by Aly Martinez
"Back the fuck up!" Wilkes yells, but Rodriguez ignores him.
"I have to admit, Erica. I’m impressed. I have heard you are quite skittish. I had my doubts when Leo told me of your plan. But you managed to prove me wrong." He moves even closer.
"One more step and I swear I will kill her."
"I’m thinking that’s not a good idea," Leo snarls, appearing a few feet behind Wilkes along with Johnson and two other men I definitely recognize.
"So nice of you to join us, Leo," Rodriguez purrs.
Wilkes immediately spins to face Leo, firing a shot before he even stills. Erica jumps, and for the briefest of seconds, Wilkes loses his grip on her neck. In a move so fluid I have no doubt it was choreographed, Erica drops to the ground. No sooner than her hands slam over her ears, Rodriguez’s men fire their own bullets at Wilkes.
I watch helplessly as Erica lies on the floor while bullets buzz over her head. I try to call her name, but I can’t even hear my own words among the chaos. After a few seconds, Wilkes collapses lifelessly to the ground.
"Son of a bitch!" Leo yells, covering his shoulder as it bleeds through his shirt.
I rush toward Erica, dropping to my knees beside her. "Fuck, are you okay?"
"I, uh… I think so," she says, fighting back the tears as she sits up and crawls as quickly as possible away from Wilkes’s dead body. My hands are still zip-tied behind my back, but she throws her arms around my neck and buries her face in my chest.
"Someone cut him free," Leo barks. "Babe, can you come look at my shoulder?"
"Oh, God." She shakes off whatever emotions were just about to overtake her and runs to Leo’s side.
My hands are freed by Johnson as the room moves in slow motion around me. Erica is frantically tending to Leo with a box of medical supplies someone magically produced. Rodriguez is ordering his men to take Wilkes’s thugs back out the window in the security room, Wilkes is lying dead in the middle of my living room, and sirens from the street are screaming toward us.
"A word, Mr. Andrews," Rodriguez says, walking up behind me.
I can’t focus on anything but Erica, but I somehow manage to drag my eyes to face him.
"We are gone, we were never here, and Wilkes broke in with the intentions of harming Erica. Your security officers were forced to kill Lucas Wilkes when he fired upon Leo." He drops three guns onto the couch beside me. "Ballistics will match one of those three guns to the bullet in Wilkes’s head. By the way, they are all registered to you. You may be ticketed for not securing them properly." He winks. "Do you understand? Leo and Erica have gone to great lengths to prove to me you are trustworthy in this matter. Do not disappoint me now." He taps my shoulder and turns to walk away.
I have no idea what the fuck he just said, but all I know is that it ended with a bullet in Wilkes’s head. Absolutely nothing else matters.
"Clear the room!" Leo shouts, standing back up.
"Erica! Leo! Should you ever find yourself in need again, you know where to find me!" Rodriguez shouts over his shoulder as he heads back toward the security room.
Erica runs forward, slamming into my chest. "Don’t be mad," she says quietly.
"Oh, I’m fucking furious, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why," I growl, looking at her with more anger than I ever thought possible.
"Well, the cops will be here any second, so aim your anger at the dead man on the floor. When they question you, remember everything happened except for the part where Rodriguez showed up."
"Jesus Christ, Erica, did you plan this?" I snap at her.
"Not now, Slate. We’ll talk tonight." She blows me off.
I don’t recognize this woman. There were just bullets flying around her, and now she is dismissing me as if I’d asked why we are out of milk.
Leo limps over even though it was his shoulder that was hit. He points down at the guns and says, "Pick those up and hand them to the guys. I need your prints on every single one of them."
I narrow my eyes at him but follow his orders. I’m not in any position to question him tonight.
Leo gives me the world’s quickest brief, reminding me of what ‘fictionally’ went down tonight. Not even two minutes later, the room fills with at least a dozen police officers. They question us numerous times until Leo’s contact at the US Marshal’s office shows up, clearing us all. I’m not sure if they believe our story as much as they just don’t give a damn that someone killed Lucas Wilkes.
