I can’t go to Toronto without trying to work things out with Georgia. I hate the way she stomped out. But I also hate that I pushed her to that point when I’d promised to stop pushing.

I force myself to give her an hour to calm down some before I head over to her place, but the minutes drag by and the waiting is making me stir crazy. Ten minutes after she leaves, I call Grant. Because I’m second- and third-guessing myself on this.

“Heath, what’s up?”

“I need to talk. Have you got a few minutes?”

“Georgia trouble?”

“Do I have any other kind?”

“Not anymore, it seems. What happened?”

“We had a fight She stormed out ten minutes ago, and it’s killing me to give her the space she needs. She pissed off a cop and she’s out there, alone. I’m worried about her safety. The thing is, it was my concern over her safety that caused the fight in the first place. What if something happens?”

“What does your gut say?”

“Get the fuck over to her apartment.”

“Then why are you on the phone with—”

I disconnect the call and haul ass out the door.

On the way, I buy some flowers. Corny, but rarely a mistake.

I nod to Jeff at the security desk as I enter the building, and he nods back. I press the button to call the elevator, but something doesn’t feel right. I bust through the door to the stairs and take the steps two at a time at a dead run.

I knock on Georgia’s apartment door and wait a minute. Fuck it. I pull out my key and let myself in. I’ll beg her forgiveness later if there’s nothing wrong.

Her bound and bloody body is the first thing I see when I walk through the door and I feel sick.

Dropping the flowers, I rush over to her and the only relief I feel is that I can see her breathing. Shallow, but breathing.

I dial 9-1-1 for an ambulance as I pull the tape off her mouth. I’m afraid I’m not very gentle. I just want her to be able to breathe.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how I’m going to make this up to you, but I will. I promise. And you know I’m always good for a promise.”

She moans and starts to move.

“Stay still. I know you hurt, but I need you to stay still until the paramedics arrive.

I call down to the security desk. “Jeff, I’ve got an ambulance on its way. Georgia has been attacked.”

“What? That can’t be. The only person to go up, besides you, was the detective who wanted to talk to her about the break-in.”

“When was he here?”

“He left about fifteen minutes before you got here.”

“If you see him again, you call me immediately, and don’t let him in the building. Tell him you’ve been told he needs a warrant—that ought to slow him down.”

“He hurt Ms. Black?”

“I’m pretty sure it was him. Make sure you save all the security footage from the last two days to be safe. The police are probably going to want it. I need to make some calls and deal with Georgia. Ambulance should be here soon.”

“I’ll keep the elevator down here until they arrive.”

“Thanks.”

I’m not usually one to ask a favor of a friend, but for Georgia I make an exception and call Alasdair.

By the third ring, I’m frantically trying to come up with an alternate plan.

“What’s up, Heath?”

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything, as long as it won’t brand me a traitor.”

“No time for jokes. I need you to find me some clean Queens cops who can be trusted to go after one of their own.”

“Consider it done. Text me the details and I’ll have them contact you.”

“Thanks, man.” I hear movement in the hall and look up to see the paramedics have arrived. I motion them in. “Gotta go. Ambulance is here.”

“I took the tape off her face and removed the cloth from her mouth so she could breathe,” I tell them, “but I have no idea the extent of her injuries, so I didn’t remove her restraints or the duct tape.”

I stand off to the side and watch the paramedics work on Georgia, answering their questions as best I can.

As soon as I get into my car and on the road behind the ambulance, I call my mom. As much as I don’t want to be the one to spring the news on her, I figure it’s better for her to tell George what’s happened.

“I need you and George to get to St. Mary’s. Georgia has been attacked, and she’s in bad shape.”

“Oh no. We’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

The drive to the hospital is interminable, and I spend it reviewing everything that happened today, and what I could and should have done differently to avoid this.

When I get to the ER, they won’t let me in to see Georgia. Family only. Ten minutes later, George and my mom come flying through the doors. My mom pulls me into her arms. “How is she? Where is she? Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. They’re saying family only.”

George heads out of the waiting room, presumably to find someone in charge. He’s back a couple minutes later with a doctor in tow.

“She’s sedated. She’s got a concussion, and a bruised kidney, which caused some internal bleeding, and some broken ribs, in addition to a number of relatively minor injuries. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but she’s remarkably lucky. We’re going to keep her in until she’s stable and we’re sure we’ve got the internal bleeding stopped.”

I go grab coffees and join my mom and George in the waiting room. “What did she do to get herself beat up like that?” George asks me.

“She rescued Katie Miller from her piece of shit husband.”

“What? How?”

“That’s her job. When women call the organization she works for, Georgia is one of the people who helps them get out and to a safe place. That’s why she wasn’t at the wedding. She was getting Katie to a safe place.”

“Oh my God, what a brave young woman she is,” my mom says with her hand over her heart.

“So, it was that shit-stain, Jim, who attacked my Georgie?”

Georgie? That’s new. And coming from her dad, I like it. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is. Things are in the works about getting him taken into custody.”

“How long have you known what she does?”

“A little over a week, I guess. But it wasn’t until I was at your place today and you were talking about Katie’s situation that I realized Georgia was going to be in that bastard’s crosshairs. Unfortunately, I went home with that knowledge and got heavy-handed with her. If I hadn’t…maybe we wouldn’t have had the fight, and she wouldn’t have gone to her apartment—”

My mom pats my shoulder. “And there is absolutely nothing you can do about what’s already happened. It’s what you do moving forward that counts.”

I nod in agreement, but I’m not convinced. I fucked up royally, and Georgia paid the price.