile on his face. Was he dreaming?

"You are beautiful," Sofie whispered as she leaned over to brush a stray hair out of his face.

His eyes flew open and darted around the car's interior before finally settling on hers. His jaw clenched to suppress a yawn and he drew in a sharp breath.

"I must have fallen asleep."

"Yes, you slept for most of the drive. We are at the safe-house, already."

Sofie opened her door and the pungent stink of old tires and leaked motor oil nearly strangled her lungs. The tiny bungalow was right next to a scrapyard. It wasn't prime real estate but it was deserted. Exactly what they needed right now.

"It's not what you're used to, I'm afraid," she laughed, seeing his large frame crowd the dilapidated cottage. The kitchen-diner was the largest room of the house. But even so, there was barely enough space to pull out the chair from the dining table without falling onto the smelly green-corded couch in the corner. Two other rooms led off the space, but they were in even worse condition. One was missing a door, making the corridor look like a toothless grin. Mocking them.

"No, it's not..." The disquiet in his voice disclosed how much it pained him to realize what depth he had sunken to. Being stranded in a dump, without money or a way out.

"But I'm grateful... Of course," he added, collapsing on one of the shabby kitchen chairs and holding out his arm. "Can we get started with the next injections? I want to get the needle out."

He propped his head onto his free arm, occasionally rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. This was how he remained for the 30 minute treatment, giving Sofie only one word answers at her attempts of small-talk.

"I'm really tired. Do I take the couch here?"

"No, there's a bedroom. It's through there", she pointed to the door-less frame. "Is it ok if I duck out? You should be out of the woods and I need to clean out my old apartment."

With a brief nod he rose and disappeared into the dark room, leaving Sofie to cover their tracks.

She first returned the hire-car into the exact same spot. An audaciously placed pylon had preserved the spot and with the help of a GPS spammer it would look to the rental system as if the car never moved. If someone wanted to find her next hiding spot by tracing back from her old apartment or Elandra they would be out of luck. She next focused on scrubbing the apartment of any traces that she'd ever been there.

It was early afternoon when Sofie arrived back at the safe-house. She found Philip sitting at the kitchen table. He was wearing only his pants, with damp hair and smelling of fresh soap. For someone at the brink of death only hours ago he looked stunning. No, he looked stunning full stop.

"The shirt needed washing," he said, shifting in his chair, "and there wasn't anything else to wear."

"You look good that way," she said, deliberately brushing against his naked skin as she walked through, "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks."

"You know," she said, moving closer and letting her palm glide over his shoulder, "I can think of things to do while we wait for the shirt to dry."