The Getaway

by Hope Anika

  “I can’t make up for it,” he said. “I know that. And when you came to me…history repeated itself. Sometimes I think you were right. It should have been me.”

  Her gaze flew to his and studied him for a long, silent moment. Then, “No. We were children.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I have blamed you for too long. Elian, he made a choice. It is not fair to blame you for that.”

  “I bear responsibility.”

  “As do we all.” She shrugged. “That is why I took them.”

  “I know.”

  “I could not stand by and watch.” Her voice vibrated, anger and pain and grief that made his own regret resonate with painful clarity. “Not again. I knew what he was doing to Alexander, and you are not wrong—what happened to Elian drove me to foolish lengths—but when everyone refused to help…I had no choice.”

  Tony flinched. “I know.” He steeled himself. “I’m responsible for the video.”

  Lucia went still. Her hand clenched around the comb. “Why?”

  “It was the only way,” he told her bluntly. “I obtained it illegally, which meant getting a warrant was next to impossible. The clock was ticking, and that asshole was chasing you, and only a public unmasking was going to stop him. I never wanted to expose the kid like that, but it was either that, or you dead and those boys back under his thumb. It wasn’t an easy decision, and I regret the repercussions it will have for him—because I do understand what the fuck it will do to him—but I did it to save him. To save you. And I’d do it again.”

  Lucia stared at him, her eyes opaque. Isabel had wanted to tell her—to take responsibility—but Tony was prepared to take the lumps. They were his due—and he hadn’t lied. He would do it all again.

  “What made you believe me?” she asked quietly, watching him. “Because you did not. You told me I was imagining things.”

  “Because it was easier that way,” he admitted. “To tell myself it was because of then. But after you’d gone, it ate at me. I knew you wouldn’t make that accusation unless you believed it to be true. And I knew…I knew you’d come to me because you expected me to know that. To do what I hadn’t done before. Then I called DFS and found out you’d tried to report him. I called CPS, and they said the same thing. And I knew it was real. So when the call came in that you’d taken them, I sent Sam.”

  Color suddenly flushed her cheeks. “He saved us.”

  She looked away, and Tony thought about what Sam had told him this morning. I’m going to keep her, so you two had better make your peace.

  It was an unexpected turn of events, but then Tony thought about Isabel, and he understood.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I won’t let you down again.”

  Lucia’s gaze was dark but steady, and Tony had the feeling she saw far more than he would have liked to share. But there was no half-assing this; he owned it. Better for them all that she understood that.

  “What is going to happen to me?” she asked.

  “You’re free to go.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “The prosecutor isn’t pressing charges—at least, not yet. And considering the outcry, I don’t think she will. Something minor, maybe, but I don’t think it will be felony kidnapping. Too many people support what you did. Right or wrong, they all saw what he did. And they’re pissed. People are calling you a hero.”

  Lucia snorted. “That is ridiculous.”

  “No,” Tony said. “It’s not. Not to Alexander and Ben. And not to any of the rest of the kids in those videos.”

  “Videos,” she repeated slowly, remembering what Flynn Abbott had told her. “How many are there?”

  “More than a dozen, all different children.”

  She paled. Her mouth opened and then closed.

  “We’ve been doing some digging,” he told her. “All of the kids in the videos are missing children, and they come from all over the world. This wasn’t just about Cruz. And it wasn’t just about Alexander. You exposed something bigger than anyone realized, and we’re going to hunt them all down.”

  “We?” she echoed, and one of her brows arched.

  Heat crept up his neck. “The FBI agent I partnered with is a specialist in the field of human trafficking.”

  Lucia eyed him. “You will help those children?”

  “As many as I can.” He nodded. “It’s the fucking least I can do.”

  She only watched him, her expression calm. Accepting. And even if he could see the pain that lingered, he knew they’d taken a step.

  “From Sam,” he said, indicating the pack as he set it down beside her. “He’s waiting. If you want to get dressed, I’ll take you to him.”

