Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(22)

After the message about Thomas’s hitting Sara, I would’ve liked to have been the one who took care of him; however, undoubtedly my method wouldn’t be approved and there wasn’t enough time.

With a motel room set, a call in to Brother Daniel about my change in plans, and supplies purchased, I finally arrived at the marshals’ office and sat behind a window watching the woman who’d been my wife for nearly a year. Though I’d wanted to go straight to her, Hill insisted that I see her first, see her injury. Even though I saw it only through the glass, my teeth and fists clenched.

“Tell me Thomas is no longer a threat,” I said, though my jaw wouldn’t move.

“Agent, he’ll be lost in the system for more years than you’ll need to complete your assignment,” Deputy Hill said, shrugging confidently, as only a man with years of experience could do. “With his cocky attitude and affinity for hurting women, he might find more than he bargained for behind bars. Who knows? He may not make it long enough in general population for his messed-up papers to ever be straightened out.”

I nodded, the muscles in my neck and shoulders screaming from the tension and strain. “What did she say in her statement?”

“I haven’t taken a statement.”

I turned toward the older man’s blank expression. “What do you mean? You’ve had her here for hours.”

“And if I’d taken a statement, I’d have had to record it. If I forgot to take a statement or record her detention, then maybe it didn’t happen.”

I inhaled. Puffing out my cheeks, I slowly released the air. “Did she say . . .”

“She hasn’t said anything. She’s tried, but I just kept telling her we’d be ready soon.” He nodded toward the window. “Mostly she keeps asking to make a call.”

“If she decides . . . they’ll let her call her family.” I couldn’t say if she decides to go into witness protection. As much as I’d convinced myself, as I flew to Fairbanks, that having her safe was the best option, having her in the next room, I couldn’t imagine letting her go.

Not that my intentions would convince her. I was probably the last person she wanted to see. Well, looking at her eye, maybe I trumped Thomas, but that wasn’t saying much. I had to think of something. Everything and everyone was riding on this.

First I needed to get her away from the marshals’ office. I ran my hands through my hair as Sara stood and walked.

“We’d better . . . ,” Hill said as he exited the room.

My steps stuttered as I watched Sara move toward the door. Immediately my temperature rose. Something was off with her stride. Hill had said that Thomas hadn’t done more than strike her—as if that were OK—but by the way she was walking . . . biting my cheek, I suddenly wondered whether he had done more.

So help me God, if he had touched her sexually . . . once this was over, I’d unravel the f*cking paperwork and make him pay.

I made it to the door of the interrogation room, just as Deputy Hill opened it and said, “Ma’am . . . your husband is here to take you home.”

As I stepped around Hill, my gaze met Sara’s. Though her eyes remained fixed, her feet backed away. In that second I didn’t see the horrible purple bruise. All I saw were the most beautiful light-blue eyes staring back at me. In that gorgeous stare was a kaleidoscope of emotion: shock, fear, disbelief, and resentment. They all swirled together with hurt and disappointment. I searched for the love I swore I’d seen that morning. Fear was winning her emotional battle.

Needing to refocus her thoughts, I evened my voice. “Sara.”

Her neck straightened. Despite her eye, she had strength. She was fighting not only me but also the months of training, submission, and conditioning. Stella and Sara were battling before my eyes. If only she’d listen to my true intentions. I wasn’t Jacob, not completely.

Her protests started softly, and then her eyes widened, and Stella grew stronger. “No,” she whispered. Then, after clearing her throat, she repeated, “No. This isn’t happening.” I closed the gap. “No,” she said louder. Turning toward Deputy Hill, she spoke louder: “I’m not his wife. No!” Her face was suddenly tight with terror as she realized he wasn’t going to help. “Deputy Hill, please! You haven’t even taken my statement.”

“Sara,” I repeated calmly. “It’s time to go home. We need to talk.”

As I closed the gap, she slid against the wall, working her way toward the door, as if I’d allow her to escape. Instead of looking at me, her gaze searched for Hill, as she pleaded, “No! Don’t listen to him. My name is—”

“Stop!” I yelled, my voice echoing against the walls of the small room. We hadn’t told anyone from the marshals her true identity. It wasn’t safe. Special Agent Adler had confidence in Hill, but we suspected The Light’s power could be far-reaching. We couldn’t take that chance.

I didn’t mean to scare her, but when she looked back to me I swear I saw raw horror. Her expression was like none I’d ever seen on her before, even when I deserved it. This time I didn’t. This time I wasn’t going to correct her or punish her. I was trying my damnedest to save her.

She fell to the ground, pulling my heart out of my chest and throwing it to the floor below. Her cries and pleas replaced the reverberating sound of my one-word command. “Please . . . I’m not his wife . . . please believe me . . . I’m not Sara . . . I’m . . .”