Daniel

With a low hum, the big steel door rolled up, allowing Daniel to drive the Agency’s specially equipped Lincoln Navigator out into the late afternoon sunshine. A sharp spike of pain went from his eyes to his brain, but he ignored it. A beeping sound came from the call box outside his window, signaling him to pull forward out of the private garage where the Agency parked their vehicles. As he eased his foot onto the gas, he fought with every bit of willpower he had not to take one look, just one quick glance, in the back seat.

Surrounded by cream leather, Hope was changing into her workout clothes. The body hinted at by her clothing was superb. He would only torment himself with what he couldn’t have if he looked.

Flipping on his turn signal, he prepared to merge into the late day flow of traffic out of the city. His eyes confirmed what the security cameras in the office had already shown him, the men in the dark grey sedan who had followed Hope to the office still sat near the opening to the public garage where she’d parked her car.

He debated sharing that news with her but decided to wait until they were at the safe house. Their entrance and exit from her house would be done with military precision, and he didn’t want her fear making her hesitant and clumsy. Thankfully, the dark windows of the SUV kept her out of sight in the back seat, and no one would look twice at a Chicano driving the expensive vehicle. They would probably assume he was another drug lord or gang leader living large and tempting the devil.

“Shit,” Hope said in a high pitched yelp from the backseat as they hit a pothole.

Without thinking, he turned around in his seat to check on her. He looked back around even faster, but the damage had been done. Now, burned into his memory forever, was the image of Hope, in her sports bra. She’d been rubbing the top of one breast, her rose pink nails a bright contrast against her cinnamon skin. Worse of all, her eyes met his behind his sunglasses and he could clearly see her embarrassment.

Damn, now he felt like some kind of perverted peeping Tom.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Fuck. Sorry, I didn’t mean to look. I thought you got hurt. Sorry.”

She gave a nervous giggle. “Uh, no. I accidentally poked myself with the pin on my shirt while taking it off.”

“Are you okay?”

Her voice came out muffled. “Yeah, I’m okay. What about you? Do you need to go say some Hail Marys?”

He laughed at the reference to the nuns who taught at their school. They encouraged the students to say the Hail Mary repeatedly anytime they had impure thoughts. “No, I’m good.”

A moment later she clambered into the front seat, giving him a flash of shapely thigh next to his face before she made it into her seat. Gone were the conservative business clothes and, in their place, she wore a pair of black yoga pants coupled with a green sleeveless t-shirt. Like all men of his generation, he had a deep and abiding love for whoever invented yoga pants.

However, they were totally not helping with his efforts to keep things casual between them. And his thoughts about what he’d like to do to her in those yoga pants were far from casual. The temptation to see if the pants hinted at the soft mound of her sex was going to get him in trouble.

Fuck, it. He had better self-control than this. It wasn’t like he’d been lacking in female company since he’d gotten out. She needed his mind on his job, not in her pants. Plus, he hadn’t forgotten her betrayal. Just the thought of her letter to him cooled any amorous feelings.

“Danny?” she said in a loud voice.

“Huh?” he mumbled then tried again. “What’s up?”

“I asked if you knew the way to the cemetery or if you needed directions.”

“No, I’m good. I have a buddy from the service who’s buried there. I go visit him from time to time.” Damn, he hadn’t meant to add that last part. Now would come all the questions about what it was like over there, if he’d ever killed anyone, if he’d ever seen his buddies blown to bits right in front of his eyes by a suicide bomber.

He kept waiting for her to start, to look at him no longer like a person but like someone there to entertain them with stories of being in the sandbox. Instead, she leaned over and put on an oldies station, humming along to the Temptations. “Your buddy’s in good company. Some very famous and infamous people are buried there.”

“Really?” The relief in his voice sounded blatant in his ears, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Like who?”

The afternoon sunlight caressed her skin, adding shadows to the delicate bone structure like a statue of some ancient goddess. “Well, you’ve got David Ruffin from the Temptations. He’s there along with Levi Stubbs from the Four Tops and Billy Henderson from the Spinners.” They came to a light and Hope leaned forward to look out the windshield. “Looks like some rain might be on the way.”

“Typical Michigan weather. Don’t like it? Wait five minutes and it’ll change.” He wanted to reach out and run his hand down the exposed skin of her arm, to kiss the small lines of her inner wrist. That settled it. First thing he would do when they reached the safe house was have a long, cold shower and a heart to heart with his stupid cock about being attracted to the wrong woman. Sure, right now she seemed cool and being around her was a pleasure, but when the going got tough she’d bailed on him.

