After having exchanged goodbyes in the bar with Karen and Foggy, I had led Matt outside with me, his left hand wrapped around my right bicep. The evening had gotten even colder than when we'd initially walked to the bar and I shivered in my jacket, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ear with my free hand as the chilly breeze blew them across my face.
"Here," Matt said, releasing his hand from my arm and gently placing it around my waist, drawing me to him like he'd done earlier. His body heat helped warm me instantly. "This still okay?"
Feeling the nerves surface at being alone with Matt again, I nodded shyly. "Yes, thank you," I mumbled softly as I slid my hands into the pockets of my jacket.
Silence fell between us for a minute as we walked down the near empty sidewalk. There were a few taxis passing down the desolate street at the late hour, looking for stragglers who needed rides. My eyes darted from building to building as we moved, keeping my attention on our surroundings in case someone else decided to appear from an alleyway. The reality was beginning to set in that tomorrow I'd be confronting Kilgrave with Jessica. While I was nervous at being in his proximity after so many years again, and possibly opening the floodgate to a lot of terrible memories I'd been pushing down for so long, it also meant he would know I was here. In Hell's Kitchen. Which could, in turn, put the new friends I'd just made at risk.
"You seem tense," Matt observed, his voice breaking me from my thoughts. "Is it the guy from the bar?"
A slow exhale left my lips. I really wished I could tell him the truth; it wasn't fair to Matt if things didn't work out tomorrow. If he made it on to Kilgrave's radar, how would he be able to protect himself? And he was my neighbor . If Kilgrave found out where I lived, he'd find Matt without even trying. Hell, he'd probably be caught in the crosshair just for being my neighbor.
Maybe I can warn him…with just enough truth?
I felt the muscles stiffen in Matt's arm that was wrapped around my waist. He turned his attention towards me now, his dark glasses flashing under the streetlights at the movement.
"Olivia? Is everything okay?" he questioned.
"It's not the guy at the bar, no," I answered him slowly, keeping my eyes focused ahead as we walked. "But…" I began, struggling to think of a way to explain without giving away too much.
Matt stopped walking abruptly, pulling me to a stop with him. He turned towards me fully, his arm dropping from its place around me. I shivered at the loss of his warmth.
"Are you in some sort of trouble?" he asked me cautiously. "Does it have something to do with whoever attacked you?"
My tongue darted out, wetting my lips as I glanced past him.
Just some truth. Just enough to help keep him safe.
"...yes," I answered him slowly. He went rigid immediately, drawing his cane between his hands and gripping it firmly. "I uh…I got a call earlier. Before I came back from the restroom. From the P.I. I said I was helping." I hesitated, my eyes drawn to the way his lips pursed into a tight line the more I spoke. "She needs my help tomorrow. With that person from my past. I told her I'd help…but I'm afraid it might have some…repercussions to others in my life. If things go wrong, that is."
A dark look crossed Matt's face, one I'd never seen there before. His head tilted to the side as he quietly and sightlessly studied me in a way that was becoming increasingly familiar.
"You mean for us," Matt clarified after a moment. "Foggy, Karen, and myself. You're afraid something might affect us?"
I crossed my arms over my chest, staring down at my boots. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shift on his feet.
"You're…afraid for me?" Matt asked, drawing conclusions from my silence.
"I'm worried for them too," I admitted quietly, hugging my arms tighter around myself. "But you're my neighbor. You're…easier to find."
"And blind," Matt stated bluntly.
My eyes went wide, darting up to see Matt's grim expression. I shook my head quickly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"No!" I said immediately. "No, just that you're literally right there . Across the hall. And you've been…flirting with me. Which he-he probably wouldn't be too thrilled with."
His head sharply tilted to the side at my words. "He?" he asked curiously. "So this guy is, what, your ex? And he's dangerous?" Matt's brows knitted together behind his dark glasses, his voice coming out rough as he asked, "Is he stalking you, Olivia?"
"What? No," I said firmly. "He's not stalking me." I frowned, glancing away again. "Yet. I mean he might, if tomorrow doesn't…go well." I shook my head quickly, pushing that thought away for the moment. "Just promise me you won't go answering your apartment door for any strangers any time soon? Please?"
"I can take care of myself," Matt assured me.
