Chapter 59 TACTILE HYPOESTHESIA
All eyes widened, including the inspector. "I can get you arrested for laying your hand on a man in a uniform." No doubt he was annoyed by the slap.
"And, I don't care. Find my daughter, or else, I'd strip you of your uniform," Georgia said, her voice leaving no room for threats.
Nelly held her arm. "Don't make it worse, Aunt."
Georgia glared at the Inspector before storming off.
James faced the inspector. "I'm sorry. She's worried about her daughter."
The inspector nodded. "It's okay." His eyes saw a pair of pliers on the floor.
In the blink of an eye, he was already in front of the pliers.
"What are you thinking?" Nelly asked behind him.
He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to pick up the pliers. "This..." he trailed. "In a mall," he added.
Nelly's eyes were fixed on the pliers. "Are you trying to say the fire wasn't an accident?"
He shook his head. "It might have been from the electricians. But... forget it. I will resume the search," he said, and left before Nelly could ask further questions.
Nelly stared at the ambulance, trying to process what the inspector had said.
"Could it have been done on purpose?" she muttered.
James' fists were balled, realizing he had lost Drexton as usual. Neither Drexton nor Ixora were at the mall. Drexton wouldn't have come to the mall, and if he did, there's no way he'd leave with them seeing him.
Then where did he hurry off to during the meeting? He took a short glance at Blake before dialing a number.
"Flan," he said. "I have a job for you."
\[CAIUS HOUSE\]
"Report to me," Lorraine said, sipping from her drink.
Caius and Bonnie weren't at home.
The guy lowered his gaze to the ground, his black hoodie covering part of his face.
"I set the mall on fire, just like I said, but she didn't burn with the rest," he muttered.
Lorraine gently placed the glass cup on the table, without taking her eyes off him.
"Who saved her?"
The guy raised his head, avoiding her gaze.
"Drexton. He arrived in the nick of time. If he hadn't come, she..."
Lorraine smashed the glass on his face, shutting him up.
The glass pierced his face, blood trailing down his face, mixing with his wet shirt.
He groaned in pain but didn't dare say it unless he didn't value his life.
Lorraine stood high on her heels.
"You can't do a simple task. Couldn't you find a way to stop Drexton?" She slapped him.
Her metal ring pressed the glass into his face. He winced, but didn't move.
Lorraine swept her hair backward, feeling defeated, and the fact that Drexton saved her—
"I will make arrangements for you to leave the country tonight. Drexton might come after you."
The guy nodded.
"You'd take the secret route, straight to the river. You'd see a boat that'd lead you out."
She waved her hand. "Get out."
The guy bowed and left.
Lorraine walked to her room, straight to her wardrobe and turned on the robot.
"You saved that girl. You—" she seethed, using her nails to deeply scratch the robot.
The metallic sound covered the room.
The robot watched her as she began bleeding because of the scratch, her blood rubbing the metal.
"Drex..." Her teeth were clenched, her eyes looking as demonic as ever.
The robot wanted to talk. She pressed the button at the back of its neck, and it went off.
She exhaled, her eyes meeting a photo on her wall. A picture of her, Bonnie and some parts of Drexton's hand.
Drexton didn't like pictures, and that day was Bonnie's graduation ceremony. She had pleaded with him to take the picture and, as usual, he bluntly refused.
When the photographer was about to click the camera, she held his hand in an attempt to pull him to join the picture. Drexton was caught unawares but didn't shift from his spot; just a part of his right hand appeared in the picture. That picture then became her most treasured picture, and she insisted on framing it in her room.
She was rubbing his hand, a smile on her lips. Her gaze shifted to Bonnie, and she kept the picture.
Her guts were telling her that Drexton would find out who set the mall on fire. She had strictly instructed the guy not to make a mistake, and she was sure he wouldn't.
Drexton might hate Ixora, but had been against them hurting her... not even Caius had the right to touch her.
Another smile appeared on her face as she imagined the guy's death.
"What a fool." She knew Drexton would go after him.
She told him to leave the country, but knew Drexton wouldn't let it slide unless he was convinced that it was an accident, which she was sure he wouldn't.
She gripped her hair, cackling menacingly. Her voice, deeper and husky—like a demon.
The ringing of her cell phone slowed down her cackle.
Her brows knotted into a frown when she saw the caller.
\[DREXTON'S HOUSE\]
Ixora's gaze was fixed on Drexton's face as he applied ointment to her wound. She had sustained a scratch on her leg when she fell while trying to escape from the fire.
After he jumped down, she realized that the door they had taken was a secret door. She wasn't even aware of it despite frequently visiting the mall.
He walked to a car that was parked and drove it straight to this house. The house was different from their hideout.
It screamed wealth. She hasn't had a chance to go around the house. She could guess it was his house.
He was weird to the point where the room was painted black, even the furniture and everything in the room. The bulbs were tiny and dimmed, comprising mainly of two colors. Red and black. The curtain was slightly opened, and she was able to see his face clearly.
He was still wearing his torn clothes. He had taken her straight to his room and began attending to her wounds. She was still in shock from his actions—wasn't he supposed to hate her?
He was done and wanted to stand when she held his arm.
"You are badly injured. Let me dress your wound," she said. "Please," she added almost immediately.
Drexton said nothing as he sat properly on the chair.
Ixora took out the cotton wool and methylated spirit. She raised the hand of his shirt and began disinfecting his wound. She applied a healing patch to the wound.
He had sustained a lot of injuries while looking for her. The least she could do was nurse his wounds.
Drexton's eyes never left her.
She was done and raised her lid to meet his intense gaze on her. She gulped, tracing her gaze to his arm. Blood had completely stained his white shirt.
"How did you get badly injured?" she asked, touching the arm.
He didn't wince, just stared.
She stood and held the hem of his shirt. Without warning, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it down. Her eyes widened when she saw the bullet hole in his body.
"H... How did you get shot?" she asked, getting the bullet extractor.
His blood trailed down his arm, and that made Ixora's heart sink. Using the extractor, she carefully removed the bullet while wincing slightly as if she could feel the pain.
She wrapped a bandage around the wound, and soon she was done. She sat on the bed, locking their gaze.
"What happened to you?" She had no idea why she asked, but she needed to.
Her curiosity was getting the best of her. Whatever happened to him looks deeper than she imagined. He hates her, and she does not even know why. And when she was dressing his wound, he didn't even show any sign of discomfort, which was so not normal.
"I know you are strong, but still a human being. You didn't feel the pain of the antiseptic?" She pressed her palm on his wound.
He stayed in the same position.
"This is what I'm saying, you—"
"Tactile Hypoesthesia," he said, cutting her off.
Ixora stopped talking, looking at his arm.
"Tactile..."
He stood. "You should leave. It's late." Like that, he walked out of the room without sparing her a single glance.
Ixora narrowed her brow, recalling the word over and over again.
"Tactile Hypoesthesia," she muttered and rushed out of the room.