Silence, that's all he had to offer to me. What was I even expecting? I knew the truth. Deep down, I had always known why Rob had been a part of my life: because I was a Carlton. With Maria's passing, nothing was tying Rob to me.

My eyes stung. I couldn't afford to cry. Not now. Especially not in front of him. Hiding my anguish behind the mask of anger I grabbed his collar. "You have no answer to that, do you, Robert Pierce?  Now listen carefully: you are paid help. You may think you are more, but you aren't. Don't forget your place." 

What the hell am I saying!? And why in the world is he not defending himself? 

Not bothering to even free himself, Rob lowered his eyes, and let his shoulders slump.

Say something, dammit!

"Master, is everything alright?" 

I let go of Rob and smiled politely at Niki who was walking towards us, carrying two steaming mugs on a tray. "Just practicing my threatening skills."

Struggling to hold back a smile, the woman nodded and placed the beverage on the counter. "Would that be all, master?"

"Yes," I replied, dismissing her with a flick of my wrist.

Rob's eyes followed her till she left our line of sight before returning to me. His honey-browns were empty. Like my accusations and insults had sucked the life out of him. I wished there was no such thing as silence. 

Closing my eyes reminded me of the very thing I had been avoiding acknowledging: the feel of Rob's lips on mine, his hard cock digging into my thigh, the needy moans he let out when our tongues acquainted themselves just before he fell unconscious on top of me. 

Doesn't he remember anything? Or is he pretending that last night hadn't happened? There was also the matter of the ominous message I had received just after I stepping out of the shower: he is not who you think he is. He is not your friend or your family. Heed my warning. 

Today was day two of my vacation, yet I felt more trapped than ever. I was done with his silence. "Drink up," I said, returning to my seat next to him. And without giving away anything, added, "You owe me some answers."

As soon as we were back in my cabin, I locked the door. I needed to thread carefully. If there was even a lick of truth in the message, my life, as I knew it, would change. I felt parched. Wiping my palms on the back of my khaki pants, I faced the man who had all but raised me since I was fifteen. 

"There is something I need to ask you."

"There is something I need to tell you."

We spoke together. 

"What?"

We chimed in unison.

Sighing, he gestured to me to go on. 

Unlocking my screen, I held my phone at his eye level. "What should-"

My words died on my tongue as Rob lept towards me; wrapping me in the circle of his arms, we crashed into the bed just as the mirror in front of the bed shattered. 

"Are you okay?" Rob whispered in my ear. 

My eyes darted between his concerned face and the shards of glass littering the hardwood floor. "Did we just get shot at?"

My guardian pursed his lips in reply and slid down my body. "Do. Not. Move," he commanded when I attempted to sit up. "Whoever shot at us is still out there," he added, crawling towards the washroom door. 

A red blotch started forming on the right sleeve of his white tee. It grew till the lower half of it was drenched in…Blood! "Did you get shot?"

Rob shook his head. "It's just a scratch"—he looked over his shoulder and then at the blood-stained shirt— "boss, as you mentioned earlier, I am paid help, and taking bullets for you is in my job description." 

His words were true, but that didn't stop them from cutting me deep. Had we not been where we were right now, I would have snapped at him… or perhaps kissed him silly and ordered him to take the words back. However, one thing was certain, the man in front of me meant me no harm. 

Rob searched my eyes. "I suggest you let me take the lead from here on out. Please," he pleaded as an afterthought just as he reached the field of broken glass.

Rob took off his white tee and tore it in the middle with nothing but his brute strength. The stained half acted as a broom, clearing the sharp pieces and shoving them under the bed while the clean half sat on his shoulder. "Come to me, but keep low. Quick!" 

Joining him, I waited till he opened the lavatory door and literally pushed me inside; joining me in the cramped space, he locked it, and leaving a shuddering breath, turned to meet my eyes. "There are things I have hidden from you, nor haven't been honest. I understand I have left you with no reason to trust me, but I need you to now. I promise I will answer all your questions as soon as I have dealt with this situation. Okay, Mick?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Mick, please. Trust me just this-"

"Not before we take care of this ugly wound. You are no good to me maimed." I reached for his arm and when he didn't move, I sighed. "It's not going to take care of itself."

"Oh." Rob blinked as if he had seen a ghost...as if I was one, but proceeded to offer me his bleeding arm nonetheless.

Trained in first aid, due to my father's profession, perhaps, I could stitch up superficial wounds in a jiffy. The old medic I had trained under had been very taken with my handy work, often commenting that I was born to be a surgeon. Retrieving the medical kit from the under-sink cubby, I got to work on Rob's arm.

Not once in the following minute did my guardian's eyes leave my face. 

No sooner had I closed the kit than Rob snatched it from me and pulled out my duffel- when the hell did that get here- dumping it inside the bag. 

I watched him dive into the nooks and crannies of the minuscule area, fishing out things I concluded to be more or less items I had seen my father bring along on our camping trips…when we did things together: he and I. 

Within- what I presumed was less than- a minute, Rob swung the duffel over his left shoulder. "Get up on the toilet seat," he commanded, offering his hand out of habit. 

Relief flooded his features when I took it and followed through. "Now what?"

Crash! 

"Fuck! I didn't think they would be here so fast." Rob angry-whispered and crouched down. Pulling a locket—the locket—from around his neck, he placed the flat end of the pyramid-shaped object into an inconspicuously placed tiny square on the washroom floor. 

I heard something click; a low hum followed seconds later, filling the space with a familiar melody: a lullaby I had heard Maria sing to me. Profanities, both imaginative and descriptive, drifted towards us. 

Smirking, Rob mouthed: boobytrap, in reply to my raised brow and placed a finger on my lips. My heart skipped a beat. 

The villains of this story were close, but it didn't seem to disrupt the calm that had settled on Rob's face since I had tended to his wound. With his eyes fixed on the square drawn on the floorboard, he waited patiently. And then the toilet seat gurgled and the place I had occupied barely a minute ago fell away, revealing an opening wide enough to let a grown man through. 

*****
[Chapter word count: 1318]