Chapter 3: Misconceptions
Everything hurt.
Juliet had never known it was possible to be so sore. From the moment she first regained consciousness, there was a part of her that was convinced that she hadn’t really made it. She was dreaming, and, any moment now, she would wake up back in Solomon’s clutches.
If this entire affair was a dream, however, she supposed she wouldn’t be in so much goddamned pain.
Even though the doctors had explained to her what happened, Juliet still had a hard time looking at her injuries. She’d been shot twice, suffered a few sprains and lacerations, and a nasty bump on her head that they were watching to make sure she wasn’t concussed. All in all, she was a mess.
Though there had been several sets of police in to question her, not a single officer was able to relay what happened at the mansion. When she told them who she was, Juliet got a variety of reactions from disgust to pity. She was quite aware that almost no one knew of her existence. When she wasn’t at an event or being shown off at Solomon’s behest, she was tucked into a tiny little secret corner where no one could get to her. Juliet could only hope that she wouldn’t get plastered across the state tabloids or forced into the spotlight. That would just make it easier for Solomon to find her.
Which brought her to the next and most pressing issue: Since escaping, Juliet had developed textbook anxiety, right down to the night sweats and panic attacks. Her first night in the hospital, she’d woken up in such distress that the night nurse had come running and had to sedate her. Juliet had thought that escaping from the mansion would bring her peace.
Freedom.
Instead, she found herself looking for Solomon and his family around every corner. She saw them in every employee and guest that came into her hospital room, and found herself so nervous that she could barely eat. Though the cops assured her that she was safe, Juliet remained on edge. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had underestimated Solomon. She knew very well that unless someone had seen his dead body, he was still out there scheming. Watching and waiting.
She had been in the hospital for about a week when she was informed that she would soon be discharged. Far from making her happy, the news was enough to incite a fresh panic attack. While she’d been lying in bed recovering, Juliet had plenty of time to contemplate where she might go and what her next plan of action might be. She’d had the authorities attempt to contact members of her family only to be told that they didn’t want anything to do with her. She had no friends and no refuge.
Which meant she’d be out on the streets.
She did her best to reassure herself with the idea that anything was better than being back in the clutches of the Aguilers, but the fact of the matter was that Juliet was terrified. She hadn’t been on her own for almost a decade. How the hell was she supposed to live? When she asked the hospital staff for materials, she was told she’d be welcome to use the library down the street.
After she was discharged.
Juliet couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so helpless.
By the day she was meant to leave the hospital, she was tired of talking to people and telling them she had nowhere to go and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a proper meal. Her nerves were shot and she was beginning to wonder if this, indeed, was what she had really wanted.
Her brooding was interrupted by a succinct knock on the door. “Come in.” By now, the answer was automatic. Even if she wasn’t in the mood for company, Juliet knew the visitors would come anyway. She’d been interrogated enough that she could probably answer the questions in her sleep - if she slept, that was.
Juliet expected another cop or perhaps even the nurse with her discharge papers. What she didn’t expect was an important-looking middle aged man in a suit along with an individual who certainly didn’t look like he belonged in her hospital room.
Juliet had spent the last third of her life around people who made a living looking tough. She had learned that, most of the time, these men weren’t as formidable as they seemed. Instead, they preyed on lesser people to make themselves feel larger. It was as disgusting as it was hard to watch, and she had learned, best she could, to cast a blind eye on the violence that had permeated her day to day activities. The man before her didn’t look tough.
Instead, invulnerability seemed to emanate from him in waves. He was a few inches over six feet tall, with dark hair buzzed close to his head and a face that was a bit too angular to be truly handsome. That said, Juliet found herself drawn to his hard features and piercing gray eyes. A thin, white scar bisected one of them, zigzagging down over his cheek and jaw to disappear beneath the collar of the plain white t-shirt he wore. A battered leather jacket hugged his muscular form, along with jeans that looked to have been washed to within an inch of their lives and boots that had certainly seen better days. The man was, in fact, the polar opposite of his fastidiously dressed companion - though Juliet had to admit that neither of them seemed terribly friendly.