"Matt," I said his name sharply, my grip tightening on his shoulder, " promise me ."
He stood there for a moment just focusing on me, not saying anything. I couldn't make out what was on his mind; I couldn't read his full expression with his damned glasses blocking his eyes.
"I won't answer the door for strangers," Matt eventually assured me. He stepped closer towards me though, reaching a hand up and grazing my chin before he placed his hand against my cheek. My eyes closed at the touch. "Let me help you though."
"You can't," I told him softly. "This isn't something I need a lawyer to solve."
"I could help with a restraining order," Matt mumbled, his thumb rubbing a gentle circle against my cheek.
A small smile spread on my lips as I opened my eyes. His mouth was twisted into a concerned frown, his brows dipping down behind his glasses.
"Trust me when I tell you," I said, voice barely above a whisper as I lifted my hand from his shoulder and gently ran my fingertips down his jaw, "that a restraining order would never work."
His head turned into the light touch of my fingers, his own hand slowly sliding down my neck to rest at the bit of my collarbone visible under my jacket. My heart started to beat a little faster at the intimate touch and I slid my fingers back up his jawline, slowly running them back down the sharp line again. I could see the way he swallowed hard, the bob of his throat noticeable at the movement.
"You confuse me," he said breathlessly, taking another step closer to me. "You call me a flirt but flirt back with me. You tell me you're not interested, yet you…" he paused, licking his lips and leaning further towards my touch, "you touch me like that. Kiss me in the bar like you did." His jaw clenched, his thumb now gently sweeping across my clavicle. "You confuse me and you're driving me crazy, Olivia."
I bit my lip, halting the movement of my fingers and slowly dropping them from his face. I swore I heard him let out a quiet whine at the loss of the contact.
"I'm sorry, you're right," I said immediately. "I shouldn't."
"Why?" Matt asked, his question sounding almost like a plea. "Don't tell me you're not interested, either. I'm not going to believe that." When I didn't answer immediately he spoke again. "Is it your ex?"
I stepped back out of Matt's touch, putting distance between us. I glanced away, unable to handle the pained look on his face.
"Yes," I confessed. "That's part of it. We-we had a terribly messed up relationship," I stammered. "It's the only one I've had. And now he's here and I need to…to deal with…all of it. I can't–I'm not who you think I am," I told him in a rush. "I can't be that. I'm just…too damaged, Matt. You deserve better. Normal ." I shook my head quickly. "I can't be that for you."
He was shaking his head at my words immediately. "Don't, don't talk about yourself like that. You're not damaged. You're not abnormal."
I grimaced, a humorless laugh crawled its way up my throat and burst out. You have no idea , a dark voice snapped internally.
"You don't know that, Matt," I told him. "You don't know me that well."
He closed the space I'd put between us abruptly, drawing a hand straight to my chin and turning my face to face his.
"Then let me," he begged. "Let me get to know you."
"Matt…" I breathed his name like a whimper.
Suddenly, both of his hands were on my face. They cupped both of my cheeks, the warmth emanating from them was intoxicating and my eyes fluttered closed, anticipating him to pull me in for a kiss. Instead, his fingertips began to slide up to my temples, slowly brushing against my forehead on either side before dipping down, running over the length of my brow bone. Then they lowered, lightly grazing the delicate skin of my closed eyelids. My breath caught in my throat when I realized he was mapping out my face with his fingers. The gesture felt more than intimate despite the fact that we were still standing on the sidewalk just a block from our apartment building.
"Tell me," he said gently, one finger sliding over the slope of my nose as he spoke, "that you don't feel it, too." His fingertips swept over both cheekbones before lowering down the expanse of my cheeks, until they paused along my jaw. One hand disappeared suddenly from my face as the other very slowly swept its way to my chin. "Tell me," he began again, his other hand appearing at my hip and gripping it tight. I inhaled sharply at the movement, eyes darting open and being met with his face so close to mine. "Tell me you're not interested." The fingers on my chin slid up to my bottom lip, so gently tracing it with his thumb before it rose and traced my upper lip just as carefully. "Tell me and I'll believe you," he whispered.
I swallowed hard, fighting internally with myself. My body was aching just from the way he touched my face, and just like in the bar earlier, I found myself wanting more.
If Kilgrave finds out he'll kill him.
