BELL

Hours. That was it. I was taken for only hours. Barely a quarter of a day, most of which I spent drooling on myself and unconscious to everything. Hours, yet I felt as if it changed my entire life.

I laid in the hospital bed, the room crowded with a constantly-changing mix of family and friends, and fought back tears. I smiled, I listened to their stories and prayers—but I only wanted him. I wanted him next to me in this skinny bed. I clutched his hand, drawn to the warmth of his skin, and wondered when he would have to leave.

The Dario I knew before had constantly worked. His phone had buzzed every few minutes, our time together stolen between meetings and calls, the twilight hours our only uninterrupted stretches. Now, I didn’t even see his cell on him. He sat next to my bed, cradling my hand, and gave me his full focus. He brought me steak from S&L and chocolate chip cookies and milk from Patrizas. He noticed my shiver and hunted down, and then tucked a heated blanket around me. When my energy drooped, he ordered everyone out of the room, turned off the overhead light, and ran his hands through my hair until I fell asleep.

His full attention was temporary, I knew that. He had eight hotels to run, four casinos to control. Right now, crews were probably going wild without their captain. Soon, those lines etched in his brow would involve room rates and expense reports, turn figures and profitability … and not just my health.

I took a deep breath, trying once again to not think about where I was and how I got here. “They need to let me out.” I kicked my good leg free of the covers and growled in frustration. “My leg is fine.” I had the brief memory of the woman, her foot hovering in the air above the knife. I flipped my gaze to Dario.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “You’ve got thirty-two stitches. Let’s just give it another night.”

It wasn’t just the stitches. I knew that. He liked having me here, liked being able to see my heart rate and oxygen level with one easy glance. He touched me, frequently, as if to reassure himself that I was really here, and he drilled every doctor and nurse who stepped in the room as if they were on trial.

“This is a safe place. The best suite in the hospital. Be patient and let me pamper you.”

Pamper wasn’t the word I’d use. Everything had been a blur. I vaguely recalled a visit from the hospital president promising me whatever we needed. I wanted out. I wanted Dario. I wanted the nightmare of her sadistic face erased from my head.

“Until you feel up to house-hunting, I’ve had the staff at Vinente prepare the Presidential suite. It’s four bedrooms, with a roof-top pool, and plenty of room to avoid me if I drive you—”

“That’s fine.” I carefully curled onto my side, facing him. “Anything is fine.”

I didn’t want to go back home. As much as I loved Meredith and the girls, as many memories as I had in that house, I was ready to leave. I needed some tranquility, and I needed him. I didn’t care where we were, as long as we were together. Life was too precious to us right now. Too many deaths. Too much heartbreak. Too many lies and villainous acts. I wanted quiet and I wanted some space to grieve, because it would take a long time to work through what we’ve experienced. But with him, I knew I could—we could—heal.

He pulled my hand free of the blanket, cradling it between his palms before he brought it to his mouth and softly kissed the underside of my wrist.

“Can we go now? I got big plans for this bandage.” I gestured to my leg, which seemed twice its normal diameter, given the generous swatch of bandages that circled it.

He chuckled and tugged gently on the end of my hair, which could use a thirty minute shower and half a bottle of shampoo. “Soon. Tomorrow.”

I took the news with a nod, sinking back into the pillows. From the end of the room, the muted television screen caught my eye and I pointed, getting his attention. “Look. Turn this up.”

On the screen was an aerial view of the warehouse, a cluster of equipment surrounding the charred infrastructure. And in the midst of the shot, the overhead camera flying low over the destroyed roofline, I saw the open trapdoor, surrounded by rubble, the view mostly obscured by the night. An FBI agent crouched by the entrance to the door, bending down into it. I sat further up in the bed, trying to get a better look. Dario found the remote and turned up the volume.

“The hidden compartment was discovered the next morning, the entrance door swelled shut due to the excessive heat of the fire. Incredibly enough, none of the interior was damaged by the fire. According to reports, this underground vault was actually fireproof, and designed as a safe room, for circumstances such as this one. While we haven’t received confirmation, we believe that Janie Bostic, the twenty-three-year-old woman found inside this safe room, is one of Robert Hawk’s victims. How or why she was protected in this horrific explosion? We hope to find out answers to that question soon. We do have confirmation that the woman was unharmed in the explosions and only being treated for minor injuries.”

The woman took a dramatic pause, staring grimly into the camera while a mugshot appeared over her left shoulder. “An arrest has been made in the kidnapping of Bell Hartley. Claudia Vorherz allegedly posed as a real estate agent before drugging Hartley and taking her to Robert Hawk’s warehouse. Interestingly enough, Claudia was one of the women originally believed to be one of Hawk’s victims. We are waiting for an official statement from the FBI on the connection between her and Robert Hawk.”

Dario glanced at me. “Talk about a clusterfuck. They don’t know their asses from their elbows.”

“They aren’t too far off.” It was a complicated mess of affairs we ourselves barely understood. Laurent had followed Claudia from the blaze and, after dragging her back to the FBI, had shown them the small pipe he’d watched Claudia visit during her escape. Forensic mapping of that air vent had led to the discovery of the safe room, and the woman inside.

I watched as the camera zoomed in on the front of the box. “This is exclusive footage, shot earlier, of rescue workers pulling Janie Bostic out of the eight-foot by eight-foot vault that almost became her tomb.”