They confiscated all of the weapons, but Leo assured me that they were in fact all legitimately (forged) registered to me. It seems Leo has been a busy guy over the last few weeks—even before he left.
However, it’s Erica who surprises me the most. I’m pissed as hell that she blatantly played me for a fool, but I’ve never been so proud of someone in my life. To watch her transform from the terrified woman I first met all those months ago is utterly incredible.
She’s far more of a fighter than I could ever imagine being.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Slate yells as I fill him in on how tonight came to be.
"Will you stop yelling?" I whisper-yell back at him.
We are, after all, in a suite in a downtown Chicago hotel. The last thing we need is the police being called on us yet again.
"You could have gotten us all killed!" he scolds, gritting his teeth.
I knew he would be pissed, and while I hate that he’s mad, I’m so euphoric about how flawless tonight went down that I can’t even hide my smile.
"Are you going to let me finish now?" I say, cocking my head to the side, but I’m sure I’m still smiling, which only pisses him off more. "So yeah, I may have drunkenly hatched this plan, but Leo and I were very sober when we put it into action."
"Fucking hell, get to the God damn plan. I can’t listen to you tell me for one more minute how you and Leo devised this shit over beer and pizza."
"Right. Well, Leo has always said that, as far as he could tell, Rodriguez didn’t hold any ill feelings toward either one of us for testifying against Dom, but we couldn’t be absolutely certain. I know I told you the story about how Wilkes’s little brother found us, but what you don’t know is that it was a member of the Marshal’s office who tipped him off about our whereabouts. He straight-up used us as bait to take down part of the Wilkes family. After that, I lost all faith in the program. If I’d had anywhere else to go, I would have gone. No questions asked. But we were both stuck.
"So while at dinner the night you were at the fight, and yes over a few beers, Leo and I decided we were sick of running and playing games with our own lives. I suggested using myself as bait to lure Wilkes out, but Leo being Leo, his first instinct was to protect me. However, within two hours, I talked him into it. Guilt is a hell of a tool," I say as Slate curls his lip in disgust. "Oh hush! It worked, didn’t it?"
"Erica, this is not a game. You could have been killed!" he says, but once again, I smile, because I am no longer afraid.
I know how it turned out. This conversation before tonight would have had me rethinking everything, but they say that hindsight is twenty-twenty. And tonight, I see freedom.
"We both knew you would never go for it, so we decided to keep you in the dark. I love you, Slate, more than anything in the entire world. But I couldn’t live like that anymore. Every single day, I lived in fear that not only something would happen to me, but worse that something would happen to you because of me. I knew you wouldn’t allow me to risk my life, no matter how solid the plan."
"Damn right!" he snaps, but he finally sits down on the corner of the bed.
I settle behind him, wrapping my arms around his chest and burying my face between his shoulder blades. "Leo went to Rodriguez, who was all too willing to help as long as it ended with Wilkes’s head."
"You knew where Leo was going when he left?" He sighs, grabbing my legs and pulling them around his waist from behind.
"I did. We staged the big exit. But if it helps at all, they were real tears as he wa
lked out the door. I was worried Rodriguez wouldn’t even humor Leo’s plea for help and would kill him on the spot."
"The window in the security room?" he asks, and I can actually feel the pieces snapping into place for him.
"I was worried I would miss the call when Wilkes got there, so I left it open as much as possible."
"So just let me get this straight. Leo leaked his identity and the fact that he worked for me then left to hopefully get help from Rodriguez? What the hell would have happened if Rodriguez had actually killed Leo? He led Wilkes right to our door and then took off."
"We used the same twelve-hour rule we used in the program. If he was missing for more than twelve hours, I was to tell you everything, pack up, and leave. But luckily, Rodriguez immediately agreed."