“So, who else is buried there?”

She leaned back into her seat and drummed her fingers on the side of the door. “You’ve got all the big automobile guys, the Fords, the Dodges, mayors and sinners, the good and the bad all buried next to each other. Rosa Parks has a beautiful mausoleum on the other side of the cemetery. ”

They rode in silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts. Soon, they approached the entrance to the cemetery and he pulled into the turn lane, scanning traffic for an opening. Two cement monuments separated the entrance of the graveyard from the busy street and the big cemetery itself sprawled beyond the as far as the eye could see.

Hope tapped the dashboard. “Go straight, then follow the first curve to the left past the marble mausoleum with the two sphinxes out front.”

He did as she asked and slowly rolled through the burial grounds, taking in all of the graves. “I still don’t see how you could live with this in your backyard.”

She shrugged. “I actually go for walks here. No one ever bothers me and I don’t bother the dead. They have more important things to attend to than some woman out for a stroll. Besides, in the Victorian era it was quite common for families to actually take picnics in the local cemetery. That’s why old ones like this could be mistaken for a park if you looked past all the grave stones.”

He slowly took the turn she’d indicated, following the paved road deeper into the cemetery. The section they were in now must be an old one. Instead of the flush with the ground grave markers that cemeteries insisted people use now stood the large, above ground stone slabs and monuments. Some gravestones were so old the words etched into their surface had washed away to nothing more than slight depressions in a smooth exterior.

He slowed down as they entered the section of the cemetery containing block after block of elaborate mausoleums. Because of the age of the cemetery, all of the trees were fully grown, shading the lawn beneath and creating a park-like atmosphere just as Hope had said. “It’s almost like back here is the elite neighborhood of the rich and famous. At the front, you have the poor folk who could only afford a small head marker, then the more elaborate tombs with statues, and now you have actual mansions.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

She sat up and pointed through the windshield. “Park underneath that tree with the marble bench next to it,” she said with a slight quiver in her voice.

He pulled the SUV beneath the curved branches of a large elm and turned off the engine, cursing himself for not paying more attention to her moods than to her body. She hadn’t been tapping out the beat to the song and making small talk because she was bored, it was because she was nervous and scared. He really needed to get his head in the fucking game and do what he’d told her he would do, look at her as nothing more than a client.

Still, he couldn’t resist the urge to try to reassure her. It was something he’d do for any friend, not just her. He reached across the seat and took both of her hands in his. “Are you ready for this? If you don’t think you can deal I’ll go in and get what you want while you drive around the cemetery.”

She shook her head. “No, you’ll never get past my guard cat alone.” Her small fingers curled into his and, what had been a gesture to give her some comfort, turned into more. Her touch resonated through him like the ringing of bells, threatening the walls around both his past and his heart. A minute tremble went through her and he tried to calm her nerves, to get her mind off the present situation and onto something that wouldn’t throw her into a panic attack.

“You have a guard cat?”

The low rumble of a car’s engine approached and he quickly scanned the occupants in his side mirror. Hope’s grip on his hands became tighter and tighter as the vehicle drew near. He should make her let go of his hands so he would be free to react, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be here for her, to be her rock and her shield. The huge car pulled past them and the height of the SUV made it easy to see the driver of the Caddy was a man old enough to have personally known Moses. Hope let out a sigh of relief and her death grip on his hand eased.

“How’re you holding up?”

“Great,” she said with a squeak in her voice and grimace. “Well, maybe not great, but I’m not going to wuss out on you. I can do this. I won’t be a problem.”

Unsure of how to reassure her, he went with what he’d yell at the female Marines in his company if they had the jitters. “You damn right you won’t be a problem; you’re gonna be an asset. You are a beautiful, badass black woman who is going to put a bullet through the skull of any motherfucker stupid enough to take you on.” She gave him a disbelieving look and he shook his head. “Say it with me: I’m motherfucking, badass bitch.”

She stared at him. “What kind of messed up pep talk is that?”

“The one I used with my female Marines.” He chuckled and squeezed her hands. “I want you to say it and believe it.”

She flushed and looked at the dashboard. “I’m a badass.”

“Oh, please. That was fucking pathetic. Where is the Hope who ripped Latisha’s wig off and slapped her in the face with it during Calculus?” He mentally berated himself for bringing up the past when he’d warned her not to, but not talking about their mutual experiences was harder than he thought. Besides, what he’d said had its intended effect. Her shoulders straightened and some steel came back into her spine.