Music played and I watched as a thin woman was helped out of the hole, her long blond hair catching me off guard. I stole a glance at Dario, whose hand tightened around mine.

“She almost got away with it,” I said quietly. “Killing and framing that girl.” I would have believed it. A skinny woman with long blonde hair, tucked away in a fire-safe box, under an exploding building? She’d stayed in the shadows of the cell, and I hadn’t paid enough attention to her at the house. If Claudia had been successful in blocking the airhole and suffocating Janie, I would have bought the ‘accidental death’ narrative. I would have gone to sleep thinking that our tormentor was dead. And she… she would have been out there, unchecked and still hell-bent on revenge. I thought of the steel tone of her voice, the threats she had spit out at me. You don’t get to love Dario Capece. And he doesn’t get to fuck around without having serious consequences brought down on his shoulders.

I would never have put the pieces together myself. With the drugs, the pain, my surgery … it had taken me every minute of the last two days just to become coherent. Laurent had been the one to follow Claudia to the station, and keep us abreast of the updates. While she had refused to say anything in the questioning, they’d managed to piece together enough details to create a narrative.

I didn’t need her confession. I could still hear her voice in my mind, threatening me with quiet confidence. A shiver went through me, and I pulled my blanket higher on my chest.

Dario’s pocket hummed and he reached in and brought out his cell. “It’s the detective. I need to take this.”

I nodded and relaxed back in the bed, watching the television, the broadcasts giving us a colorful spread of Instagram photos that looked nothing like the cold-hearted bitch who had almost stomped a knife through my leg. Claudia had disappeared two years ago, and the photos were all pre-abduction. Claudia, in a nurse’s Halloween costume, making a hang ten sign and sticking out her tongue. Claudia, hugging a giant Rottweiler, sunglasses on, her hair in knots on either side of her head. Claudia, with a group of blurred out faces, outside a club.

I had been in that warehouse for a half-dozen-hours. Claudia had been gone for two years. How could I say what that sort of time did to someone? How could any of us understand the atrocities that must have happened to her to change her from a normal girl to a monster?

I watched a new addition to the show, an opinionated reporter who spewed theories. Vegas Suites had been one of Hawk’s properties, acquired the summer before Claudia disappeared. She’d been a front desk agent, and had been known to be a party girl, one who experimented in drugs when she wasn’t working.

Somehow, the news about Dario and my affair hadn’t hit the press. My kidnapping was being viewed in the same thread as the other victims—the snatch of a young woman who could be trained to do Hawk’s biding.

The reporter pointed to the camera, his voice growing emphatic.

“Imagine the level of brainwashing that Robert Hawk was capable of. He takes Claudia Vorherz out of her daily life—imprisons her—and then has her, less than two years later, doing his hunting for him and continuing his legacy, even after he’s gone!”

He spread his palms and looked at his cohost.

“Think about that. We’re talking about our generation’s Charles Manson. Claudia Vorherz blew up that warehouse without any knowledge of who was still inside. She detonated that structure and could have possibly killed a dozen law enforcement officers, not to mention the remaining prisoners—women just like her—and she did it anyway. Burned the place to the ground with no concern over human casualties, and with her primary focus being on framing Janie Bostic for her crimes. If she didn’t learn that directly from the evil that is Robert Hawk, you tell me where she learned it. Because I’m damn sure she didn’t learn it slinging back beers with her friends…”

The anchors chatted on, but I couldn’t listen to them any more. I reached for the remote and muted the volume. Closing my eyes, I tried to rest my mind. I could do this. One day at a time.

Dario came back in and turned off the lamp. “Her hearing is tomorrow. She still hasn’t said anything.” He folded down the railing on the side of my bed.

I raised my eyebrows at him with a laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Scoot over.” He gently nudged me over to the edge of the bed, the thin mattress sinking as he climbed onto it.

I laughed harder as his elbow knocked over my juice box, his leg getting tangled in the remote cord, his exasperation growing. Then he was pulling me to him, his body curving around mine, and the fit, with us front to back on our sides, was perfect. I relaxed, my mind pulling away from the reporter’s emphatic statements and focused on the deep sounds of his breathing, the soft nuzzle of his mouth against the back of my neck.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

I shifted, moving closer to him. “I’m just worried that we’ll never get away from her. With all of the businesses Gwen owned with her father—businesses that you now own? How will that work, if Claudia inherits his piece of them?”

He carefully sat up, rolling me onto my back so that he could see my face. “I don’t want you to worry about that, about her. She’s in jail. She’s going to be in prison, for a very long time. I’ve got everybody I know working to guarantee that.”

“But one day, she’ll get out.” I met his eyes.

“And we will be fine when she does.” He leaned forward and gently kissed me. When he pulled away, his face was solemn. “Please believe me when I promise you that it will be okay. I will keep you safe. Us safe. I swear.”

I sighed. “I believe you.” I softened under his second kiss, then settled back on my side, his body returning into place, the warm comfort solidifying my trust in him.

“Don’t give up on us,” he said softly, and the request surprised me. We’d survived. Hawk. Claudia. Everything. Giving up? Running? That was the last thing on my mind.

Love me through the cracks.

I pulled his arms tighter around me. “Never.”