“Juliet Brown?” The elder man stepped forward, holding out his hand to her. “I’m Gerald Simmons, I work for the FBI. Sorry to disturb you, but we just need a moment of your time.” He gestured to the man at his side as Juliet lay her hand in his surprisingly strong grip. “This is my associate, Hank Compton. He’s an agent that frequently works with our department.” Hank didn’t shake her hand. In fact, he looked at her as if she were a particularly nasty fungus he might have acquired on the heel of his boot.
After releasing her hand, Agent Simmons settled politely at the foot of the bed. Agent Compton, however, remained standing, despite the presence of an extra chair. Juliet sensed that she made him wary, which was perfectly fine as he made her nervous as hell; no mean feat, considering how on edge she’d been lately. “We’ve read a lot of the reports you’ve given to the authorities in the past week about the Aguilers, Juliet. We’d like to help you.”
Despite herself, Juliet felt her heart leap. Help. They were the first people she’d heard use that particular word since she’d been admitted to the hospital.
But she was far from trusting. The moment Simmons had mentioned the FBI, Juliet had known that she might be in a world of trouble. Certainly, she hadn’t killed or harmed anyone in her time with Solomon, but, in many ways, she was guilty by default. She had done nothing to intervene in the violence the Aguilers had perpetrated.
Not that there was anything that she could have done without losing her own life in the process. “Agent Simmons,” she swallowed thickly, looking from him to the stolid, silent man standing behind him and back again, “I’ve talked to a lot of cops in the past few days, but I don’t think any of them have actually heard me. If you really want to help me, I have to ask you to listen to me first.”
Simmons looked over her, his gaze both mild and interested all at once. “I think that’s perfectly fair.”
Juliet could have kissed him. Though she had missed her family and independence these past long eight years, what she had missed the most were simple kindnesses. No one had ever really listened to her. “I realize what my being by Solomon’s side means. I watched him do horrible...horrible things.” At the very memory her stomach clenched and she forced herself to take a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to have a panic attack. This might be the only chance she had to secure her future. “But never, not once was I party to any of those things. Truth be told, I’ve wanted to get away for a long, long time.” She looked him directly in the eye, her tone deceptively calm. “I’d rather die than go back to that man, so I’m sure you can understand when I say I’m willing to do whatever you need - cooperate in whatever way you deem fit. All I’m asking for is protection.”
She didn’t want to prattle and Juliet was in no mood to divulge a sob story. She just wanted security, and if these men were willing to provide it, she would go along with anything they said.
“Miss Brown,” Simmons glanced briefly at Compton before speaking. “I’m sure you know just how large a blow it would be to the drug community for us to bring down the Aguiler family - Solomon and Caesar Aguiler in particular. It would mean a lot to us if you could help us to fill in the blanks in our ongoing investigation.”
“What kind of information would you need?” Juliet didn’t hesitate. If the FBI brought the Aguilers into custody, it would mean her safety and security - the one thing she had always wanted.
“Anything you could provide for us. Names, dates, addresses. Of course, we don’t know how deeply you were involved with Solomon-”
“Deep enough.” Juliet cut him off bitterly. “I’ll tell you everything I know. I just...I need a bit of time to come to terms with...everything.” She didn’t think she could stand another interrogation from her hospital bed. What Juliet wanted, more than anything, was a bit of privacy and time to reflect. She was free for the first time in eight years and the only emotions she had time to feel were fear and suspicion.
“Of course.” Simmons eyes were surprisingly kind. “We can provide you with housing and a small stipend while you get back on your feet. Additionally, there’ll be a watch on you twenty-four seven, and you’ll be dealing directly with our lead agent on the case.” He gestured to Hank and Juliet’s stomach clenched. She had just managed to escape a den of dangerous men. The last thing she wanted was to be confined with another one. “Hank is one of our best men. He has a history with the Aguilers - he’ll ensure that no harm comes to you.”
A history with them? “No offense, Mr. Simmons,” Juliet spoke while pointedly avoiding eye contact with Hank. “But people who’ve been affiliated with the Aguilers can seldom be trusted.”
