I try and busy myself with cleaning the apartment. I look for more bugs that I may have missed. I get in a solid workout. By the time I look at my clock, only an hour has passed, and I groan.

What if she’s already been kidnapped again? I can’t keep my mind from racing as I imagine the worst-case scenarios. I should have insisted on going with her. I’m not doing anything here. I’m not useful in any way. I wouldn’t have stopped her but I should have gone with. What if Gareth is at the Tribune? What if he knows that she knows?

I pick up my phone and dial her number, calling her cell. It rings six times before her voice tells me to leave a message at the beep, and I hang up. I tell myself I’m being paranoid, that I’m being ridiculous. I know it’s true but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m worried.

I’m worried about Scarlett.

For the past year, I have buried my head in work so that something like this wouldn’t happen. I promised myself I would save enough people so that I wouldn’t have to feel the worry, the fear anymore. My chest feels like it’s got an anvil pressed against it, and I force myself to sit down and breathe.

She doesn’t want me to follow her. She’s independent and strong. She leads her own path, carves her own trail, and her single mindedness would be admirable if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating. I call her again, and her voicemail is the same. I reorganize my kitchen, then call again. No answer. I clean out my bedroom and clean the bathroom before I try again.

Still nothing.

God, what if she’s dead? What if she’s in their clutches this moment, and I’m sitting here cleaning my house like some fucking Nancy? I’m about to storm out to go searching for her when there’s a knock on my door. My shoulders are so tense they hurt, and I roll them back as I pull open the door, a tidal wave of relief washing over me at the sight of Scarlett.

“Hi,” she says, as though she’s just popping by for a quick visit. “Can I come in?”

I say nothing, instead stepping aside and gesturing for her to enter.

She accepts my invitation, walking past me into the apartment before she turns to me, her eyes glowing. “I’ve found out some good stuff, and I want to share it with you. You have to promise me that you won’t shut me down if I do.”

“I haven’t been trying to shut you down. I’ve been trying to save your life.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. Really, I do. This is bigger than that, though, and you’re the only person in the world I trust.”

While my heart soars at the compliment, I’m still irked. “This is bigger than you staying alive? What, getting revenge?”

“Getting justice. Those are two different things. I don’t want to fight with you, Isaac. Will you listen to what I’ve discovered?”

I cross my arms and stare at her, waiting for her to go on.

“I was doing some research on the house where they’re meeting tonight. The place belongs to Chantel’s father but that’s not even the most interesting part. Her father’s business partner is a man named Richie Briggs. At first, the name didn’t ring a bell with me but then I remembered a picture I saw at Gareth’s house and it all clicked. Richie is Gareth’s brother. He mentioned him a time or two but never went into detail about it. Whatever they’ve been into, Richie managed to clear a prison record that Gareth had. I found his mugshot but all the other information was wiped.”

She’s speaking fast, excited at her find. I want to be excited with her but I just can’t be. This all sounds extremely dangerous. “Does Gareth know that you have this information?”

Her face falls, and I have my answer.

“What did he do?”

My voice is lethal but she merely shrugs.

“I ran into him at the office. He said I would do best to stay out of things I didn’t understand. It was a threat, no doubt.”

“And yet you’re not going to heed his warning, I see.”

“Would you?”

I step back, off guard at her question. “What?”

“If this was happening to you, would you just sit at home and stay safe, knowing that there’s someone out there that tried to kill you, that wants to still?”

“Of course I wouldn’t…” I say, and she jumps on that.

“Then why would you expect it of me?”

I don’t have an answer for her. I take a breath, focusing on the fact that she is here, that she is out of harm’s way even if for a moment. I know that I won’t be able to stop her. Up until now, I never have, have I?

“I know you’re determined. The information you have isn’t enough for the cops to investigate, and even if it is, you’re set on keeping that promise to Chantel, so that option is out. There is no safe option for you tonight, which is why you should bide your time and not go.”

“Are we seriously going to argue about this again? Isaac, I’m going to go. You can come with me if you want. In fact, I want you to, if you’re willing, but don’t try to stop me. It’s not going to work. By now you should know that.”

“Damned if I don’t,” I mumble, annoyed.

“If I let this meeting happen without me, I’m just giving them more time and ammo to scare me at every turn. That is no way to live my life. I will not be cowed into fear, not at my home, not at work, not anywhere. I will not!”