Her gaze shot to him and mortification mixed with laughter danced across her beautiful face. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do. It was epic. Now, stop stalling and say it right.”

Her lungs expanded, pressing the mounds of her breasts against the tight front of her shirt. “I’m a badass, motherfucking bitch.”

The words came out in a mumble, but at least she’d said them. He kept his tone calm and steady. “And what are you going to do to anyone stupid enough to try and take you down?”

“I’m...I’m going to put a bullet in their head.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and said in a louder voice. “I’m going to put a bullet into their motherfucking, wife-beating, murdering head.”

“Damn straight.”

She grinned and released her grip. “We’d better get going.”

“Roger that.”

She reached for the door handle, and he put his hand on her shoulder, trying to ignore how warm and delicate she felt. “From here on out I’ll open the doors for you.”

“I’m perfectly capable of opening my own doors.”

“I know you are, but I have to scout the area first to make sure it’s safe to come out.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze. “Well, as long as it’s not some misguided notion that women can’t open their own doors...”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze before reluctantly removing his hand. “Perish the thought.”

Her smile faded as he reached into the backseat and grabbed a light black jacket and his shoulder holster. After making sure they weren’t being watched, he slipped on the holster and checked his weapons.

She cleared her throat. “You don’t think anyone is really out there, do you? I mean I’ve been staying at my house for the past week without any problems.”

“For the last week you’ve had ‘round-the-clock police protection with a cruiser always parked out front and an officer in the house.” He slipped the lightweight jacket on, not enough to totally conceal the weapons but enough to keep the neighbors from freaking out that an armed man was running around in a cemetery with a woman in yoga pants.

“Oh yeah,” she said in a soft voice.

“And, despite my company’s protests, you’ve decided to use yourself as bait. The police cars are gone now, and I wouldn’t be surprised if DeLuca hasn’t already tested it out by sending you a flower delivery or a package. The only thing on our side right now is that DeLuca still thinks you’re in my office building, but that won’t last too much longer.”

She startled. “Why would they think I’m in your office building? What are you talking about?”

He reached down to check the knife sheathed to his calf. “Remember how we asked you to circle the building four times before pulling into the garage? To pretend you were looking for a street parking spot?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we have surveillance cameras set up around the perimeter of the building. We watched you arrive, and we watched a sedan with three beefy looking guys in it who practically screamed ‘hired muscle’ tail you.”

“Crap.”

“Pretty much. Now, we gotta get moving. Once we’re out of the car I want you silent. If you have to tell me something tap me on the shoulder twice.”

Her gaze darted around the car and she began to shift in her seat, trying to see out the back window. “Did they follow us here?”

“No. Milton is keeping an eye on them and will text me the moment they move. Just keep in mind the guys we see aren’t the ones I’m worried about. It’s the ones that we don’t see that are the danger.”

“Okay, got it.” She clenched her hands into fists and jerked her chin at the door. “Let’s go.”

He wanted to pull her into his arms, to kiss her until the fear left her eyes, but that wasn’t something friends did. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Danny opened the door before she could respond and stepped out into the late afternoon heat. The muggy air held the promise of later thunderstorms mixed with the rich scent of freshly cut grass. He couldn’t see much through the thick canopy of trees overhead but hoped if there were storms coming, they would hold off a bit. He estimated ten rows of gravestones stood between them and the back of the graveyard and hoped the section leading to her backyard was a chain link fence and not a six-foot wooden privacy fence.

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, and he opened the door for Hope. She slid out and swallowed nervously before tapping him twice on the shoulder.

He nodded and she said in a low voice, “My house is straight back, the one with the purple and gold flowers growing along the fence and the pale blue back door.”

“Do you have your key ready?”

She nodded and opened her palm to reveal a single silver key. “I took it off the ring so it wouldn’t make a lot of noise.”

“Smart girl.”

She smiled at him and tilted her head in the direction of her house. “Let me go in first so I can take care of Slasher.”

He raised his eyebrows but, before he could ask her why the hell she named her cat Slasher, she’d already taken off in the direction of her house. They made their way quickly through the tombstones, passing concrete angels, marble urns, and stone monuments to people who had passed on long ago.

In what seemed like only a few seconds they’d reached the back of the fence on her small lot. Her modest two-story red brick home seemed well cared for and the grass was a deep emerald green. Orange and yellow marigolds occupied small garden beds on either side of a sunroom extending off the rear of the house. None of the flower beds beneath the windows appeared to have been trampled and, as far as he could tell, the backdoor seemed intact.

