That morning, Jemma sat on her fire escape and watched as the sun rose over the horizon. She took a sip from her steaming mug and inhaled deeply as the scent of coffee sank into her lungs. She had actually managed to get quite a few hours of sleep last night, and had only woken up once to check the apartment. This was new for her, since she typically was up four or five times to make sure she was still alone. She figured it was probably due to the extra training session with Caid.

Caid. Just his name brought her relief, which was incredibly strange in itself. She hadn’t found comfort in another person in years, but after one sparring session, she found herself relaxing slightly whenever she thought of him.

She had been sparring with Mikel for three years now, and she couldn’t say she felt that way about her. Jemma couldn’t decide if her new friend was a good or bad thing. Maybe she should look for another gym and give it a rest for a while. She couldn’t afford anything that would break her focus, and somehow she knew Caid was going to be a massive distraction.

A horn sounded below, and she looked down to see people fighting over a cab. She would never understand why certain people got so angry over the most ridiculous things. It’s a damn cab, there will always be another one. Not worth ruining yours or someone else’s day over. Not when there were much worse things out there.

Jemma closed her eyes as she took another sip. Not going there, Jemma. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. No sense in dwelling on the past; she only needed to focus on making sure she had a future. If he found her, she definitely wouldn’t. There was no way he would let her live after what she had done.

A knock sounded at her door, and she straightened as she put a hand to her back to feel the .45 tucked securely into her waistband. She made her way inside and set her cup on the counter before going to the door and looking through the peep hole.

Maria’s irritated face filled the small circle, and Jemma visibly winced. She had known this was coming. She opened the door, leaving the security chain locked, and offered her best I’m sorry smile.

“What happened last night?” Maria pouted.

“I’m sorry. I ended up falling asleep early,” she lied.

“You didn’t hear me banging on the door?”

“Ear buds,” Jemma said smoothly.

Maria studied her face for a moment and then nodded. “All right. Well, how about tonight?”

“Can’t, I have to work.”

“What do you do that you can’t take off on a Saturday?”

“Lots of things.” Jemma smiled. “Rain check?”

Maria looked irritated but nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.” She grinned, and Jemma shut the door.

She supposed she had better start thinking of a way to get out of it next time. Maybe she could be sick, or have to go out of town. She washed her mug, put it away, and took a seat on the couch. Reading was the only luxury she allowed herself. She didn’t have a TV, didn’t want to watch the horrible things reported on the news these days, and with books, she could choose which story she wanted to escape into.

Should she pick fantasy? Where she could disappear into another world where her problems never existed? Or suspense, where someone else is the one being chased for a change? Or maybe she’d rather read some sweet, contemporary love story, where the biggest problem is a woman who isn’t ready to give in to her feelings just yet? Jemma chose the latter and settled on to the couch, her .45 now sitting safely next to her.

* * *

Caid made his way through the busy city with a smile on his face. The craziness of it all wasn’t lost on him. He just enjoyed the hustle of those who weren’t acting like crazed animals who had just escaped from a zoo. He reached his favorite coffee shop and disappeared inside, embracing the warmth and familiar scents.

“Morning, Caid!” Jasmine, the barista, greeted him. “Your usual?”

“Yes, please. Thanks, Jazzie,” he said with a wink, and she flushed.

“Stop being such a flirt.”

Caid shut his eyes and willed the owner of the voice to disappear. What the fuck were the odds? he wondered. He made a mental note to look it up because he was getting damn tired of running into his ex.

“Mind your own business, Brittany.”

“That’s a rude way to greet someone.”

“I only greet you and your husband that way.” He refused to look at her, just crossed his arms and watched as Jasmine filled a cup with something that now lacked one thing he really needed -- alcohol.

“Can’t we just move on from this? Henry only wanted to work with you again so--”

“Wait a minute.” Caid turned and put his hand up to stop her. “What, are you fighting his battles for him now? That’s just fucking golden.” He laughed.

“Caid, your coffee.” Jasmine handed him his cup. He handed her a five dollar bill and then turned to leave.

“Just think about it!” Brittany called after him, and it took everything he had not to flip her the bird.

The fucking nerve of these two would never cease to amaze him. So now not only did he have to see Jameson at work, he was going to have to deal with Brittany every morning when he came to get his fucking coffee.

He knew her well enough to know that this was not going to be the only time he “ran into” her here. Dammit, he liked Jasmine too. She was sweet and made a damn good cup of coffee. Looks like he would be making his own from now on.

As if it picked up on his mood, some clouds blocked the sun, and he walked the rest of the way to his office under the overcast.

“Morning, King,” Pax greeted him when she came out of her office.

Melanie Pax was a force to be reckoned with. She was brought on when the last director was discovered to have had ties with Clayton Matthews, the head of a nasty group based in Seattle. They had arrested the bastard, and he would now be spending the rest of his life behind bars.

Unfortunately for the FBI, it had resulted in some bad press due to the amount of people on Matthews’ payroll. A dozen agents, including the director himself, had lost their jobs and gone to prison for various sentences.

