Hear Me

“Fine.” He wanted to say no, to tell her to leave, but he couldn’t. He led her inside without another word, shoving the gun onto a high shelf.

She sat on the lumpy futon carefully, as if it might give in any second. She probably didn’t realize that he slept right there every night, and if his 200-pound frame couldn’t do the thing in, her dainty self wasn’t going to do the trick either.

She had definitely gained weight from the gaunt figure she’d been in the hospi

tal bed, but she still looked too slim. Fragile. What was she doing driving through the mountains alone?

“What do you want?” he asked, too loudly.

His heart squeezed as she winced. He should be able to control himself better than that, but he’d misplaced his control after seeing her broken and begging and hadn’t found it since.

She looked down at her folded hands then back up at him. “I need to thank you. My parents told me what you did for me. I know that you saved me. I also know you stayed beside me at the hospital before my parents got there.” She frowned. “I can’t remember most of it, but just knowing that someone cared enough to do that… well, it means a lot to me.”

“I got paid for it,” he said. “That’s why I did it.”

“You didn’t get paid for sitting with me,” she reminded him without missing a beat.

She misunderstood. She thought he meant her parents paying him to locate her. “That was just—” He cleared his throat against the thickness. “I’m the reason you were chosen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m a… well, I was a DEA agent, investigating some of the men involved. The trafficking thing wasn’t our jurisdiction; we couldn’t touch it.” He shook his head, trying to explain how it had killed him to turn over the evidence to the FBI and watch them do nothing. “So I forced their hand: I planted evidence that the head office couldn’t ignore. They green-lighted a raid, and so we went in.”

“But I was already there. So you couldn’t have had anything to do with me getting chosen.” She looked perplexed, hopeful—and without an ounce of recognition.

“It was a trap. They were fucking with—” He caught himself. “Pardon me.”

She gave him a small smile. “It’s okay. My dad’s a cop, so I’m used to it.”

“That’s right. Drug task force.”

Her smile slipped. “How do you know that?”

“I worked with them. We do a lot of crossover stuff. Local intel contributing to the larger cases, that sort of thing. Your dad was part of a major bust two years ago, but I’ve been working with him since before then. I even met you once, when I happened to be in town for your big July 4th party. You were younger then, and I didn’t have this.” He waved at the beard that had grown in since he’d stopped giving a shit.

Abruptly, she stood and went to the door, but he got the idea that she needed air more than escape. “You think it’s related,” she said in a thin voice.

“I know it is. There was a note left in your hotel room saying so.” There had been no written note, just a leather whip laced with blood, but she didn’t need to know that detail.

“But if you and my dad helped catch the guys two years ago, then how…”

“These men are like insects. You destroy the hive and they just build another, only bigger. That combined agency taskforce caught the low-hanging fruit, while everyone important got away. This time was even worse. Between the FBI blocking us and the usual red tape, they couldn’t get permission for a raid.” He shook his head, pushing away all the illegal shit he’d pulled just to get her location, trying to forget the pain of arriving there only to find it empty. Luckily he’d had some basic skills in tracking and had found the trail of a single person, barefoot—her.

“If this is all true, then why didn’t my father tell me?”

“He doesn’t know. That was years ago, there was no reason to link the two except for the note. Then you were free and he needed to be there to help you heal. It’s up to you, but I’d prefer you don’t tell him. The guilt…” It was like ice, cutting him open and keeping him that way, frozen. But how could he complain to her after what she had been through? He couldn’t. “…it wouldn’t be good for him.”

Her eyes narrowed, as if maybe she heard thoughts left unspoken. “It wasn’t his fault. Or yours. You were just doing your job. No.” She put a hand to her forehead, the gesture at once emphasizing her fragility and underscoring her strength. “You were doing the right thing. I would never wish for someone to be stuck there, not if there was a chance of you getting them free. You saved those women before. You saved me.”

Her unbending belief in him threatened to undo him. “If I had been there in time… If I had known...” He’d been too late, but like a miracle, she stood before him, patiently waiting for his answer. “I saw what they did to you and how you couldn’t sleep, refused to eat.”

The bright sheen of tears covered her eyes, but still she went on. “I would be dead now if not for you.”

“That’s right,” he said, willing to lay everything out if she’d only understand. “You’re alive now because of me. You asked me…you begged me to let you die. To help you do it while you were trapped in that hospital room, but I couldn’t. That was my raid, my responsibility, and you were targeted as a result of that. I wanted to be a fucking savior, and I was willing to let you suffer to accomplish it.”

His voice was hoarse by the time he finished. The words flayed him in a way that months of self-enforced exile and backbreaking physical labor never had. The guilt taunted him. She had been out there, alive and suffering.

Then Tiffany was standing in front of him, her cheeks wet with tears, but her eyes focused. “I’m glad you didn’t help me do that,” she said fiercely. “I am better. Not completely and probably I never will be, but I’m alive. I’m free. Maybe I had my weak moments, but I’m even more grateful now that you were there to keep me from letting them win.”