Read Online The Arrangement (The Blankenships Book 9) by Evelyn Glass - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Evelyn Glass
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Alex’s face. His eyes had gone almost blank, his pupils enlarging, and she could see his pulse throbbing in the hollow of his throat. His fingers were cold, his palms slick with sweat. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and protect him from everything, but she knew it might not help. She’d seen Helen go through this before, and while Helen appreciated physical sensation, like an arm over her shoulders or fingers rubbing briskly at her hands to warm them again, there was something in the set of his shoulders that warned her not to try.
She spoke, instead, pitching her voice low and soft, like she would with an unfamiliar animal. She didn’t even notice the exact words that she said; they weren’t the point. The point was just to remind him that she was here, that she was present. That he wasn’t alone.
Helen had always told her that the most helpful thing—other than a small dose of Ativan—when things got very bad was to be present in her physical body, to notice sensations that spread over her. You can’t panic when you’re present , she’d quoted, the line clearly a direct pull from her therapist. She didn’t know if it would work with Alex, but it was worth a try.
It took a few moments for him to reground himself, but it happened, and she felt his icy fingers starting to warm again. His pupils slowly tightened down to a normal size, and she could see the dark of his irises again.
She was just thinking it would be safe to lean up on her toes and kiss him when the gravely voice of an older man shattered everything.
The man—she had to assume he was Aaron Schwartz; nothing else made sense—held a gun on them. He was tall, his skin the off-color of old paper that was starting to rot, and his eyes were pale and wet. His hair was clearly dyed, too dark and uniform to match the age lines around his mouth. No stylist would ever have dyed the hair of an old man that shade of black.
“Schwartz,” Alex choked out, his teeth clenched as tight as his fingers. God, she was going to get him to let go of her fingers. There was a pocket in the skirt, and she needed what was there. It was a hell of a long shot, but she might still manage it. Maybe. “I’m not surprised.”
The old man rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. Don’t like just to try and impress the piece of ass you’re wearing on your arm this week. No one knew how close Olivia and I had become. No one knew what she had promised me.”
Shit. Shit, this is what I need.
“Mr. Schwartz,” Zoe said, freeing her hand from Alex’s and stepping forward to reach out as if she would shake his hand. “My name is Zoey Gardener; I’m from the Downtown Voice . Mr. Blankenship and I were working on a profile piece about the transitions at AEGIS when things got so complicated. I would absolutely love a chance to tell your story.”
It was a ballsy move, and she knew in her heart that she only got as far as she did with it because both Alex and Schwartz were shocked by her movements. Schwartz’s eyes focused on her extended hand—it was a mark of how ridiculous her life had become that she scoffed at him and called him an amateur in her brain—but it was exactly what she needed. By the time he caught his attention in a firmer grip and retrained the gun on her, she was ready to put her hands up and take a step back, all innocent Southern girl. She poured on the honey as she let her hands shake with nervousness that she wasn’t at all faking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Mr. Schwartz. Aaron. May I call you Aaron?”
“No, you may not,” he snapped, and the barrel of the gun shook. God, if she could get clear of his focus, and Alex charged him—there’d probably be one shot to worry about, and even in an office building like this, the slug might carry through the walls or the floor, but the odds of someone being killed were slim. Especially if Alex could somehow aim Schwartz’s hand towards the passageway
She spoke, instead, pitching her voice low and soft, like she would with an unfamiliar animal. She didn’t even notice the exact words that she said; they weren’t the point. The point was just to remind him that she was here, that she was present. That he wasn’t alone.
Helen had always told her that the most helpful thing—other than a small dose of Ativan—when things got very bad was to be present in her physical body, to notice sensations that spread over her. You can’t panic when you’re present , she’d quoted, the line clearly a direct pull from her therapist. She didn’t know if it would work with Alex, but it was worth a try.
It took a few moments for him to reground himself, but it happened, and she felt his icy fingers starting to warm again. His pupils slowly tightened down to a normal size, and she could see the dark of his irises again.
She was just thinking it would be safe to lean up on her toes and kiss him when the gravely voice of an older man shattered everything.
The man—she had to assume he was Aaron Schwartz; nothing else made sense—held a gun on them. He was tall, his skin the off-color of old paper that was starting to rot, and his eyes were pale and wet. His hair was clearly dyed, too dark and uniform to match the age lines around his mouth. No stylist would ever have dyed the hair of an old man that shade of black.
“Schwartz,” Alex choked out, his teeth clenched as tight as his fingers. God, she was going to get him to let go of her fingers. There was a pocket in the skirt, and she needed what was there. It was a hell of a long shot, but she might still manage it. Maybe. “I’m not surprised.”
The old man rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. Don’t like just to try and impress the piece of ass you’re wearing on your arm this week. No one knew how close Olivia and I had become. No one knew what she had promised me.”
Shit. Shit, this is what I need.
“Mr. Schwartz,” Zoe said, freeing her hand from Alex’s and stepping forward to reach out as if she would shake his hand. “My name is Zoey Gardener; I’m from the Downtown Voice . Mr. Blankenship and I were working on a profile piece about the transitions at AEGIS when things got so complicated. I would absolutely love a chance to tell your story.”
It was a ballsy move, and she knew in her heart that she only got as far as she did with it because both Alex and Schwartz were shocked by her movements. Schwartz’s eyes focused on her extended hand—it was a mark of how ridiculous her life had become that she scoffed at him and called him an amateur in her brain—but it was exactly what she needed. By the time he caught his attention in a firmer grip and retrained the gun on her, she was ready to put her hands up and take a step back, all innocent Southern girl. She poured on the honey as she let her hands shake with nervousness that she wasn’t at all faking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Mr. Schwartz. Aaron. May I call you Aaron?”
“No, you may not,” he snapped, and the barrel of the gun shook. God, if she could get clear of his focus, and Alex charged him—there’d probably be one shot to worry about, and even in an office building like this, the slug might carry through the walls or the floor, but the odds of someone being killed were slim. Especially if Alex could somehow aim Schwartz’s hand towards the passageway
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