She could all but feel him bristle, even from across the room. Simmons, however, only chuckled at the obvious animosity between them. “I think you mistake his affiliation. Unfortunately, Hank has never had the pleasure of getting up close and personal with anyone in the inner circle.”
“Lucky for them.” Juliet jumped at the low, antagonized growl from across the room. Though she had expected Compton’s voice might reflect his character, she hadn’t expected such a grating, baritone snarl.
“Now, Hank. I’m sure Miss Brown is just looking after her own interests.”
“And how do we know one of those interests isn’t to report back to her lover?” Hank demanded, gray eyes glinting dangerously. The moment the words left his mouth, Juliet was struggling upright to meet him with an expression just as acidic.
“He isn’t my lover,” she spat, her stomach in knots. “I’ve been his fucking prisoner for the past eight years. You won’t find someone who hates Solomon Aguiler more than I do.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
All at once, being turned out onto the streets seemed far more preferable than being entrusted to this man. It was on the tip of Juliet’s tongue to tell Simmons that she didn’t want their help or protection...but she knew that would be suicide. “Miss Brown,” She forced her attention back to Simmons who, to his benefit, looked somewhat apologetic. “No one doubts that you’ve been through a traumatic experience and your presence in the hospital attests to that.” He seemed to be speaking as much to her as he was the man behind him, and Hank stiffened at the admonition. Juliet couldn’t help but think that if Simmons entrusted her to him, Hank was just as likely to harm her as he was to hurt her. “I assure you, your safety will be the highest priority. Despite my colleague’s volatility,” He shot Hank a warning look that the younger man seemed to disregard completely. “He’s extremely qualified for this assignment, and I can assure you that he will remain cordial. Won’t you, Hank?”
If the look on Compton’s face was any indication, the last thing he wanted was cordiality. But instead of protesting, he merely fixed a painfully neutral expression onto his face, nodding once, sharply.
“There we have it.” Though Simmons seemed reassured, Juliet still eyed the man near the door warily. “Once you’re discharged, Hank will accompany you to the safehouse, where he’ll be watching over you when we aren’t working with him to find Solomon and his family. As soon as you feel up to it, we’ll speak with you and figure out where we start.”
If she wanted out, this was her last chance to protest. She took one last look at Hank and wondered, blatantly, what exactly his connection with the Aguilers was. Whatever grudge he held, he seemed to think it was license to lump her in with the people who had kept her locked away for a good third of her life.
She was going to have to do her best to dissuade him of that notion. “Sounds good to me. I’m discharged tomorrow.”
“Excellent. Hank will be waiting.”
Simmons rose from the bed to extend his hand once more. “We thank you in advance for your cooperation, Miss Brown.”
“Please, call me Juliet.” The young woman managed a small smile. Even if it wasn’t under ideal circumstances, at least she had a place to call home for a while. That left her far better off than she’d been twenty minutes ago, regardless of the company she’d have to keep.
“Juliet. Get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
It wasn’t until both he and his lapdog had left that Juliet was actually able to breathe a sigh of relief.
Christ. The FBI. She had just agreed to collude with the FBI against her drug-dealer former boyfriend. Solomon would have her head if he ever found out what she was doing.
In that moment, Juliet forgot how to breathe. All at once, she wasn’t in the hospital room. She was back in the Aguiler mansion, locked in her room, waiting for punishment. When she was with Solomon, any and everything had earned her punishment. Exactly how she was punished depended on the man’s mood. She could be locked in the room for days without food. He’d forced himself on her, beat her to within an inch of her life. If he ever got wind of this…
But he wouldn’t.
Solomon wasn’t here. God knew where he was, but whoever had destroyed the mansion had driven him and his father underground. He couldn’t be out and hunting her in broad daylight. However much she might fear living in Solomon’s shadow, she had escaped it - for now. It was best she concentrate on getting the man caught over what he might do to her if he ever got his hands on her. An obsession with the latter would ensure she never slept again.
If she could transcend her paranoia, Juliet had to face the fact that she’d be living with a stranger who had a very obvious grudge against her. It was, sadly enough, something she was very much used to. At least Hank couldn’t kill her without going to jail for it.
The fact provided her with some small comfort.
