Infiltrating Your Heart (3 page)

There’s a red spot near my temple
where my assailant hit me. Luckily, there’s no blood, so I won’t have a scar.
I’ll just have to apply a thick layer of makeup to cover the bruise tomorrow.

Sighing, I then look down at my
abdomen. Just as I thought, there’s another bruise. It looks worse than the one
on my face. At least that one isn’t readily visible.

I walk to the shower and turn the
water on. When it’s at a temperature I like, I step inside. The curtains are an
eyesore. There’s no way a woman could live here.

I sweep all thoughts aside, enjoying
the feel of the water on my body. There’s nothing more repairing than a good
shower. I take my time, determined to clean off all traces of tonight (well,
the
bad
part of tonight). When I’m done, I turn off the water and grab a
towel.

Moments later, I walk out of the
bathroom. The pants fit me a little loose, but at least they won’t fall off.
The shirt fits me like a tent, though.

Patrick is sitting on the sofa,
watching TV. He turns around when he hears my approach.

“You’re back,” he says, standing up.
“Do you want to sleep now?”

I look at him in disbelief.

“I thought you would take me back to
my place.”

I live at an expensive apartment. No
one knows about it because I need a place where I can work without anyone
walking into me. Dad thinks I rent a college dorm.

Patrick sighs.

“You can spend the night here. It’s
safer. I promise I won’t try anything sneaky with you.”

I’d rather argue, but I feel too
exhausted for it.

“All right.”

Patrick grabs the remote and turns
off the TV. “This way. Follow me.”

Patrick leads me to a door that’s
just past the bathroom. He opens it and turns on a small light on the wall. I
look at the bed.

“You’ll sleep here tonight,” Patrick
says. “Anything you need, just call me, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Right. I’ll go now.”

Patrick walks out and closes the
door. I smile at the small light. It’s thoughtful.

As I’m dead on my feet, I walk
straight to the bed. I take off my shirt and put it on the bedside table. Apart
from not wanting to wrinkle it, I always sleep topless. I decide to take off
the yoga pants, too. They’ll be like a sauna if I leave them on.

I get
onto the bed, putting the thin brown cover on top of me. Within seconds, I
drift off to sleep.

I’m not sure what wakes me up. I
guess it’s the sound of the TV coming from the living room.

Wait—where am I?

I sit up, disoriented. Whatever
bedroom I’m in isn’t mine. I frown. Then it dawns on me.

Oh, I remember.

I run my hands through my hair,
wondering what I look like. Yawning, I get out of bed. The clothes that Patrick
gave me last night are on the bedside table. I put them on, and then walk out
of the bedroom.

Being careful not to attract
attention, I go into the bathroom. Only when I get there do I realize I don’t
have any toiletries on me. I should bang my head on the wall. Why didn’t I
think of this last night?

I check the medicine cabinet.
Luckily, my gracious host keeps a spare, unopened toothbrush. I open it and
then grab the toothpaste. I so am not going to say a word to him without
brushing my mouth.

Patrick did help me out a lot last
night. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be in a cell right now. Or not. I
still would have gotten away, I think. Like I said, I have a lot to lose.
People—my dad—depend on me. I can’t go to jail, let alone disappear.

As I rinse my mouth, I think about
how I might repay Patrick. I have an idea of what he might want from me. And to
be honest, I doubt I’d deny him that.

As soon as I’m decent, I walk out of
the bathroom. I go back to my room. My smartphone is on the bedside table. I
see that I have a missed call and a few texts from my father.

Oh, shit, shit, shit.

Dad still isn’t used to my not living
with him anymore, even though I moved out a couple years ago. He’s sick, which
is part of why I work for easy money. Dad doesn’t know about my true job,
thankfully. I told him that I’m a bartender. He believes it.

I send a reply back to my father,
telling him not to worry about me. Then I pocket my phone and walk to the
living room.

The TV is still on. Just as last
night, Patrick is sitting on the sofa. He looks at me when I walk into his
view.

“Hello, sleeping beauty. And good
morning. Did you have a nice sleep?”

“Yes, Mr.—um,”

“Call me Patrick,” he says, standing
up. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Thanks, er, Patrick. I would
appreciate it, but you’ve been too kind to me. Why don’t you take me back to my
apartment now instead?”

“It won’t be an inconvenience to make
you breakfast,” Patrick says, grabbing my arms in a friendly way. “Contrary to
what you may be thinking, booze and chips aren’t the only stuff in my kitchen.”

The corners of my lips turn up. I
can’t help but notice his muscular arms. If he’s this well-nourished, there’s
no way his fridge is lacking.

“All right. Some pancakes would be
fine.”

“Pancakes,” he repeats. “Coming right
up.”

Patrick walks to his kitchen. I
follow him. When I look at the clock on the wall, I freeze.

“It’s almost noon!”

Patrick laughs at my outburst.

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you
up. Not after what you went through last night.”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“I have the night shift. Besides,
it’s Sunday.”

I exhale.

“Lucky it’s not a weekday. I go to
college.”

“Oh,” Patrick says, surprised.
“That’s damn lucky.”

I watch as he grabs a box of pancake
mix from the pantry. He then pulls out a skillet from a cabinet. Patrick lights
a flame and puts the skillet on top.

I offer to help Patrick with the
cooking.

“No problem,” he says, waving me off.
“I can handle it. Sit down. You look like you need this.”

I pout at him. I’m slender,
not
thin.