"Jesus Christ, Erica. I don’t even know what to say. It was stupid and irresponsible, but it worked. So as much I want to lose my fucking mind right now, I can’t even be mad at you. I will say your ability to lie to me does not bode well for our future together."
"Yeah, well. At least we have a future together now," I respond dryly.
He sucks in a deep breath and pushes us both to the bed, turning to face me, assuming our talking position. "I always thought you were such a terrible liar." He humorlessly laughs to himself.
"Don’t worry. I usually am. I just knew it was the only way out."
"God. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life as when I saw him drag you into the room. All I could think about was how I had failed you, and because of that, I was going to lose you."
"You didn’t fail me, Slate. You made me safe."
He laughs, shaking his head. "I didn’t do anything. I was absolutely helpless tonight. It was the worst feeling in the entire fucking world."
"No. You did do something. You saved me. Maybe it wasn’t tonight, but you gave me something to fight for, Slate. I used to be great in chaotic situations. I was always strong and levelheaded, but I lost that years ago. Do you think that frightened woman you first met hauling in groceries would have been able to stand there in Wilkes’s arms without breaking down completely? I don’t care if it was a carefully mapped-out plan. I would have lost control and been worthless when the memories overtook me. You gave me back the pieces that were stolen from me. You gave me back myself."
"You did that all on your own, beautiful," he says, leaning forward to kiss me.
"You’re wrong, but I love you anyway."
Two weeks later…
"Indianapolis," Slate says, walking onto the balcony of our hotel only to freeze when he sees me.
Neither of us wanted to go back to his apartment, even after it was thoroughly cleaned. I may not have panicked the night Wilkes was killed, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t if I were living there again. I’m sitting out in the sun with my nose stuck in a book. It’s not my normal romance read; instead, it’s a medical journal. My license to practice medicine has long since lapsed over the last few years. Now I’m playing catch-up so I can hopefully start treating patients again as soon as possible.
"Um, you’re blonde," he stutters out.
"I am." I smile up at him.
I went down to the hotel spa this morning and had my hair dyed back to its natural color for the first time in almost four years. The moment they turned me to face the mirror, I burst into tears. I spent a really long time pretending to be someone else, both physically and emotionally. But seeing myself with blonde hair and blue eyes while sitting in a public place hit me harder than I’d ever expected. I left with red-rimmed eyes and I was so embarrassed that I know I’ll never be able to show my face in there again.
I run my hands through my hair, uncomfortably waiting for his reaction.
"Jesus, you are beautiful, Erica," he says softly, and I know he isn’t lying just for the sake of a compliment. He stands motionlessly, staring down at me.
"You like it? I was worried you had a thing for brunettes."
He leans over, sucking in a shaky breath and kissing me hard while pushing a hand through my hair. He doesn’t take it any deeper. He just holds me against his mouth, savoring the connection.
"I just have a thing for you. You should have warned me about this though. We have things to talk about and all I want to do now is take you inside and watch this sexy blonde riding my cock." Yeah. He likes it.
He finally takes a step back before adjusting his pants and clearing his throat.
"Later. I promise. Now what’s this about Indianapolis?" I ask.
"Pack your bags, baby. We’re moving."
I jump to my feet, spilling my coffee all over the ground. "Really?"
"Yep. I just signed on the space for the gym. It’s not Ohio, but they have a great center that is dying to have you on staff. The director said you could start working with patients immediately as long as you are willing to have another doctor oversee you until you’re caught up on all your licensing stuff."
"Shut up," I breathe.
"I also found some houses that I believe fit your criteria." He smirks, obviously proud of himself. "None of them have the porch swing, but I’m relatively sure I can have one of those added."
He steps over the puddle of coffee and sits down in the chair next to me. Pulling up pictures on his iPad, he goes through the specs on each house, always starting with security. I can hear him excitedly talking but I can’t see anything as my eyes swim with tears. I lean forward, using my hair to curtain off my emotions.