**
Babysitting wasn’t Hank’s forte.
Send him in to bust a drug ring, put him under cover with a murderer, have him incriminate a sex-offender - those were all things with which he was intimately familiar. But taking care of someone?
He’d long lost the only person he’d ever taken care of.
Which meant that he considered waiting downstairs at the hospital for Juliet to be discharged a massive waste of his time. He doubted that Solomon Aguiler was going to have her assassinated between the fourth and first floors - or, indeed, that Solomon would even come after her at all. The man had bigger priorities just now, if his takedown had been as extensive as they were to believe. While Juliet may be able to help them, Hank questioned her actual value - especially after meeting her.
She was just another pretty face. Admittedly, that pretty face was scratched and bruised, and he’d never been an advocate of hurting women, but, in his opinion, she was just doing the best she could to distance herself from the Aguilers. She probably knew the likelihood of her being implicated for any number of crimes and was keen on avoiding jail. It was self-preservation - a very human thing.
What surprised Hank the most about Juliet Brown was just how young she was. It wasn’t that there was a huge age gap between them, but her twenty seven years would mean she’d been with the Aguilers since she was eighteen. How the hell could an eighteen year old survive that cutthroat world? How did she get into it to begin with?
She seemed normal enough - no rough background or harsh upbringing from what he could see - unless you counted her years among criminals. Hank couldn’t tell if they could trust anything the young woman said - she’d probably used those huge brown eyes to her advantage before. But when she spoke of Solomon Aguiler, a spark of fear appeared in them. At the very least, hopefully she was terrified enough of the man not to go running back to him once she realized exactly what she was doing. As long as she didn’t do that, he could probably handle everything else.
When the nurse told him that Juliet had sustained a pretty bad sprain, he expected them to bring her down in a wheelchair. Instead, the elevator doors opened on her walking of her own volition on a single crutch. Hank arched a brow as she hobbled out of the elevator, waving away the nurses help with an irate expression. It was clear, however, after several halting steps, that she had no idea what she was doing. He wondered if she’d ever been injured so badly in her life.
Swallowing his own exasperation, he moved forward to help her. It was a good thing he had, as approximately half a second later, she stumbled into what promised to be a nasty fall. At least until he caught her three inches from the cold tile floor. “Should have gone with the wheelchair,” he growled lowly, setting her upright before grabbing her crutch to present it to her. “Pride goes before a fall and all that.”
Juliet scowled at him. Hank couldn’t avoid the thought that she was far too pretty to be frowning. He’d be willing to bet half a month’s salary that Juliet Brown’s smiling face, even bruised as it was, was quite the sight to behold. He’d never met any woman that looked as good in hospital scrubs as she did…
But that wasn’t the point. “Thank you.” Even though she expressed her gratitude, it was clear the gesture was painful for Juliet. “But I’m fine. I didn’t want to be a burden.”
The irony was fucking overwhelming. “That hobbling’s going to take forever.” He glanced towards the front entryway. It was, at most, a five minute walk to the car, but with Juliet in her condition, they’d likely be there for the next century. “Give me that.” He held out his hand for the crutch and the young woman eyed him suspiciously for a beat before handing it over.
Hank, however, didn’t hesitate before wrapping one arm around Juliet’s waist and hauling up and against his side. Immediately, she squawked in protest. “Put me down! I can walk!”
“Slowly.” Hank reminded her, toting her effortlessly through the hospital lobby and out into the morning sunshine. If he were on vacation, he might have spent the morning fishing. Instead, he was toting what he could only hope would be a goldmine of information about the Aguilers to the closest hidey hole.
He supposed it was better than twiddling his thumbs.
Thankfully, Juliet didn’t have much time to struggle. Within minutes, Hank was dropping her in the passenger’s seat of the car Simmons had provided, ignoring her baleful glare as he shut the door on her.
Goddamn. You’d think that for all that protesting, his cock wouldn’t be interested - but the fact of the matter was that Juliet Brown made a man stand up and take notice, no pun intended. All that squirming created a result that took some adjusting to hide. He snuck a glance at her through the back window of the car as she shifted, trying to get comfortable.
He had to be out of his mind.