  She looked at the pack, then up at Tony.

  “Get dressed,” he told her gently, and turned to leave her to it.

  “Tony,” she said quietly as he reached the door, and he turned to look at her.

  “Thank you,” she said, her gaze steady, and the band around his chest loosened.

  “Don’t thank me,” he replied. “I have too much to make up for.”

  And he walked out.

  “Is she coming yet?”

  “Not yet,” Sam told Ben, watching the wide, stainless steel elevator doors they were parked next to. The underground parking garage of St. Joseph’s was cool and damp, and only a handful of cars occupied the stalls. Sam would have liked to pick Lucia up out front, but the growing mass of reporters—and the crazy number of people who’d camped out in front of the hospital to show their support of her—had made that impossible. He’d actually had to turn his phone off this morning, because everyone and their brother wanted an interview. And he would not be giving any interviews.

  Ever.

  “I’m sure she’s on her way,” he said and wondered how Tony was faring. Lucia had been furious with him—and Sam didn’t blame her—but he hoped she came around, because Tony was going to be his best man. And having the bride strangle the best man would be a problem.

  “Are you sure?” Ben asked from the backseat, his suspicion clear. “Do you promise?”

  “I promise,” Sam told him. He was aware he was counting his chickens, but he didn’t give a shit. He knew Lucia wanted him. She liked him. Maybe even loved him. Because when she looked at him, he saw it: strong and clear and powerful. And he was going to do his level best to exploit the hell out of it.

  Mine. A conclusion Sam had grown certain of. Just like the two boys who occupied the Land Rover’s backseat. His—for better or worse. And there were no doubts within him. None. Not when it came to them, and not when it came to her. He could only hope he could convince her to try.

  “Are they really going to let her go?” Alexander asked, and Sam met his gaze in the mirror. He flashed back to the first time he’d looked into that polished glass and crashed into that cold, hard, pale green gaze, and he saw a difference.

  Hope. Shadowed by doubt and fear and too goddamn much reality, but it was there.

  Sam was going to exploit that, too.

  “Yep,” he said. “They are.” For now. And if the powers that were decided to fuck with her, they would handle it. The overwhelming response of the world to what she’d done had provided powerful leverage, and having one of the best defense attorneys in the country hadn’t hurt.

  Thanks, kid.

  One of these days he was going to have to hunt Honor down; he owed her too much. He’d allowed her to exist in his periphery and told himself she wasn’t his responsibility. But she was. She needed him. Because no one should be as alone as she was, something he’d only just realized. They were family. And that mattered.

  But it could wait. First, Lucia. Home.

  The future.

  The elevator doors slid open, and Tony stepped out, followed by Lucia, who held the back pack he’d given Tony in one hand. She was battered and bruised, clad in worn jeans and Sam’s old flannel. The sight of her wrapped in his shirt made something loosen within Sam. When he climbed from the Cruiser, she saw him a
nd smiled, a pure, glorious vision of joy that made his heart leap in his chest.

  “You ready to get the hell out of here?” he asked, striding toward them.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, her eyes gleaming like gold. When he pulled her into his arms, she dropped the pack and went, wrapping her arms around him, and he felt the shudder that moved through her. He eased his grip, conscious of her wounds. Her hair was damp, and she smelled like something fruity and fresh, and when the need to kiss her gripped him, Sam didn’t resist. Just a swift, warm press of his mouth to hers.

  Just a taste.

  Lucia’s fingers clenched into his arms, and her mouth opened beneath his, and he wished they were alone. But the sound of the Ben crying, “Lucia!” and the Cruiser doors slamming echoed through the parking garage, and he made himself release her.

  Ben appeared a moment later and flung himself into Lucia’s legs. Alexander followed, more subdued, and halted a few feet away. Daisy barked from the car, her tiny face pressed against the glass.

  “Hello, monkey,” Lucia said softly and pulled from Sam’s embrace to kneel down and pull Ben carefully into her arms. “I am so very glad to see you.”

