He scoots behind me in bed and rests his chin on the top of my head. “You can’t keep doing this to me. This kidnapping shit? Especially when you’re on my watch! My heart can’t take it. ”
I smile. “Mine either.”
He laughs. “I thought we were talking about me here for a second. Gah, you’re such a narcissist. Not everything’s about you.”
And this is why I love Max. Gone is the look of pity and worry, and in its place is my friend. I may feel as though I’m about to shatter, but I don’t want to be treated that way. “We can talk about you as long as it isn’t your feelings about me. How’s that?”
He shifts our bodies so that he can see my face. “You really want to talk about me?”
I turn so I can look at him better. “The distraction from what’s going on inside my head would be nice. But that only works if what you have to say isn’t about me.”
“It’s about you in an indirect sort of way. Does that count?”
I tap his leg. “Try me. I’ll stop you if you hit a nerve,” I say.
“I feel like a dick whining to you, but if you say it’ll help take your mind off things, I believe you. Come on. We’ll need a cuddle for this.” He shifts so that he’s lying down with my head on his chest. “I’m feeling lost. I really thought after everything that happened, the Bureau would jump on this. They’d finally feel compelled to look past whatever politics are in play and seek justice. But they didn’t. Someone’s been paid off, and it makes me sick. It makes me doubt everything I’ve ever believed in, even the reasons I wanted to be an agent. It’s fucking with my head.”
“I get that,” I reply. “It stings when the bubble bursts and you realize the world you thought you lived in was only an illusion.”
He gently squeezes my shoulder. “So my head’s a mess, and as a result, I made some bad choices that are going to come back and bite me in the ass. It hasn’t happened yet, but it’s coming.”
I twist so I can look at him. “What did you do?”
“In forty-eight hours, I managed to blow up my life. At first I was thinking with my heart, and that blew up in my face. Then I let my dick do the thinking, and that made things even worse. Between my woman problems and the Bureau, I’ve never been so happy to put an ocean between me and the States. What’s that Gavin’s always saying?”
“Everything’s better in London?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s it. I think I’m done with American girls. Maybe I just need to find a British chick and settle down here with you and Gavin.”
I have to imagine he’s talking about Em. Neither one of them have ever opened up to me about what’s going on between them. When he’s ready, he’ll share. Until then, they need to work this out themselves.
“Bird,” I correct him. “They call chicks birds here. They may say chick too though. I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask Gavin. Speaking of which, how long do you think he’ll be gone?” Having Max here is nice, but I really need Gavin.
“Could be a while. They have a lot to talk about.” He leans over to the nightstand and picks up the remote. “New plan! I’m sure somewhere on here, the Discovery Channel is playing a marathon of one of our favorites. Oh, there’s a new one we haven’t seen! They follow around people who live in this speck of a town in the middle of Alaska. There’s, like, bear attacks and shit.”
“How can I say no to ‘bear attacks and shit’? I’m just going to go to the bathroom first.” I take the IV bag off of the hook and carry it with me to the bathroom, paying close attention not to trip on it.
The wood floor is cold under my bare feet, but moving around feels good. Being stuck in that chair for days, I really worried about my muscles atrophying. I walk into two closets before I find the bathroom. Once I hit the lights, I get a look at my body, which is purple and swollen. I don’t look nearly as ugly as I feel. With all the life and death churning around in my head, vanity seems so insignificant. I don’t have the energy to give a shit.
After I wash my hands, I return to the bedroom.
“They’ve got the whole season on On Demand. You ready?” he asks.
I crawl back into the bed. “As I’ll ever be.”
He hits play, and we settle in as the narrator begins his spiel, making this town with thirty people in it sound like the best place in the world.
“You know the number one reason people move to Alaska? True fact,” Max says without giving me a chance to answer. “They’re running from someone. Usually a warrant. Sometimes the mob. Who the hell’s going to chase you there?” He points at the screen showing the desolate Alaskan countryside.
“Is that a hint?” I ask. “Should that be my next move?”
He snorts. “You wouldn’t make it. You get cold when it’s below sixty degrees.” His voice gets quiet. “But I’ve heard worse plans. There’s really no downside to spending time in BFE, Alaska, until things die down. If you don’t count the bear attacks.”
Not knowing how to respond, I keep my mouth shut. Ignoring the show, I mull over the issue. Is that what I want—to hide until they’ve moved on to another target? Until Rafa has another toy he wants to bat around? I’ve managed to escape with my life intact and my sanity slightly dinged, but if I continue to fight them, it’s unlikely I’ll stay so lucky. But if it’s not me, it’ll be someone else.
If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else.
Rafa sold me, and I’m sure that sultan is expecting a blond American girl to fulfil his sick, twisted fantasies. Rafa will have to find someone to take my place. The sour taste of bile fills my mouth.
Max sits up and rubs my back. “Hey, what happened?”
“I can’t let them do this to anyone else. We have to find a way to stop them.”
He kisses the top of my head. “We will. We’re already on it.”
“No, I mean it. We have to stop them.”
