I still as images rush through my head again but worse this time.
She was leaning against the concrete wall of a parking garage. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, but most of it had escaped, and the wind was blowing it all around her face. The last time I saw her—exhausted and so sure she would be fine—was when I glanced over my shoulder right before I entered the half-destroyed hospital building. I was supposed to be gone for only a few minutes.
I never should have left her.
“Hannah,” I finally say. “She was taken from me.”
Chapter 2
It’s the first time I’ve said her name out loud in months. I don’t even like to think it. Every time I do, I’m reminded of our first meeting when she told me to call her by her first name, and I had refused.
How could I have called her that? I’d been following her story since I read the first article about her turning in the Tyler Hudson for embezzling, kidnapping, and running a human trafficking ring. She didn’t have just an inkling—she had tracked down solid evidence. She had enough on him that a prosecutor had to do something about it. Hudson was a king in both industry and politics, and some barely-out-of-college woman was willing to take him on. It was something no one else, not with money or power, had been willing to do. There was no way I could have referred to her in such a familiar manner—I was in awe of her.
“Will you tell me about her?” Katrina asks.
I take another long swig from the bottle, but I don’t answer. There’s gooseflesh appearing on my arms, and I can’t seem to stop my right leg from jiggling up and down. I remember calling her by her first name when she would start to panic and how it would calm her. I remember whispering it in her ear as I made love to her. I remembered screaming it over and over and over again when she was nowhere to be found.
“She must be really important to you.”
“She was. She is.”
Katrina shifts on the bed, pulling one of the pillows into her arms and fluffing it. She props it up against the wall behind the bed and leans against it. She looks at me as if she’s waiting for a bedtime story, but I don’t have a “happily ever after” to tell her.
I remember when Hannah told me about Hudson’s assault on her. It had taken everything in my power to keep myself calm and to stop myself from getting out of the bed and completely destroying the room. I’d asked her to tell me, and I knew I needed to keep my cool so she could tell me everything without breaking down, but I hadn’t really been prepared for the look in her eyes. Afterward, she was drained, but she also seemed relieved and more focused.
I glance up at Katrina. She’s still just sitting there, watching me. As far as I can tell, she’s genuinely interested in hearing me tell my story.
Maybe I should.
“I was her bodyguard.” Just the word makes my chest hurt. I can’t believe I’m actually speaking out loud. I haven’t told anyone exactly what happened. “I was supposed to protect her.”
I slide down to the floor, bottle still in hand. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I lean my arms over them and take another drink. I put extra pressure on my right leg to stop it from bouncing around so much.
“I guess that didn’t work out so well.”
I shake my head.
“We had just gotten away from the group we were in. There were people there…men who wanted to hurt her. I got her away, but then…”
I feel the pressure behind my eyes again as the vodka works its way through my system.
“We stopped at a hospital to get a few things,” I say slowly, focusing on my breathing and trying to remain calm. “Hannah was exhausted. She wasn’t up for climbing through all the destruction to get to the supplies. She wanted to stay outside and rest. I didn’t like it, but she…she had a way of convincing me to do shit I didn’t want to do. She was always so confident and independent; it was hard to argue with her sometimes. I left her there while I went inside.”
I let another gulp of cheap vodka burn my throat.
“I never should have left her alone.”
“Did those guys take her? The ones you were trying to get away from?”
I nod before continuing.
“I was in a hospital building. We were running low on gauze and antibiotic cream, and I didn’t know when we’d get a chance to find some again. The place was a mess, and though I found the storage area, I had to dig into it to find the supplies I needed. I was making a lot of noise throwing shit around—I was pissed it was taking so long to dig it out. I should have been quiet. If I had, maybe I would have heard them.
“I heard a sound behind me, and I knew exactly what it was. My back felt like I’d just been punched hard or maybe hit by a baseball that should have made it out of the park. I looked down. My shirt had a huge hole in it, and blood was seeping out. Then there was another blast, and I felt a sharp pain in my leg. I turned around and saw him—Caesar. He was the guy trying to get Hannah. He had a grudge.”
I stop and try to catch my breath. All my words are coming out rushed, mimicking the way the thoughts are flowing through my head.
“There was another guy with him—Brett. I think he fired the second shot. I had the chance to kill him days before that, and I should have. I should have just fucking killed him the first time he touched her, but she…she wouldn’t have liked it. She always thought the best of everyone, and she didn’t realize what kind of person he was. Not then, anyway.”