twenty-eight ◌ linger

✗

I didn't remember falling asleep.

Fatigue, I concluded, enveloped me like a warm blanket, and before I could even think about knocking out, my body automatically did it for me. So when a steady stream of sunlight danced its way through the glass window and caressed my face, I woke from my slumber slightly confused. My eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, as my ears picked up on the soft rustling from behind me.

Groggily, I stretched out my arms and legs beneath the sheets and turned onto my back. I yawned, sat up in the bed, and assessed my surroundings. The stirring I heard earlier, came from a mix of objects I found Harry to be examining.

"Liam's gone," Harry announced, sensing my awaken state. His focus latched onto whatever rested atop the desk, and hadn't once turned over his shoulder to look at me.

"What do you mean, he's 'gone'?" The raspiness of my morning voice caused me to wince.

"He left," Harry shrugged, answering my question with an easy response. "He took ANTI's plea deal."

"But when? We didn't even see Liam since he received that call," I urgently pointed out.

I threw the covers off to the side, and slid out of bed. I quickly made my way over to Harry and latched my eyes onto the various objects on the table top. A black, leather wallet, a cell phone, a laptop, and an external hard drive all were neatly displayed on the desk.

"When did he come back to the hotel? And why did he leave the most important items here?" I pondered out loud.

"He obviously doesn't want to be followed," Harry justified, his cheeks puffing out as he blew out a steady stream of hot air.

"Wherever ANTI is, Liam is, and he can't be tracked. That's so fucking frustrating," I concurred, picking up the wallet to inspect. Worn out, but still sturdy enough to do its job, the simple pocketbook didn't have much in it. A couple of credit cards, Liam's ID, and fifty dollars in cash were the only items inside.

"At least this wasn't unexpected," Harry spoke. "It sucks, but he has his family to think about."

"Now what? We can't stay in Toulouse long, we just lost Liam with no way to contact him, and who knows if Zayn will even contact me like he said," I expressed. "Time's running out and I don't know what to do."

"Let's stick around one more day. Do some research, I'll go through this hard drive and laptop," Harry paused to gesture at the specific electronic devices. "Lets come up with a tentative plan, buy some plane tickets, and tomorrow morning at the earliest, we'll leave Toulouse."

And that's what we did.

Harry and I kept to ourselves in the hotel room. It was like I was reliving the start of this mission— how we'd each take a corner of a hotel room, or a living space and fully delve into our specialized tasks. We barely spoke to one another, and the only time we did, was when Harry left around 1PM to grab some food.

While alone in the hotel room, I stuck to my bed, continuously researching the two people I never thought I'd ever have to Google— my father, and Professor Dela Cruz. I couldn't find anything, though. At least, nothing out of the ordinary. Any article my father popped up in, were just editorials praising the man for his business, and as far as Professor Dela Cruz is concerned, there was nothing even remotely incriminating online to make me believe that he was actually the bad guy.

"But I'm in so deep, you know I'm such a fool for you..."

Harry's deep voice reverberated loudly throughout the inside of the bathroom as he sang yet another classic rock song. The echoing pitter-patter of the water drops seamlessly interweaved itself with the music playing from what I assumed was Harry's phone. He passionately sang, reminding me of the last time I heard him belt out a note.

"You've got me wrapped around your finger, do you have to let it linger..."

I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy listening to the asshat's rendition of the popular Cranberries song. His singing voice was smooth as softened butter the way it echoed through out the bathroom. Yet at the same time, there was a special kind of rawness in the way Harry sang that instigated the hair on my arms to stand on end.

I was completely distracted by Harry's one-man show, and in doing so, a flood of emotions ransacked through me like a cyclone. My mind brought me back to that oddly heart-pounding moment with Harry in Paris. You know, the time when he almost kissed me. Without any inkling or warning, pure vulnerability enveloped me, and as much as I hated to admit it, if Niall hadn't interrupted when he did, I think I would've let Harry kiss me.

And that was a terrifying thought.