It wasn’t as if Hank was starved for action. When he wanted a woman, he usually got her, and he certainly didn’t want Juliet. At least, he didn’t want to want her. Hank had long learned that he had problems getting involved with any women, let alone the pretty ones that had their heads on the right way. One night stands and affairs were more his thing. Less complicated, more carnal.
In theory, Juliet Brown wasn’t his type. Atop that, the very real notion of having Solomon Aguiler’s sloppy seconds turned his stomach. That said, there was something about her. Sitting in the passenger’s seat of the car as if he needed her instead of the other way around...Hank hesitated a moment before he got into the car, staring at the caramel expanse of skin at the base of her neck. Juliet had a riotous head of dark curls that were pulled into a haphazard bun atop her head and just looking at them was enough to make his fingers itch to run through the waves.
But Hank wasn’t that stupid.
Two seconds later, he was sliding into the driver’s seat, pointedly ignoring the woman in the passenger’s seat just as devotedly as she did him. “Do you need clothes, or something?” He doubted any woman would leave a hospital in scrubs if she didn’t have to - which meant that Juliet probably didn’t have a wardrobe on standby.
“Or something.” Her dry reply made him scowl at her.
“There’s internet where we’re going. You can order online.”
In response, the young woman shrugged, and Hank took that as a sign that their conversation was over. He pulled out of the hospital parking lot, resigning himself to the next few months of sullen interaction with a princess who probably wished she was back with her drug-prince, despite anything she might say.
He expected that Juliet might have questions - might want to know where they were going and how they were going to keep her safe. But the girl didn’t utter a single word on the hour drive up to the safehouse. The only thing that broke the terse silence inside the car was Simmons’ call to ensure that he had picked up their cargo.
In the past decade that he’d worked with the FBI, Hank had run the gauntlet of assignments. When he first started, Simmons put him on the hardest infiltration missions - not because he trusted him but because he considered him largely expendable. As their relationship had improved, he began to put confidence in Hank’s actual ability - and in his propensity to avoid the bullshit.
Hank was good with his hands. Good at hitting people, good at shooting people without killing them and good at fitting into scenarios that ivy leaguers would fuck themselves over in. He wasn’t good with women and he wasn’t a team player. Which meant that it was very likely that in the next few weeks he was going to go stir-crazy or kill one of the other two agents that were helping him “protect” Juliet.
They were already there when Hank pulled into the long drive of the mountain retreat, and he immediately sized them up as lunkheads. “Miss Brown.” The shorter, blonde one helped Juliet out of the car, and did his best not to stare at the vee of her breasts. “I’m Crowley and this is Bosh.” He gestured to his tall, thin companion, who immediately reddened. “We’re here to help Compton on your protection detail.” Hank didn’t miss the way he glanced in his direction with obvious disdain. Like he cared. No one from the department liked him and he preferred it that way. It meant he didn’t have to play nice. “Anything you need, just let us know.”
“Sure.” Like them or not, Hank couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that shot through him when Juliet smiled at Crowley and Bosh. The gesture made her just as radiant as he’d imagined - which made him sullen that she hadn’t offered him a smile. “You guys will be inside with us?”
“Outside, mostly.” Bosh’s voice sounded like his balls had never dropped, but Juliet didn’t seem to mind. “Making sure no one sneaks up on you.”
“Not that you have to worry about that,” Crowley rushed to reassure her. “No one knows you’re here, and we’ll spot any intruders from a mile off.”
Hank might have pointed out that someone might have snuck up behind Juliet and shot her in the back while they were sucking up to her if it weren’t for him, but thought better of it. These two would prove quick enough whether or not they were qualified, and while they fucked around, he might as well pretend that he was the only one on duty.
“Well, you guys might like to get back to watching for intruders while I get the package inside.” What he would do was his job. Someone needed to. “Wouldn’t do to have her stolen away on the first day, would it?”
At Juliet’s alarmed expression, Crowley and Bosh glared at him and Hank hid a smirk. He took Juliet’s crutch from the smaller man before hoisting her unceremoniously over his shoulder. “You guys let me know if you see anyone.”