My lip trembled under his thumb as I fought back so many emotions.
"I…can't," I said faintly, lips brushing against his finger as I spoke.
"But you want to?" Matt asked, one brow raising as his hands fell from me, one back to his side, the other gripping the cane that had been resting against him.
"I can't," I repeated. "Not-not right now. I can't."
The sad smile I'd seen on his face after we kissed in the bar returned and I felt a pain in my chest at the sight of it.
"I understand," he said dejectedly. He cleared his throat loudly. "It's getting colder out, we should probably get back. You've got to be freezing."
"Matt–"
"It's only another block away, if I'm remembering correctly," he continued on, beginning to walk as he tapped his cane along the sidewalk.
I inhaled a shaky breath before shoving my hands in my leather jacket's pockets again. I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes and I blinked rapidly, fighting them back as I began to catch up to Matt.
As we walked back to our apartment building, we didn't speak. Matt never asked to take my arm again. His mouth remained in a tight frown the entire ride up to the sixth floor when we'd gotten into the elevator in our building. And as we walked down the hallway to our respective doors, he didn't look back at me as he said goodnight before disappearing into his apartment.
I unlocked the door to my apartment and let myself in, locking it behind me before leaning against the door. A stray tear made its way down my cheek and I rubbed it away with the heel of my hand before pushing off the door, heading to my room.
I didn't bother changing before crawling into my bed. I just tossed off the leather jacket onto the floor and curled up in my sheets, pulling myself into a tight ball and burying my face in the pillow.
The hood of my gray sweatshirt was pulled up high over my head underneath my leather jacket as Jessica handed me two syringes of Sufentanil, just in case the dart gun Simpson was carrying missed. Trish was at the front of the beat up van in the driver's seat, dark sunglasses and a black beanie on her head attempting to obscure her appearance. The man beside her, Will Simpson as he'd been introduced to me earlier, was in the passenger seat beside her issuing an explanation on how to use the Bluetooth headsets in our ears to stay in touch.
I hadn't had the best impression of the cop who claimed to be ex-military; besides the fact that he'd tried to kill Trish because Kilgrave had sent him after her when she'd challenged him on her radio show, he was cocky and arrogant. He was quick to take the lead and boss Jessica, Trish, and myself around for the mission and I was getting a strong inclination that he wanted to kill Kilgrave, not just trap him. But, as I'd learned from Jessica on our way to meet up with the pair this morning, he had access to a hermetically sealed room at a now abandoned CDC building, one he'd rigged up with water and a loose, active wire attached to a button, allowing us a safe place to secure Kilgrave once we had captured him. A place to torture him though is what it sounded more like he wanted it for.
"Make sure he doesn't see either of you," Simpson said, craning his neck to look at Jessica and I in the back of the van. "If he recognizes you, he'll run and we'll lose him."
"You're going to have to haul ass to the sealed room," Jessica told Trish. "I don't know how long this stuff will work for. We have to move fast."
"Got it," Trish said with a nod.
"If anyone walks up," Simpson said, turning towards the blonde, "just pretend to be on the phone. Do not engage."
"She's a celebrity," Jessica snapped beside me, and I noted her own obvious irritation at the man in her tone, "she's used to dealing with weirdos. …usually."
Simpson glanced back at me, ignoring Jessica's jab and studying me for a moment. I raised my brows at him questioningly.
"You sure you can handle this?" he asked.
I shot him an irritated look. "I'm the only one of you that can go up against him," I shot. "I think I'm good."
"Just want to make sure your head is in it," he grumbled.
"How about we go back to tense silence?" Trish suggested, her eyes darting between the three of us.
Tense silence did fall between us for a moment. I turned towards Jessica beside me. Her foot was tapping anxiously, bouncing the van lightly with the movement. When she noticed I was staring she frowned.
"You good?"
"Peachy," she snapped. Her lip twitched when she saw my face fall. "Sorry," she apologized. "I know this isn't easy for you either."
"It's fine," I mumbled back.
"It's time," Simpson interrupted from the front of the van.
Jessica and I pushed open the back doors of the van, slipping out onto the street. I slammed them shut behind us, following Jessica around the van to where Simpson stood, lowering a black baseball cap on his head and slipping on sunglasses. I took that moment to slip the Ray Bans off the neck of my sweatshirt and pull them on. I didn't particularly want to be recognized kidnapping someone in broad daylight.
