by Beth Yarnall
I sit up when she does, mirroring her movements until we’re both standing. She smooths her skirt down, going through the motions of putting herself back together again. She’s very good at that. She’s had to be.
When she’s done she faces me with her chin up. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get Marie back. If that means staying, then that’s what I’ll do. What’s our next step?”
“We need Cora.”
“Whatever it takes.”
“Are you sure?”
“No. I haven’t been sure in forever.”
“We’ll do our best to protect you.”
“I know you’ll try. Why don’t you go get Cora?”
She’s not any more confident than I am that we can pull this off. But we’ve gotten this far. I can’t see how we can give up now. I’m glad she’s not giving up either. I want to touch her. Out of habit, maybe, or maybe I just need that physical reassurance. But I don’t. Instead, I go out into the hall to find Cora.
She’s not in the reception area, so I go to the conference room and find her talking to Mr. Nash. He doesn’t spend as much time in the office as he used to since Cora came to work here, so I don’t see him often.
When he spots me, hovering just outside the door, he waves me in. “I’ve been hearing good things about your work.”
“Thank you.”
“Cora and I have been discussing the case you’re working on.”
My gaze shifts to Cora. I know she wouldn’t say anything to Mr. Nash about Vera and me, but still. I know she’s mad. And worried.
“My visit with Emmaline Markham didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped. I think I might have inadvertently tipped her off. She was suspicious as all get-out. I don’t think she bought my reporter-doing-a-story-on-her-program angle, so I put Jerry on her. He’s the best surveillance guy we’ve got. Former special ops. If you see Jerry, it’s because he wants to be seen. I’m hoping she’s going to lead us to our girl. Now, about our client…” He motions for me to sit at the table. “Cora’s filled me in on her situation.”
I work to keep my face impassive as I take a seat across from him and Cora.
“I may have a way to help her, but she might not like it,” Mr. Nash says. “I have a friend in the FBI who would be very interested in what she has to say about this sex-trafficking ring. It could mean federal protection. Possibly a new life, a new identity. She’d have to leave everyone and everything behind, including her sister, and start over. She’d have to testify in Sam French’s hearing and the case against the asshole who trafficked her. It would mean months of isolation, followed by being set up in a new city with a new identity. Most people don’t get what that means.”
“She would,” I answer. She’s already done it once. She could do it again.
He studies me for a moment. “You couldn’t go with her,” he says quietly.
I glare at Cora. How could she fucking tell him?
“Your sister didn’t betray you. You betrayed yourself.” He holds up a hand. “I don’t want to know about it. I’m not happy about it, but I understand how these things can happen.” He glances at Cora. “I watched my son go through the same thing with your sister.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Like I said. I understand. Why don’t you have Vera come in here so we can talk about our next steps?”
I go back to the office half expecting it to be empty when I walk in. Vera sits in my office chair, her hands folded over her bag on her lap. She looks up when I walk in. There’s a resigned set to her jaw. She did something to her face, some makeup or something. She’s always pretty, but to me, in this moment, she’s breathtaking. The back of my eyes sting and my throat feels like I tried to swallow a bite that wouldn’t go down. I want to say something to her, something meaningful and memorable. My mind is blank. Even if I could think of what to say, I’m not sure I could actually say it.
“You say the most when you don’t speak,” she tells me, as though reading my thoughts. “You have a very expressive face if you know how to read it.” She stands. “If I don’t get the chance to tell you, I want you to know that you’re the most remarkable person I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you.”
She draws her bag over her shoulder. “Well?”
“Mr. Nash wants to see you in the conference room.”
“Okay.”
As she walks past me, I whisper, “I’ll never forget you.”
Her steps falter, but she keeps moving. I follow her down the hall and close the door behind us. I wait for her to take her seat, and then I choose a chair two down from hers. I can’t be next to her right now. Just being in the same room is damn near killing me.
Cora makes the introductions, her gaze flickering to me, then away. I’m not sure yet how I feel about how she forced Vera to tell me the truth. I honestly didn’t want to know. I guess somewhere deep down inside I knew it would end Vera and me. Even those few times I tried to pressure her into telling me, I didn’t really have my heart in it. I’ll deal with Cora and what she did later. Right now I’m anxious to see how Vera takes what Mr. Nash has to say. What would I do in her place? Take the deal. Easy answer for me, but not so easy for Vera. She doesn’t have any faith that the police or even the FBI can protect her. I have to admit after learning what that fucker’s capable of, I have my doubts too.
Mr. Nash extends the offer he told me about to Vera—to talk to his FBI friend. He lays it all out for her, including the real possibility she might not walk away from the crimes she committed when she stole that car and property. He makes no promises.
“I’ll see about talking to your friend when Marie is safe.”
“What about your safety?” I ask.
She makes a noise that’s half laugh, half scoff. “I’m not safe. I’ll never be safe. I’m already dead.”
Chapter 28
Vera
Mr. Nash is a nice man—I’ve gotten good at telling decent men from sadistic sons of bitches—but he’s naïve. As soon as I talk to his friend, I’m dead.
