Through Fire (Portland, ME #3)

by Freya Barker

  She hadn’t complained much when I insisted she stay at my house, with Mark staying as well. The timing was of the essence, according to Mike. He wanted to be ready to take immediate action as soon as Ruby gave her official statement at their Boston office. After which, they planned to set us up in a safe house until they had everyone behind bars. Something the agent suspected, if they had time to pre-plan, wouldn’t take more than forty-eight hours at most. He hadn’t been too excited when I insisted sticking close to her, but I’d made it clear he could take it or leave it. Mark had just laughed and grabbed the phone from my hand, after which he smoothed things over with his buddy.

  Yesterday, Pam had come by again. The second time in so many days. Just making sure Ruby had thought everything through, she said. I’ve got to say, I was more than just a little irritated she seemed to think this was anything but Ruby’s own idea. I made that clear to her when she accosted me in the kitchen. “I tried to stop her, you know?” I told her, when she walked in for a refill on her coffee.

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Veldman,” she smarted back. “Wasn’t implying anything. You think maybe you’re projecting a little?” She ignored my loud snort. “I’m putting Ruby through the third degree, because she has a tendency to want to please others. That’s something she knows she has to work on. She has to get out of that victim head space. I was merely making sure she wasn’t making decisions she thought others would want her to make. She’s carrying around a lot of guilt on her own, no need to add yours to it.”

  That was a bit of a cold shower on the nice head of steam I’d built up. Sometimes I don’t like Pam, particularly when her arguments start to make sense. But most of the time I appreciate her brutal honesty—I just prefer it directed at someone else.

  With a deep chuckle, Pam slapped me on the back and left me to stew on my own as she returned to the living room, fresh coffee in hand.

  This morning the call had come in. Mike said everything was in place and they were ready for us. We were given directions to the FBI location in Boston, which ironically was located right around the corner from the U.S. Immigration Court. Ruby had fussed over what to wear, but Mom had come to the rescue with a few things she’d picked up for her. With bags packed for a few days, we’d hugged my mom goodbye, with promises to call.

  “Baby, can I have my hand back for a second? I want to try and get some feeling back.” Mark snickers in the backseat as Ruby drops my hand like it’s on fire.

  “I’m sorry! Was I squeezing too hard?”

  “It’s okay. You can have it back in a minute,” I promise her, while flexing my fingers to restore blood flow. “We’re almost there. See that building on the other side of the bridge? That big square looking thing? That’s TD Garden. The Bruins are playing the Maple Leafs tonight, that’s why traffic’s so bad. It’s only a couple of blocks further.”

  “I’ve seen the building before, the club is not too far from here, I’ve just never seen a hockey game,” Ruby says, momentarily distracted as I’d hoped.

  “I’ll take you,” I promise. Not that it’s a hardship—it’s been at least fifteen years since I was at a game. Her mention of the club reminded me she wasn’t exactly new to Boston, something that hadn’t occurred to me when we started driving. Her increasingly panicked grip on my hand made a bit more sense now. It’s not just the upcoming interview, this is her first return to Boston since she ran.

  -

  “Can I have your full legal name for the record?”

  Mike had been waiting when we came up from the parking garage, no doubt alerted by his team. Nice guy, although, not quite as funny as I remember him. Must be the job.

  He’d suggested Mark and I grab something to eat while he talked to Ruby, but she wouldn’t have anything of it. Even insisted I be with her during the interview, her back straight and her little chin lifted high. Mark caught my eye and winked, both of us well aware of Ruby’s justifiable mistrust of law enforcement; amused if not impressed by the fact she was clearly stating her terms. The agent had no choice but to comply with her wishes and the smile on her face illustrated her little show of defiance went a long way to settling her nerves. Good for her.

