In the still of the late morning, while she waited for him to return from the SBI headquarters, those unwanted memories burst through her mind once again.
Grabbed and thrown into the back of the van.
Loss of vision.
Zip ties.
Panic.
Dragged out of the van and downstairs.
Concrete.
Diego’s voice. His demands and threats.
The blast.
The single gunshot.
Brian rescuing her.
Okay, the only reason the last thought was unwanted was that it wouldn’t have been necessary if not for all the rest.
Her throat tightened.
You’re home. You’re alive. And so are Andy and Brian.
She forced herself to open her eyes and look around the living room, noticing the small comforts of their temporary home. A throw blanket was folded neatly over the arm of the couch, and Andy’s backpack sat on the dining table. The faint scent of lemon cleaner lingering in the air—she’d scrubbed the kitchen and bathrooms twice already this morning, needing something to do with her hands. Normal things. She was safe, but her mind and body didn’t believe it yet.
A shiver ran through her body, and she pulled the blanket over her to ward off the sudden chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. She stretched out on the couch, the cushions dipping under her weight. The fabric brushed against her bandaged wrists, and she froze—just for a split second—before reminding herself it wasn’t restraints. Just cotton gauze.
Her gaze drifted to the back door. Locked. Deadbolt thrown. She’d checked it. Twice. She’d checked the rarely-used front door too. And the windows.
She almost got up to check again.
Instead, she drew in a slow breath, filling her lungs the way the nurse at the hospital had taught her last night. She’d completely unraveled—hyperventilating when the shock circled back and hit her all over again while Brian had stepped out to use the men’s room.
In for four. Hold. Out for six.
She winced. Every muscle in her body ached, and even though they weren’t broken, her ribs protested when she drew too deep a breath or turned too fast—a temporary souvenir of her abduction.
Her eyes stung unexpectedly.
She’d never been afraid of the dark. Nor afraid of silence. She worked around death every single day, so even the sight of blood, internal organs, and brain matter didn’t bother her.
But now?—
Now every unexpected sound made her flinch. Every passing car outside slowed her pulse for a fraction of a second too long. Every creak of the house settling felt like a warning.
She adjusted a throw pillow under her head and stared at the ceiling, trying to get her mind to settle while debating whether to clean the kitchen for a third time.
Dr. Hansen had insisted she take the rest of the week off when she’d called him from the hospital the night before, and she hadn’t even tried to argue. The steady authority in his voice had made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion.
She’d waited in a private ER room for nearly two hours, wrapped in a thin hospital blanket that did nothing to stop the tremors that kept sneaking up on her. Uniformed officers had come first. Then, more plainclothes agents. An SBI supervisor whose name she’d already forgotten had introduced himself, his tone careful but direct.
Statements had been taken.
Forms signed.