A small shed helped to conceal them from the street. Her neighbors on either side had a privacy fence that would provide decent cover. He jumped the railing with as little clatter as possible and held his hand up, signaling her to wait. Once he deemed the area clear, they made their way to the back porch where she inserted her key into the lock and slowly turned it.

Almost immediately a low, hissing growl came from the other side of the door.

“What the hell do you have in there, a lion?” he asked in a low voice.

She pushed the door open and dropped into a crouch, catching a black and white streaking ball of hissing fur before hustling into the house. He followed suit and closed the door behind them. They stood in a small, clean kitchen done primarily in white with shades of grey and blue.

“It’s okay,” she said as she struggled to hold back a very large, very ugly, one-eared black and white cat with icy green eyes. Small patches of pink skin showed through his fur here and there. Daniel would have thought the beast had mange, but the skin had the shiny quality of old scar tissue. “Slasher wouldn’t let any man into the house.” The cat emitted an eerie hiss that would have been more appropriate coming from a pissed off giant snake.

Ignoring his stare she quickly jabbed a code into the keypad by the door. “Nothing has tripped my alarm. It will beep and record any windows or doors opening. It also has motion detectors so I’m pretty sure we’re okay.”

“Pretty fancy alarm system.”

She flushed and kissed the top of Slasher’s head. “What can I say? My Dad is a bit over protective.”

The mention of her dad made his jaw clench. As soon as they were someplace safe he had some questions for Hope about her father. Namely, why he’d hired Daniel when he knew the old man hated his guts. To Hope’s dad, he’d never been good enough for his daughter. Why would a man who despised him choose Daniel out of all the bodyguards in Detroit?

Hope shifted the cat to her other arm as the ugly beast began to purr. “Where the hell did you get that thing?”

She ignored him and kissed the cat between what should have been his ears. The left one had been sheared off to a nub and the right had a big notch taken out of it. “See the blue and white container with the paw prints on the counter? Open it up and give one of them to Slasher.”

The container sat on the pristine slate counter between a rustic breadbox and a large bowl filled with oranges. After working the seal on the lid open he stared at the contents. “Beef jerky?”

Behind him the cat made a horrible screeching sound and Hope laughed. “Venison jerky, my neighbor makes a ton for Slasher every hunting season. Better get one out quick.”

He did as she asked, taking one of the pieces of jerky out and wondering if humans could eat it because it smelled delicious. Slasher continued to make these noises that reminded Daniel of the time they had to move a wounded camel out of the main road of the village his garrison occupied.

As he went to hand it to Hope, she shook her head. “You give it to him.” She laughed again at his weary look and shifted as Slasher tried to squirm his way out of her arms.

Holding the meat by the very tips of his fingers he held it out to the hell beast and almost dropped it when the cat let out what could only be described as a victory howl. He leapt out of her arms and snagged the jerky mid-air in a feat of aerial acrobatics that left Daniel gaping.

“There, now you boys are friends. Next to the fridge is his carrier, can you grab it for me?”

“We are not taking the cat with us.”

The line between her brows deepened and she squared off, facing him with her hands on her hips. “Oh, yes, we are. I’m not leaving my cat here to die. What if they break in and can’t find me, and Slasher attacks? They’ll kill him for sure.”

“Can’t he stay with a friend or family member?”

“No, he doesn’t trust anyone but me. He was brutally abused and left for dead when I found him lying on the side of the road four years ago. Besides, he’s a therapy cat and comes to work with me. If I don’t show up with him you’re going to have some very sad kids on your hands when I go in.”

He rubbed his face to hide his smile. She’d always wanted to be a pediatrician and it sounded like she was a good one. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he frowned when he saw how much time it had taken them to get here. “Hope, we have to get moving.”

She lifted her chin and he inwardly groaned as the thin line became more pronounced between her eyebrows. “Exactly. So, I suggest you go get the cat carrier. Bring it back here and place some jerky in there. Slasher will eat himself into a coma and pass out. He travels a lot in there so don’t worry about him being uncomfortable.”

He closed his eyes and prayed for patience. “Hope...”

Her voice came from deeper in the house. “Like you said, we don’t have time for this. Just take him out back.”

Frustrated, he pushed his sunglasses up on his head and quickly did as she asked. Sure enough, as soon as he threw some jerky in the carrier Slasher darted past him with a low growl and a token swipe.

He fastened the door and the cat inside gave a low, garbled meow. “You better not choke on any of those. I’d do pretty much anything for your owner, but I draw the line at giving a cat CPR.”

