I hated my hair. I became obsessed with it over the next few days, constantly pushing it away from my face, yanking it back off the pillow and away from my shoulders. Remy came and went every few hours, checking the IV and bringing me food. She didn’t say much. I wasn’t sure I would have, either, if I were in her shoes.

“Do you have a pair of scissors?”

She looked down at me as she squeezed the last little bit of saline into my arm. “Why?”

“I want to cut my hair.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“I never liked having long hair. And I don’t see any reason why I need the disguise of it anymore.”

“You won’t be hiding in here much longer.”

“No. And I’ll be back on the road soon. But even that idiot biker wasn’t fooled by the long hair, so why keep it?”

Remy regarded me a long moment, then shrugged. “It’s your life.”

She left and returned a minute later with a pair of silver shears. They were big and heavy, a little overkill for hair. But they’d work.

I tossed my legs over the side of the bed and began to stand, holding on to the IV stand for support. Remy came over somewhat reluctantly and slipped her hands under my arm, offering extra support. My legs were weaker than I’d anticipated, but we managed to get to the bathroom without too much trouble. I held on to the sink and regarded my reflection in the mirror. My face was pale, my skin sunken around my eyes and along my cheekbones. I’d lost a significant amount of weight over the past week, but that was to be expected under the circumstances. I didn’t like the anemic look, but knew that would repair itself in time.

I took the scissors and lifted my hands to the back of my head, but I was still so weak that I couldn’t hold them there long enough to make an even slice. After three tries, Remy slipped the scissors from me.

“I’ll do it.”

She opened a medicine cabinet and pulled out a comb she used to smooth my greasy, unwashed hair down against my back. She cut straight across, the heavy tresses falling like snow around my feet. I watched them go, my eyes filling with tears as I began to recognize myself again. It wasn’t perfect. My hair color was still way off and the cut was uneven, but it was better.

“Thank you.”

Remy met my gaze in the mirror. “What was it like, being on the run?”

“Scary. Never knowing who I could trust or if I was going to be there the following week. I could never make plans, never speak to my neighbors, never reach out to my friends or colleagues back in Boston.” I shook my head. “It was horrible.”

“Why Aiden?”

I frowned until I understood what she meant. Why had I spoken to him when he was just a neighbor when we met.

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t have let him in, but there was something about him, something broken just like I was broken. We were the same and I knew it even before I knew his name.”

She touched my shoulder lightly, but she didn’t say anything else.

“I’d like to walk,” I said as she helped me back into bed. “To build up my strength.”

“The doctor said we should encourage you to do that. But there aren’t a lot of places to walk down here.”

“Any space would work.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

*

Remy arranged for me to walk up and down the hallway outside the bedrooms the following day. No one was around when I was out of my room; just her. She’d found a walker I could lean on and she watched from the center of the hall at first. After a few times, though, she began walking with me.

About three days after we began, we were on our third pass down the hall when we heard excited voices coming from another room.

“What’s that?”

She hesitated, her face a little pale. But then she told me.

“The boys are out raiding the Mad Dog clubhouse again. This is the third time since you…since you were injured. The last time, two of Jack’s guys were shot, one is still in critical condition.”

“Why are they doing that?”

“To keep Mad Dog unsettled, to keep them from coming after you again.”

I shook my head. “Mad Dog doesn’t care about me. They just did that because Mr. J had a hit out on me.”

“Jack said—”

“They’ve got to stop, Remy!”

She was quiet again, clearly conflicted. Then she sighed.

“The thing is, Jack and Brent both had a beef with Mad Dog long before you came along. Raelyn belonged to this other motorcycle club years ago and her former boyfriend, or whatever, came after her when he was released from prison—where Jack and his team at the DEA put him before Jack left the agency. Mad Dog was helping this guy out and they got into this big thing. Then Brent ran a raid on their clubhouse when their vice president took Dane right out of our lobby here at Stone Security. He’s in prison now, too, so Mad Dog’s out to get both of them. This…it’s just another piece of an already growing puzzle.”

“But if they’re doing this because of me—”

“That’s the thing. It’s not about you, Carson. You’re just the latest catalyst.”

I shook my head, my short hair dancing around my jaw. “I never intended for Aiden to put himself in danger for me. Especially not Aiden and his brothers.”

“They love this stuff,” Remy said with a sigh.

“What about Bo?”

She nodded. “He’s right there with them. It’s stupid, but they live for this stuff.”

I just shook my head again, pushing the walker down the hall. “I need to go.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. But if I’m gone, they’ll stop.”

“I doubt it.”

“And Aiden will be safe.”

That got her attention. She stepped in front of me, her eyes boring into mine. “Do you think he’s in danger?”

“As long as I’m here and Mad Dog knows he’s associated with me, he is.”

“You think that man will come after you, that Stamosson, or whatever his name is?”

She knew damn well what his name was. I could see it in her eyes.

“Yeah. And anyone who’s with me will just be collateral damage.”

She hesitated, clearly frightened by the thought.

“Listen, Remy, I never meant to bring this down on your family. I intended to leave long ago, but I got caught up in Aiden, in what was happening between us. I regret that I let it go as far as it did. But I can make it up now; I can disappear before Stamosson figures out where I am.”

Remy gestured around herself. “You’re safe here.”

“But they aren’t. They’re caught up in something they don’t fully understand.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. “But Aiden…he doesn’t need this, Carson. He deserves so much better.”

I could hear what she wasn’t saying, what was there between the lines. Aiden deserved better than me. And I agreed. She was right.

