TOMMY

At least she didn't say no, said she'd come with me when I left. And she meant it. I know she did. But she wants to know her sister is alright before she does, I get that.

She's taking a shower now, and I can just barely make out the outline of her perfect curves through the steam covered shower door. Everything inside me is screaming to go join her. But I have something to do first. Something I should've done before now. Right after she told me Shade might be holding her sister prisoner.

So I somehow manage to peel my eyes from her, and step out into the hallway to make the call. It rings and rings, until I'm sure he won't even pick up.

"Where the hell are you, Tommy?" Shade says into the phone. "We have some talking to do."

"Yeah, we do," I say.

"I'm glad you're seeing sense again," he interrupts, completely misinterpreting my meaning, though as it turns out, I am finally seeing sense. Just not the kind he's thinking of.

"I want to know where you're holding Tara's sister," I say. "It's better that you just tell me."

"Who the fuck is Tara, and who is Tara's sister?" he snaps.

"You know who I'm talking about. Her sister is a pretty brunette with blue eyes that looks a lot like my mom. She was seen in your company at Christmas at the Nest, and she's been missing longer than that. I think you know where she is, and I want you to tell me."

"Still not ringing any bells," he says. "You know how many whores I got working for me?"

"No," I say though I'd like to find out. Up until last night when Crystal told me had an escort service in Vegas, I didn't think he had any whores working for him yet. But I need to keep this conversation on track. "Think harder, or you won't have any."

The silence that follows makes me think he hung up.

"Is that some kind of threat, Tommy?" he asks slowly.

"Yes," I say, since there's no point denying it. I'm dead anyway, if I can't be with Tara. Nothing means more to me than keeping the promises I made to her. I feel rotten to the core just thinking about betraying the MC, but even that pales in comparison to a life without Tara in it. Not just pales, disappears.

"I know things, Shade, lots of things, things that'll put you in jail for life. And there are plenty of people who'd love to hear me tell them the full story. So I'll ask you again, where is Tara's sister?"

"You wouldn't betray me, or the MC, you wouldn't dare."

But he doesn't sound very certain of that at all.

"Don't make me do it," I say, surprised at how much I actually mean it.

"You should've been put down too," he yells. "Years ago. Along with your whore mother."

"Tell me what I want to know and let me walk away in peace. This is a one time offer."

"Fuck you!"

"Alright, suit yourself," I say. "But Shade, if anything happens to anyone I care about, I'll kill you. And I'll do it slowly."

He knows I mean all of what I said, I can hear it in the gasp he's trying to hide, the silence that follows.

"If it means so much to you, I'll give you this girl you want to find," he says, a lot more complacently, though there's still an edge in his voice. "But I'll need a few days. Come back here, and we'll talk."

His initial anger at me has subsided, he's just trying to find a way to save the MC now. If I go back, I'll be walking into a bullet. But he doesn’t have to know that I know.

"Fine, I'll be back in a couple of days," I say. "I expect you to have Tara's sister ready for me."

"Yes, yes," he says, sighing in exasperation. "You and your women."

He's given me enough. There's a chance he is holding her somewhere and selling her, since he didn't deny it outright. He can't save the MC now, or himself. I already made my final decision while I watched Tara twirl around in front of the mirror admiring her new dress. She'll get her sister back, and I'll give her—give us—the life we both deserve.

* * *

Tara is breathtakingly gorgeous in her new dress. I don't even notice any other woman in this whole restaurant, but I see the guys checking Tara out very clearly. And I'm both pissed off that they're looking and proud that she's mine, that she chose me. Though on the whole, I have trouble thinking about anything other than taking her back to our room upstairs, and ripping that dress off her.

But she deserves more than that, she deserves romance, flowers, gifts, candle-lit dinners, afternoons spent with me just kissing her perfect body. Which is why I won't be getting her drunk and asking her to marry me in some cheap all-night wedding chapel in Vegas. She deserves a diamond ring, a wedding on an exotic beach, or in a beautiful medieval cathedral in the heart of Europe. She deserves to be treated like a princess, which is exactly what she already looks like. There won't be many people attending our wedding, but just the two of us will be enough.

"What?" she says, sliding a lock of her honey colored hair back behind her ear and blushing a soft pink. She did something with her hair, pulled it all into a side bun and hiding that stupid undercut. No, that's not right. She could be bald, and I still couldn't keep my eyes off her. I love even her undercut.