"If Kilgrave gets one of us," Jessica started, her hand gesturing between herself and I, "just–"
"I'll take you out," Simpson cut in quickly.
Both Jessica and I shot him a look as we stepped up onto the sidewalk. My stomach knotted at how fast he'd said that and how serious he sounded.
"I was going to say use the dart gun, but sure, shoot us in the head," she snapped darkly.
"I'd rather we stick with the dart guns," I said. "Didn't sign up to die. Besides, I should be able to undo any command he gives as long as I'm around and conscious."
We split up just before reaching the park, the three of us going the separate ways we had previously discussed. I made my way into the busy park, beginning to sweat. I'd be lying to say I wasn't nervous; not only was I encountering Kilgrave again, trying to take him down after having been free of him for the past eight years, but it was mid-morning on a Sunday. The park was bustling with people and as my heart hammered in my chest, I tried to control my racing thoughts.
What if this doesn't work? What if he hurts someone else because of this?
…he's going to know I'm here now. There's no way to hide after this…
Foggy, Karen, and Matt…all three of them might be in danger if we can't pull this off.
I shut my eyes tight, shaking the thoughts from my head and trying to remain focused. I couldn't think about that right now and I certainly didn't want to think about Matt after last night.
"Everyone in position?" Jessica's voice came through my earpiece.
I snapped my eyes open, leaning against the light post and casually sliding my phone from my pocket, pretending to scroll through the news.
"I'm ready," Trish's voice answered immediately.
"Standing by," Simpson's reply came next.
Trying to disguise the movement of my mouth with my hand, I reached up as if I was just scratching an itch on the side of my face.
"In position," I told them.
I continued to pretend to skim a news article, my eyes occasionally lifting a bit to take in the people passing by. Thankfully I didn't see Kilgrave standing in front of me, staring me down–an image my brain kept unnecessarily projecting.
Focus.
"Here we go," Jessica's voice came through the earpiece.
My hand tightened around the cellphone as I felt a nervous lightheadedness hit me. I tried to stay focused on my breathing, listening for my cue. The plan was for Jessica to stalk her junkie neighbor–her words. She'd discovered he had been her stalker just before she'd called me last night and asked for my help. She said she'd found out every day at ten in the morning he would meet Kilgrave and deliver pictures of her, so the plan was to follow him, find Kilgrave, shoot him with the dart gun and knock him out. Then hopefully we'd be able to play it off like he was a friend having an allergic reaction and we'd throw him into the van and deliver him to the hermetically sealed room.
It sounded so simple and easy, but Jessica had mentioned he'd had bodyguards previously–or at least people he'd controlled to protect him. Not to mention, it was the middle of the morning on a Sunday in New York City. My money was on that this was going to be easier said than done.
"Malcolm's exiting the park on sixteenth street," Jessica said next.
My heart ticked up, my breath catching in my throat in anticipation. This was it, we were almost about to act.
"He's at an outdoor cafe," Jessica said a minute later. "Sixteenth Street and Union Square West."
"I'll park a half block down, on the corner," Trish said, her voice coming in a rush in my ear.
"On my way," I told them, shoving my phone into my pocket and heading out of the park.
"Be in place soon," Simpson added.
I walked quickly, brushing past people and trying to keep my head down as I moved. I felt like I was having a hard time swallowing as I walked; a lump in my throat seemed lodged there and I just couldn't get it out. I tried hard to stifle the panic as my feet moved even faster.
Breathe, Olivia. You need to breathe.
I tried to draw in a few deep, steady breaths as I moved. Eventually I made it to the street Jessica was on, stopping just beside her. She gave me a slight nod before her attention returned across the street. I followed her gaze, noting the van Trish was driving turning the corner past us.
And there, at a table on the sidewalk just across the street, sat Kilgrave. He was skimming through something in an envelope with a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. Beside him must have been Jessica's neighbor, Malcolm; he looked pale and disheveled at this distance, his focus not on the man he was sitting with but diagonally across the street, thankfully not in our direction.
