Full Contact (Redemption #3)(90)
Strangely detached, I watch them go. Maybe it’s the drugs or shock, but I feel nothing. No happiness. No sadness. No relief or anger. I just sit as people come in and out, say little, feel less, and pray the circus will end.
“You okay, Sia?” A man enters the room and pulls up a chair beside me. He is tall and thin, with sandy-brown hair parted to one side. His dark suit and white shirt are impeccably pressed. Everything about him screams agent, and I tense in the bed.
He holds out his hand. “I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Special Agent Jack Harris. FBI. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened and commend you on your bravery.”
Giving his hand a limp shake, I shrug. “I’m hardly brave. When I saw him in the parking lot, I didn’t run away because I knew him from the tattoo parlor. And in the hotel room, I knew all sorts of self-defense and fight moves, and all I could come up with was to keep him talking, kick him, and bite his lip. If you hadn’t come, he would have killed me. I trust all the wrong people. I make myself vulnerable over and over again, and I get hurt. I’m pathetic.”
The self-loathing and bitterness in my voice shock even me. Maybe this is why I haven’t been able to talk all day. These are the words that I needed to say and I couldn’t let my family or friends hear them.
Jack appears to be unfazed by my outburst. His bland expression doesn’t change. “Sometimes talking is the bravest thing you can do,” he says in a calm, even tone. “It buys you time, it keeps the assailant calm, and it makes him see you as a person, not a victim.”
“He saw me as a message for Ray.” I spit out each word. “And I bought myself maybe a few minutes.”
“That was enough time for us to get to you.” Jack smiles. “Those were minutes where you stayed calm and didn’t panic. Not easy to do. And don’t beat yourself up for not running away. He had been watching you for a while. His visits to the tattoo parlor were for the sole purpose of ensuring you didn’t run when he finally took you. We found surveillance pictures on his computer.”
“How did you find me?”
He shifts uneasily in his chair. “There’s a tracker in the necklace Ray gave you.”
My hand flies up to the amber pendant hanging around my neck. God, this just gets worse and worse. “Ray knew about it?”
“He put it there. After he caught one of Yuri’s men following you, he came to us for assistance and arranged for the tracker. We raided Yuri’s hotel room the next day. There was an explosion, and we thought he died in the blast, but he must have escaped out a back exit.”
The urge to rip the necklace off my neck and hurl it across the room is so great, I have to fist my hands in my lap.
Seemingly oblivious to my despair, Jack asks detailed questions about what happened, starting with Yuri’s visits to the shop and ending with what I now know was a motel room near the San Francisco International Airport. Finally, he closes his notebook and we say good-bye.
“Jack?”
He turns at the doorway, eyebrow raised.
“Yuri said Ray is with the CIA. Is that true?”
A tight smile crosses his lips. “I wouldn’t know.”
*
He comes in the night, as I knew he would.
Visiting hours don’t mean anything to a man like Ray, and no one is going to turn him away.
The monitors beep softly in the dim light. Something gurgles behind me. Ray’s jacket creaks as he leans forward and touches my hand.
“I was waiting for you,” I say.
“Wasn’t sure if I could come back.” His voice is rough, hoarse, and so gravelly I know he hasn’t slept for a while.
Steeling myself to keep my emotions at bay, I look over, studying the lines and planes of his haggard face. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”
He scrubs a hand over his face and shudders. “Everything beautiful…”
“Ray…”
“I’ve destroyed everything beautiful in my life. But you”—his voice tightens—“you are beyond beautiful to me. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. I failed you in the worst possible way. I broke my promise.”
“Yes, you did.” I hand him the necklace I removed after Jack’s visit, my anger now smoldering instead of a raging inferno. “You promised to keep me safe, but—”
“I put you in danger.” Self-loathing fills his voice as he takes the necklace. “Danger I will never put you in again.” He tightens his fist and holds the necklace to his heart. “I’m sorry, Sia. I wanted you so much that I lost you. I wish I could turn back the clock so I could make all the right choices, spare your suffering, and keep you safe in my arms.” He draws in a ragged breath, then perches on the edge of the bed and pulls me into his arms, holding me so tight I can barely breathe.
“I made that wish about turning back the clock for years. It never came true.”
“Maybe when I’m gone.”
My heart stutters. “You’re leaving the city?”
“It’s the only way I know to keep you safe.” He brushes a kiss over my forehead. “This way I’ll know you’ll never be in danger. Because you won’t be with me.”
A black hole opens in my chest. For all the anger and disappointment I feel, I can’t imagine life without him. I open my mouth, but the words I want to say don’t come.