Celia

My new home a few miles north of San Francisco in Duncan's Cove was unlike anything I'd known. I knew it was Hunter's doing. The FBI witness protection program didn't provide oceanfront beach houses for their protectees.

I spent my days walking the coast, collecting shells, and waiting for everything to heal so I could move forward with my life, such as it was. I recovered from my concussion, the headaches slowly subsiding, and my bruises all faded. My memories of the rapes were sporadic, coming back now and then when I least expected it. With nothing else to do, I spent my time reading and watching Netflix, taking my first real holiday since I started college.

I heard nothing from anyone back in Boston except a short email from Monique, my contact in the FBI's witness protection program. She said all was well and everyone in my list of contacts was fine. All alive. All living their lives without me. They could only communicate with me via her so no one knew where I lived or what name I had taken.

For the first week after I arrived in Duncan's Cove, I cried every night, sad that I had been forced to leave everyone I loved, and that Hunter had agreed to it. I really thought he cared for me enough to want to keep me in Boston. I argued with my aunt, I argued with Graham, and I argued with my mother, but they all agreed that it was the right thing to do. Hunter wouldn't even see me, no matter what I did.

In Duncan's Cove, I didn't have to get a job. Money was deposited in an account for me once a month – more than I had ever earned before, and more than I needed. I knew that was Hunter's doing as well, and for that I was grateful, but I hated him for letting me go without even saying goodbye.

Then, out of the blue, six weeks after I left Boston, I was watching CNN and saw a headline on the ticker tape at the bottom of the screen.

Boston Mafia boss Sergei Romanov, brother Victor Romanov killed in gangland assassination.

The news was sordid. A rival Russian gang had fought with the Romanovs over a shipment of guns. Sergei and his brother Victor were both shot dead, as well as three of their underlings. Two men from the rival gang were also killed, their bodies left at the scene.

The news coverage displayed a bloody scene, blue sheets covering the bodies in an old warehouse along the waterfront.

It was the warehouse where I was raped.

One of Sergei's relatives from New York City, Semion Romanov, came down from New York City for the funerals.

I called Monique to ask if that meant I could come back to Boston, but she assured me that I was still not safe. She told me to be patient, forget Boston, and focus on my application for law school at Stanford. That no matter what, I had to make a new life because my name would still be on the Romanovs’ list of enemies.

I was assured that since I already had been accepted at Stanford when I initially applied the previous year, I could re-apply and would likely be accepted. The fact that I was in the witness protection program would be known to only a few of those involved in approving applications. The confidentiality of my real identity would be assured.

Resigned to my lot, I went out and sat on the deck overlooking the ocean and tried to get excited about starting law school in the fall, but it was hard. I still had months to wait until I could begin again. Bored, I got a job at a local bookstore and spent my time stocking shelves and helping customers find their books, even though I didn’t need the money.

Every day I went to work, my name tag reading Emma Jones instead of Celia Parker. It was hard at first to adjust to using a new name, and I often failed to respond when my boss or one of my neighbors called out Emma, because I forgot who I was supposed to be.

Then, one day as I was walking along the beach, I got a text on my new cell. My new number under my new name.

JDOE: If you want to see me again, meet me at 7152 Cliff Avenue.

A surge of emotion swept through my entire body and my eyes teared up. J Doe? John Doe… It had to be Hunter. But how could I know? It could be one of the Romanov thugs come to kill me…

EMMA: How do I know who you are? Give me evidence to prove it's you or I'm calling the FBI.

JDOE: The first time we kissed, you rolled on top of me while we were supposed to be watching the stars.

Hunter. He was here, in Duncan's Cove. Cliff Avenue ran up the coast a few miles from my place.

I texted him, unable to hold back.

EMMA: Hunter! Why didn’t you contact me all this time? It's been two months and I haven't heard anything from you. Why didn’t you contact me sooner? You just expect me to come running to you after not even saying goodbye?

I cried after I sent that, torn between being angry at him and wanting to go right away.

JDOE: I know you're angry but I had to do it for your safety. Come to me.

EMMA: Why should I? You expect me to just run to you when you call me up?