A few loud pops sounded across the street and both Jessica and I stiffened in response. My eyes darted to Simpson who was rounding the corner, his hand inside a brown paper bag as inconspicuous as one could make the act look. Another loud pop from the man on the corner–making balloon animals, of all things–caused Kilgrave to finally raise his head, taking in his surroundings. Simpson was almost in his line of sight.
"Shit," I breathed out.
"Turn back," Jessica said quickly through the earpiece. "He can see you."
"I'm almost in position," Simpson answered back. "I have a shot, I'm going to take it."
"He can see the gun," Jessica said again in a panic.
My breathing came in fast and hard as I stared at the scene unfolding before us. Kilgrave was, in fact, staring right at Simpson as he was making his way closer. I could see the way his eyes were studying the man.
"I'm taking the shot," Simpson answered back.
"God dammit," Jessica muttered.
Without thinking, I began walking across the street, inhaling a deep breath before I began to shout.
"Hey shit head!" I called out as loud as I could, stepping out onto the street and waving my arms. "You miss me?"
It felt like everything moved in slow motion after that. Kilgrave's head turned away from Simpson and landed directly on me. His eyes instantly went wide as recognition dawned over him. His mouth began to part into a warm, surprised smile, but Simpson passed in that moment, shooting him quickly in the neck with the dart. Kilgrave's face fell as his hand flew back to his neck. He tried to stand from his chair, his eyes remaining locked on me as I continued forward towards him.
And then he collapsed forward into the table, knocking it over. The man beside him jolted up from his seat, his eyes landing on me and then presumably Jessica behind me.
"Sorry, I-I didn't–I had to!" he said before bolting down the sidewalk at a sprint.
I bent down when I reached Kilgrave, trying to lift him by the arm. Jessica appeared beside me, lifting his heavy body with complete ease onto her back.
"Excuse me, ma'am," a man said, suddenly darting out of the cafe door. "We got this."
I rose to my feet taking in the sight of the two large men who'd stepped out of the cafe. Kilgrave's bodyguards, they had to be. I sized them up quickly; both well built and average height. They looked good in a fight but I could handle them, though with time not on our side I just needed to slow them down and not acquire an assault charge in public.
"Sorry, but we've got this," I said quickly, stepping in between Jessica and the two men.
The men didn't hesitate. They lunged towards us and I sidestepped, throwing my foot out to trip the first man and grabbing him by the shoulders when he stumbled. I tossed him backwards into the second man behind him and they went down onto the sidewalk.
"Help! They're trying to attack my brother and my friend!" Jessica called out, shifting the unconscious Kilgrave on her back.
A woman ran over to us, offering to call an ambulance and the police. A few men nearby stood up, looking ready to enter the fight to help.
"It's too late," Jessica breathed out quickly to the woman, feigning a dramatic voice that I couldn't believe the woman bought. "I'll get him there myself."
Without waiting, we booked it down the sidewalk, Jessica toting Kilgrave on her back like he weighed nothing.
"We're coming to you, Trish," Jessica said into the earpiece.
I glanced behind me, seeing the men getting up from the pavement, glaring our way.
"And there's two guys right behind us," I warned her. "We need to make a quick getaway."
" Guys ?" Trish asked in a panic. "What guys?"
I didn't answer, just urged Jessica forward in a hurry. I kept glancing back over my shoulder, making sure they hadn't caught up yet. Thankfully they were still a decent distance away.
When we made it around the corner, the back doors of the van were already open. Jessica dropped Kilgrave into the back before climbing in. I pulled myself up after just as Simpson swung the front door open and got in.
"Go, go!" Simpson ordered.
Trish peeled off and I slid in the back of the van, one hand still struggling to close the back door. I could see the two bodyguards sprinting down the sidewalk before I got the door shut. My head momentarily fell back against the wall of the van, my heart racing. That had been close.
"We're clear," Simpson said as he glanced back in the rearview mirror. "Think we lost them."
I tried to steady my breathing but my eyes landed on Jessica. She slid the hood from her head, her eyes staring down at Kilgrave's lifeless form in front of us. She looked deep in her own head as she watched him, a tight line forming on her mouth as her fists clenched in her lap.
Trish glanced over as she drove, brow furrowing. "You know we need him alive, Jess," she reminded her.
"I remember," Jessica said, her voice distant.
