Jemma tried to regulate her breathing as she pulled against the ropes binding her arms behind her back. She had been blindfolded as they drove, but she knew exactly where they had taken her.

It was the same place Liam took anyone who betrayed him. Their final stop before they faced whatever punishment he deemed necessary.

“Well, my little Willow, it seems you have put me in a bit of a predicament.” he pulled of her blindfold.

She closed her eyes and willed her mind to relax as her father’s voice caused her typical panic. “Not much of one. You could let me go.”

He laughed. “Can you believe the nerve, Eric?”

“No, boss, I can’t.”

He clicked his tongue, and Jemma refused to look at him. “You and I both know I can’t do that. You betrayed me, and now you will pay. Not to mention, you shot Eric! You know that in my house, you hurt someone, they get to hurt you back.”

“You are a fucking monster, and monsters deserve to be six feet under,” she commented, keeping her voice level.

“Such a mouth on you! Surely that came from your mother.”

Her temper flared. “Don’t you fucking talk about her!”

His hand cracked across her cheek, and she spit out some blood.

“Watch your mouth.” He straightened. “Now, what to do, what to do. Had it simply been a needing your space, I could have forgiven you, but you crossed a line when you turned my shipment over to the police.”

“Those were living girls; you were going to destroy their lives. They are people, not fucking merchandise!”

“My work is none of your concern, but lately you have a habit of sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. This makes me think you can’t be trusted, and you’ve seen firsthand what I do to those I can’t trust.”

“Then just kill me and get it over with.”

There was a hole in the bottom of the floor that was close enough that had she not been tied to a chair, she might have been able to jump into the ocean and have a chance at survival. But the way things were now, she was screwed.

“You are no good to me if I can’t trust you, Willow. I tried so hard to give you a good life. I was going to even make you my partner, and here you go betraying me to the feds.” He clicked his tongue and knelt in front of her. “That’s a shame, Will.” He stood and reached into his jacket to pull out the same gun he had used to shoot her mother. She would have recognized the gold plated .45 anywhere.

A tear slipped down her cheek as she tried desperately to hang on to any shred of courage she had left. She refused to beg this monster for her life.

Shots sounded outside, and she straightened. Had Caid found them? Had he brought the FBI with him? Was it possible this might finally be over?

Her father got behind her and pressed the barrel of the gun to her temple just as Caid stepped in looking more pissed off than she could ever have imagined.

“Back the fuck off her, old man, or I will put a bullet in you.”

“I very much doubt that, Agent King.”

“Give me a reason.”

“By the time you could shoot me and everyone else in this room, she will be dead.” He moved out of the way and shoved Jemma into the icy depths of the water below.

The cold surrounded her, and although she tried desperately to remain calm, panic set in as she struggled to get her legs and arms free. Her lungs burned, and her chest felt impossibly heavy as she sank.

* * *

Caid watched in horror as Jemma fell into the hole next to her. What the fuck kind of man would kill his own daughter? Only milliseconds passed while he watched, but it had felt like an eternity.

“Go on, Agent King. She obviously means more to you than I do. You just going to let her drown?”

“I’m coming for you, Charmont,” Caid growled as he abandoned his rifle and ran for the water. The icy cold enveloped him as he dove down into the hole Jemma had disappeared into only moments before. His lungs began to burn as he pushed down toward the bottom. He never swam so damn hard in his entire life than he did in that moment. He gripped the chair and pulled a knife from his pocket to cut the ropes that had been binding Jemma’s arms and legs. Lucky for him, his father had always insisted he carry one.

He kicked his legs and managed to get them both to some rocks near the coast. Caid pulled them both onto shore and immediately looked down to Jemma, who wasn’t breathing.

“No, you are not going to die.” He began CPR, but it was only a moment before she began coughing water out of her lungs. As soon as she did, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her sopping hair.

Her body was shaking, and while he knew the chill was partially to blame, the fear she felt at being tossed into the water was probably more the cause.

“Shhh,” he said quietly as he ran his hand over her hair, “I’ve got you, Jemma.” They sat there for a moment, her in tears, and him barely hanging on after seeing her nearly drown. “We need to get out of here,” he said and pulled away.

She nodded, and he helped her get to her feet.

“I don’t suppose you have another safe house, huh?”

She shook her head. “I was going to run from there.” Her voice was raspy, and Caid noticed the handprint bruise on her throat. He tilted her head up and bit back the anger that was barely leashed.

“Those motherfuckers will not get the chance to put their hands on you again.”

She swayed, and Caid caught her. “We need to go.” Caid carried her down the beach until they reached a house right on the edge of the water. He set her down gently at the base of the porch and pulled his badge out of his wet jacket.

On the second knock, a woman in what Caid estimated her mid-sixties answered the door. “Ma’am, I need to use your phone.”