When Juliet elbowed him unceremoniously in the back of his head, he gave her thigh a sharp squeeze that drew a low gasp from her. Though she had generous curves, she was a tiny thing, so it was no great trial getting her up the front steps to the cabin. When he reached the front door, however, Hank fumbled for the keys for a moment. He could have sworn he put them in his pocket when Simmons handed them over this morning…
“Lost something already?” Juliet’s caustic question made him growl lowly. They hadn’t even gotten inside yet and he was contemplating dumping her.
“You’d make it a lot easier to protect you if you shut up.”
Juliet scoffed. “And you’d be an expert on the strong and silent act, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t be the first I’d met.”
Hank found the key to jam into the lock and turn so hard he almost snapped it off. “You can’t be lumping me in with Solomon. I have it on good authority that he never shuts his mouth. One would think you might like a little peace and quiet after all that.”
“Anything is preferable to being under Solomon’s thumb,” Juliet retorted flatly. “Even dealing with assholes who bear unreasonable grudges.”
That was Hanks cue to dump her in the first armchair he could find. The safehouse was a small one - two tiny bedrooms, a small kitchen and one and a half baths. Just the right size for he and Juliet to drive one another crazy. “I assure you,” He returned, leaning her crutch against a nearby wall. “My grudge is entirely justified.” He checked out the kitchen and small expanse of the living room. There was cable and wifi, at least. He could tune her out with broadcast stupidity, if need be.
“You don’t know me,” Juliet countered, her voice carrying down the hallway. “And considering we’re supposed to be colluding here, you could at least try to be polite.”
At that, Hank snorted. Juliet had thrown out all chance of him being cordial when she’d started flinging accusations in the hospital. “I don’t know you personally,” he agreed, wincing at the minute size of the bathroom as he poked his head in. “But I do know that you’ve been among the Aguilers for probably longer than anyone else has without ending up dead or missing. That tells me at least one thing.”
“And what’s that?” By that point, she had hobbled into the hall to confront him, her expression incensed.
“You think like them.” Juliet’s eyes widened. “Which means I need to be careful.”
“You, you-” Before she could come up with a worthy insult, Hank claimed the bigger of the bedrooms.
“Call me when you’re hungry.” There were few things he’d found more satisfying than shutting the door in her face. Simmons, he knew, wouldn’t be happy with his treatment of their star witness but Hank could give a flying fuck. This girl wasn’t going to run all over him, no matter who she’d been fucking.
If it were up to him, they’d just use her as bait to lure Solomon out. If they’d been as close as she said they were, the man would be batshit insane to let her go to anyone. A couple of days of watching her until Solomon picked her up would do just as well as this, but Simmons never wanted to get his hands dirty.
Thus their different methods of operation.
Eventually, he’d have to talk to her, but Hank could save that for when Simmons arrived. For now, he needed a couple of hours to hear himself think. Juliet wouldn’t starve by that evening. Who knew? Maybe an empty stomach would make her a little less mouthy.
Anything is preferable to being under Solomon’s thumb. Even dealing with assholes who hold unreasonable grudges.
Juliet’s words made his stomach clench. Unreasonable? Juliet might have been with Solomon Aguiler for almost a decade but if she believed Hank’s wariness of her was unjustified, she was still woefully in the dark about just how fucking evil her boyfriend was. The Aguilers had shat on Hank’s life when he thought it actually meant something, and Solomon had left his own personal calling card at the scene of the crime. So yeah, he was going to be pissed at the woman who’d been warming his bed. That was the least she deserved.
Getting to Solomon, Hank reminded himself, was the only reason he was cooperating with this farce in the first place. At the first sign of Juliet feeding them bullshit, he’d recommend to Simmons that they bait and switch her. They’d been trying to get to the Aguilers for years. They couldn’t afford to waste anymore time just because the older man didn’t want to get down and dirty.
Lying back on the rickety bed, Hank closed his eyes. He could hear Juliet puttering around the house on her crutch and hoped she settled down sooner rather than later. Once she did, he could get back to pretending she wasn’t there.
Then, maybe the burning hatred in his gut would abate long enough for him to get a few hours of sleep.