JDOE: I remember that night so well. I tried to be a gentleman but you were brazen and insisted I kiss you.

EMMA: I was a foolish young girl.

JDOE: I protested, because I was supposed to be protecting you, not trying to seduce you. You kissed me anyway. It got me in trouble with Graham. And made me fall in love with you. Come to me. Whenever you want.

EMMA: Do you have permission to visit me? My handler didn't say anything about this. I'm not supposed to contact anyone from my past. I'm going to have to think about this.

JDOE: Take as much time as you need. I'm not going anywhere.

I wiped my eyes and walked back to the house, unsure of whether I should go to Hunter and see him again. My handler told me I couldn't go back until I had their approval and that I couldn't be in contact with anyone or I might lose their protection.

I sat in the house and stared at the fireplace, trying to decide what to do.

After several hours of dithering, I got in my SUV and drove up the coast to the address despite my misgivings. I found the house and parked in the driveway, noting that there was a single SUV parked there – a black Mercedes. It had to be Hunter's.

I climbed up the pathway to the house, which was fantastic – maybe a couple of thousand square feet in all with an amazing deck, which was lit up by patio lanterns hanging from the rafters. I knocked at the door and waited.

The door opened to reveal George and I squealed with delight when I saw him.

"George!" I hugged him. He seemed surprised at my show of affection, but I felt real joy at seeing him.

"Miss Celia," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I am so glad to see you."

I stepped back, my hands on his arms, and looked him over. He was the same old pug-faced Russian with a salt-and-pepper brush cut and a pale blue button-down shirt and jeans. His face was weathered, with deep lines in it above his eyes, beside his nose. His piercing blue eyes were just as I remembered. He put a hand to them, like he was overcome with emotion.

"What's the matter?"

He pulled his hand away and smiled. "I am so sorry," he said, extending his hand. "I am very glad that you are okay."

"I'm fine, " I said and took his hand. "It's you who was seriously injured. I was just roughed up a bit. Nothing serious."

Of course, that was a lie, but it was the one I told myself. I wasn’t “just roughed up” and George knew it by the look on his face. I smiled, trying to pretend everything was fine, and followed him. He struggled up the stairs, using a three-pronged cane as he climbed the five stairs to the main floor.

"Where's Hunter?"

"He is in garage trying to fix car. Please to come in. Make yourself comfortable."

I smiled at his accent. It was one of those endearing traits of his. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him.

We entered a huge great room with vaulted ceilings, dark wood beams, and an enormous stone fireplace. Two floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the ocean.

"Sit," he said, waving to the sofa. "I tell Hunter you are here."

I went to the window, glancing around at the cabin, amazed at how fantastic it was, with huge windows overlooking the Pacific. While my place was nice, this was spectacular.

Just then, Hunter entered the living room from the back of the house.

He stopped when our eyes met. "Celia…"

"Hunter," I said, my throat closing, stopping me from saying more.

He came right over, a soft smile on his lips. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, the kiss soft at first, then growing more passionate. He pulled me closer and finally, I threw my arms around him, kissing him back with abandon.

George cleared his throat and we broke the kiss and turned to him, both of us smiling.

"Sorry," Hunter said. "Got carried away." He turned back to me and touched my cheek, then stroked my hair. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I said, feeling like I was far too close to tears. I still wanted Hunter. No matter what had happened to me, even if it was his fault, I wanted him.

"I'm so glad you decided to come."

"You thought I'd say no?"

He nodded. "I did," he said softly. "I thought you'd hate me. It was because of me that you… had to leave."

I said nothing, just looked at him, drinking in his face, his body. Finally, I spoke, my voice wavering with emotion.

"I could never hate you," I whispered.

Hunter smiled. "George packed a picnic basket for us. I thought we could hike along the trail along the cliffs and have lunch."

"Sounds nice," I said with a sigh. "I don’t really know anyone here so it'll be nice to have some company for a change."

He nodded, his eyes lingering on my face. "I'm sorry. It must have been hard, being all alone for so long."

I nodded. Finally, he turned to George. "I'll take that."

