Hidden Away (KGI #3)(58)

“Cut me some slack,” she muttered. “I know I’m an idiot. I get it. I do.” She rubbed her hand over her forehead and a wave of hopelessness hit her like a tsunami. Who was she kidding? She was never going to survive on her own.

“You’re not an idiot,” Garrett said in a low voice. “You’ve had your very normal life upended. You’ve made some bad choices, and you haven’t been as careful as you should, but that’s where I come in. I’m going to do my damndest to make sure nothing happens to you.”

“If you only knew,” she murmured. Then she let out a dry laugh. “Bad decisions. If I could only go back.”

“You can’t think that way. You play with the cards your dealt and you move on.”

“You strike me as someone who lives with no regrets,” she said, intensely jealous of how grounded and confident he always appeared.

He seemed surprised by her observation and he laughed, but the sound wasn’t one of amusement.

“My attitude is born of necessity. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve made decisions I regretted. I know what it’s like to live with regret. I live with it every day. But if I let it take over, I’d never get out of bed in the morning.”

The frank, raw note in his voice shook her. For a moment she got a glimpse of the man beyond the self-assured, steady exterior. For some reason it reassured her and put them on more of an equal footing.

He stared back at her, neither of them speaking. She was unwilling to break the brief moment of connection—true connection—and she savored that he’d shared something beyond casual conversation. He hadn’t said much but it had been what he said. She wasn’t the only person to make mistakes—though hers seemed so much larger and the consequences so much more far-reaching, but how was she to know the true depth of his mistakes?

“What happened in Boston, Sarah?”

Garrett watched as the blood drained from Sarah’s face. She went as pale as the sheets rumpled around her. Her arms tightened around the pillow she held so close to her chest and she dug her chin into it until only her eyes shone over the top. Damn. He didn’t want to scare the hell out of her, but he had to pry the information out.

“I need to know what you saw, Sarah,” he said gently. “I need to know what kind of danger you’re in.”

If possible, she went even whiter. For a moment she closed her eyes and when she reopened them he saw a vulnerability so deep that he wanted to reach out and hold her.

“It was best that I left,” she finally said. “I can’t go back. I’ve resigned myself to that.”

“So you’ll spend the rest of your life running? That’s no way to live, Sarah. It doesn’t have to be that way. I need ...” He ran his hand through his hair back and forth in agitation. He hated the hypocrisy in what he was about to say to her. He hated that would ask her to give him something he had no right to given his deception. “I need for you to trust me.”

She looked up, her eyes dull. “I don’t trust anyone.”

So starkly said, the words hit him hard. There was a wealth of emotion even when her expression was so dim and lifeless.

“Sarah.”

She refocused on him, blinking as their gazes met.

“You can trust me.”

And she could. With her life. Her well-being. He’d do whatever necessary to keep her safe. He wasn’t being honest with her, and that was something he’d have to live with. But she could damn well trust that he’d never let anyone hurt her.

Somehow he would separate what he had to do in order to bring down her brother and shield her in the process. She would see it as a betrayal. She was too loyal, too loving and giving to accept what he had to do. But it was the right thing to do and somehow, someway, even if it took forever, he’d make her understand that. He didn’t have a choice.

Her struggle was vivid, played across her face and awash in her eyes. He saw an intense desire to be able to trust him. She was so wary but she longed for someone to lean on. And damn it, he wanted to be that person.

“Sarah.”

She locked gazes with him again.

“You can trust me.”

The lie that wasn’t a lie. Was anything ever straightforward? Life was a study in shades of gray. As black and white as he tended to view the world, here and now he understood the pull between right and wrong. Between what he had to do and what he wanted. He didn’t like it. Not at all.

“Now tell me what happened the day you walked into the building where Allen Cross was murdered.”

He watched her battle the tears, but she blinked them back and swallowed, her jaw tightening. “I saw Allen Cross die. I wasn’t in time. I wasn’t in time,” she repeated helplessly.

Garrett’s frowned and leaned forward. “Wasn’t in time for what?”

“I could have prevented it. Oh God, I could have stopped it.”

A spasm of grief crossed her face. It was uncomfortable to witness, and for a moment he wanted to pull her into his arms and drop the entire subject. It was a stupid, emotional reaction—one he couldn’t afford to consider. Too much was at stake here.

“How could you have prevented it, Sarah? Did your brother threaten Cross?”

“Marcus doesn’t make threats. He doesn’t posture. He acts.”