  “Abril Rubí Soto.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ruby

  My heart had been pounding in my throat the entire way into the city, putting me on edge. Oddly, it had been more about returning to a place I’d run from many months ago, than it had been about the impending interview. So when the nice enough FBI agent tried to send away Tim and Mark, I didn’t hesitate telling him there’d be no interview unless Tim was beside me. Not really because I was scared to do it without him, but because I knew his presence would have a calming effect when I have to drag up things I don’t necessarily want to revisit. Besides, he’s the first to deserve to know everything about me. I won’t shut him out.

  I was a bit surprised at his easy capitulation and couldn’t keep the smug smile off my lips, as I grabbed Tim’s hand and followed Agent Carmello into the small interview room.

  Anyone walking in can judge from the piles of wadded up tissues on the table and the white knuckled clench Tim’s free hand had on the edge of the table, that this was not an easy interview. Some of the questions were really, really difficult. Especially those that dealt with the earlier years. Ironically, Mike’s questioning had run backward. Starting with the appearance of the Boston cop at The Skipper and following it back to the murder I’d witnessed. These events weren’t too difficult to discuss, since I’d spoken of them a few times before. But when it came to how I’d fallen in the hands of Carlos Delgado, it became more difficult. Especially when details are asked about my first introduction to the calcuilchil.

  “Let me recap quickly to here. The man you knew as Ricardo came to your farm, trying to convince you to come with him. When your father tried to intervene, this Ricardo shot both your father and your mother in front of you. You were then taken forcefully to Tenancingo...”

  “Not really,” I whisper, feeling Tim’s hand spasm in mine. “I didn’t resist. I just let him take me.” The shame was almost too much to bear. I’d just witnessed my parents killed in cold blood, and I never even lifted a hand. Never resisted when Ricardo grabbed me by the arm and pulled me from the house. I even remember buckling up my own seatbelt, as if what just happened wasn’t even a blip on my radar.

  “Ruby,” the agent says sternly, drawing my attention as he leans over the table. “You were a child and you were in shock. When that happens, your mind is not in control, and the body reverts to instinct out of self-preservation. Had you resisted, had you fought him, he would have hurt you. Maybe killed you. At least as far as you would have been able to know. You did the right thing at the time. Believe me.”

  My eyes lift up and I see he is earnest. Tim slips his arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. “Nothing else you could’ve done, Boop. Not a thing.” His mumble in my ear is reassuring.

  I think of all the guilt I’ve lugged around on my shoulders all these years, this was the heaviest. The hardest to let go of. The what-if question is a dangerous game to play with your emotions, and I’ve been playing it far too long.

  “For the first few months, I felt it was my penance, each time I was trained. Ironically, it helped me distance myself from what went on with my body. Like some kind of warped rosary I had to pray to receive absolution.” The memories seemed less difficult to relive with Tim’s comforting presence keeping me firmly rooted in the now. “I think it was probably a few months after I’d been at the villa that a new girl was brought in. She was probably even younger than I was. Was barely developed, yet some of the regulars seemed to be especially drawn to her almost prepubescent body. By the second week, the fear had gone from her eyes and was replaced with an empty stare. It scared me. She stopped eating, stopped walking, and she’d void herself without moving from her spot. The guards tried everything, but it was like she just wasn’t there anymore. Her body was, but her
spirit had disappeared. After only two weeks. she’d willed herself to stop living.”

  “Jesus,” I hear Tim hissing beside me.

  “And when I started fighting,” I explain to them. “The furthest I got was to the corner of the street one time. They found me hidden in the bushes four houses down. That cost me a broken leg, but that didn’t stop them from training me. Eventually, I gave up trying to escape. It was just easier to comply.”

  “How long had you been there?” Mike wants to know.

  “Not sure, maybe two years?”

  Several times Tim urged me to take a break, but now that I’d started, I didn’t want to stop. It became easier to talk with each subsequent question. I wanted it all out. Be done with it. At least for now, since Mike made it clear that the likelihood I’d have to testify, at some point, was high. I wasn’t going to worry about that now though.

  A little over six hours after we started, Mike turns the video recorder off. “You did really well, Ruby. I’m going to make sure the team escorting you to a safe location is ready to take you.”