"What?" I echo.

"You've just been staring at me since we sat down at this table," she says softly. "Why?"

She's wrong. I've just been staring at her since she got out of the shower and put on the dress, did her hair and makeup. But it has gotten worse since we sat down at this candle-lit table in the dining room.

"Because you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," I say, and it sounds so cheesy, but it encapsulates what I feel pretty well. Doesn't do it justice, but it comes close. "No, what I mean is that you're the most gorgeous, classy, smart and kind person I've ever met."

That doesn't sound much better, so she's right to be frowning at me. I can do better. I can find the right words to describe why I can't stop looking at her, and thinking about her, and why I don’t ever want to stop doing either of those things. Or tell her how she makes me yearn to be a better man, the kind she deserves.

"Oh my God," she breathes more than says, her eyes suddenly growing very wide. She's looking right past me.

"What is it?" I ask, confused by her reaction.

"That's…that's Samantha."

She's out of her seat, rushing away from the table before I even turn fully. She's heading right for a brown-haired girl hanging on the arm of some puny businessman with glasses as they wait to be seated by the hostess. The girl doesn't notice Tara until she's right next to her, and then her face goes through so many emotions it's hard to tell what she's actually feeling. There's surprise, pain, happiness, fear, and that's just the ones I see before Tara wraps her arms around her, squeezing her tight. The businessman is still holding onto Samantha's arm, and there's only confusion on his face, nothing else.

I walk over, though I have no idea what I'll do. I told Tara luck always followed me to Vegas, but that was just a dumb line, yet somehow I was right.

"Tara, I can't believe this. Is it really you?" Samantha says, tears flowing from her eyes now. Tara nods enthusiastically, her whole body shaking, but at least she's not crying.

"I think our table is ready," the businessman says to Sam, eying me warily as I approach. When Sam sees me, she takes a step back, bumping into the hostess.

"Why don't you go sit at that table by yourself," I tell the businessman, and he lets go of Sam's arm like he's just gonna obey. But then his face settles on defiance. The idiot probably did a few lines of Coke before Sam was delivered to him, and it's making him brave now. But I'm not reluctant to start any kind of scene here.

"We have to go, Sam, right now," Tara is saying, pulling on her arm, but Sam won't budge. She's still looking at me warily, her eyes darting over the tattoos on my hands, and the ones on my neck, which the suit doesn't quite hide.

"It's OK, Sam, everything is gonna be OK now. Tommy's with me," Tara says, glancing back at me as though looking for support, or maybe for confirmation, like she's still not sure I'd actually do anything for her. I would. I would do absolutely anything for her. Even let her go, if that's what it takes. I'm not planning to, but I would.

"Yeah, let's go," I say, nodding at Tara and hoping she understands I really mean it.

Sam visibly relaxes as Tara wraps her arm around her and starts to lead her out of the dining room.

"Hey, I paid for the whole night," the business says, his voice shrill.

I glare at him. "We should let the girls talk. Go wait at your table. Or are we gonna have a problem?"

Most of the patrons are staring at the scene we're causing, but I don't think any of them are here tonight just to make sure Sam does her job. Though they might be. Any one of these well-dressed diners could actually be working for Shade. Though he probably has another way of keeping track of her. It doesn’t really matter, since I'm sure the FBI station can't be far from here. And we probably have some time, since, as far as I can see, no one's getting up to follow Sam and Tara.

The man shakes his head and walks away, and I join Tara and her sister by the door. We could be stopped at any time as we try to get out of this hotel, but I don't let any of that into my voice as I tell them to follow me.

It's time to roll the dice and see how much my insurance will actually buy. Shade might have given me Samantha, though that was doubtful, but he certainly won't just let me take her.

* * *

TARA

Tommy's nervous, I can tell by the firm set of his jaw, and the way his eyes are so dark I see absolutely nothing in them. He's also not saying much. But it will be fine, all will be OK now that we found Sam.

"You don't know how much I missed you," I say, hugging her again in the elevator as we're riding up to our room.

She's stiff in my arms, but she's leaning against me like my body's the only thing holding her upright.

"I missed you too," she says, her voice hollow. "I thought I'd never see you again."

It's a statement of pure fact, not a throwaway line, and the way she says it chills me to the bone. I don't know this silent, hollow-voiced Sam. Before, she was always talking, always smiling, always cracking jokes. Sarcastic ones mostly, but still. And now she's just leaning against me, stiff and shaking a little.