The thing about being a high-end prostitute is that you service high-end clients. I’ve fucked some of the most powerful men in the state and some very influential visiting dignitaries, including an FBI agent or three. Unless Mr. Nash’s friend has an extremely high level of authority, he can’t keep my identity completely secret from the entire FBI. Javier will know—probably within a day or two—that I intend to bury him. The one thing Javier cannot stand is betrayal. I’ve already betrayed him, but if I take it to the next level he won’t care about making the kill himself. He’ll get whoever he can get to do it.
This is the decision I made in that hallway when I told Beau the truth—suicide.
I can tell by the looks on their faces that none of them get what I’m saying. Even after everything Beau’s been through, he, his sister, and Mr. Nash still believe that good will always prevail. It doesn’t. Sometimes evil wins and there’s nothing you can do about it.
“My friend in the FBI can protect you,” Mr. Nash says.
“How high up is your friend?”
“He’s a special agent.”
“Is that higher or lower than an assistant special agent in charge?”
“Lower, I believe.”
I shake my head. “He can’t help me.”
“At least talk to him,” Beau pleads.
“It is lower,” Cora confirms, looking at her phone. “At the field-office level, the only position higher than an assistant SAC is the special agent in charge.”
“Why can’t he help you?” Mr. Nash asks.
“Because I fucked an assistant SAC. Hell, he might not even be an assistant anymore. The way he talked like he was such a big man—and they love to fucking talk—he could’ve been promoted since then. His credit card info is going to be on the thumb drive. As soon as he sees it, I’m done.” I lean across the table at Cora and Mr. Nash. “You can’t help me.”
“I trust my friend.”
“I don’t tr
ust anyone except Beau. Not you. Not Cora. Not your FBI friend. No one.”
“Let me talk to him, see what he can work out.”
“How is that going to help Marie?”
“It’ll help you and Marie.”
“Don’t you get it?” I pound on the table. “We’ll both be dead as soon as you open your mouth.”
“Do you remember his name?” Cora asks
“No. We weren’t exactly at a garden party, you know.”
“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“I remember all of their faces.”
She turns her phone toward me. “Is this him?”
It’s the splash page for the local field office. Under the heading SAN DIEGO LEADERSHIP is a photo of a man I don’t recognize, listed as the special agent in charge.
“No.”
She hands her phone to Mr. Nash. “Can your friend get us in with him?”
“I should probably make sure I haven’t fucked your friend first,” I tell Mr. Nash.
He flushes at my crude language, then pulls out his phone and taps the screen. He shows it to me. “This is my friend.”
“I don’t know him,” I say.
Mr. Nash tries to disguise his heavy exhale of relief by smoothing down his comb-over. “Will you meet with him? He’s going to need something to take to his boss.”
I’m still not convinced this is a good idea. “Just because I didn’t fuck him or his boss doesn’t mean none of Javier’s other girls didn’t. I’ll meet with him, but not here and not at his office.”
“I’ll see what I can arrange.” Mr. Nash gets up from the table and leaves me with Cora and Beau.
“I’m sorry,” Cora says. “I was trying to protect my brother.”
“I know. So was I.”
“In a weird way, I can see that now. I hope things work out for you.”
“They won’t. But thanks.” I have to look away from her face, because all I see is pity.
“Can I talk to you outside?” Cora asks Beau.
“I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” he tells me.
“It’s not like I have somewhere to go.”
He frowns at me before following Cora into the hall. They close the door so I can’t hear what they say. A spider hangs in a web in a corner of the room. I had one as a pet in the first room Javier put me in. I talked to it like it was that spider from the children’s book about a pig. It’s stupid to think about now, but I was so lonely. The loneliness wasn’t the worst part, it was the best. I’ve gotten to where I prefer to be alone. The isolation Mr. Nash talked about? Heaven. It’s weird because I used to love the noise and energy of crowds. The only person I can spend infinite amounts of time with is Beau.
Beau comes back into the room and sits across the table from me. We’re awkward now. I should’ve run while he was in here talking to Mr. Nash. It crossed my mind. It crossed Beau’s too, because he looked surprised to see me when he came back into the office. The way he looked at me then. No other man will ever look at me like that. I didn’t think it was possible to be looked at like that. He avoids my gaze now, already separating himself from me. It’s protective, I know, but it still hurts. He can’t forgive me. I didn’t expect him to. He wants to. That should be of some consolation to me, but it’s not, because it’s tearing him in two.
“Mr. Nash will make sure you’re protected,” he says.
I make a noncommittal noise that he can interpret any way he likes.
“He’s on the phone with his FBI friend right now.”
“If you have work or something to do, you should go do it. You don’t have to sit here with me.”
“I know.”
This is the first time our silence has been uncomfortable. He has something to say, but he’s not sure if he should say it. I’m not sure if he should either. The silence stretches so thin I can hear it like a plucked string reverberating in the air around us. One of us is going to break it, but neither of us wants to be the one to do it.
I lay my head on the table and close my eyes so I don’t have to look at him. Why is he here? I don’t need a babysitter.
“It’s not like I’m going to run,” I mumble.