“Then let me go. I could be out of town before morning.”

She didn’t say anything. We finished our walk like we hadn’t discussed anything at all.               As I was headed back to my room, a man dressed all in black stepped around a doorway and gestured for Remy. I watched as she walked over to him, my heart in my throat as I imagined the news he might have for her. It wasn’t right, this kind, pregnant woman sitting down in this bunker worrying about her brothers and the father of her child. But there was nothing I could do about what had already happened. All I could do was change what might happen.

I went into the bathroom and pulled the IV needle out of my hand, hanging it over the edge of the sink so that the liquid wouldn’t wet the floor. My hand bled profusely, but I was able to slow it with pressure. There were bandages in the medicine cabinet; I’d seen them when she got the comb the other day. I slapped one on my hand and turned my attention to my state of dress.

They hadn’t had a hospital gown, but they’d dressed me in an oversized t-shirt and my own robe, clearly brought from my house. The t-shirt was clean, a new one provided to me last night after I took my first solo shower in God knows how long. That meant there had to be other clean clothes around here somewhere. I hunted through the cabinets, the drawers in the sink, going into the bedroom and searching the closet. I finally found a pair of jeans and a simple white blouse that looked to be about the right size. I was dressed by the time Remy came back, sitting in the chair she often occupied, trying to hide the exhaustion that had settled on my shoulders the moment I was off my feet.

“You’re pretty trusting.”

“No. I just trusted that we were on the same page about this.”

She hesitated again, glancing at the door before settling her eyes on me. “The raid is over. They’re headed back here. The guys who were in the control room went upstairs to meet them, so we’ve got a short window.”

“Okay.”

She dropped a set of keys in my lap. “There’s a door to the parking garage in the store room. I moved the shelves already.” She brushed her hand over her head. “There’s a black Prius two rows up. Take that and disappear.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll tell Aiden you overpowered me or something. Tell him you slipped out when I wasn’t looking.”

“The last one is probably best. I don’t think he’d believe I was capable of overpowering you.”

She cracked a smile. “Yeah, probably.”

I stood, a little shaken by the weakness in my legs. But they held me up well enough.

I gave her a hug and was surprised when she hugged me back.

“Thank you,” I said.

She shrugged. “I owed you for the cracker trick. It’s been a real help.”

“I’m glad.”

I walked away, leaving her standing in the center of the room, watching after me. The door had a code pad, but she’d already opened it, leaving it cracked for me. I slipped into the parking garage, careful to close the heavy door behind me. I found the car easily enough and started the engine, my heart pounding from the exertion. Or maybe it was the danger of what I was about to do. Or maybe it was simply the idea of leaving these good people behind.

Leaving Aiden behind.

I couldn’t think about it too hard. I wanted him to be safe, wanted to take away the possibility of him getting caught up in my mess. If Stamosson showed up while Aiden was there, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. I couldn’t live with that even if my life only lasted a moment longer.

I pulled out of the parking garage and hit the little two lane highway just as a line of SUVs came over the gentle rise a half-mile ahead of me. I sat stiffly behind the wheel, trying not to make eye contact with any of the SUV drivers, afraid Aiden was one of them. I wasn’t sure I could do this if I set eyes on him again; but they passed me without incident.

It seemed like an impossibly long drive, but it was really only ten minutes. I pulled into my own driveway feeling like a visitor to a foreign place. The front door was visibly damaged, secured with an aluminum hatch and a Master lock. I walked around to the back, found that the sliding glass door had been broken and cardboard used temporarily to replace it. I pushed against the flimsy replacement and stepped over the metal frame.

I almost didn’t recognize the home I’d lived in for the better part of a year. Everything that was moveable had been destroyed. Everything that couldn’t be moved had been slashed or broken in some way. There were holes in the walls, bare wires where light fixtures had hung. The furniture was smashed, the stuffing from the cushions on the couch still floating around the room. My computer system was missing, the desk smashed into a dozen pieces. The kitchenware was so thick across the floor in its broken pieces that it was impossible to tell where the pieces stopped and the floor began.

It killed my soul to see the mess, hurt me deeper than any knife wound ever could. This was the happiest home I’d ever known, in large part because of Aiden. Now it was gone. More than gone. It was destroyed.

I managed to make my way upstairs, moving with a little more energy thanks to the adrenaline that anger and hatred pumped into my veins. The loft space wasn’t any better. My silk sheets were in strips, the mattress hauled off the bed and slashed to tatters. My clothes were no longer recognizable as clothing, Aiden’s things tossed around the room like a child’s playthings. I stepped around the worst of it, making my way to a spot on the far side of the room. There was a place where the carpet was loose, where it could easily be pulled up. I tugged at it now, glad to see that it appeared to be largely undisturbed.

I found this spot not long after I first moved in and took advantage of it, creating a hiding space. It only took a little craftiness and I discovered that learning how to rearrange a person’s bones and intestines wasn’t that different from a little creative construction. I’d cut a hole in the floor that could be easily covered by returning the pieces of flooring back where they’d been removed. I pulled them out now, digging in the subfloor for the bag I’d hidden there a month after moving into the house.

It was still there, untouched. I unzipped it, checked for the packs of money, the credit cards I’d taken out using a fake social security number, checked for the change of clothes and the house keys I’d tucked in a side pocket. It was all there.

“Running again?”

I stood and there was Aiden, leaning casually against the staircase railing like he’d asked if I was sticking around for dinner.

As relieved as I was to see him completely unharmed, he was the last person I’d wanted to run into today.

I didn’t have time to explain this to him.