After depositing the cat carrier outside behind her shed near the fence he locked the door and thumped his head against the doorframe.

This was not going as planned at all.

Right now, they should be leaving her house with a bag of essentials and him guarding her every move. Instead, he’d been relegated to cat duty like some new Boot. And, if that cat crapped himself in his carrier, Daniel would be damned if he was going to be the one giving him a bath.

He returned to the house and took a moment to look around the kitchen, eager for this small glimpse into Hope’s life. With her salary, he was surprised she didn’t live in a more upscale neighborhood, but all of the stainless steel appliances in the kitchen were new. The slate countertops probably cost more than his old truck.

One nice thing about old brick houses like this was they were well-insulated. While none of the outside noise penetrated the thick walls, he could hear the occasional creak of the floor upstairs as Hope moved around. He headed out of the kitchen in the direction she’d gone. A small dining room spilled out into an open living room that looked out on the front street. He made sure to duck down and stay in the shadows as he passed the wide bay window in the living room. Sheer white curtains partially obstructed the view, but when Hope walked through here she probably didn’t think to stay out of sight.

Using the edge of window frame as cover he carefully examined every inch of street he could see. The bright sunlight hurt his eyes even with sunglasses on, but he endured the discomfort. A few houses down, a neighbor set up her sprinkler in her small yard, and a teenager talking on her bright pink cell phone passed the front of the house, but that was about it. He wished he could see the front porch to check for any deliveries but that would certainly alert anyone watching the house that someone was here.

The dark cream carpet of the living room muffled his steps and he managed to make it up the stairs without any major creaks of the old wood beneath. At the top of the stairs leading to the second level, he paused to take a look at the framed pictures on the wall in front of him. He knew he shouldn’t be wasting any time, but he couldn’t pass up what might be his only chance to find out more about what Hope had done over these last few years.

The scent of what he could only describe as an old house hung in the air. It wasn’t a bad smell and it reminded him kind of a church in a weird way with the lingering essence of lemon oil coming from the old wood floors. The pictures appeared to be hung in no particular pattern or order, just a random assortment of Hope and her family. A picture of young Hope and her mother fishing together, Hope and her father posing at a waterfall, then next to that an image of Hope at her high school graduation. He examined a picture of Hope’s mother looking far too thin with a bright scarf wrapped around her head. He moved closer and noticed that her eyebrows were missing over her sunken eyes, a sure sign of some kind of chemo. A quick scan of the wall revealed this was the last picture of Hope’s mother and his heart ached for her.

His own mother died a few years ago of an overdose that everyone had known was coming. It hurt, but they hadn’t spoken since he’d been sent to live with his grandfather so, in a way, she’d already been gone from his life. He couldn’t imagine the pain Hope went through, and he wished he’d been there for her during what must have been a terrible time.

Something thumped to the floor down the hall followed quickly by Hope swearing loud enough he knew she wasn’t hurt. He moved past the other pictures then stopped at what must have been her senior portrait. She looked as beautiful as ever, except for the twisted scar that snaked up from the edge of the collar of her shirt, bright pink, freshly healed skin against her naturally dark tone.

He stepped closer, his stomach clenching as he examined the small portion of her neck and upper chest visible in the picture. Memories he’d kept firmly locked away burst through the mental cage he’d put around them, flooding his mind with things he’d have happily sold his soul to forget. His gaze fastened on her scar and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

His heart began to race, and he flashed on the nauseating smell of beer and rot from smoking too much meth on John’s breath, his mom’s boyfriend/drug dealer. Then, the phantom smell of blood overwhelmed him followed by images of Hope’s blood covering his hands mixing with the memories of the blood of the friends lost in combat over in Afghanistan. Pushing back those recollections, he looked around for something to distract him, but his mind stayed locked on the steel blade of the knife parting Hope’s dark skin.

The more he stared at the picture, the more he began to see the ghostly image of John holding the knife to Hope’s neck, his dry, cracked lips peeling back from his rotting teeth as he dared Daniel to come one step closer. The tip of that knife pressing into the perfect, smooth skin of her neck and calling forth one ruby-red drop of her precious blood mixing with Daniel’s already coating the blade. He could hear his mother’s whimpers as she begged for Daniel not to hurt John. She didn’t plead for her son’s life, nor for John to let the young girl go. She only begged her son not to damage her drug source.

Then came more phantom sounds from the past, his mother’s screams as they put John’s lifeless body onto the stretcher, the shouts of the cops as they tried to figure out what was going on and, worst of all, Hope’s pain filled moan as he held a towel against her chest and tried to stop the blood. He’d failed to protect her and she’d suffered for it.