He hands me my water. “I promise you. We may not have the government on our side, but don’t worry—we’ll still get them. Gavin’s got so many irons in the fire it would make your head spin.”
I’m sure they’ve been hard at work plotting something. There’s no way Max and Gavin would have just sat here for four days crying on their crumpets. Max would probably tell me what’s going on if I asked, but I’m not ready to think about any of that yet. But knowing they’re working on something does set me at ease.
After returning my water to the nightstand, I scoot back to my place on the bed. “Let’s just watch the show, okay?”
He nods. “Sure thing, Slugger.” He hits play, and the show resumes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gavin
My mobile rings as I walk up the stairs. “Emily,” I answer. “Have you spoken to Max already?”
“No. We’re not exactly on speaking terms at the moment. But I did see you’ve called fifty-seven times. Are you ready for me to come to London?”
I sit on a step. “Yes, but not to plan a funeral. Lily is alive!”
“What?” she screeches. “You’d better not be messing with me.”
“I’d never do that to you. She’s home!”
She screams so loudly, I pull the mobile away from my ear. “How? Wait, you can tell me when I get there. I need to book a flight. I’ll be there in the morning. Oh, crap. My passport’s in Boston. I’ll either catch the red-eye tomorrow or the first flight the following morning! Take good care of her until I get there, or I’ll kick your limey ass!”
“I promise,” I reply, but she’s already hung up.
I tuck my mobile into my pocket and finish climbing the stairs. The tele is loud enough to hear from the hallway, but when I enter the room, Lily and Max are both asleep on the bed. I flick Max’s ear. He swats me away a few times, but when I don’t stop, he finally opens his eyes.
“What the fuck, dude?”
I point at the door. “Find your own bed.”
He kicks off the covers then rolls out of bed. “You need to upgrade your guest room mattresses. This one
is way better than mine.”
“I’ll get right on it.” I point at the door. “Now go.”
He flips me off. “I’m going. I’m going.” He pauses at the door. “Hey?”
“Yes?”
“She seems okay. She’s sad and there’s a lot of guilt, but she’s better than I expected. I even had her laughing… sort of. I think she’ll come out of this.”
I nod, and he leaves the room, closing the door. I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her sleep. She’s so swollen and the bruises have turned a deep violet, but she’s still beautiful.
She startles me when she says, “Is he gone?”
“Max? Yes, he’s gone.”
She pushes the covers down and sits up. “Thank god. That boy has the funkiest breath I’ve ever smelt. I couldn’t sleep with it invading my oxygen. No wonder he can’t keep a girl.”
I scoot closer to her, watching carefully to see if my being close to her or touching her will make her tense up. “If I have it my way, you’ll never share a bed with him again.”
“Deal,” she says with a weak smile.
I brush the hair out of her eyes. “You still look tired. You should get some sleep.”
She takes my hand and pulls me down to her. “Actually, I just want to be here with you. There’s been so many times over the last few days that I thought I’d never see you again. I just want to feel that you’re here.” She puts her hand on my chest. “Feel your heartbeat to know you’re real, that this is really happening.”
I kiss the top of her head then lie down beside her. “Of course, luv. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Can I hold you? Is that okay?”
She sniffs, and her tear-strained voice cracks. “Yes, please.”
Tentatively, I wrap my arms around her body. I watch her eyes, looking for any signs of stress or discomfort. I know that every step moving forward will have to be slow, careful, and at her comfort level. Once my arms are around her, she holds onto me as though I’m her life raft in the middle of the ocean.
“Don’t let go,” she pleads.
“Never. I’m never letting you go again.”
She’s quiet for some time. It seems as though we should be saying a million things, but in some ways, words would ruin this moment. I’m not lost in my own head, searching for the right thing to say. I’m not even sure words can accurately express how I feel. So I’m focusing on the present, every moment, and savoring everything about her. The feel of her heartbeat against my hand. The tickle of her breath against my collarbone. The soft feel of her leg tangled with mine. These are all the things I never thought I’d feel again, and I cherish each and every one of them. I’ll never take this for granted again. I’ll never take her for granted again.
For the next day, she’s practically mute. I know that’s typical for patients who have just experienced trauma. Hell, we had men who couldn’t speak for a week or more after a particularly awful battle. I know in my head that this is all part of the healing process, but it’s so devastating to watch. She sleeps most of the time, which is a blessing. She needs it. When she’s awake, she just clings to me. I can tell by her eyes that her emotions are ever changing, and each swing takes a powerful toll on her. Sorrow, fear, rage, it’s all there.
Wanting to comfort her, I whisper reassuring words, but she shakes her head, so I stop. Maybe she’s not ready to hear them yet, so I hold back the words that are dying to spill out of me and hope that through my gentle touch, my loving caress, I can convey to her how precious she is to me. More than anything, I want her to feel safe. Without words, I can only reassure her by being here, wiping away the tears, and holding her when the sobs hit her so hard, her body quakes.
“I need to make a statement to the police,” she says late in the afternoon of her second day home, breaking her silence.
