Free Armed and Dangerous (The IMA) by Nenia Campbell

Eight
    Frustration
    Christina:
    I felt hunted, trapped.
    Not quite so brave now that you are no longer Michael's whore?
    I shivered, forgetting the smothering heat for a few chilling seconds. How did they do that? How did they always manage to strike right where it hurt most? How did they know ?
    Stupid question. They knew because they had been trained to—and it wasn't exactly like I had the world's best poker face. Far from it.
    I ended up going straight back to my apartment without getting my photo ID taken. My encounter with the Sniper had left me too rattled. I didn't believe for a second that he hadn't meant me any harm. While he wasn't a complete sadist, unlike his boss, he hated Michael and he didn't like me. He had now proven that he was not above vengeance. Spraying him in the face with pepper-spray probably hadn't helped my situation.
    Why was he here? Had he been going to kidnap me?
    Worse?
    I can think of several men at the IMA who would only be too happy to take you up on your, mm, self-respect , as you call it .
    Worse.
    I tried to swallow the lump that had formed in my chest starting circa thirty minutes ago and my eyes blurred with unshed tears. I yanked the stop cord on the bus and hurried off before anyone on it could see me cry. As my skin heated up from the mid-afternoon sun, my tears began to feel like ice as they evaporated. This was bad. This was really, really bad.
    Keep it together .
    Where was my key? Had I left it there, back in the restroom? Did the Sniper have the key to my apartment? If he does, you are officially too stupid to live . My breathing hitched as I dug around in my pocket. Please, no. Please, for the love of God, no, no, no, no . My fingers closed around warm metal. I let out a breath. Oh, thank God.
    The key stuck in the door's lock. I had to jimmy it around a little and as I did so, I heard a strange click. Was it jammed? Did I just break my door? Maintenance was so going to hate me.
    But then the hinges yielded to the push of my arm and with a shriek of rusted metal I was in. The cold air hit me like a tidal wave and I leaned back against the door, slamming it closed. I did up all three locks and collapsed where I stood. The cold hadn't penetrated as far as my bedroom yet, which faced directly into the sun and got ridiculously hot. So hot that I could never sleep past ten or the heat of my own blankets would wake me.
    I'd survived this long. I wasn't about to let myself get knocked off by mere heatstroke. Or stupidity.
    But in the meantime, what was I going to do?
    Don't think about that . I swiped my hand over my forehead. Droplets of sweat spattered the carpet. The movement made me feel a little dizzy, as if my brain was a buoy bobbing in the vast sea of my head. When did I last have a drink? Had I even eaten? I couldn't remember. I couldn't even tell if I was suffering from dehydration or paralyzing terror. Maybe it's both .
    That was more in keeping with my luck.
    When I no longer saw the heat shimmering in front of my eyes I got up and went to the fridge. I grabbed the orange juice and drank it straight from the carton. It had been propped up against the back, close to the freezer, and was partially frozen. I closed my eyes and drank the slush until my throat ached from the sweet, chilly tartness of it. I crossed myself, belatedly blessing the food, set the carton aside, and wiped my mouth with the back of a shaking hand. My stomach hurt a little but I no longer felt faint.
    I had let my sympathetic nervous system take over again, going on autopilot. Abandoning myself to terror. That was bad. Not just because it made me do stupid things like forgetting to eat and drink and sleep, but also because it meant that I had elevated cortisol levels. Enough to kick-start me into unnecessary spurts of fight-or-flight.
    Not so unnecessary in this case.
    The IMA were back in my life, and I wanted to know why. I hadn't done anything circumspect. Perhaps Michael had, and because Michael