  I barely hear what he says. I’m exhausted. I lean into Tim’s body and close my eyes.

  -

  The house they take us to is pretty nondescript. Like many of its kind in Boston, the brownstone is the same as the others in its row. Tim and I are installed on the second floor, with our own bathroom and small kitchenette, while the first floor and the third floor are occupied by agents. Three in all, by my count, but there could be more. One woman and two men, but I can’t remember their names. I’m too tired to retain any information it seems.

  It’s suggested by the female agent that we rest a bit before dinner, which apparently is being made for us, despite the fact it’s got to be close to nine at night. It all feels a little surreal, and a sideways glance at Tim makes it clear he’s decidedly uncomfortable with the situation. It’s a stark reminder to me of what he is willing to endure on my behalf.

  “What’s that look for?” He wants to know, lifting my chin with his index finger. I try to shrug it off, but he just lifts an eyebrow, obviously not willing to leave it at that.

  “Just thinking...this can’t be easy on you.” I watch his surprised face from under my eyelashes, before he throws back his head and lets out a hearty laugh.

  “Me?” he asks, still chuckling, before pulling me down on the bed and rolling on top of me. “You shitting me right now?” he adds, starting to piss me off a little. It’s not nice to laugh at someone.

  “No, I’m not shitting you.” With my temper taking over it sounds more like chitting, which only serves to make him chuckle anew. When I try to wriggle out from under him his face turns serious.

  “My beautiful, courageous Abril Rubí Soto... By the way, that is the sexiest name I know,” he mumbles, sticking his face in my neck and making me forget what I was angry about again. “I won’t deny today wasn’t a cakewalk—having to sit there, quietly, while every word from your mouth was branding my soul like acid. But understand this, I’d gladly go through that a thousand more times, if it meant I could spare your even one second of what you’ve had to endure.” His eyes burn into mine as he lowers his mouth in a soft kiss. Rolling on his back, he takes me with him, so I come to rest completely draped over him. “Rest,” he whispers in my hair.

  “I’m too heavy.”

  “Quiet, Ruby.”

  “Fine, suit yourself,” I surrender, snuggling into his body and finally letting my body relax. Apparently my mouth isn’t done yet, because right before I fall asleep I mumble softly in his chest.

  “Te amo...”

  Tim

  We slept straight through until morning that first evening. I don’t even know if they tried to wake us up, but the last thing I remember is those soft words I didn’t need a dictionary to translate. They settled warmly in my chest, right where she dropped them, and I fell into a deep sleep right away.

  This morning, maneuvering around the large kitchen downstairs was awkward, as everyone appeared to develop a need for caffeine reinforcements at the same time. Especially strange when three of the four people in there with you are complete strangers. Luckily, that was quickly resolved over breakfast, which Rhonda had cooked for everyone. Buck and Josh were the other two agents. Although Buck, an older man, wasn’t big into sharing, Josh, who appeared the youngest of the team, did enough of it for everyone. Within twenty minutes, we knew all we had to know about all three of them and he’d elicited quite a bit of intel on me too. Ruby was quiet through it all, but she was eating so I left her space. Given that everyone likely read her file, no one bothered asking her questions and focused on me instead.

  I haven’t seen Mark since we were hustled out of the FBI offices yesterday. I’m not sure where he took off to. Ruby and I were taken down a service elevator and were shoved into the back of an old cargo van. Two black SUVs in front of us turned left out of the parking garage, rushing toward the highway, while we turned right and casually meandered through residential streets for about thirty minutes before stopping outside the brownstone. I should probably thank him as soon as I get a chance. Having him around these past days helped. I think I might have ended up whisking Ruby off to some remote island, where no one would be able to find us, had he not assured me time and time again that things would work out.

  I can certainly feel the loss not having him around. Nice as the FBI team is, they are not volunteering any information about the case, leaving us completely disconnected. We handed off any cellphones before we left the office, and there aren’t any landlines in the house. Nor is there any cable or radio, let alone computer access. Completely cut off from the outside world, even the doors and windows are all locked. We wouldn’t even be able to crack a window for some fresh air. Not that we’d want to, judging by the steady fall of snow outside.