  “I missed you,” Ben told her seriously. “Sam made me eat a tomato.”

  Beside them, Tony laughed softly.

  “Tomatoes are good for you,” Sam told him.

  Lucia held an arm out to Alexander. “Mijo.”

  He hesitated for a long moment, his gaze touching both Sam and Tony, but then he moved forward and stepped into her embrace, and when she hugged him, he hugged her back.

  “You should go,” Tony said. “The crowd out front is growing.”

  Sam nodded and accepted the hand his friend offered. Tony pulled him into a rough hug, and Sam slapped him on the back.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “No,” Tony replied. “Thank you.”

  Sam stepped back and Lucia stood, Ben clinging to her side like an errant shadow. He grabbed the backpack and slid an arm around her and turned her toward the car, but she halted and reached out, hesitantly, to touch Tony’s arm.

  “I forgive you,” she said. “Now, you must forgive yourself.”

  Sam squeezed her. Tony nodded shortly, his eyes glittering.

  “Let’s go,” she said to Sam, and took Alexander’s hand. “We’re ready.”

  He got them all into the Cruiser, and Tony lifted a hand to wave as they pulled away.

  “You okay?” Sam asked her.

  “I’m perfect,” she said, and when he looked at her, she smiled again.

  So fucking gorgeous. No matter how black and blue.

  “You are,” he told her honestly, and her cheeks bloomed with color.

  She shook her head, still smiling, and when the car emerged into the bright sunlight, she turned to look out the window. “The storm is over.”

  Sam reached over and took her hand in his. “Yes.”

  Her fingers were cold and tight around his. They circled the hospital, and as they rounded the edge of the building, the large mass of people who’d gathered there came into view. Lucia stared at them, a frown pulling her brows low.

  “That’s for you,” Sam said.

  She looked at him in disbelief.

  “Really,” he insisted.

  “But…why?”

  “Because you acted. You did the right thing. That inspires people. Gives them hope.”

  He turned onto the main street and headed away from the crowd. Lucia looked over her shoulder at the collection of people and shook her head.

  “That is…crazy,” she said.

  “That’s human beings,” Sam replied easily.

  She turned back around, her face thoughtful. Sam turned the Cruiser left and headed south.

  “Did you get in trouble for the Jeep?” she asked.

  He shook his head, smiling. “It’s good to be a Deputy Marshal.”

  “We had blueberry pancakes for breakfast,” Ben informed her. “With whipped cream.”

  “That sounds delicious,” Lucia said. “Did you like them?”

  “Yeah. But chicken nuggets are better.”

  Lucia laughed softly. Then she sobered and slid Sam a look. “Where are we going?”

  “Home,” he said.

  “Home?” she repeated.

  “Silverbend, Washington. I’ve got five acres on Blue Ribbon creek.” He could feel her stare, so he turned and looked at her. “Why? You got somewhere else to be?”

  For an endless moment, she only looked at him, and his heart beat hard at the back of his throat.

  “No,” she said finally. “I am where I want to be.”

  Everything within him settled. He glanced into the mirror and again met Alexander’s pale gaze. So much uncertainty and doubt and fucking pain. But that was okay.

  Time. And love.

  Anything was possible.

  “Sam,” Ben said.

  “Yes, Ben?”

  “You got a swing set?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “You should get one.”

  “Ben,” Lucia admonished, but she was laughing again.

  “They’re mine,” Sam told her.

  She stilled. Her laughter fell away. “What does that mean?”

  “The Judge gave me temporary guardianship. Ninety days. Abbott is drawing up a petition for permanent guardianship. He said there will be a home study, and I’ll have to disclose my finances, but nothing that should create a problem.”

  Lucia stared at him. “You are really going to keep them?”

  Sam turned and looked at her. “I’m going to keep all of you.”

