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“You didn’t pull the trigger.”
My index finger feels the pressure. The whites of the eyes.
“I killed a man.” Two, no three men died because of me yesterday.
“I read the police report.”
“Do they have the gun?” I don’t remember what I did with it. It wasn’t my gun.
“The police? Yes. Standard procedure in a homicide.” A sob escapes and he holds me tight against him until I gain control. When I pull away, he places a hand on my thigh. “We were able to learn more about the assailants.”
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs. The pain. It hurts so much?—
“Hey. Look at me. Those men were not good men. Both had records.”
“They said they weren’t going to hurt me.” And then I pulled the trigger. Did I do that before or after they shot Felix? I strain to remember, but my memory, the images, are shrouded in blurry darkness.
“Their goal was to abduct you. They found enough tranquilizer in the back of a van to take down three horses. Rope. Handcuffs.”
“For me?”
“That’s what it looks like. We’re working with the cops and feds to access their phones. They had an iPad in the truck. Our tech team should be able to pull a lot once we get our hands on the devices.”
That won’t help Felix. Or his son. That cute little boy with a huge smile and bowl-shaped haircut.
“Hey.” He manhandles me, situating himself against the headboard and me against his side. The ten-foot wooden door is closed. The crystal doorknob sparkles. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“How can I not?” I push back so I can see his face. He has to understand how the world would be different if I never drove here. If I didn’t heed my brother’s instructions. Why did Sam leave me a bag filled with cash and fake passports? Why couldn’t he have just told me to go to the police?
“Listen to me. Men like Felix. Me. Max. We chose this. We’re?—”
“Don’t tell me he gladly left his wife and son.”
“No. But he’d do it all over again.”
A slight dizziness and nausea arise.
“We’re going to figure this out. Discover who orchestrated this. We’re going to find Sloane.”
“What if it’s not about Sloane?”
My thumb gently caresses his lower lip because…he’s beautiful. I exhale, close my eyes, and blink back emotion. He may think I’ve lost my marbles, but I’ve got to tell him about my alternative theory.
“What if it’s not about Sloane? What if it’s something Sam is doing? What if they sent the same men after her and she didn’t get away, which is why she hasn’t called me?”
His palm covers my cheek, and his eyes go soft. His lips press together. Pity. He pities me. “Pretty sure Sam’s not causing trouble from the other side.”
“What if he’s alive?” He drops his hand and tilts his head, skepticism clear. “Hear me out. The last time he stayed with me, something was different. He packed that baffling black bag. With fake passports and cash and an alternate license plate. He made me pick clothes to pack. Clothes I would need if I had to leave in a hurry but that I wouldn’t be tempted to take out and wear before… I don’t know, I guess before I needed the black bag. And you know, I told you…he always mailed me letters. And a lot of times, not through the military. He’d go somewhere else to mail them, because he said the military had people that might read them.” He opens his mouth, and I push my hand over it. “Listen. I didn’t tell you about the last letter. I mean, I told you he said to go to you if I was ever in danger. But the last letter…it was like he thought someone might read it. He was cryptic. He said remember where I told you to go. Don’t hesitate. He’ll be there for you. I’d show you the letter, but I bet it burned.”
“That definitely sounds like he was involved in something. Maybe he was…there are groups who recruit from within the SEAL ranks. That could be why he met with Jack Sullivan. Jack went from the Navy to the CIA. He’s retired now, but…” He reaches for my hand. “Sage. I was there when Sam died. I can promise you, what is happening right now is not due to Sam.”
“If he was dead, I would feel it.” I rub my sternum. “I felt it when my parents left. Each of them. Sam. Sloane. They’re both still here.”
He doesn’t believe me. Jimmy didn’t either. Sloane and I never talked about it. I tried, and she shut me down. I understand why. She was hurting and she’s someone who needs to close the chapter. She’s stronger believing he’s dead, and I’m stronger believing he’s alive. The reality is, neither of us know. No one knows. His body wasn’t found.
“The day of the explosion, we were off duty.” His gaze is on my hand. He’s toying with my fingers, and sorrow is the word that comes to mind when I take in his expression. Deeply sorrowful. “The bar…it was…a dive. Filled with mostly off-duty military. We weren’t supposed to really be drinking but… I had this woman…I didn’t know her name. Don’t know her name. But she made it clear she’d… go out back with me. It was…” He lets my hand go, and his gaze travels to the ceiling. “I’m not proud of it. I’m not a saint. Wasn’t one. A call came in. Sam took it. Said they’d had reports there might be trouble next door. A partially abandoned building. Sam said it was probably nothing. He’d go check it out. I told him not to, we were off duty. Wasn’t something we should do. He said nah, he’d check it out. He told me to have fun. Enjoy my…”
I can read between the lines. There’s no need to add details. “It’s okay.”
