Nightmares plagued Jemma again, and twice she found herself sitting up in bed, gun drawn. She rubbed the sweat off her forehead and looked at the bedside clock. Perfect. It was four thirty in the morning, and she was now wide awake.

She pulled on her jacket and shoulder holster, then stuck her gun in the leather sleeve, and crept out of the room and into the bathroom. After brushing her teeth with one of the new brushes she had found last night under the sink, she walked quickly into the kitchen to make some coffee.

Luckily, she found everything easy enough and managed to make it without waking Caid. After the steaming liquid she counted on for survival was in her mug, she disarmed the alarm using the code she saw Caid put in last night and stepped out onto the porch.

The chill in the early morning air bit at her face, but she smiled. She loved the cold, and there was nothing more beautiful than New York in the fall. Well, except for New York in the winter. She loved everything about her home state. It was why she had never left. She should have fled the state – shit, probably the country like she had told Caid they needed to do just yesterday -- but every time she started to buy that ticket and leave for good, something held her back.

She figured it was just as much the memories of her mother as it was the state itself. Nearly every part of New York City held some sort of memory for her. When her mother had been alive, she had taken Jemma out once a week to explore some new area. Then they had visited the same diner where she would leave Jemma with the owner to eat pancakes while she ran her errands. It was a routine Jemma had missed terribly once her mother had died.

After her mother’s death, Jemma never went back to eat those pancakes again. She had considered going once she’d escaped. But fear had gripped her every time. She wasn’t sure she possessed the strength to walk into a place that reminded her way too much of the one person she had loved the most in the entire world.

She closed her eyes as a tear threatened to fall. After all this time, she still couldn’t get the nightmare out of her head.

The door opened behind her, and Caid stepped out. He looked at her surprised, and she could see he wasn’t quite awake yet.

“Everything okay? Why are you out here?”

“I like to breathe the fresh air with my coffee.”

“There’s coffee made?”

She nodded, and he disappeared back into the house with a grumble. A few minutes later, he stepped back out and sat next to her on the porch steps.

“Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head and took a drink from his coffee. “Nah. I’m a fairly early riser. Army ground that in.”

“You were in the Army?”

He nodded. “I did four years as an MP, and two tours.”

“That’s impressive.”

“My dad wanted me to go career and go to ranger school, but I’d always wanted to be in the FBI.”

“I had wanted to join the Army. Was planning on it when I turned eighteen.” She had figured it would be the easiest way to escape from her father.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Captive, remember?”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” He took another drink. “Why didn’t you go after you got out? You’ve been in hiding all this time, seems to me the military would be a good place to keep your distance.”

She sighed. “I don’t know. Honestly, I was afraid. If someone ran my name through the system, I was worried he would find me.”

“Makes sense.”

“What’s the plan for today, Agent King?”

“Not sure. Hopefully, we’ll hear back on what info is loaded onto that thumb drive. I’m going to go in and make sure I’ve got everything documented. Last thing I want is to have all our ducks in a row but not be able to move because I missed something small.”

“You’re leaving me here?”

“I will arrange for another agent to come watch the property. They won’t come in, and you will have your gun on you, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I won’t be gone long.” He stood and stretched. “Wanna work out?”

“You have any equipment?”

“The basement has some.”

“Definitely.” She stood, ready to burn some of the stress off.

“I didn’t think safe houses typically had gyms in the basement.”

“This one does. Mainly because I pushed for it. Exercise is a stress reliever, and for agents who have to stay put for weeks at a time, it’s helpful. As well as for whoever it is they’re hiding.”

She followed him down some stairs and into a large basement. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but damn it was nice. A treadmill and some free weights sat on the far wall and in a corner by the stairs a heavy bag was hung. Gloves were lined up neatly on a shelf near it, and the entire basement floor was covered with thick padding.

It would definitely do.

“I’m gonna hit the treadmill and warm up. After that, if you wanna spar, I’m game.”

“This is awesome; thanks, Caid.”

He grinned. “Anytime, Jemma”

* * *

Jemma stared out the window as Caid drove away. She couldn’t help but feel the added stress with each second he was gone. She looked down at the phone he had given her. He said he wouldn’t be able to answer for about two hours because his other was in his desk, but that he would text her when he got to work.

Then if she needed to hear his voice, she could call. The man who was watching the house seemed nice. He waved at Jemma from the driveway, and Jemma waved back. Caid said the agent was a good one, and wouldn’t enter the house unless he thought necessary.