She narrowed her eyes at his badge, and then stepped aside more than happy to assist. “Absolutely! Come right in.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry we are so wet.”

“Don’t even think to apologize. I know trouble when I see it, and you two are in trouble. Please make yourselves at home,” she said as Caid helped Jemma inside.

“Let me get you a blanket, hun.” She left the room, and Caid guided Jemma to a small wooden table.

“Here.” He pulled out a chair for her, and then went to the woman’s phone. He called the NYPD non-emergency line and asked for Lance.

“Detective Zarbey.”

“It’s Agent King with the FBI. We met earlier?”

“Yeah, what’s up, man?”

“I need some help. We’ve got nowhere to go, and Jemma’s injured.”

“Where are you?”

Caid looked for a bill and read the address on the front.

“I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Thanks, man, I owe ya.” Caid hung up the phone and knelt in front of a shivering Jemma.

“I-I-I’mmmm sttiiilll sooo cccoolld.”

He ran his hands over her arms. “I know.” He reached for her, and she leaned forward into his arms.

“Here.” The woman handed him a blanket.

“Thank you, Mildred.” When she looked at him confused, he explained, “I saw the bill on the counter, used it to get your address. I hope that was all right?”

“Absolutely fine. Agent King, right?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any dry clothes that would fit you two, but if you are open to wearing a robe for about forty minutes, I can toss your clothes in the dryer.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I really don’t mind. My husband, God rest his soul, was retired NYPD. I have a lot of respect for good men who serve.”

“Thank you, Mildred.”

She nodded. “There are robes in all of the guest closets. Just bring me your clothes when you’re done.”

He smiled at her and helped Jemma to her feet. From what he could tell, she was more shaken than anything, but he still wanted to check her over just to be sure.

They walked upstairs to a long hallway. The first door they came to was a bathroom, so Caid led Jemma to the next, which was a sparsely decorated guest room. A queen bed faced the door, and a tall chest of drawers stood next to the closet, which he opened to discover three terry robes.

He laid two on the bed and then turned to Jemma. “I would like to check to make sure you have no other injuries, but if you’d rather do it yourself, I understand.”

She shook her head slowly and began to remove her clothes. He turned and did the same, then covered himself with a robe. “I’m going to turn around now,” he warned, and when he didn’t hear her object, he turned, and felt like he had been punched in the gut.

He told himself to stay professional, that he was checking her for injuries and nothing more, but as she stood in front of him in nothing but small shorts-looking underwear and a bra, it certainly made things difficult.

Focus, he told himself and looked her over. She was nearly blue from the cold, and other than a split lip, the bruising on her throat, and abrasions on her arms and legs from where she was bound to the chair, she was fine. He turned back around so she could continue undressing, and waited until she said she was done before facing her again.

“I’m going to take these to Mildred. Do you want to sit in here for a minute?”

She nodded, and he stepped out into the hallway.

“I’ll get these right in the dryer for you,” Mildred said with a smile and held up an empty laundry basket for the wet clothes.

“Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me. I don’t mind. If your friend wishes to lie down for a bit, she is more than welcome.”

“I’ll let her know. Another cop will be here in about an hour, possibly sooner. His name is Detective Lance Zarbey. He’s going to give us a ride back to town.”

“You two stay as long as you need.” She smiled. “I can make you some tea if you’d like? Or coffee if you prefer.”

“Coffee would be wonderful, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It’ll be ready in about ten minutes.” She turned down the hall, and Caid walked back to Jemma.

He panicked for a moment when he didn’t see her in the room, but one glance in the closet and his heart broke.

She was sitting in the corner rocking as a small child hiding from a monster would. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and silent tears streamed down her cheeks. It made him wish he would have put a bullet in Charmont when he’d had the chance. But if he had, he would have never been able to rescue Jemma.

“Hey.” He knelt in front of her, but she didn’t look at him, just continued staring into the empty space next to him. “Jemma.” She squeezed her eyes shut and more tears escaped. He reached forward and pulled her into his lap where he cradled her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. To him, she was.

“I thought I was going to die,” she whispered so quietly he nearly missed it.

“I thought you were too. I was absolutely terrified when I saw him with that gun to your head.”

“You came after me. You could have had him there, your biggest case closed, but you came after me instead.”

He lifted her chin to look at her and felt something shift into place. “Of course I did. You mean something to me, Jemma. I can’t explain what, but I know that my life without you in it would not mean nearly what it has since the moment I ran into you in that gym.”

He leaned down slightly and pressed his lips to hers. It was gentle, and he felt her sweet surrender when she parted her lips and buried her hands in his hair. She tasted sweet, and he wanted to do nothing but drink all of her in.

He pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. Fuck, what was happening to him?