QUICKSAND

P2. Trustworthy

There was a brief moment where her mind flashed red, and she truly believed that she could make a run for it. The stranger was not at her door looking for a proper goodbye, looking for her because he had enjoyed her company from last night. No, that was not it at all. The look in his eyes was evident of his intention. His dark eyebrows low, his eyes narrowing as the epiphany fully settles at the forefront of his mind. He seeks an answer as the questions rapidly form, the logic and reasoning of his brain producing a variety of theories, all of them centered on her. She had forgotten to breathe as she placed one foot in front of the other, slamming into his chest as she frantically pushed past him, making it only a few feet from the doorway until he responded.

He had expected her to run. His fingers grip her arm, and she's soundless, huffing a breath out as she's pulled into the room. Effortlessly, he holds her tightly as his foot kicks the door behind him closed, loudly slamming it with unintended force. A wince passes her lips as she feels the pressure of his fingers, not because he was hurting her, his grip was only just substantial to hold in her place. She simply felt terrorized by the mere thought of her arrest. He handled her body easily, which was no surprise, he proved he has quite the endurance and strength last night. Her lungs ache and burn for breath, and she's forced to start panting, filling her lungs up with oxygen as he drops her onto the bed, her body sitting up rapidly, brown eyes blown wide.

Harry stares down at her momentarily, observing the way her chest rises and her desperate breaths indicative of the fear she's feeling. He says nothing and blindly pulls the chair from the desk behind him, keeping his eyes focused on her every movement. He hears the disgust and the disbelief in her voice as she accuses, "You're a fed."

Unfortunately for her, she's right. He sits comfortably, leaning forward as his elbows dig into his thighs, hands clasped. "Yup," he simply answers, pale mint eyes searching her face. Lips parted, hands squeezing the sheets in her fists, her knuckles flushed white. Their flirtatious demeanors have been completely obliterated, burned to ashes and dissolving into thin air. The flame was put out, now cold and empty, no light and no way out. Pressing his lips together, he curiously asks, "When did you figure that out?"

He knew by her rushed exit she must have caught on while he was in the bathroom. Casually, he digs into his back pocket for his phone, pulling out the device to text Ray: Got her. Stay by your phone. Kiani watches his fingers as they move quickly across the screen of his phone, clearly sending out a text. Regaining some of her composure, her mind still torturing her, her body stricken with a cold sweat and dotted with goosebumps, she retorts, "The badge and the gun on your dresser."

"Hm," he hums swiftly, phone in his hand still as he carefully examines her. "It's a shame. After the night we just had."

"What fooled you?" She bites sarcastically. Clearly, he had been more distracted by her breasts in his face by the bar, and the several shots of tequila had lowered both of their guards considerably. She would have noticed the badge and the gun the minute she stumbled into that room with him if it weren't for the alcohol.

Grinning almost mockingly, he remarks, "You don't want me to answer that." His artificial grin disappears soon after, and he slowly adds, "You illegally hacked into the hotel's database. They can press charges. And you used another person's debit card to pay for your reservation."

He wanted to scare her. Maybe he feels a little bad, watching her nearly shake on the bed as her big eyes bore into his, not in a pleading way. This was not the kind of woman to beg for mercy, and judging by the intricate design of her hacks, as Ray put it, he was not going to underestimate her. However, he felt the need to assert his dominance in this situation, making it seem like she had no way out in order to get the desired answers out of her. He highly doubted the hotel would press charges because he wasn't going to tell them. He was far more concerned with the information she had stumbled upon.