I watched as she rose on her knees, one hand reaching out and grabbing Kilgrave by the lapels of his nice navy suit jacket. She swung a fist back and landed it down hard against his cheek with a solid thwack . She dropped him back to the floor of the van as she sat back on her knees, her eyes meeting mine.
"He's still alive," she said.
Trish and Simpson exchanged concerned looks from the front seat, but I remained quiet, trying to avoid looking at Kilgrave or thinking about him anymore than I needed to in the moment. I wanted to keep myself as distanced from my emotions as I could. If I didn't see him, really see him, I could pretend it was anyone else.
It was a bit of a drive to the building we needed to bring him to, one that went by eerily silent. Eventually when we pulled through an alley into a parking lot it was around noon. The sun was high overhead but the tall buildings around us kept us slightly shadowed. Kilgrave was still unconscious on the floor, thankfully the Sufentanil hadn't worn off yet during the drive.
"Let's just get him inside quickly and quietly," Simpson said as the van came to a stop.
I began to open the back doors as Jessica reached over to pick up Kilgrave. I paused, my hands still holding the door handles as my brows knitted together. I swore I heard a noise getting closer.
"Shit!" Jessica's voice cut through the silence.
I turned and watched as she pulled something out of his suit coat. It was something small with a red flashing light. And then I heard car doors slamming just outside and I grimaced.
"He was wearing a tracker," I called out in understanding.
I flung the back door open, swinging it into an unsuspecting man who'd been coming for the back doors. He went down for a moment before he got right back up. The sound of glass shattering came from the front of the van and then I heard the distinct sounds of a taser and Trish's screams from up front. Then she went silent.
I flung myself out of the back of the van, throwing a fist into the man I'd just knocked down with the car door and dodging a punch from another man who'd appeared. As he went to pull his arm back from the punch, I latched onto his wrist with one hand and slammed my own fist into his elbow. He screamed as bone broke and he fell to his knees. I could hear the sounds of tasers and fighting behind me, but I didn't have a chance to recover as the first man who'd attacked was coming at me now, a large taser now active in his hands.
Something took over me the moment I saw the taser swing at me, electricity sparking; the telltale vibration in my skull began to hum behind my eyes. For a moment the man hesitated, fear in his eyes as he looked on at me. I knew what it was he saw that made him pause. Using it to my advantage, I threw a hand out in front of me, a pulse of energy shooting out from it towards the man as he tried to charge me. He went flying hard back against one of the buildings, hitting the brick before falling to the pavement. He went still, but I could feel his mind slip into temporary unconsciousness. He was still alive.
Ignoring the man still sitting at my feet, screaming over his broken arm, I turned around and saw three men tasing Jessica. They were in utter disbelief because she kept trying to get back up despite the multiple electric shocks. Simpson was in a headlock while being pummeled in the gut, his body trapped against the hood of the van. And Trish was unconscious in the driver seat, limp across the steering wheel.
Rage bubbled up inside and I lifted another hand, a pulse of energy shooting out from it as I screamed. All four men lost their footing and went flying across the pavement as if an invisible force had thrown them. Even Simpson stumbled forward to the pavement at the impact. Breathing heavily, I took a step towards them, throwing out another burst of energy as a few tried to rise to their feet.
"You're going to leave here," I ordered them, my voice sounding metallic and strange as it barrelled down the alley towards them. "Forget this happened."
The men immediately scrambled back to their cars, climbing in wordlessly at my command.
As I turned on my heel, I noticed Jessica was angrily slamming the van door shut. Her head whipped in the direction of a car peeling out of the alley.
"He took Kilgrave!" she snarled, entirely unphased by my appearance.
My eyes narrowed at the car speeding almost out of sight. With a sharp inhale, I held up my hand at the car, mentally grabbing onto it as my hand curled into a tight fist. I pulled with as much strength as my mind could handle. The car paused, the back end lifting a half foot off of the ground. A scream tore through me as I tried to pull it back, the muscles in my neck straining at the effort. Something inside my head snapped like a rubber band tearing. The car dropped to the pavement and skidded out before I could try again. I fell to my knees panting hard as sweat covered me.
"God dammit!" Jessica roared.
My eyes darted over to Simpson who was at the driver's side, patting Trish on the face lightly and checking for a pulse.
