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19
Idon’t think I’ve ever slept so well in my whole life.
I smile to myself, eyes still closed, stretching my arms and legs, relaxed like I just got out of a hot tub. For the first time in forever, I feel good inside and out.
That feeling lasts a mere second, which is the time it takes me to open my eyes. Once I do that, I realize I’m alone.
I sit up, my head swinging back and forth. They’re both gone. The bathroom is empty when I check it, too. They didn’t leave a note or anything. They just… left.
My legs go weak and I have to lean against the wall outside the bathroom door for support. They’re gone. Like nothing happened.
With a gasp, I looked down at my wrist, remembering what this was all about in the first place. I don’t think I’ve ever let out a sigh of relief as big as the one that comes out of me when I see the familiar chain, when I feel it sliding over my skin. My fingers brush against the butterfly.
Ryker must’ve clasped it there at some point when I was asleep—I’m sure he didn’t have to try too hard not to wake me, since I pretty much fell into a coma.
I hold my wrist in my other hand, eyes closed, and a single tear squeezes out from under my lashes and rolls down my cheek. It’s a happy tear, a tear of gratitude. I got what I wanted, what I needed.
And I guess I should be grateful, too, that they left me unharmed. They didn’t try to stop me from reporting them, probably because they knew better than to think I ever would. I’m not interested in them getting what’s coming to them or anything like that. All I wanted was this, and I got it, and now I can move on with my life.
I should feel happy… ecstatic. Complete, whole, fulfilled. Not to mention relieved as fuck because now I don’t have to scrimp and save and rent dumps like the one on the other side of town. I can go anywhere I want, be anybody I choose to be. So long as I fly under the radar, that is. But I know my way around the rules, too, so that doesn’t bother me. It’s easy to get a fake ID.
I know all of this.
So why does it feel like my heart is breaking?
It might’ve been easier if they had at least left a note explaining why they had to go. Maybe something I could hold on to now, something I could use to remind myself that they thought of me as more than just another victim. Some cop they managed to Stockholm Syndrome their way around. An easy lay.
I need to get out of here. I can’t stand looking at the bed, remembering what it was like last night. How they made me feel, the things they did to me. The things I gladly did to them, things I would do again in a heartbeat if I had the chance. I pull on my jeans and the baggy T-shirt I wore here, then take the ball cap from the dresser and shove it on my head. The sooner I start living my new life, the better.
I jump with a gasp at the sound of the electronic lock beeping, signaling that it’s been tripped. The door opens before I have a chance to react further, though there isn’t much I could do. Why in the hell didn’t I bring my gun with me? Why did I leave it locked with the money?
“Oh, my God!” It’s a good thing I’m standing next to the bed, because my knees go out on me at the sight of Hunter, followed by Ryker. I sit down with a thud hard enough to almost bounce myself onto the floor. “Where did you go? I thought you—”
Hunter smirks as he places a bag on the dresser. Ryker’s holding one of those cardboard carriers with three coffee cups, and he places it next to the bag that I can tell from the smell holds breakfast. “What? You didn’t think we left, did you?”
“We figured you’d be exhausted and starving after all the work we put you through last night.” Hunter fishes out a sandwich and hands it to me. “Bacon, egg, and cheese on a biscuit.”
“You are my savior.” And I’m not just saying that. They are my saviors, both of them. It makes no sense, and I’m positive nobody outside of the three of us could understand, but it’s the truth.
I have half the sandwich eaten and about the same amount of coffee drank before pointing out, “You could’ve let me know you were coming back, you realize. I might’ve left—I would’ve been gone by the time you got back if I had woken up five minutes earlier than I did.”
Ryker hits me with a hard stare, forgetting his sandwich for a second. “It never occurred to us you would think we left.”
“You really think we would have left after we waited so long for you to find us?” Hunter hands me a hash brown patty wrapped in paper.
It’s still hard to understand the way they think. To get inside their heads. They’re locked up just as tight as what’s left of my money.
That doesn’t mean I’m not happy, though. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. And not just because they brought me food. Although that helps a lot.
Once we’re finished eating, and everything’s cleaned up, the guys exchange a look. I’ve seen enough of the way they communicate without using words to know something’s up. “What is it? Why did you look at each other like that?”
For maybe the first time, it looks like Ryker is at a loss for words. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, grimacing with his eyes on the floor. “Here’s the thing. We’re not here because were running away.”
I look back and forth between them, but Hunter’s expression is unreadable as he leans against the dresser, arms folded over his chest. “I don’t understand. Why else would you have zigzagged all over the place for half a year? You have to know law enforcement is still—”
“That’s not what he’s talking about,” Hunter informs me. “If we wanted to get away and stay away, we would’ve gone straight to California.”
“What’s in California?”