My temper rises, and I let it. She needs to know that this is a waste of time, not to mention an idiotic thing to do. “I’m telling you, this is a suicide mission! You think those men aren’t armed to the teeth? You think they won’t murder you in cold blood, or worse, torture you to death for their own amusement? There is no reason for you to do this, Scarlett!”

My voice is rising, and she steps closer, placing a hand on my arm. I’m breathing harder than I should be, and when I look into her eyes, she searches my own, trying to find something I’m not sure I’m ready to share.

“Why are you like this, Isaac? Why are you trying so hard to stop me from going? I can’t believe this is only about me. There has to be something else.”

Damn her reporter’s instinct. I inhale and release a jagged breath.

Can I her the truth? Maybe if I do, it will convince her to stay here with me, and we can find a more sensible solution to all of this. I take her hand and I guide her to my couch, where we sit side by side. She doesn’t release my hand, and I’m glad for it.

“A few years ago, I was in New York on a job. It was an apartment fire. The building was old, the wood blazing, and most of the place had been cleared out. As we were dousing the flames, I heard a woman’s scream from inside, and I ran in to go get her, even though the building was on the verge of collapsing.”

The memory surfaces from the deep dark place I’ve hidden it, and I hate to relive that day. I’m kidding myself though. I’ve relived that day every single day since. Some days are just easier to tolerate than others.

“I found them in an apartment on the second floor. They were huddled in a corner, a mother and her young daughter, screaming as they fought off the smoke. I plunged into the room and guided them to the door. As we reached the doorway, I could hear a crack. The mother shoved the child into my arms and pushed me out of the way before a beam fell down, separating us. I remember the child screaming, crying, and thrashing in my arms, and I called out for the woman but there was no answer.”

I choke on the words, hardly daring to relive the moment that destroyed my life, my happiness. Any sense of contentment I had once known.

“I lost her. The child lived but her mother was lost, and I lost her.”

I gaze at our joined hands, not daring to look into Scarlett’s eyes. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to show the depth of my sorrow. I sit quietly as she absorbs this information. When she doesn’t respond, I continue, unable to stop.

“After that, I was never the same. For a while, when I got a call I would freeze, paralyzed, terrified of losing another person to the flames. My chief sent me to therapy and put me on leave for a while but I couldn’t get her screams out of my head. I couldn’t stop the nightmares. After a while, they went away but only if I kept my mind as busy as possible. I buried myself in my work and didn’t look up.”

I finally brave a look at Scarlett. Her lips are downturned, her eyes glistening sympathy. I hate that look. It’s the reason I never share this story.

“I told you that I had a rocky divorce. Kara was a good woman but I couldn’t be there for her in any real way after that day. I was a total wreck, and she hung in there with me as long as she could but in the end, we just couldn’t find a solution for us that worked.”

I release a breath, the worst of my story out in the open. Scarlett squeezes my hand but in true journalist fashion, she lets me tell my own story.

“I became obsessed with rescue after that. I lost everything – my wife, my home, my sanity. When a fire happened, I became reckless, but if it meant saving every last life, I was going to do it. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here either but my chief thinks that I take too many risks. After your rescue, he put me on leave, and I’ve been twiddling my thumbs ever since, left with nothing to do but sit here and hope you don’t get yourself killed every time you leave.”

She nods. “So, that’s why you’re so protective of me.”

“Yes,” I say, not bothering to hide the truth.

“Isaac, you are an amazing firefighter and an amazing human being. I’m so grateful for you on so many levels. I understand why you’re cautious but I need you now more than ever. You may not agree with me but help me! Help me take these monsters down, and then together we can find a way to bring normal back into our lives.”

I stare at her, considering her offer. She isn’t pitying me, which I’m glad for. She’s empowering me to help her, giving me a say in her own dangerous situation. Maybe with our minds melded together, we can find a way to make this work for us both.

“If I help you, do you promise to act as safely as possible?”

“Of course. I don’t want to die. I should think that’s obvious from the fact that I survived that fire. Survivors don’t give up.”

I grin. “You know, I never told you this, but when I found you, you had torn off a piece of your shirt to help you breathe, and you had managed to untie your hands before passing out. I know you don’t remember but you fought like hell.”

She smiles up at me. “Thanks for that. I’m glad to hear it. Now why don’t you and I make some plans together so we can do this our way?”

I take one more steadying breath, glad to have my sob story out of the way. She knows my deepest darkest secret, and all she wants to do is work together.

One thing is for sure: Scarlett Smith is one hell of a woman.