What She Thought She Knew (Rachel Moore Mystery Book 1), стр. 11

I shook my head.

I then looked down and realized that I forgot to return the Guardian's coat. I slapped my forehead in annoyance.

I grumbled to myself as I made my way inside the building, and arrived at my apartment. A shower was in call.

Chapter 8: May I Know Your Name?

A long and uneventful month passed since the encounter with the Guardian. Ever since I was ambushed by those Phantom agents, I haven't had even one incident that involved them.

During those weeks, I've occasionally thought about the Guardian as I've wondered what exactly he was doing to "protect" me.

I haven't seen nor heard any mention of him at all since he saved my life. I sometimes wondered if he was just a figment of my imagination, but I knew all too well that the emotions I felt were very real.

There wasn't much for me to do. The Directors have halted all missions for Scout agents as an investigation was underway for the Head Scout's murder.

I hated not being able to do anything, so I spent most of my time working out at the Seeker's training gym. It distracted me from the cruel reality that enveloped me, as well as prevented me from dying of boredom.

After spending at least six hours at the gym, I normally would have gone to a small jazz café I found to enjoy the various groups that came and performed.

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I was sitting on the chair by my balcony. I took out my mother's necklace, and examined it. It was made from silver, and it had my mother's name written on it: Katherine.

My eyes softened as I remembered her wearing it all the time, even while she slept. She said it provided her with a sense of comfort as it was a gift from her father who died when she was just a child.

My mother was a very spiritual woman, though she wasn't exactly very forthcoming with her faith. She preferred to have kept it private, but her beliefs were very influential on my brother and I.

Memories associated with the necklace brought a sad smile to my face. I clutched the piece of jewelry close to my chest. My eyes snapped shut as I tried to hold back the old, lingering emotions. A rebellious lone tear slipped past my defenses, and a wet trail slithered down my cheek.

A barely audible tap resounded on my balcony door.

I swiftly brushed the tear stain away, and instinctively grabbed my gun from the table. Who the hell was tapping at my door?

I made my way over to the door.

Cautiously, I grabbed the handle, and opened it slowly. The warm breeze of the mid-spring air encompassed my apartment. The sun had set about an hour ago, the moon took over as the light source. Its sheer brilliance lit me up, while everything else was shrouded in darkness.

I narrowed my eyes in annoyance at my disadvantage.

The sound of footsteps came from behind me.

I whipped my body around, and aimed my gun at the general direction. A dark figure walked towards me, appearing like a supernatural being when illuminated in the moonlight.

I lowered my gun when I realized that it was the Guardian. "It's you." I said. "What are you doing here?"

The man in question cocked his head back. "I'm your Guardian, Agent Moore. It's my duty to keep an eye on you."

I raised an eyebrow. "It certainly didn't seem that way when you disappeared for a whole month."

My comment seemed to have caught the Guardian off guard for he stumbled a bit, obviously at a loss. "I was merely studying your regular activities. I didn't abandon you if that's what you're suggesting. I had to learn your schedule to ensure that you wouldn't be alone at any time." He replied almost embarrassed.

I blinked. "Oh." I simply stated. "So you were always watching me?"

The Guardian nodded, the movement covered even more of his face in the shadows.

I self-consciously rubbed my head, a habit I developed whenever I was embarrassed.

My gesture must have snapped the Guardian out of his momentary embarrassment. "Your hair is down." He simply stated.

My hand froze in place as I took in what he said. I looked up at him to find him staring at me with that same intensity he seemed to have reserved for me. "Yes," I said, "it is."

The Guardian diverted his glance from my face to my hair. "Why do you keep it up?" He asked.

It was an innocent question, but since it came from him it seemed more like an interrogation.

I placed my hands behind my back, and rubbed my arm. "It gets in my way whenever I'm on missions. It would be easier to just cut it, but I made a promise not to." I realized that I said too much, and quickly snapped my mouth shut.

The Guardian cocked his head at me once more. He probably even raised an eyebrow, though it was hard to tell underneath his hood.

I cursed myself for saying too much. I couldn't believe that by being in the presence of this man, it made me openly say things that I normally kept private.

The Guardian ignored my earlier reaction, and walked towards me until he was directly in front of me.

I looked up at him, and stared directly into his grey eyes. He too was looking at me as he observed me like a specimen under a microscope.

Boldly, the Guardian delicately took a strand of my hair, and rubbed it in his gloved hand. My eyes narrowed.

The Guardian realized that his action was too close for comfort. He let go of my hair, and took a few steps back.

He coughed as he tried to push away the uneasy tension in the air. "Do you like