Of everything I thought she might say first, that never once popped into my mind. “What?”
“I need to make a statement to the police. Rafa sold me, and I’m worried they’re going to have to take another girl to replace me. I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can do to stop it, but I have to do something.”
I brush the hair away from her eyes. “Whenever you’re ready. There’s no rush.”
“There is a rush. I can’t keep feeling this way.” She looks down at herself with disgust. “I need to get this out of me. Maybe if I’m actually doing something productive, the guilt will stop eating away at me. It feels like a corrosive acid slowly dissolving me from the inside out. I need it to stop. I didn’t fight this hard to stay alive only to rot in bed, consumed by guilt.”
With a feather-light touch, I run my fingertips down her arm. “You know you can talk to me. I’m here for you.”
She sniffs then wipes her eyes. “I’m scared. I’m scared when I say the words, it’ll be real instead of being a really fucked up memory. There’s no avoiding it once you put it out there.”
“I don’t know, but I wonder if trying to avoid it is one of the reasons it’s eating at you. These sorts of things have a way of demanding attention even if you’re not ready.”
She laughs quietly. “I now get how people become addicts after stuff like this, because I’d like nothing more than to hide. But that’s not me. That’s not who I am. I don’t hide.”
I kiss her temple. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
“I don’t feel brave. I feel weak and pathetic. So many thoughts cross through my head, thoughts I know better than to believe, and yet I’m sucked into them.”
“I don’t understand. Can you try to explain?”
“It’s irrational and stupid and I feel like a damn afterschool special even saying it, but I worry about what you’ll think. How you’ll look at me when you know. I feel guilt about what I’ve done even though I have no reason to. It’s so confusing, and I hate this side of myself. Gah! I thought I was stronger than this!”
She pulls herself into the fetal position, but I stop her. I gently push her shoulders back, forcing her to look at me. “Stop.”
She pinches her eyes closed so she doesn’t have to look at me.
“Luv, open your eyes. Please.” When she doesn’t, I just start talking. “You’re a survivor. You were faced with life and death, and you chose life. You fought for life, and that makes me infinitely proud of you. I imagine that that fight was ugly. You probably had to do things that shock you, had to make choices you wouldn’t typically make. But you did what you had to do to survive. I could never look at you with anything but pride and adoration. I swear to you that what we have is sacred. There’s no judgment, no shame, only love. Let me share this burden with you. Unleash it so it’s no longer crushing you. We can carry it together.” I thread my fingers through hers. “The only way we’re going to survive this is if we do it together, lean on each other. You don’t have to face this alone.”
She finally opens her eyes. She sits up, pulling the sheets up around her. “Okay.” She picks up her bottle of water from the table and takes a sip. “I was packing for the country house when O let herself into the apartment...”
I think I hold my breath the entire time she’s speaking. I’ve spent hours upon hours bathed in fear, petrified about what was being done to her, but the truth is worse than I imagined. Trapped in the dark with no means to escape? It’s the things nightmares are made of. A psychological mind fuck that will undoubtedly haunt her. There’s darkness in every day. She’ll have a constant reminder and ever-present trigger that can bring her back to that place. My heart aches for her. I have to fight like hell to keep my expression neutral. I don’t want her to see how much this is killing me. She doesn’t need to feel the weight of my pain as well as her own.
“He never laid a hand on me until the last day. He was drunk. I think he got in trouble for getting Crazy Eyes killed, but I couldn’t be sure. He was pissed and looking for someone to take it out on…”
I grip the sheets so tightly, I’m amazed I don’t put my finge
rs through them. I do my best to hide the fact that each word sends searing pain through me. The terror in her voice slays me.
When she finishes, she looks at me. “Say something. Tell me I’m a horrible person for the vile thing I’ve done. Tell me you blame me for O dying. Say something.”
“Dear God, Lily, this isn’t your fault. None of this is.”
“Of course it is. I killed a man! I got O killed because I was too scared to come out of my hiding place!”
I cup her face in my hands. “No, no, no. None of this is on you. You survived. You’re a warrior. I’m in awe of you. I’ve never felt so much pride over your strength and courage. What you did was an act of bravery, but it’s my fault you were even in that position. The blood isn’t on your hands; it’s on mine.” My head falls into my hands. “I didn’t protect you.”
“What?”
“I promised you I would protect you. I vowed I could keep them from you so you’d finally be happy.” I run my fingers through my hair. “When you were still living in DC, I got so angry that you wouldn’t just come here and let me take care of things. We’d fight bitterly about it, and I swore I’d keep you safe. Then you were taken from our home. Our home! The one place in the world you should never feel fear. I failed you. I promised you a fortress and gave you a shack. You only had to endure those horrors because I didn’t do my job and protect you.”
Whatever strength was keeping me together fell apart. My head falls into her lap, and I weep, praying for her forgiveness with each heaving breath. Hearing her recount the pain inflicted upon her eviscerated me because I should have prevented it. I foolishly thought we were safe in my ivory tower. I let my guard down, and she had to suffer the consequences.
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