I never in a million years expected to feel…well, normal again. I’ve been happy with Slate for a long time, but to be casually sitting outside, breathing easy, while the man I love searches through a dozen houses to make our home—it’s overwhelming in the best possible way. I only thought he gave me back all the pieces of my life, but the truth is, Slate just keeps expanding the puzzle, giving me pieces I didn’t even know were missing.
"Stop crying," he whispers, leaning over to kiss the top of my head.
I say the words I’ve probably said to him a million times since I met him. "Thank you."
He never responds, but he doesn’t have to.
Five Years later….
"Well, is she running a fever?" I ask Slate while thumbing through the papers on my desk.
"Yeah. The thermometer said 99.8."
"That’s not a fever, Slate." I roll my eyes and smile to myself.
"It may not be a high fever, but it’s still a fever, Dr. Andrews. I don’t think it’s just her teeth. Her cheeks are all red too."
"Yet another symptom of teething, honey." I laugh but grab my coat and head out of my office anyway. "I’m on my way home."
"Good. No more working Saturdays."
"Yeah, good luck with that. Only four doctors—we all work a Saturday."
He groans just like he does every month when I have to work the weekend, but he quickly gets over it. "Be careful, beautiful. I love you."
"I love you too."
Slate and I got married the same day we moved to Indianapolis. It was a small, outside ceremony in a gorgeous garden with only Leo and Jimmy in attendance. Thankfully Slate didn’t propose with a gaudy engagement ring, but I’m not sure I would have even cared if he had. Three weeks after Wilkes was killed, we were lying in our talking position in bed when Slate pulled out a very tasteful, oval-diamond ring. His words will live with me forever. "The echoes are gone, beautiful. And the woman left behind is even more incredible than the one I fell in love with. Marry me, Erica." Of course, I said yes.
Life as Mrs. Andrews has been interesting. While I recovered my identity, I lost my life of anonymity. We have managed to stay out of the public eye for the most part. Some people may know who I am, but I definitely wouldn’t say they recognize me at the grocery store. Slate still gets attention when we go out, but most people respect our privacy these days.
Eleven months after we got married, Adam Slate Andrews was born. He is perfect. I’m well aware of how cliché it sounds, but Slate is the most amazing father I have
ever seen. His patience knows no bounds. Adam got my eyes, and because of that, Slate has never been able to tell him no. It’s safe to assume that Adam is going to be hell on wheels when he gets older. He’s a good kid though—at least for now. Adam loves his uncle Leo, even if he doesn’t get to see him every day.
It was a huge transition for me to leave Leo. In a lot of ways, he was the only true friend I’ve ever had. Slate originally disagreed with our relationship, but after a bazillion hours of therapy together, he now accepts it for what it is. My relationship with Leo was grown from such a dark place that nothing should have been able to survive. However, sometimes even the darkness can't contain the most blinding lights. I love Leo like a brother. And it means the world to me that Slate, while he doesn’t fully understand, accepts that.
The day before we moved to Indianapolis, Slate signed the papers to transfer ownership of the Chicago apartment into Leo’s name. Leo tried to refuse at first, but after a private, hour-long talk between him and Slate, he finally accepted. My goodbye with Leo wasn’t a short one. It killed me to leave him alone with all the guilt I knew he was still harboring. We may have been freed the day Lucas Wilkes was killed, but Leo never truly escaped. Slate insisted it would do him some good to be alone, and I can’t say he was wrong.
Leo’s life really took off after I left. Slate put him in touch with several of his Hollywood contacts, and he had no trouble securing his spot on the security scene. He’s good at what he does, so it’s not exactly a shock that he is successful.
While we aren’t looking over our shoulders anymore, Slate isn’t taking any more chances with me. Johnson was immediately assigned as my personal security officer. I would have preferred Leo, but he was busy starting up his new security company.