The music suddenly faded into nothingness before seamlessly transitioning into a familiar cellular jingle. The plunging drops of water ceased, the sound of metal shower rings dragging across a pole followed, and a moment later, the animated chime stopped.

"Abby, my love, I've missed you," Harry declared, excitement anchoring every inflection of his voice as he answered the phone.

At the time, I had no idea what prompted me to slide off the bed. My body had a mind of its own, because before I could even grasp what was going on, I had already pressed my ear against the bathroom door. I knitted my brows in concentration, biting my bottom lip as if the motion would aid in my ability to focus. Why I was eavesdropping on Harry's conversation, I couldn't tell you. However, in hindsight, I believe it to be the curious gene in me.

"I'm so proud of you, Abby. And I miss you so much."

I learned a lot about Harry in the short couple of days, yet while I relished in the new information, there was still a lot I didn't know about him. Surely, it wasn't any of my business, but who else did Harry have ties to? Who in his life made an impact? If ANTI can kidnap Liam's daughter, then I wouldn't be surprised if they took something special from Harry too. Who was Abby? Was she someone of complete significance? Someone who held Harry's heart? And if so, does that mean, she's not safe either?

Drowning in my thoughts and endless questions may not have been the greatest idea, because out of no where, I found myself tumbling towards damp tile. Embarrassingly, I landed face first with an oomph. I winced from the sudden shock of my nose hitting the hard ground, and with a face contorted in pain, I lifted my head. My eyes fell upon two bare feet, and I trailed them up a pair of legs clad in gray sweatpants. The piece of comfortable fabric hung ridiculously low, and as my eyes continued to work itself upwards, I was met with a chiseled torso. Beads of residual water rolled down the marble-like chest in an agonizingly slow fashion, and I couldn't stop staring.

Damnit Tasha, contain yourself.

The raspy sound of a throat clearing snatched my attention, and immediately I snapped back to reality. My eyes no longer latched itself onto the bare torso, and instead they met the green eyes of Harry. He stood above me with a smug expression painted across his stupid face, and with shame washing over me, a nervous chuckle escaped my lips.

"Usually women are on their knees for me, but I can work with this too," Harry gloated, a pompous glint in his eyes.

"You're gross," I stated with disgust. Harry chuckled in my expense, clearly pleased with the situation.

I pushed my hands against the tile and lifted myself off of the ground. Trying my best to destroy any evidence of embarrassment, I quickly jolted out of the situation. I spun around, taking long strides back to my bed where I plopped onto the mattress. I kept my eyes anywhere but in Harry's vicinity. The asshat caught me checking him out, and I hated myself for it.

Harry was someone I've known for a couple of years and the moment he stepped onto my turf, onto the Kennedy Prep campus, everyone hopped on his dick faster than a prowling cheetah. Everything was just so easy for him— instantly popular by our peers, a star student in the eyes of teachers, and of course, baking talents that had my own mother vying for his attention. Harry always gave me shit because I came from a wealthy family; like the money in my bank account meant I didn't know what it was like to work for things. Yet at the same time, with a snap of his fingers or a flirty conversation, and the world was given to him with no questions asked.

Fucking asshat.

"Were you able to find anything on your dad or Professor Dela Cruz?" Harry asked suddenly, after a long bout of silence.

It had been about an hour since the awkward interaction at the bathroom's threshold, and we both found ourselves working diligently without the need for communication. Looking up from the laptop before me, I turned my head to glance at Harry who sat on the bed next to mine.

"Nope," I shook my head. "Whatever shady second life my dad apparently has, he's good at hiding it. I still don't know how Professor Dela Cruz is mixed up in all this. I thought he was just a chemistry teacher."

"Honestly, I think your dad's furniture business is just a facade," Harry hypothesized.

"But I've been to the warehouses where my dad keeps inventory; I've met clients and visited the hotels. Whether you believe it or not, my dad's business is legit," I defended.

I didn't like what was happening; I hated the situation I was in, but despite it all I couldn't just let anyone trash my dad. He might be the reason why my life at the moment was a piece of shit, but at the end of the day, he was my father and I truly loved him.

