Savage Hearts

I thought, if my luck held, he wouldn’t realize a switch had been made until I was in the parking lot and he was being arrested by the Costa Rican police.

* * *

Walking out of the bathroom and getting a front-row seat as the drug dog snatched the bag from Scott’s hand and the cop forced him to the ground was an unexpected gift.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this fucking good.

My gait, as I cross the hot pavement, is loose and easy, but inside I’m soaring. I want to lift my fists into the air and let out a shout of triumph. I want to run laps around the parking lot until I purge myself of all the excess energy pumping through my blood. Most of all, I want to snatch Sam up in my arms and swing her in circles until she laughs and begs to be put down. I can’t wait to share this victory with the only person in the world who can understand how much I needed it.

When she joins me at the car, popping the trunk so I can toss the briefcase inside, I can barely keep my hands to myself.

But I know we need to get out of here. Pausing to celebrate too soon would be a mistake.

“Did you see?” she asks, her excitement clear in her voice as we get in and buckle up. “I didn’t even have to call it in, so there won’t be anything to make it look like it was a setup.”

“I saw. It was beautiful.” I glance back over my shoulder at the terminal. “I just wish we could have stayed and heard him scream some more.”

“Me too.” Sam’s breath rushes out, but she doesn’t speak again until she’s paid for our one hour of parking and pulled out onto the road. “But that was way too close. I saw the dog coming and tried to text you, but your phone had fallen out of your pocket. I almost lost it. I thought you were going to jail and it was going to be all my fault.”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault,” I say, not bothered by the close call for some reason. I know there is no great and powerful force watching out for me and mine, but right now it feels like fate or destiny or something bigger than myself is on my side. Our side. “It would have been my fault for wearing shorts without Velcro pockets.”

Sam tosses her hat into the back seat, shaking her hair loose.

This is the first time I’ve seen it down. Despite the new color, she looks more like the old Sam, making it even harder to resist the urge to touch her.

“Seriously, Danny,” she says, her worried gaze divided between the road and me. “We agreed that I would be the only one in the line of fire and then you went and put yourself in danger at the first opportunity. That’s not okay.”

“Come on, Sam, I did what I—”

“You have to promise you won’t do anything like that again,” she says. “I can’t have you hurt or in jail. I wouldn’t survive it. In fact, it’s probably better if you leave right now.”

“Pull over.” I point to the road ahead of us.

“I can’t, we need to—”

“Pull over,” I insist. “Down that gravel road right there. I need to explain something and I can’t do it while you’re driving.”

She hesitates, but finally, with a huff of irritation, she slows and turns right. She keeps driving, rolling on for maybe half a mile before pulling over to the side of the road beneath three Guanacaste trees spreading their mushroom heads out to shade the dusty gravel. She glances in the rearview mirror and does a quick scan of the woods on one side of the road and the sugar cane field on the other before rolling down the windows and cutting the engine.

“What is it?” She’s frowning and her mouth is tight, but I can see something in her eyes, something I was afraid I might never see again.

It’s my soft Sam, with her big heart, who would do anything to protect the people she loves. She’s wounded and limping, a shadow of the person she used to be, but she isn’t gone. She’s still there and I’m not giving up until I make the world safe for her again.

“I promised to keep my hands clean so you wouldn’t fight me about sticking around to help,” I say. “But now it’s time to cut the bullshit.”

Her frown deepens. “It’s not bullshit. I don’t want you in danger.”

“It doesn’t matter which of us is in danger. What’s done to you is done to me.” I lean in, holding her gaze, willing her to feel the misery that’s been my constant companion since I learned what happened to her and then lost her. “Can’t you see that? Your pain is my pain. If you’re behind bars, I’ll never be free. If you’re hurting, I can’t be happy. I’m not built that way.”