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“Are you okay?”

I shake my head, grateful he isn’t going to waste any more time on a subject neither of us will probably ever want to talk about.

“I don’t have the energy to keep going. They didn’t… I wasn’t exactly given gourmet meals the last four months.”

He blinks in my direction, his jaw clenching, and I can see the battle in his eyes. I can tell he had no idea I was there as long as I was.

“If I never see another peanut butter and jelly sandwich again, I’ll die a happy man,” he says, the lack of a smile telling me he isn’t joking.

My throat burns at the sight of the frown on his face. I hate thinking that I might be part of the reason for putting it there.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

“It’s not a problem. We can take a break.”

I shake my head, those pesky fucking tears once again sprouting from my eyes. I could control them so much better under the threat of harm, but now that I should be smiling because I’m free, I can’t seem to wrangle them at all.

I refuse to think about the validity of Slick’s request for me to get some help or try and talk to someone about what happened. If I thought it would make a difference, then maybe I’d give it a try, but I know I’ll be stuck feeling this way for the rest of my life. It’ll all be easier to come to terms with if I ever get the chance to feel safe again.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” I mutter, looking around, my eyes darting from one person to the next in an effort not to be caught off guard once again like I was back in Texas.

“Would you like me to take you back? The hotel is only a block away.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “If you know exactly where we are, why in the fuck have you been walking us around in fucking circles for the last goddamned hour?”

He licks his lips, but I can see the smile he’s trying to hide. It sparkles in his dark eyes.

“I realize we haven’t really gotten the chance to talk, but I never took you for the type of woman to have such colorful language.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, not even wanting to evaluate what he thought of me, considering everything that’s happened.

“I don’t have the strength to keep fucking walking in circles.”

“I figured you were going to change your mind. I didn’t want your walk back to take too long.”

I drop down onto the sidewalk, uncaring for the people who may have to step into the street to get around us. I’ve been through a lifetime of hell in the last four months. What do I care if others are just mildly fucking inconvenienced.

“If you don’t want me with you, just fucking tell me that.” I’m second-guessing why I even asked in the first place.

“You’ll go back to Cerberus?” His question is a challenge, as if he’s expected this all along.

“Not a fucking chance,” I answer honestly. I was no less a prisoner there than I was with Cortez’s crew.

“This isn’t exactly the safest place to take a break,” he says, his eyes darting down the street before looking back at me.

“Tell me the plan, while I rest.”

He looks away. “I don’t exactly have a plan.”

I take in a deep, ragged breath, the noise rushing from my nose, making it very clear I’m not happy with his response.

“I want to get back to the States,” I say, imagining that standing on American soil will cure everything that could possibly ail me. “Preferably Texas because that’s where I’m from.”

He nods as if he thinks it’s not a half-bad goal to have.

“Where did they take you from?”

He meets my eyes. “Here.”

“Monterrey?” He nods.

My eyes dart all over the place. I know anything can happen at any time in any place, but I think I let his presence wrap me in a false sense of security. Hell, he was abducted too.

“Is that why this isn’t a safe place?” I ask, needing to know if it’s fear from before or if he suspects something will happen in the present.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that there aren’t really any safe places anywhere anymore.”

I swallow, my throat working as I nod my agreement.

“Cerberus is safe. Angel said as much.”

I look away from him, my eyes downcast on my hands as I tangle my fingers together. I know exactly who Angel is, and it irritates me in a way that he’d be friends with someone that was so quick and willing to kill me. But the man doesn’t owe me any favors and loyalty is earned, not just freely given. I’ve done nothing to deserve it from him. If anything, he should hate me for what I’ve done.

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