"What I mean," Harry began, "is that his furniture business, is just a cover up. The Aquino Trade is one-hundred-percent real and legit, but it's to easily hide your dad's side business."

"And what's his side business then?"

"Psilofetamine."

"You think my dad is some kind of drug lord," I raised a brow, my voice low and brooding. I did not like what Harry was implying.

"It makes sense doesn't it? ANTI wanted you to keep a ship with tons of Psilofetamine from leaving the dock, then they ask you to destroy your dad's ungodly amount of money saved in banks across the globe," Harry explained.

"I still don't understand. Exactly, how does all that correlate with the theory that my dad is some drug lord?" I cocked a brow, clearly unconvinced with Harry's analysis.

"Tell me Tash, how do you destroy a business?" Harry questioned, standing up from his place on the bed. He took a few strides in my direction and stood before me with his arms crossed above his chest. Pretentiousness painted his face, as he waited for me to reply.

"I don't know," I squinted my eyes with ire, replicating the same energy that Harry exuded.

"You wipe out the supply; the demand," Harry declared. "Keeping Psilofetamine at the dock means it doesn't undergo the distribution process. Then, you eradicate the money; the medium that drives a business. Without the money, supply cannot be produced; the employees can't be paid. After that, you take away the minions. Maybe that's why Professor Dela Cruz was kidnapped, because he's your dad's right hand man."

Everything Harry spoke of, boded well. It actually made so much sense that I wanted to puke, yet at the same time I didn't want to believe any of it. It was just a theory after all; just a postulate developed in Harry's anarchic brain.

"When the product is gone, the money diminished, and minions destroyed, all you have left is the alpha; the master; your father," Harry continued to dispense his speculations, eyeing me with a daunting gaze.

Though I wanted to turn away from his piercing scrutiny, I stared back with the same potent vigor as he. Eyebrows narrowed, pursed lips, and enough electricity crackling from our combined vitality, Harry and I were encircled by a forcefield. One wrong move and the violent ricochet would give us both whiplash.

"Don't say it," I warned with gritted teeth.

"Say what?" Harry cocked a brow, a challenging smirk gracing his face.

"Your final thoughts."

"Which are?"

My eyes squinted with ire, infuriated beyond belief to be in the presence of such a pretentious asswipe. Harry knew how to push my buttons, how to instigate such fluster in me that I often felt myself wanting to punch a wall. Why did he have a firm grip on my emotions, that it always left me gobsmacked?

"Fuck you, Harry," I growled.

Three words that when strung together, created quite the vulgar declaration. I didn't know what else to say to him in that moment. I was so frustrated because while I didn't know it then, I do know now: Harry was 110% correct. Whomever hired ANIT wanted my dad dead, because killing him meant killing his business too.

The rest of the day went by with less than limited communication. The only time Harry and I interacted, was when he went out to grab enough food to last us till the morning. It was with every intention that he and I would be stuck in this hotel room for more than twelve hours. I despised the idea, but to my dismay, I didn't have much of a choice. Something else I didn't have a choice in, was the ungodly hour in which I woke.

I gasped frantically.

My heart rapidly pounded against my ribcage, my breathing pattern elevated, and my eyes shot wide open. Before I could let out an ear-piercing scream, a large hand clamped onto my mouth, inhibiting me from any shrills. The darkness of the room surrounded me, however the white light of the open laptop screen casted an eerie illuminance. A dark figure loomed before me, its monstrous shadow projected against the adjacent wall.

"Calm down, Tash."

The deep voice demanded my composure, a raspy tinge to its tone. As my eyes adjusted to its surroundings, I noticed the brooding eyes staring at me— forrest green. Immediately, my eyebrows knitted together in annoyance, and I dug my fingernails into the hand held over my mouth. A painful wail escaped the figure and promptly backed away.

"Ow, what the actual fuck?"

"I could ask you the same damn thing, Harry!"