“You would’ve already done it if you were.”
I want him to leave me alone. I need to get used to being without him. It’s shocking to me how quickly I adapted to him being around all the time, invading my space. The void of that feels bigger with him near. Isn’t that stupid? I miss him more when he’s right next to me than when he’s not in the room.
“I wish you’d leave,” I tell him, not really meaning it. “Just go away.”
“I can’t.”
I raise my head. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it to get back at me? Do you hate me that much now?”
“I don’t hate you at all. The exact opposite.”
“Then why are you punishing me?”
My choice of words surprises him. “Does it feel like that to you?”
I nod.
“Because being without you hurts more when I’m not with you.”
“It’s easier for me when you’re not right here where I can see you, but can’t touch you.”
“What am I supposed to do?” The change in him is swift, catching me off guard. “How could you?” There’s more than six years’ worth of agony and pent-up rage in his voice. His hands form tight fists that shake. “How could you let that man go to prison when you could’ve prevented it?”
“I told you why.”
“I know what you told me, but I still can’t reconcile what you did with who you are and what you’ve been through. You of all people should know what it’s like to be held against your will, to not know if you’ll ever get out, to wonder if you’ll ever get out. And knowing me, hearing what I went through. How can you live with what you did?”
“You want to know why I don’t care about what happened to Sam? Because Sam liked the little girls. The eleven- and twelve-year-olds. I was too old for him at fourteen. So no, I don’t give three shits about what happened to Sam. I hope he’s getting butt-fucked every day. I hope he gets forced to his knees to suck cock like he forced Kitty and Bunny to suck his. I was glad when Javier pinned that murder on Sam. And I was pissed at Cherry for trying to screw it up with her crisis of conscience. If it wasn’t for her stupidity, she wouldn’t be dead, I wouldn’t have been beaten and stolen the thumb drive, I wouldn’t have gone on the run, and I wouldn’t be here with you now.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not making any sense. Some of those things are good things.”
“That turned out bad. Stealing the thumb drive signed my death warrant. Going on the run is the reason Javier has Marie. I’m here with you, but not with you. You tell me how any of that’s good.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it. Slowly blinks. Tries again. “But you’d still be with Javier if none of that happened.”
He doesn’t understand, and I’m done trying to explain it. I lay my head back down. “Just go away.”
“Vera.” He says my name softly, with care, as though it’s a fragile thing.
“Please.”
The quiet, dull snick of the door closing echoes through my whole body. I’ve said a lot of goodbyes in my life, but I never felt them. All I can see, touch, taste, smell, and hear is this one. I am nothing but goodbye.
Chapter 29
Beau
I stand outside the conference room door like a fucking guard because I can’t be away from Vera and I can’t be with her. I’m thoroughly and completely fucked in every way.
Her world has incomprehensible rules that change constantly. Just when I think I understand how it works, she throws in a twist that turns everything around, inside out, and backward. She’s a fucking survivalist, navigating shifting terrain. Kill or be killed. I understand something of that mentality from prison. The fucked-up shit that went down in there…Another place with fucked-up rules and fucked-up people w
ho don’t give a fuck.
I understand why she did what she did. I really do. I just can’t get past it. Maybe there’s something fundamentally wrong with me. Some defect that only lets me see things in black and white, right and wrong. Yes, that fucker should be locked up. He’s a fucking sick bastard. But he should be locked up for the sick-ass crimes he committed, not the one he didn’t, because that means that the real killer, Javier, still walks free. It also means the councilman skates on having sex with underage girls and helping to cover up his wife’s murder. A shit-ton of wrongs don’t make a shit-ton of rights.
I wish I could see it the way Vera does. She used what little power she had to affect a small change for girls who were younger than her, but she never really changed their situation. Javier going to prison for murder…that would’ve affected a fucking truckload of change. I’m naïve. I know. Even after everything I’ve been through, I fucking hold on to justice prevailing, even though justice bent me over and fucked me in the ass.
And I’m hurting her with it. She called it a punishment. Fucking hell. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I get past it? Why can’t I shrug it off and take the win where I can get it, like Vera? We’re alike in so many ways except this fundamental one. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.
Cora finds me at my lowest, most pathetic, standing outside Vera’s door. Her face creases with worry.
“Am I wrong here?” I ask her. “Sam French is a kid-fucking bastard, yet I can’t justify him going to prison for a murder he didn’t commit.”
She starts at this new information. “He’s a what?”
“Vera says he liked the little girls. She was glad to put him away. But me? I don’t fucking know. How can I not fucking know?”
She glances at the closed door. “I can’t…She said that?”
“Saving those girls from one sick fuck didn’t save them from all of the other sick fucks who paid to rape them. I’m expecting too much here, aren’t I? Tell me I am.”
“You are. You fucking are. And you’re not. I didn’t think. I didn’t imagine. Where she comes from is not right. The way she talks about it…Beau, she’s my age. I keep going over in my head the things she said. I didn’t believe them at first. She says them like she’s relaying something she heard from someone else. Like they didn’t happen to her. That’s fucking messed up. She’s messed up. How could she not be?”