George held out the wicker basket. "I pack good Russian food, " he said, a grin on his face. "Vodka, caviar, sour cream, blini. Fruit, too."

"Caviar?" I said with a laugh and stood up. "That's not picnic fare."

"Is in Mother Russia," George protested, a mock-hurt expression on his face. "Each year we go to dacha on Black Sea and eat caviar, drink vodka around fire."

I turned to Hunter. "Do you eat caviar? "

"It's really quite good, " he said and grabbed the basket. "Try it. You never know you like something until you try."

"I'll try for George's sake, since he went to so much trouble."

Hunter patted George on the back. "We'll be a while."

George nodded, smiling. "Have nice time."

We left the house and made our way along the cliff that overlooked the coast. While we hiked, I talked about the area and about my time there since I’d left, and he filled me in on news from Saint Brothers Gym and the whole business with Sergei and Victor.

I stopped him, my hand on his arm.

"Did you kill Sergei?"

He said nothing and started walking along the path.

"I take it that means you did, but you can't admit it."

He smiled at me. "Classified info. Let's just say I'm happy he and Victor are gone. Now the FBI has to take down his cousin Semion. He's a really bad guy."

We reached a clearing after hiking along a winding trail that cut along the face of the cliff with a few trees on one side, a sharp drop on the other. Below was a rocky shore where the waves crashed into white foam. The air was cool and a bit damp, the scent of pine and salt sea air strong. It was refreshing and kept me from overheating.

A couple of trees had been felled and the clearing was dominated by a huge tree stump where Hunter stood.

"Here's our table." He turned his back to me. "Do you like the view? I scouted this place out when we arrived and thought this would be a great place for a picnic."

I nodded, then frowned.

"How long have you been here?"

"A week." He glanced sideways at me, a guilty expression on his face.

"A week? And you didn't contact me?"

He shook his head. "I promised your mother and your aunt that I'd never see you again."

Anger bubbled up inside of me at them both for making Hunter promise.

"They shouldn't have made you do that. It's none of their business."

"They were afraid you'd be murdered, Celia. Murdered because of me."

I said nothing and watched while he placed the basket on the stump, which must have once been a massive tree. It was as big as a dining room table. He opened the basket and took out a blanket with ornate red, white, and black stitching.

"Is that Russian? It looks Slavic."

"Thanks to George. He bought the picnic basket and the blanket at this little Russian store in San Francisco."

"Really? There's a Russian store in San Francisco?"

"There is." Hunter took out dishes and glasses and a bottle of vodka. "I wouldn't know how to fix a picnic if my life depended on it." He opened the bottle of vodka and poured two shots into the tiny crystal glasses with delicate lacy etching. "Luckily, it doesn't or I'd be dead. That's why I have George. He, unlike me, actually had a life in Russia and learned all these things."

Hunter sat on the stump and I sat beside him, wanting to feel his body next to mine.

"So," I said as I leaned back. "Tell me about George. How is he?"

"George?" Hunter fished out a small insulated container from the picnic basket. He opened it and revealed a collection of small pancake-like items. He eyed them. "George is the kind of man who believes in going all out. These," he said, "are blini. Little Russian pancakes."

I smiled. "Yes, I know those. You put caviar on them and sour cream."

Hunter glanced up at me. "They're good. Salty and creamy and savory." He took out a small dish of black caviar and one filled with sour cream. He fixed a blini for me and handed it to me on a napkin.

"You should be drinking a shot of vodka when you eat this, to be truly Russian."

I laughed. "You didn’t tell me why George was so emotional."

"He was afraid for you, that's all."

I smiled, affection for George filling me.

"After what happened in Boston, I'm quite happy to never see another Russian again, but I have a soft spot for George. As for the vodka, hit me." I popped the blini in my mouth and chewed. I didn’t mind it. "Tastes like the ocean." I watched as Hunter ate one as well.

"How is he?" I asked. "He was hurt badly when they abducted me. He almost died, right?"

Hunter nodded and fixed me another blini. "George is tough," he said and leaned back. "He's recovering. He needs to use a cane, and probably will for the rest of his life but he's alive."