I groaned in irritation, rubbing my eyes as the lights in the room suddenly flicked on. Harry paced the area, a kind of urgency anchoring every step he made. I watched him grab our bags, tossing them onto the beds as he rapidly flung items back into them.

"Get up Tash and pack your shit," Harry ordered, not once looking at me. "I've booked a flight outta Toulouse. We're leaving the country."

"What? Now? What the hell is going on? Where are we going?" I spat a rapid-fire of questions, sitting up in the bed. I altered my tone and in a very butchered English accent continued, "What's got your knickers in a bloody twist?"

Harry ceased his movements and glared at me with pure annoyance. "My knickers," he scoffed, emphasizing his words, "are in a twist because you Tash, have been reported missing."

"Excuse me?" I was taken aback by his claims.

"It was your friend Effie Reed," Harry sighed. He walked towards me, digging his hand in his jacket pocket and pulling out a phone. "She reported your entire family missing."

I kept opening my mouth to speak but no words came out. There was nothing I could say because I was utterly speechless. I mean, how could I not expect this? How could I not foresee anyone from my life back home in Los Angeles to not suspect a thing?

"Here, take a look," Harry handed me his phone to showcase a PDF file filling up the screen.

Taking the device from his hands, I examined the file before me. The official report documented personal information about my mom, my sister, and myself. Our height, weight, hair color, home address— everything, was scribbled in between the lines of the document and I literally shivered from the reality of it all. It had been quite a while since I've received a text from Effie, and while I found it to be odd, only then did it really dawn on me that something was clearly wrong.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

However, it wasn't the device in my hands that let out an unexpected chime. Instead, the electronic gadget on the side table next to me echoing the loud jingle. I leaned over, snatching the phone and swiped my finger across the screen. I held the device to my ear and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Tasha."

"Zayn, is that you?" I questioned.

"Leave the country, now," he demanded, his voice laced with deep desperation.

"Yea, I think that's the plan," I looked up at Harry, who stood there staring at me with curious eyes.

"Judging by the fact that you're awake at 5:30 in the morning, then you know that you've been reported missing," Zayn reiterated, and I let out a heavy breath in response. "Look, I've compromised your phone. I did this a couple of days ago to ensure that the only people who can contact you are either me or anyone from ANTI."

"Then you're the reason why I'm about to have my picture plastered on the back of a milk carton!" I yelled angrily. "Why would you fuck around with my phone? That's why Effie couldn't contact me! Now her name has been signed at the bottom of some fucking official document and who knows how ANTI feels about that? What if they capture her too?"

"Effie will be okay," Zayn declared, not reacting to my sudden change in mood. He was always quite a calm person, which scared me because who knew what he'd be like once he finally exploded.

"How can I believe you?" I scoffed.

"A specialized detail will be placed on Effie and she will be safe, this I can promise you. But I had no choice in adjusting your phone. U.S. police, Interpol, FBI, and any other intelligence agency will first use your phone's GPS to track you down. If you are found and taken in by officials, then you lose. ANTI will kill your family," Zayn concluded with a bold, spine-tingling statement.

"Well what about Harry? He's with me, can't they track us using his phone?" I questioned.

"No, he's fine."

"How can you be so sure?"

"He works for your dad, right?"

That's all Zayn needed to say to thoroughly answer my question. That simple reply spoke volumes and told me a great amount of information— information that only caused my stomach to twist itself into knots, and pose quite an important question: who is my dad?

"You will be fine Tasha," Zayn spoke again. "Get far away as possible, to an unsuspecting place. From there, you will only receive two phone calls. Either from ANTI, or from me. Do you understand?"

"Yea, understood," I confirmed.

"Good luck, Tasha."

◌◌◌

Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know it's not the most action-filled but it's still important to the development of this story! The next few chapters are some of my favorite in this book & I can't wait to share it with you all.

Thanks for all the support in reading my book; for commenting & for voting too! It's so greatly appreciated & makes me feel like I'm doing a good job with this story. This is probably some of my best writing since joining Wattpad & I'm incredibly proud of how much I've improved... even if no one noticed, I do, and it makes me happy :)