That gave her a small comfort. She stepped away from the window and walked over to the bookshelf that held a few leisure books. She lifted a Nora Roberts from the collection, and took a seat on the couch.

She hadn’t even been sitting on that couch long enough to finish the first chapter when gunshots rang out, and Jemma’s heart began to pound. She ran to the window and saw the agent who had waved at her not minutes before lying face down in the driveway, while three armed men came for her.

* * *

Caid turned on the radio as he hit the highway. He wished he’d just taken Jemma with him, but with how nervous she was around other FBI agents, he didn’t want to risk her having a panic attack. The safe house was secure and packed with food, books, and a gym. She would be better off there than at the bureau.

At least that’s what he told himself. But the look on her face when he left made him wonder if she wasn’t growing as attached to him as he was to her. It had only been twenty-four hours since he’d found her trying to break into her own apartment, but it already felt as though she completed a part of him he hadn’t known was missing.

“Damn,” he said and hit the steering wheel. He wasn’t going to be able to focus if he was worried about her all day. He exited and flipped around on the nearest service road to head back to the house.

* * *

“We know you’re in there, Willow!” She closed her eyes. Eric. Her father’s second-in-command and a bigger psycho than he was. The bastard was the one who carried out most of Liam’s dirty work.

“Come on, Jemma! Make this easier than it has to be.”

She recognized that voice immediately, and she leaned up to look out of the window again. Of course he was dirty. Henry Jameson stood to the right of Eric. The other man she didn’t recognize, but based on his stance and the steel he was carrying, he was no amateur.

There was a backdoor, so her only hope was to make it into the woods before they got into the house. She looked down at the phone. Caid wouldn’t be in his office yet, but she called the number he had programmed anyways.

“Dammit!” she yelled and threw the useless phone.

“Come on, little willow! Or is it sapling?”

She crawled toward the back of the house and stood just as she was out of sight. She ran for the door and quickly undid the locks just as the front door was kicked in.

She ran down the steps and stopped as she saw two more men standing at the tree line.

“Going somewhere?”

“Sure, out for a walk.” She steadied her voice as they approached. Once they were within reach, she attacked.

Without thinking, she threw punches, blocked, and landed a kick to the groin until both men were down. It was really too bad that her fight gave the others just enough time to get through the house.

“Nice moves, bitch.”

“Henry Jameson, is it? Can’t say I'm surprised you’re dirty,” she said as she turned around.

One of the men she’d kicked the shit out of stood and yanked her arms behind her back. “You’ll fucking pay for that, bitch,” he said and shoved her to the ground. She fell into the dirt and scraped her knees.

“Easy. I get you’re pissed, but we have to deliver her in one piece, remember?” Jameson ordered.

“I don’t think the boss is gonna mind if she’s a little scuffed up,” the man commented.

“If you can’t handle having your ass handed to you by a girl, you should improve your fighting skills. You can’t get along on muscle alone,” Jemma mocked as she was lifted to her feet.

“You won’t harm her.” Eric stepped out of the house and eyed Jemma. “Nice to see you, Willow.”

She ground her teeth together. “I wish I could say the same, Eric.”

His cool façade didn’t break. That was what scared Jemma the most about Eric, whether he was murdering someone or watching a relaxing television game, his demeanor never changed. You never knew the blow was coming, and he didn’t break stride even afterward.

“Let’s go.” Eric motioned, and Jemma was dragged around the house. They were just emerging out when she saw Caid’s car pulling in.

“No, no, no,” she muttered, and Henry smiled.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise! How about I be the one to put a bullet in him?”

“Just get it done, Jameson. We don’t have time for any distractions.”

“Caid! GO!” Jemma screamed, and the man shoved her back to the ground behind the dead agent’s car.

“Stay put, bitch,” he growled.

* * *

There were no words to describe the level of anger Caid felt at the sight of the men dragging Jemma to the car. He simply saw red and the only thought he had was that he was going to fucking kill them all. Every single man who had touched her. Especially his ex-partner, who now had his weapon trained on Caid with a sick smile.

Then he saw the agent lying dead on the ground, and his anger only intensified. He accelerated and headed straight for them. As soon as he was close enough to Jameson, the bastard pulled the trigger and a bullet came through the windshield. Caid continued and heard the yell as Jameson hit the hood of the car.

It was then Caid stopped and threw the car into park. He got out, kicked the gun away from Jameson, who was alive but stuck under the car, and then ran around to the opposite side of his vehicle.