And the whole time, his mother screamed that it was Daniel’s fault, always Daniel’s fault.

A harsh shudder wracked his body as he stumbled away from the picture, the railing of the stairs digging into his buttocks. Thankfully, he didn’t tumble down the stairs. Instead, he clung to the railing and pulled in deep breaths, forcing himself to smell and taste the faint lemon scent of the air in the hallway and banish the phantom scent of blood. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably less than a minute, he’d broken free of the memories enough to continue up the stairs.

Shit, he should call Milton as soon as they were safe and have someone else assigned to this detail. He wasn’t operating at a hundred percent and Hope’s life was at stake. He wouldn’t fail her again.

He kept his gaze off the photos and looked instead through the open doorway to his right. The small room must have been a guest bedroom at one time. Now, it was clearly Slasher’s domain. An enormous cat tower occupied the space in front of the window and various balls, toys, and an astounding variety of fake mice littered the floor. There were even framed pictures of Slasher in all his hideous glory on the wall. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was just so...Hope.

A quick glance through the bedroom window showed the neighbor’s empty driveway and a portion of the street. Still nothing out of the ordinary, but he couldn’t help feeling their time was running out. That instinct had saved his ass a few times overseas; he listened to it now and moved off in search of Hope.

A muffled noise came from somewhere on the other side of the upstairs portion of the house. He moved down the hallway, pausing before a partially opened door. A small amount of fading light came through the narrow slit in a pair of white brocade curtains, illuminating a feminine bedroom. Dark wood furniture complimented the pale purple walls, and a few items of clothing were strewn about on the floor. Hope sat on what he assumed was her bed, holding a lilac and white pillow in her arms while she muffled her tears in its fabric. She looked so helpless, so alone. Daniel found himself leaning over her before he was aware of making the decision to move.

The bed sagged beneath his weight as he sat on the edge and hesitantly patted her back. “Are you okay?”

Her cries abruptly cut off as her response came muffled through the pillow. “Fine. Go away.”

“Sorry, baby, can’t do that. When we get someplace safe you can curse me out all you like, but right now we have to leave.” He looked down the bed at a large navy blue duffle bag stuffed to the point that a pair of lacy cream panties hung out the side pocket. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes.” She peeked at him over the edge of the pillow and took a watery breath. “I forgive you.”

“For what?”

“I forgive you for the terrible things you said in that letter. I forgive you for leaving me.”

Anger began to prick at his skin, fueled by hurt. How dare she make him feel like their separation had been his fault? “You forgive me? What the fuck are you talking about?”

She scooted away from him and matched his angry glare with one of her own. “Yes, I forgive you for being too cowardly to say to my face what you said in that letter. I forgive you for not coming to see me in the hospital when I called for you.”

A murky understanding began to dawn and he felt sick. “Wait...just wait a second.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, her body practically vibrating with emotion. “You wanted to see me in the hospital?”

“Yes!” she yelled and flung a decorative pillow at him. “I waited and waited for you, but you never came. All I got was some bullshit letter you left at my house while I was in surgery.” She grabbed another pillow and threw it as his head. “So yes, I forgive you for being such a huge asshole!”

The world spun wildly and he sucked in a deep breath of air, chasing away the spots that hovered on the edges of his vision. “Hope, I tried to see you. The moment I got out of jail, I tried to find out where you were, what hospital they took you to. I tried calling your house, but your father wouldn’t tell me where you were. Then, they shipped me off to North Carolina to my grandparents and I couldn’t do shit. You had your phone number changed!”

Her shoulders sagged and she suddenly seemed smaller, more fragile. “But...but, he said you didn’t want to see me, that you blamed me for everything that happened. I tried to contact CPS. They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Regret left a bitter taste in his mouth, making his words drop from his lips like ashes. “I never blamed you, Hope. Ever. It was and always will be my fault. I’m the reason you got hurt. I’m the reason you ended up in the hospital, and I’ll never forget it. Besides, in the letter you sent me, you told me you never wanted to see me again.”

All the color drained from her face and his heart ached for the wounded look in her eyes. “I never wrote a letter that said that, ever.”

“That motherfucker.” He clenched his teeth and wished he could take those words back when she flinched.

They stared at each other, and he knew the moment she connected all the dots pointing to her father. Color filled her cheeks but, before she could say anything, a high pitched beeping filled the air. Men’s voices came from downstairs and, a second later, the beeping stopped.