  We spend our afternoon watching a few movies on the old DVD player they set up downstairs in the living room. After two movies, Ruby, who’s been very quiet all day, quietly announces she wants to lie down. I follow her upstairs and watch her step out of her jeans before crawling onto the bed behind her.

  “What’s going on in your head, baby?” I coo against the shell of her ear. I don’t miss the shiver that seems to run the length of her body as she shimmies her ass back against me. I groan, softly curving myself around her.

  “I can’t stop this feeling of impending doom hanging over me,” she whispers.

  I slide my hand down her stomach and between her legs, rubbing her slowly. “Want me to make you forget?” Her head turns to search my mouth, and she hums deeply as I slip my tongue between her lips at the same time my hand slides into the elastic of her panties. She’s already wet when I plunge first one and then two fingers inside her. Needy moans vibrate against my mouth, and I can’t stop my hips from pressing into her behind. Sweet and slow, I tease her, occasionally rolling her clit with my thumb as her hips rock against my hand. With deep contractions around my fingers and a long drawn out grunt, Ruby lets go. She turns her head to the pillow, with residual shudders running through her body and my fingers still buried deep inside her, she drifts off to sleep.

  Dinner time is announced with a sharp knock on the door. Ruby stirs in my arms, and I reluctantly let her go to make use of the bathroom. By the time I get back, she’s already gone.

  She’s sitting at the kitchen table, Chuck and Rhonda across from her, and this time Josh is apparently on kitchen duty, putting some kind of casserole dish on the table. Ruby throws me a smile as she pats the seat beside her in an invitation. A vast difference from the pensive woman earlier this afternoon. I lean down to press a kiss on her mouth.

  “Josh made eggplant parmesan,” she says with a hint of excitement, her lips mumbling under mine. “It’s my favorite, and he says he’ll teach me how to make it.”

  I pull back and look at Josh, who can’t quite hide the smile on his face as he returns to the counter to grab a bowl of salad. I do my best to curb the flash of jealousy. Had I known the
right food choice would put the smile on her face, I would have opted for cooking instead of having her come on my fingers.

  “Lucky guess,” he says on a shrug, as he catches me looking. Smug bastard.

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” I smile as insincerely as I can, drawing a chuckle from Chuck. I’m being an ass. It’s not even been twenty-four hours and already I’m growing bristles.

  “Never mind them,” Rhonda says. “They like to stir the pot.” She serves healthy portions of the dish on each of our plates. I hate that it smells fantastic.

  The nap, and possibly the orgasm I gave her, seems to have done Ruby some good. She’s far more animated during dinner than she’d been the rest of the day. In contrast, I seem to have woken up with a chip on my shoulder. This kind of suspended animation we’re in, being at the total mercy of others, is starting to grate on me. I don’t like the feeling of not having a hand in the course of things. It makes me more vulnerable than I’m comfortable with.

  Ruby notices my changed mood and leans in. “Are you okay?” she wants to know. I throw her a smile and grab her hand, covering it on my thigh, but I don’t answer. I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to have to lie in front of the agents, but the truth is, I’m pouting like a damn schoolgirl. After that, the earlier excited mood quickly drains from Ruby, and soon she is back to quietly pensive again.

  I’m the bastard.

  “Boop...” I draw her attention after we finish the meal. A pretty fucking awesome meal, although I hate to admit it. Ruby’s rinsing plates in the kitchen and I really need to apologize. In private. “Do you have a minute?”

  With a small nod and a wipe of her hands on the towel, she follows me up the stairs. Once in our room, she walks right by me and sits down on the edge of the bed, her expression weary. I put that there.

  “Sorry,” I say, as I walk up and sink down on my knees in front of her, my hands bracing on the mattress on either side of her. Her big shiny eyes take in my features. “I’m being an ass. I don’t like feeling this out of control. It’s making me moody.”