“There’s no way you fuckers are getting out of here with her, so I suggest you let her walk and leave before I put a fucking bullet into every single one of you.”

“Kill him,” Eric ordered and then disappeared.

“Gladly.” The other man Jemma had run into said with a smile and then crept out to try and sneak around behind Caid.

“Caid! He’s coming up behi--”

Caid heard Jemma yell, and then heard the loud crack he knew meant she had been hit. He was going to fucking slaughter these bastards. He turned to see the man trying to flank him, and with a well-aimed bullet, the man fell to the ground. Two down, two to go he thought to himself and peered over the hood of the car.

* * *

Jemma, still stunned from the slap and now even more pissed off, kicked the guard in the side of the head. He fell out from behind cover, and Caid was able to fire on him. She got to her feet and ran toward Caid just as another gunshot rang out. Caid cursed and fell back behind the car, and Jemma ran as fast as she could to reach him.

“Come out, little willow,” Eric called.

“Where are you hit?” Jemma asked as she knelt next to Caid.

“Bastard got me in the arm.”

“You have a knife?”

“Yeah,” Caid groaned, and using his good arm, pulled a blade from his pocket. Jemma turned so he could cut the zip tie binding her hands. She retrieved his weapon, and stood to face Eric.

“You definitely grew a pair, Willow, but your daddy doesn’t care. He wants you back, and unless you come with me now, he’s going to continue to hunt you. People are going to die, Willow,” he remarked softly, “and it’s going to be your fault.”

She raised the gun and pulled the trigger. Eric moved, but not far enough to avoid getting shot in the same place Caid had.

She had never seen Eric mad, but when he looked at her after the bullet tore through his arm, there was murder in his eyes. Just when she thought he was going to shoot her, he climbed into the SUV they pulled up in, and sped off.

Jemma knelt next to Caid again and looked at his arm. She ignored his gaze and did her best to keep her voice steady. Eric had just revealed what she had been keeping from Caid, and based on the anger on Caid’s face, he wouldn’t forgive her for it.

“Daddy, huh?”

“We need to go.”

“Back off, Jemma,” Caid said angrily and walked around the car to the still breathing Jameson.

“You fucking ran me over!” he yelled.

“Yeah, well, you fucking shot me, asshole.” Caid grabbed Jameson’s phone from his pocket, and after dialing a number, put it up to his ear. “We need clean up, the New Haven safe house has been compromised. One agent is dead; another is currently pinned underneath my car since he shot me. Two other dead unknowns. Yeah, we’ll be here.” He hung up the phone.

“Let me help you,” Jemima insisted.

“I don’t want help from you right now.”

Jemma stormed back into the house and grabbed the first aid kit she remembered seeing underneath the sink in the bathroom. Then she stormed back out straight to Caid.

“Stop being a stubborn asshole and let me look at your arm.”

“I don’t need--”

“Shut up, Caid.”

He glared at her, but didn’t fight when she started anyway.

She helped him shrug out of his jacket and T-shirt and did her best not to suck in a breath at the sight of his chest. The last thing she wanted right now was to find him attractive, especially when he was pissed at her and there was a yelling onlooker. Besides, she had seen him shirtless before when they had sparred. Now though, with him sitting in front of her, she ached to run her hands over the contours. To feel each muscle fiber below her fingers.

Jemma forced herself to look at the wound in his arm. The bullet had only grazed it, so she cleaned and bandaged it up, and then went back into the house to return the first aid kit. She stood for a moment staring into the mirror. Who would have thought she would be here? She thought for sure she had finally gotten the chance to live a normal life, yet here she was, not even sure she would survive to see the sunrise. And she had dragged Caid into her own personal hell.

She stepped outside to see vehicles already arriving. There were three New Haven PD cruisers, two ambulances, a coroner’s van, and a black, nondescript SUV she imagined belonged to whatever FBI agents had been closest.

Her heart ached as she watched the body in the black bag being loaded into the back of the coroner’s van. She imagined he had been a good agent, possibly one with a family, friends, and now he wouldn’t get to see another birthday because of her.

Because she had listened to the FBI instead of following her own instincts. She looked over to Caid, who now sat in the back of an ambulance while the paramedic put stitches in his arm.

He sat, rigid and unmoving, as he stared at the coroner’s van. If she knew him as well as she thought she did, she knew he carried guilt for his dead comrade. Was that what he was feeling now? Or was it anger at her deception?