"I'm glad." I said and took the glass of vodka from him.

"To your health," he said and held up his glass once he'd filled it.

"To your heath," I repeated and we both downed the vodka. I squinted but enjoyed the sensation as it burned down my throat.

"So, tell me why you're here," I said. "Why bring George with you? It must have been hard for him to travel."

"I've been thinking. You know what they say – everything happens for a reason and for the best. To teach us life lessons."

"I don't believe that." I shook my head. "What reason was there for Sean to die?"

He frowned. "Because I was stupid. I should have pushed harder to get my family out of the business. I should have insisted and I should have stayed in Boston and taken over instead of going into the Marines. I was being selfish."

I was silent. "Maybe you wouldn't have succeeded. Sergei was a monster, as was his brother. You couldn't have escaped them very easily."

"No, you're right. But maybe if I had, the FBI would never have come that day to arrest Donny, and Sean would still be alive, and you wouldn’t be in witness protection across the country from me so the bad guys can't find you and hurt you."

"Can't cry over spilled milk," I said. “That's what my counselor says."

A silence passed between us. "You start law school in the fall?"

"Yes," I said and sighed. "I wanted to start right away, but my counselor said I need time off to process everything."

He fixed another couple of blini and handed me one. "Any psychological problems as a result?"

"Yeah," I said. "My counselor tells me I have PTSD. I get panic attacks. I get panic attacks because I'm afraid of getting panic attacks. When my stress gets too high, I have them. Feel like I'm dying. That's why I can't go to school yet, I guess. Too much stress. Too much responsibility."

"That makes sense," he said. "What happened to you…"

I took a sip and changed the subject, not wanting to remind myself of what had happened.

"I'm working at a book store, if you can believe it," I said with a smile. "Shelving books, filling orders, that kind of thing."

Hunter said nothing, but he was frowning as he chewed his blini.

I reached out and touched his arm. "I'm fine, Hunter. I'll adjust eventually."

"No." He glanced at me. "You're not fine. You had a serious trauma. It's all my fault."

"Stop," I said. "It's in the past."

He nodded but I knew he was still upset.

"You must be lonely."

I shook my head. "Not really," I lied, and took a sip. "I'm just trying to get by." I closed my eyes. "I'm getting better, day after day. I'm just glad that Sergei and Victor are dead."

"I am, too."

I glanced at him, at his handsome face, his longish hair falling in his eyes in that sexy way.

"I'm glad you killed him. I wanted you to kill him, but I was afraid you'd go to jail for murder and I really wouldn't see you again."

A silence passed. Hunter fixed some more blini and handed one to me.

"Do you have any friends here? Boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend? Hunter, no," I said with a frown. "I'm still trying to recover."

"Just checking." He said nothing for a moment and the two of us glanced out over the ocean. Gulls flew overhead, no doubt aware of the food we had.

We sat in silence again. I felt a hole in the pit of my stomach. Finally, Hunter leaned over and poured me more vodka.

When he spoke again, his voice was low. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

I said nothing for a moment. "I have these vague memories," I said, anxiety filling me at the mention of that time. I did remember being raped. I remembered men, I remembered pain and humiliation.

"I'm so sorry."

"I wish I could forget but the memories come back, any time of the day or night." I covered my eyes, biting my lip to stop my tears.

Then I felt a panic attack coming on. I stood, dropping my napkin, the vodka glass falling from my hand.

"I have to leave," I whispered. I turned back and began walking down the path. I had gone about a hundred yards before he caught me, grabbing my arm, turning me gently around.

"Celia, I'm so sorry." He tried to pull me into an embrace but I struggled, turning away, panic rising in me as grief and fear overwhelmed me, making it hard to breathe.

I covered my face, gasping for breath as the panic attack kicked in and I felt as if my heart would explode, as if I would pass out. He grabbed me, his arms around me, and just held me as I fought to regain control.

"Just breathe," he said, his voice calm in my ear, his breath warm on my cheek. "Breathe in slowly. Count to six, then out through your teeth for six."