"Grab what you need and then we're going," Tommy says as he unlocks the hotel room door. He slings the duffel bag over his shoulder and grabs the smaller bag he packed his clothes in.

"We should change, don't you think?" I ask.

"No time, we can change in the car," he says picking up the shopping bag with my clothes too. "Is this all your stuff?"

I nod, even though all my makeup and other toiletries are still in the bathroom. And then he's preceding us back out of the room, renewed urgency in his step.

"Can we really trust him?" Sam whispers into my ear.

He's already at the elevators, but I know he heard her, and is pretending he didn't.

"Yes," I whisper back. "I'm positive."

She eyes him warily, and he's still ignoring her. I know he's doing it to make her feel more at ease, and I love him so much for it my heart's about to burst.

We don't stop at reception, just ride all the way down to the garage where our car is parked. He paid for the room in cash when we arrived, so no one stops us.

"Sam, how do you feel?" I ask, once we're finally on the road. She's gripping my hand so tight that hers is shaking, while staring out the window blankly, and her odd behavior is starting to scare me. I've never seen my sister act like this, not since we were very young, not since our father first started touching her too. And that realization is bringing all the darkness back faster than I can fight it.

She made her peace with all that, much better than I did, lived a full life after we were finally freed from it, and to see her get sucked back down into the depths of that depression by this horrible thing she must have been through, hurts me like someone just slashed my chest open.

Tommy keeps glancing at us in turn, then reaches into his pocket and hands me his phone.

"You said the FBI is looking for her?" he asks.

I have trouble thinking straight.

"Tara?" He says my name with such care, such concern, such compassion, that it rips through my fear like a ray of sunshine.

"Yes, they are," I answer.

"Find their address in Vegas, that's the safest place for you now."

I take the phone but don't turn it on. "They can't know she's gone yet, we can go home—"

"They know," he says. "If nothing else, that guy called them and asked for a refund."

Sam turns to us sharply, gripping my hand even tighter, her whole body shaking again.

"Just find the address," Tommy says. "I'll take care of it."

And the confidence is there in his voice, but it's not prevalent. And now I'm scared of losing them both, and I could never handle losing just one of them.

"Come on, Tara, you're strong, you got this," Tommy says, smiling at me, his face awash with the bright neon lights all around us. He kisses me after he says it, a soft whisper of warmth passing through my whole body, giving me the strength I need.

I find the address, and he takes us there.

"Go tell them who you are, insist you need protection," he says once we're standing by the entrance of the tall, dark FBI building that looks more menacing than any I've ever seen.

"You're not coming with us?" I ask, my voice breaking.

Sam's still clutching my hand, but that doesn't stop him from pulling me into a tight embrace, kissing me so urgently, so deeply, so hungrily that it feels like a goodbye forever kiss.

"Tara, I need to go and take care of this now, but I'll come get you as soon as I can," he says, but for the first time since I met him, I'm hearing an empty promise.

"Just stay with me now, come in with us." He's trying to move away from me and leave, but I’m clutching his waist so tightly he has no chance to.

"I can't, I need to take care of this," he says, firmly but not angrily. "Don't let them let you out of their sight. Call your father, he can use his connections to give you the protection you need."

I gasp at his suggestion, and Sam starts shaking harder. But Tommy's eyes never waver as he looks directly into mine.

"You can protect me," I say. "You're the only one who can do that."

His eyes lose the edge as he cups my cheeks and kisses me again, slower this time, more lasting, and I can feel all the love I have for him, that he has for me in that kiss. It fills me to the brink, any more and I'd burst apart.

"I have to do this now, or you'll never be safe," he says. "Just trust me. Don't make this so hard."

But letting him go is hard. It's the hardest thing I ever had to do. And I can't do it. I can't just let him walk away. I can't face never seeing him again.

"Please, Tara," he whispers. "It will be OK, and I'll be back soon, I promise."

He's yet to make me a promise he didn't keep. So I nod, and let go of his waist. But it feels like a huge chunk of flesh was just ripped right from my chest, as I watch him drive away, and I don't know how I'm even still alive, because I should be bleeding to death.

"Oh my God, Tara, you're crying," Sam gasps, sounding almost like her old self for the first time since I found her.

And she's right, hot tears are streaming down my cheeks, more following. I haven't cried in over twelve years, but now I can't stop. And I might never stop, not until Tommy comes back for me.