While Patrick makes the pancakes, I
sit on the table and watch him. When he’s done, Patrick carries a plate with
three nice, thick pancakes. They’re already covered in butter and maple syrup.
My mouth waters.

“Enjoy,” Patrick says, handing me a
glass of milk, a fork, and a knife. I thank him, and dig right in. I groan. The
pancakes are delicious.

I take my time enjoying my meal. I’m
glad Patrick doesn’t watch me eat. He goes back to the living room to watch
news on the TV.

When I finish, I take my dishes to
wash them. Patrick pops in when I’m halfway through.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he
says.

“It’s no problem,” I tell him.
“You’ve done a lot for me. Thanks so much.”

Patrick nods. I finish washing the
dishes. When I dry my hands, I see that he’s still in the doorway.

“I would like to go back home.”

Patrick nods again.

“Okay.”

I wait. It’s ridiculous. We both seem
to be waiting for the other to say something.

“Are you planning to keep me here?” I
ask with a smile, trying not to sound accusing. Patrick chuckles.

“Tempting. But no, I have other
plans.”

I bite my lip. I knew this was
coming. He wants me.

Switching into seduction mode, I walk
slowly to him. Patrick watches me as I walk. I think he’s forgetting to
breathe.

Yeah, I have that effect on men.

Patrick clears his throat and turns
around.

“Come.”

Confused, I follow him to the living
room. He stops when he gets to the other side of the sofa. Then he turns around
and watches me.

“What do you want from me?” I can’t
help but ask. I hope I don’t sound worried.

Patrick rubs his chin.

“I’m not sure you’re ready for this.
You went through quite an ordeal last night.”

“Just tell me,” I cajole. “I think I
can handle it.”

Patrick raises his eyebrows. He then
nods.

“Okay. Take off your clothes.”

I knew it.

Turning a slight shade of red, I pull
the shirt over my head. I watch as his eyes take in the sight of my body. His
gaze stops on my breasts. The look on his face is hungry. He must be imagining
his mouth on every inch of my skin.

Unable to help smiling to myself, I
proceed to take off the yoga pants. When I start removing the briefs, Patrick
waves his hand.

“Leave those on.”

I find the request a bit strange, but
I don’t complain. When I’m done, I stand in front of Patrick. I’m naked except
for his briefs. I don’t feel mortified at all right now. Men see me naked all
the time.

Patrick walks forward, taking in
every inch of me. He stops in front of me. His hand moves to lightly stroke my
breast. He rubs one nipple with his index finger.

“Piercings,” he mutters to himself,
looking neither excited nor disappointed. “Not bad,” he says, cupping both of
my breasts. He squeezes them. “And no implants. That’s swell. These days, it’s
hard to find a woman with natural tits this size
and
this perky.”

Patrick’s gaze sweeps me up and down
again. With an approving nod, he walks away again. I curve an eyebrow. He faces
me.

“Your health is fine, am I right?”

I nod, looking confused.

“You can put your clothes back on.”

“What was that?” I ask, picking up
the pants. He waits a few seconds before answering. His eyes are on my breasts,
which jiggle as I’m leaning down.

“I was just testing you,” Patrick
tells me. “I wanted to make sure you were…up to par for the task that I’m going
to request of you.”

This is so not what I thought. What
would Patrick want me to do that he’d need to check my body first?

“What task?” I ask as I put the shirt
back on.

“I want you to seduce my brother.”

I stare at Patrick, my mouth agape. I
would never have guessed he would ask such a thing of me.

“Excuse me?” I ask to make sure I
heard right.

“I said that I want you to seduce my
brother. His name’s Gabriel O’Hara.”

I blink, looking at Patrick in
disbelief.

“What makes you think I would do
that?”

Contrary to what I expected, Patrick
smiles.

“I didn’t think you’d say that.”

“I didn’t think you’d ask me such a
thing,” I counter. And here I was, thinking that Patrick liked me.  “What do
you think I am? I’m not some whore! You think you can just give me to another
man like I’m a piece of property or something?”

“Mercedes, I do
not
think
you’re a whore. You look like an angel. I’m sure my brother will love you.”

I scoff, still a little angry.

“Why do you want me to seduce him?”

“I have my reasons.”

I shake my head.

“What makes you think I will do it?”

Patrick purses his lips. He then
exhales.

“I was hoping you’d make this easy
for me, but now I’m going to have to coerce you.”

Frowning, I watch as Patrick extracts
a glove from his pants pocket. He then reaches behind him, pulling out a gun.
My
gun.

My eyes widen.

“Are you seriously threatening to
kill me if I don’t agree to seduce your brother?”

Patrick bursts into laughter.

“Hell no! I just wanted to show you
this gun to, well, tell you what I can use it for.”

I watch Patrick, waiting for him to
continue.

“This is the gun you used to kill
that man in the alley last night.”

I feel my blood pressure drop.
Feeling panicked, I sit down on the sofa.

“Oh, no. My God, no,” I say, covering
my face with my hands. Taking a person’s life is something I wished I would never
have to do.

Patrick waits a moment for my panic
to subside enough. He then speaks again.

“Not only did you murder a man last
night. You also did it with an unlicensed weapon.”

I blanch, looking at him.

“If you don’t seduce my brother, I’ll
just turn you in to the police.”

I look at Patrick with narrowed eyes.
He knows he has me at his mercy. With my life in his hands, there’s no way I
can refuse anything he asks of me.

“Besides, you shouldn’t be so
reluctant to do this for me. Women think my brother’s a lot more handsome than
I am.”