I tried, knowing the whole deep breathing exercise by heart, and in a few moments, the tingling in my arms and legs subsided and my chest stopped heaving. Soon, I was breathing almost normally, and the anxiety dissipated. I let him hold me, still needing his comfort to soothe my fears.

"You have to give yourself time." He kissed me and wiped my tears away. "Come back and sit down."

I turned and he took my hand, leading me back to the picnic spot. I sat on the stump and stared at the ocean. Hunter sat beside me, his thigh pressed against mine.

He put one arm around my shoulders. "You have to create new memories."

I struggled to speak. "I have new memories." I wiped my cheeks. "They don't delete the old ones."

He took in a deep breath. "Let me tell you a story. There was this beautiful princess who was forced into being a slave girl to a pirate. She tried to escape him, but he took advantage of her. Because of him, she was hurt very badly."

"That's not what happened."

"It's pretty much that." He looked away. "I should have paid off Graham's debt and let you live your life. Everything would have been different if I hadn't been so greedy. I remember the day I first saw you at college. You were so beautiful and I wanted you so much, but you were Graham's sister. I always wanted you. When you threw me over, I was hurt. I was jealous. I should never have taken advantage of your situation."

"I didn’t throw you over. I let you go. I was afraid Spencer would get you in trouble. He threatened to if I didn’t stop seeing you. I wanted you, too."

"It doesn’t matter now," he said but he gave me a soft smile. "You were so smart and fun and I wanted to be with you. When you started seeing Greg, I felt like such a failure."

I said nothing for a moment. "I never saw Greg. That was just a lie to get you to stop coming by."

He shook his head like he didn’t believe me. "I felt so – tarnished – compared to you. You were smart, really smart. When we got together that one night? I thought it was the start of a real relationship." He held my hands in his. "When you came to me and asked me to pay off Graham's debt, I had already decided to. I should have turned you away and never seen you again. What an idiot. I put you in danger. It was because of me that you were hurt. That you had to leave."

"I had to leave because of Spencer just as much as you."

He looked away. "In the end, I couldn’t protect you. I promised I'd protect you and I failed."

"You were in jail falsely charged with Spencer's murder. It wasn’t your fault I was abducted."

"I want to apologize for everything."

I glanced away, my emotions building with all the talk about the past.

"Is that why you're here? To apologize for not saying goodbye?"

He nodded. "Your Aunt Diane talked to me after I left the hospital that night. She told me I'd been nothing but trouble for you and I should man up and leave you to start a new life. I thought if I gave you time, you'd get a new life and move on. Both of us would be better off."

"Are you better off?" I asked, watching his face.

He shook his head. "Are you?"

"I'm alive," I said, thinking about my new life in Duncan's Cove. "But there's just this big hole, this emptiness. I miss Graham. I miss Boston."

What I wanted to say was that I missed him as well.

But I didn't.

Hunter stood and began packing the picnic things up. I watched, wondering if I could say it – that I missed him. He folded the blanket and tucked the empty glasses away in the wicker basket. When he was done, I followed him back down the trail. We talked about life back in Boston, and I tried to process everything.

When we finally emerged from the path back at the house, we stood in the yard at the door.

"Will you come in?" he asked. "You should probably have a drink of water, rehydrate after drinking the vodka."

I nodded. When we entered the house and climbed the stairs, George met us, his face wary.

"Can you excuse us for a while?" Hunter handed him the basket.

"Is everything okay?" George asked.

"I don't know." Hunter shook his head, rubbed his eyes. "How could it be?"

I frowned, wondering what he meant. George put the basket down on the island in the kitchen and went into the back of the house. Hunter pointed to the huge overstuffed couch and chair. I sat on the sofa while Hunter went to the kitchen and took out two bottles of water from the large fridge. He handed one to me and then slumped down on the couch beside me. I opened my bottle and took a long drink from it.

An awkward silence passed between us and I fought with myself over how honest to be with Hunter.

I was so glad to see him, my heart felt like it could burst. But I didn't know what he wanted from me. I only knew what I wanted from him.

Then I made a decision.

"Hunter?"

He'd been rubbing his temples but pulled his hands away and looked at my face. "Yes?"