"Is she okay?" I asked, voice weak.
Simpson glanced down at me, his eyes holding mine for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face before he finally nodded.
"Just unconscious," he told me. "She'll come to soon."
"Good," I said softly.
The world was spinning and the vibrating in my head wasn't helping. I lowered myself to all fours, trying to keep myself steady as I recovered. Blood dripped onto the ground by my hands; my nose must have started bleeding from the mental strain.
"We got nothing, after all of that," Jessica grumbled before angrily slamming a fist into the building beside us–the brick crumbled under the impact.
"Not exactly," Simpson said as he pulled zip ties from inside his coat pocket. "I knocked one of them out. We can question him inside, see what he knows."
The man came to shortly after we'd gotten him inside of the building where we could interrogate him privately. Simpson pulled a knife out, waving it in front of the man's eyes as he registered he'd been tied up. I crossed my arms over my chest, not exactly liking the situation.
"We need to know where they took Kilgrave," Simpson told the man as he began tearing the fabric of the man's pants upwards, starting at his ankle. "There's a pain center right below the knee cap–"
"Come on man!" the guy shouted, his eyes growing wide in panic.
"Forget it," Jessica cut in. "You could torture him until he's dead–he can't tell us anything. He's not in control."
"I am in total control!" the man countered rapidly, his voice rising in fear. "You don't need to torture!"
Jessica frowned, her eyes narrowing. "You mean Kilgrave didn't tell you to do this?"
"Is he a client?" the man asked. "I never spoke to him."
"Yet you work for that psychopath?" Simpson asked him.
"No, I work for a firm," the man answered quickly. "I just guard who I'm told to guard. The client thought he might be attacked. Frankly, I thought he was just some paranoid nut-job with a lot of cash."
Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head as she let out a frustrated noise. When her hand lowered, she met my gaze.
"He knew we were coming," she groaned. "God, I'm such an idiot. He knew I had the Sufentanil–Malcolm would have told him."
I inhaled a rough breath, rubbing my hands over my eyes.
"And he knows I'm here now," I pointed out. "So that's another advantage out of the window."
"He's lying, he's got to be," Simpson countered.
"Come on man," the guy whined. "The job doesn't pay good enough for me to lose a knee cap, you know what I mean?"
Jessica shook her head, catching Simpson's eyes. "Kilgrave knew he needed paid backup in case he lost his ability. He's not lying."
"So where'd they take him?" I asked the guy, stepping forward.
He looked up at me, shaking his head quickly. "I don't know; they don't tell us where to go until we need it. It's a precaution. I have no idea where he is."
"I want names of your firm and the people in your detail," Simpson told the man.
"Sure," he said, nodding quickly. "Whatever you want."
"It doesn't matter," I said slowly. "Kilgrave will just change it all now, after that. It's too risky, he knows we'd figure it out."
"I'll just make sure," Simpson snapped, raising his knife towards the man.
My eyes narrowed as Jessica slapped his arm.
"Come here, dickhead," she ordered, dragging him to the corner of the room.
I sauntered over, a wary eye on Simpson. I was really beginning to not trust the man. He seemed like he was one step from going off of the deep end.
"Olivia and I will find him," she said when we were out of earshot of the man. "You need to fix shit here with this guy; figure out how to come to terms with him. You're a cop, Simpson–you're supposed to serve and protect. Remember?" She glanced at me, gesturing her head. "Come on, we're going to talk to my junkie neighbor. Sober him up a bit."
I followed after Jessica, glancing over my shoulder. Simpson was making his way back towards the man who still looked terrified.
"You sure it's safe leaving him alone with that guy?" I asked her as we made our way out of the building. "I…get bad vibes from Simpson. He doesn't seem…okay."
"He won't kill him," Jessica assured me. "I saw how worked up he was thinking he'd killed Trish. He won't."
"I hope you're right…" I mumbled.
"I'm just going to tell Trish what's going on, she can get Simpson out of here," Jessica said as the van came into view. "We'll grab a cab back to my place."
I sighed, watching as Jessica headed over to the blonde sitting in the van. Trish perked up when she spotted us but she still looked upset. When she'd regained consciousness she'd done nothing but beat herself up for passing out after a single tase.
"I hope your plan works, Jessica," I mumbled to myself.