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“I understand that, which is why I chose today to meet. Barrett is in Seattle for the week. This will give you time to review the files and get me and Grace—”
He held out both hands, stopping me. “We can’t move you until—”
“You move us now. That’s not negotiable. If you need me for anything, you’ll know where to find me, just not in New York. Put us somewhere while you build the case, but Grace and I will be gone.”
His light eyes flicked between my own, no doubt searching for lies.
He wouldn’t find any. That would be my husband.
The minimal food I’d forced down that morning worked its way up my throat. I was a fool for not seeing the lies, for falling for all the times he’d used my desperation for a connection against me. But that was then. Now I knew, and I wouldn’t be the victim in all this, and neither would Gracie.
“I’ll need to make a call to the US Marshals Service. They’re the ones who handle witness protection.”
I nodded and folded my hands on top of each other. “Then go make your call, Agent Carleigh, because you won’t get the information until I have your word that my daughter and I won’t be in this state by nightfall.”
With or without his help, Gracie and I would disappear.
Strong, smart, and independent were all words used to describe the old me, Georgia Day. Now it was time to add brave to that list for Gracie’s sake.
And break free of the gilded cage Barrett’s web of lies had constructed around me.
I could do this.
On my own.
Like I had been for far longer than I wanted to admit.
ONE
TRAP
The cheap tequila burned as it slid down my throat, though not as badly as the prior three. A clap sounded above the music blaring from the jukebox when I slammed the shot glass on top of the sticky bar before signaling the bartender for another round. As I waited, the sad-ass country song playing registered, adding to my depressing mood. Twisting around on the stool, I leaned against the bar’s rounded edge, resting both elbows along the top of the wood as I surveyed the small crowd.
A few familiar faces nodded my way before turning their vacant stares back to their drinks, clearly not in the mood to socialize but rather to forget or drown their sorrows like me. In the corner, a high-top table surrounded by four women seemed to be the only cheery customers in the small dive bar. Their combined laughter and loud, excited voices filled the stale air. My lips twitched as I studied them from afar, feeding off their abundant happiness.
At least someone was having a good night.
“Here you go.” I twisted back around, finding the bartender sliding a full shot of clear liquid toward me, some slipping over the rim to drip down the glass side. “Maybe you should sip this one, Trap.”
“This shit is not meant for sipping,” I said, holding the glass between two fingers.
“What’s it for, then?” she asked as she wiped down the bar where the tequila spilled.
“Forgetting.”
Forgetting the memories that constantly flooded my mind from years ago that could never be recreated, making my heart ache to the point that I wondered if it was permanently damaged. The dead organ in my chest that refused to beat the same after the love of my life was ripped away, leaving me hollow and angry.
With a shake of my head, I tossed the shot back, savoring the way it shifted my focus from the past to the harsh burn as it glided down my throat and heated my gut.
Most days were okay, not every second filled with the reminder that I had it all once. But that was then. Now I was this shell of who I was before. I missed the man I used to be, someone who loved life and didn’t have to force a smile or joke to hide his pain. But that was what happened when someone as irreplaceable as Jessa left.
Not left.
Died.
There one day, kissing me goodbye as I left for work, then gone forever.
A head-on collision with a semitruck. People tried to comfort me and my best friend by saying at least she didn’t suffer. Utter bullshit. The future we’d planned for years was suddenly gone.