Shit, the corruption was so bad that Zach Murphy, the lead detective on the case, had reached out to him in New York, all the way from Seattle. Caid made a mental note to give Zach a call and see how things were going on the other side of the country. It had been just over a week since he’d left to come back home.

Caid responded to Pax’s greeting with a wave, and continued down the hall to his office. He had no patience to listen to her excuses this morning, or the ass-chewing he imagined was coming from hanging up on her last night.

He sat down at his computer and was just beginning to check e-mails when his phone rang.

“King.”

“We got him.”

Caid straightened in his seat. “Got who?”

“The Runner, or at least one of his facilities.”

“Send me the address and notify the team. I’m on my way.” Caid grabbed his vest and headed out the door.

“You heard?” Pax asked as he pressed the elevator button.

“Yeah.”

“Hold up I’m riding with you!” Jameson called and ran for the elevator.

“Like hell you are,” Caid said angrily and stepped into the elevator when the doors opened.

“Play nice,” Pax instructed.

“Fine, but he can take his own fucking car.”

“So Britt said she ran into you this morning,” Jameson said as soon as the elevator started moving. Caid pinched the bridge of his nose. When was he going to wake up from this fucking nightmare?

He didn’t say anything and continued to stare at the doors as the elevator continued its climb down.

“Listen, maybe next time you could treat my wife with a little more respect.”

Caid had enough. He slammed Jameson into the wall of the elevator and got so close to his face, he could see the way the coward’s pupils dilated.

“Listen, you fucking moron. She was my fiancé before she was your wife. Or have you forgotten you fucked her in my bed while we were still engaged? You and Brittany need to back the fuck up and keep your distance, because I don’t have the time or patience to deal with either of you.”

The doors opened, and at the gasps of the onlookers, Caid released him. Nearly everyone in the building knew what had happened, and Jameson certainly deserved it and a lot more. Still, Caid didn’t want to be the center of the conversation anymore. He was tired of ducking consoling conversations and sad looks.

He headed for the parking garage and got into his vehicle to meet his team. Once he was behind the wheel, he took a deep breath and then put the car in gear. He’d be damned if Jameson made him late to his own bust.

Caid parked behind the SWAT vehicle already in place, and strapped his vest on.

“We ready?” he asked the team waiting for him.

“Yes sir, just waiting on you.”

“All right, let’s do this.”

* * *

The timer went off on Jemma’s oven, and she looked up at the clock. She had been reading for nearly three hours, and now her stomach grumbled telling her it was time for lunch. She pulled the fridge door open, and lifted one of the salads she had prepped for the week.

Doing her weekly meal prep let her make one trip to the store a week, which helped to keep her anxiety level low. Her apartment was her safe place, but also the staging area in the event of an attack. She stored backup food and weapons, and memorized the building’s layout, which made her confident that as long as she kept her wits about her she would be able to escape.

The routine allowed her to feel some sort of normalcy, even though her life had been anything but ever since she had escaped. Then again, she supposed her life had never been normal.

Jemma walked to the window and looked down at the bustling street. People were coming and going, each wrapped up in their own lives. A family walked below her, and her heart yearned. There had been a time when she had dreamed she would get to have a family of her own. Get to raise her kids and love a man who loved her in return. But like the rest of her childhood, that dream went up in smoke.

After she finished eating, she slipped into her black leggings and hoodie, grabbed her duffel, and headed out the door. Fresh air filled her lungs, and she breathed it in deeply. There was a time when she wasn’t even allowed to venture outside. It had been months before she was allowed to breathe anything but the stifling air inside her father’s estate. Her windows had all been sealed, and she had been confined to her room.

How many times had she been punished and stuck in the dark for days at a time? She shut her eyes. She wasn’t there anymore, but the claustrophobia had stuck with her.

She walked a few blocks before climbing into a cab. She never got into one anywhere near her apartment building. She told him the address of her destination, and then looked out of the window as he pulled away from the curb.

Jemma was headed for her weekly trip to the gun range. There were three within driving distance of her, and she alternated which ones she attended. Something about putting rounds into a paper target was immensely satisfying. It burned off nearly as much stress as the boxing did.

When the cab pulled up in front of the brick building, Jemma paid him and stepped out onto the street. She was giddy with excitement -- excited to feel the now familiar weight of the firearm in her hands.

It had taken her a while to get cleared to attend the range. They were stringent on their policies and who they let in. She had managed to get her hands on a complete new identity, and once that had been established, she sweat bullets -- pun intended -- as she awaited the background check the range ran on her.

A lot of cops frequented this range, and it made her feel both comfortable and incredibly nervous at the same time. It was a fine line she walked between being innocent and a criminal.

She put on her ear protection and slipped her safety glasses on before walking to the lane she had been assigned. Once she stood behind the counter, she put her target up and sent it back. Then she loaded a magazine and slipped it into the bottom of the gun in a routine that had become second nature to her. When she pulled the trigger and saw the first round meet its target, she smiled and let herself get lost in the strange peace and comfort it brought her.