  In his hand, hers trembled. Sam waited for her to argue, but she only squeezed his fingers hard. Then she laughed again, a sound that vibrated with joy and disbelief.

  “We did it,” she said and turned to look at Alexander. “We did it.”

  The boy stared at her for a moment, and then a small, tremulous smile curved his mouth, and he nodded, and Sam’s throat tightened painfully.

  Lucia lifted her arms up and crowed, “Woo-hoo!!!!!!!!”

  Ben joined her. Daisy began to bark. Alexander watched them, shaking his head, that small smile locked into place.

  “I don’t see the big deal,” Sam said. “I told you I had a plan.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Tony sat in the fraying plaid chair next to the sole window of their rented motel room, staring down at the aging Berber carpet—the same place Isabel had left him twenty minutes earlier, when she’d gone to grab a couple of sandwiches from the sub shop next door.

  On the drive down from Blue Ridge to Salt Lake, he’d been quiet. Too quiet. The charming man who smiled so easily and teased her with every breath had withdrawn into a quiet solemnity that disturbed her deeply.

  She knew it had to do with Lucia. When Isabel had asked him how things had gone with their talk he’d said only, “It went fine,” but—clearly—there was more to it.

  The temptation to shake him was strong; he’d dragged her entire history out of her. If he thought she would let him keep secrets, he had another thing coming. But as she stood next to the small round table across from him, she hesitated. Relationship parameters were something she knew little about. She’d never had a relationship—only ever a small handful of friends—and she didn’t know if she should push.

  Perhaps he would talk when he was ready.

  “Food,” she said, holding up the bag that held their sandwiches. He only nodded, silent, his gaze unfocused as he stared down at the ugly rug.

  Her hand clenched around the bag.

  She’d brought down cartels and international sex trafficking rings. She’d testified before Congress and the UN. She’d single-handedly crushed more pedophiles and rapists than she could count, but here and now—in this—she was uncertain.

  And Isabel hated being uncertain.

  Maybe he’s changed his mind. It’s over now. Perhaps we were just the thrill of the chase—

  “Fu
ck that,” she said out loud. Assumptions were asinine and damaging; if she wanted to know, she needed to ask.

  So she put down the bag and strode over to him. When he didn’t look up, she climbed into his lap and straddled him. His hands immediately wrapped her hips, and that burnished hazel gaze lifted to meet hers.

  “Talk to me,” she demanded and curled her hands into the thick muscle of his biceps.

  The hands around her hips squeezed. His eyes were dark, the line of his jaw hard.

  “She said I had to forgive myself.” A harsh laugh broke from him. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

  The anxiety within Isabel fled. “You do something to counteract the guilt.”

  “I did. I became a cop. It didn’t fucking help.” His hands squeezed again. “I’m going to carry it forever.”

  “Scars fade,” Isabel told him. “But they never disappear. The best you can do is use them.”

  His gaze roamed her face. “Is that what you do?”

  “I had to make them mean something.” Isabel stroked up his arms and down again, petting him. The need to soothe him gripped her. “I was forged in a monster’s crucible. I never had any choice in the making, but after…after I had to give them a meaning beyond their origin. I knew if I let them define me, I wouldn’t survive. So I use them, a tool like any other.”

  He shuddered and leaned toward her, his arms sliding around her waist, pulling her into a tight hug. Isabel froze for a moment, and then she wrapped her arms around him and held tight. His heart beat hard and steady against her.

  “I’m so fucking proud of you,” he muttered and rubbed his bristled cheek against the soft skin of her neck. “My woman is a goddamn miracle.”

  The rasp of his skin against hers made her shiver, and something within her sighed in such deep pleasure that she stiffened. This, she thought, was the danger. Not sharing her scars; not sex. This place where they became one.

  This was the risk. And the reward.

  “It will always hurt,” she murmured. “You just have to use it as fuel. Sometimes all we can do is take the lesson and do our best to make it different the next time. We’re all human. We all fail.”

  “I don’t deserve forgiveness.”