I climbed over and straddled him, one knee on either side of his hips. When I slipped my arms around his neck, he exhaled heavily, his breath shaky.

"I missed you," I said. "I've been so lonely without you."

I kissed him and was rewarded with the sharp inhale of his breath. When I pulled away, he brushed the wetness from my cheek.

"I missed you. I can't stand to be apart from you any longer," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I tried to stay away, but I couldn't do it."

"I can't go back, Hunter. Even though Sergei's dead, he has family members."

"I bought this house," he said. "I've got a job as a civilian instructor at the Marine Corps Mountain Warfare Training Center in Bridgeport. I'll work training Marines several times a year. The rest of the time, I'll work from home, maybe being a digital day trader."

"What about Saint Brothers Gym?"

"I sold it to Donny's sons. I'm out completely. I'm staying, if you'll be with me. "

I glanced over his face. "As what? Your fuck toy? I can't be that anymore."

"No," he said, frowning. He took my face in his hands. "You never were. Celia, I love you." He kissed me softly. "Don’t you know that by now? I’d do anything for you. Anything. I even let you go. I want to be your whatever you want me to be."

"Whatever I want you to be?" I said, unable to keep a grin off my face. "Pool boy?"

He laughed. "I could be that, if you want. I had something more permanent in mind, like," he said and hesitated. "Your fiancé."

I stared at him, my mouth open like an idiot.

"Hunter," I said and looked deeply into his eyes.

"Well, I did pretend to be in the hospital so…"

I smiled. "This is so out of the blue."

"Is it?" he said, frowning. "I've wanted you practically all my life."

"I wanted you practically all my life," I said, my throat closing with emotion.

"You don't have to say that just because I did."

"No," I said and cupped his cheek. "It's true. Ever since that first time I saw you standing in the ring with your hands wrapped in tape, kicking that punching bag."

I kissed him and it felt so right, it felt so familiar, as if finally, I was where I should be. Hunter took my hand and pulled me into the bedroom, closing the door before putting his arms around me.

We kissed again, our bodies pressed together, and it surprised me how much my body responded, despite what had happened to me. In fact, I had been afraid I would never want to be with a man again, but I didn't feel that way.

Not with Hunter.

I wanted him.

"Do you want to?" he whispered, kissing my cheek. "I can wait if you're not ready."

I didn't know if I was ready, but feeling Hunter's arms around me, feeling the intensity of his desire for me, and mine for him, made me want to try.

So I did.

I woke and glanced around the bedroom. Night had fallen and the bedroom was dark – Hunter's bedroom, in the huge house on the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean. The king-size bed covered in grey and burgundy satin beside me was empty. I was naked under the covers, and my body felt good. I had been afraid that when we fucked it would bring back memories of the rapes, but somehow, it didn't. It only brought back memories of Hunter and our times together before.

Hunter came back in through the open doors and went to a closet. He was wearing a pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. My gaze moved over his body with appreciation.

He retrieved a men's dress shirt and came to the side of the bed. "Here," he said and held it out. "Come out here. I have a surprise for you."

I complied, pulling his shirt over my nakedness, following him out the doors and onto the deck. Perched on a tripod was a telescope – a Celestron. Hunter stood on the deck beside it and peered into the eyepiece. He fiddled with the controls and then smiled at me, motioning me closer.

"I got this in the hopes that you'd come and live with me. I thought you'd like this. When it gets dark enough, you can see some pretty great things."

I glanced through the eyepiece and saw a blurry object in the field of view.

"What is it?"

"That's Andromeda, or M31. It's our closest galaxy outside the Milky Way. It's in the constellation of Andromeda."

"It's beautiful."

I stepped away from the telescope and leaned against Hunter, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Above us was the Milky Way Galaxy, the stars so bright where we were after midnight.

Then I closed my eyes.

"I always wanted to live in a house by the ocean," I said, happiness filling me.

I turned and slipped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Tears stung at the corners of my eyes.

He buried his face in my neck, kissed the skin beneath my ear.

"Never leave me again," he said, and pulled back, looking deep in my eyes.

"I won't."

I didn't.

THE END