“Can you stay here please?”
He wanted to do this quickly, but Kaylee was making it difficult. She hadn’t stopped wandering around in circles, staring at everything around her, since he brought her through the front door of his house. She also didn’t seem to care that he’d all but strangled her. The way she could endure hardship, and then brush herself off and keep going, was something that continued to astound him the longer he knew her.
“This place is huge.”
Stuart said, “Kitchen is over there. The bathroom is down the hall. I’ll alarm the system, so you don’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on you.” The team was here, but he didn’t know what they were doing.
He glanced back at Dean. “Where are the boys?”
Dean looked up from his phone. “On a run. The shortcut gets them back in an hour, and they’re good to help with whatever you need.”
“An hour?” Kaylee gaped.
Stuart said, “Dean and I will be downstairs. If a bunch of sweaty guys suddenly walk in, it’s all good. We know them.”
She nodded. “They live here with you guys. I’ve seen them around town, so it’s fine. I’ll be fine. You don’t…need any help?”
He shook his head. “We’re good.”
There was no way he wanted her walking in on one of his therapy sessions. Not when that meant recreating as much of the experience as possible—including the fear and pain. But he needed to do this now. He needed to remember.
Stuart touched her shoulders. “You’re safe here.”
She gifted him with a small smile. “It’s been an insane couple of days. I’d love to just sit somewhere quiet and have a few minutes of peace.”
“Whatever you want in the kitchen, just help yourself. Okay?”
“Thank you.”
Stuart couldn’t resist. He leaned close and touched his lips to her forehead. He squeezed her shoulders, then headed for the hallway, figuring he’d likely never get the chance to be that close to her again. Doing this might get him the result he wanted through resurfaced memories, but the damage to his psyche could be irreparable. And that was really saying something, since even he could admit he was already damaged.
Kaylee seemed to have completely forgiven him for squeezing the breath out of her and putting those bruises on her neck, but he would do it again. That was inevitable. He could never completely trust himself not to hurt her. His damage, coupled with her vulnerabilities, made for a stormy combination that meant he had to keep his distance.
“Wanna tell me about that?”
Stuart’s head pounded, and not just from the bump he’d received when the car stopped. “Doesn’t matter. Doing so won’t make it all go away, so what’s the point?”
“Says who?”
Stuart descended the basement stairs. Other people’s opinions were the least relevant thing in his life. He would never have chosen to come here if he actually cared what people thought. He’d be living in a shack on the beach in Thailand, spending next to nothing and speaking to no one. It would be the best way to experience beauty he’d never found anywhere else and the only way to know he wouldn’t ever hurt anyone else again because of his trauma.
Instead, out of his mind, he’d assumed Kaylee was a threat and had put her in danger. A good woman who didn’t deserve that.
He stopped at the door. “Let’s just do this. Remembering the code word makes Kaylee safe. I finish this, and we can all move on with our lives.”
“Why does that not sound like a good thing?”
Stuart lifted his chin. “Doesn’t matter what it sounds like. Kaylee will get her life back, and I’ll be far enough away that I won’t hurt her.”
Dean said, “You don’t think it might be possible you could have a relationship with her and not hurt her?”
“I already did hurt her. You saw the bruises on her neck.” He shoved the door open, tugged his shirt off, and tossed it back into the hallway. “Let’s just do this.”
Dean used his phone to adjust the temperature, making it far warmer than the rest of the house. Stuart laid on the floor against the wall for twenty minutes while sweat beaded on his body. Then a crackle sounded through speakers mounted high on the walls. Yelling in a language he spoke, but not fluently. He could recite the words at this point. Music played, as though the neighbors had cranked their favorite retro Afghani tunes, determined to serenade the whole neighborhood.
Stuart closed his eyes and let his mind go back there. He didn’t want Dean to have to use pharmaceuticals to alter his mental state. He even prayed that he’d be able to do this by himself. Kaylee deserved answers. She deserved to be safe.
After all, that was why he’d done the work he had. For years. Fighting the world’s tide of evil for the innocent people who didn’t even know it existed. Or maybe it was all a façade and they were happier pretending to not notice what was right in front of them. And then there were people like Kaylee who knew what it meant to be a victim and yet still carried on.
His mind continually wanted to suck him back to that place, so there wasn’t much effort required to remember the parts he could. Pain. Terror.
His heart rate kicked up. Dean recorded all his vitals through sensors Ted had placed around the room.
They knew we were coming.
“I know,” Stuart had said. Across the room, his friend had been steadily bleeding from a wound on his leg where he’d been caught by a bullet. Just a graze.
Neither of them had wanted to admit the depth of the situation they were in.
Made worse by the one memory he would never forget.
Do it. The kidnapper had screamed the accented words in his ear, spittle landing on Stuart’s cheek. Do it now.
His breath came fast now, the world spinning. He tried to sit up and bile rose in his throat. Stuart coughed and gasped.
Brad gasped. “Stu…don’t let them kill me. Promise me… Promise me you’ll do it before they do.”
He stared at the wall. “I’m sorry.”
Stuart squeezed his eyes shut and drifted.
He gripped the knife, feeling his hand slide against the base of the blade. A sharp pain cut at his skin.
Laughter echoed against the walls and filled his ears. “Do it. Hurt your friend.”
One captor held Brad on his feet in front of Stuart, his friend’s eyes boring into him. Fear. Understanding. He mouthed, “Do it.”
“No.” Stuart didn’t want to hurt his friend, no matter what Brad had made him promise. He wasn’t going to do it.
The captor shoved his hand. The knife pressed against Brad’s stomach. His friend cried out, the sound tearing through Stuart like he was the one being cut.
Laughter filled his ears, and he choked on a sob.
They tossed him to the floor, still laughing. He rolled and saw Brad leaning against the wall, hands to his stomach. Blood on his fingers. On his shirt.
Stuart screamed out his frustration.
The captor produced another syringe. He jabbed it in Stuart’s upper arm and pressed the plunger down while Stuart tried to shove him away. Kick him. Anything. Something. He had to stop this.
But it wouldn’t stop.
It was never going to end.
The two captors dragged Brad from the room. His friend screamed, legs sliding across the floor as they pulled him out into the hall.
“Brad!”
Time drifted. Hours turned to days as the sun tracked its way across the floor over and over again.
Brad never returned. That meant he had to be dead, just as they’d said. Tormenting him with the fact that he’d killed his friend.
And then a commotion. An explosion rocked the room. Plaster fell from the ceiling in waves of dust that coated him. Gunfire outside. Two sides, locked in a battle.
Men ran down the hall, outside his room.
Another explosion. The wall of his cell blew out and a gust of wind came with it, filling the room with dirt and smoke.
Stuart clambered to his feet, fell back on his knees, and cried out his frustration.
He wasn’t going to die here. He would rather die out there, fighting for his life. Trying to escape, even if he had no weapon.
Visibility outside was near zero, but that might play in his favor. He climbed over rubble and waited. Watched. Listened through the smoke.
On the ground was a twisted piece of metal. Stuart held it with both hands and made his way outside. The compound was only a few buildings, but the wall was high. He wouldn’t be able to climb over it.
Gunfire cracked in the black sky.
Stuart flinched, but it was on the far side of the compound. Two men raced across the open space, headed toward it.
They never even saw him.
Stuart raced to the door. It was hardly fortified, even the main entrance. Just a place people could slip in and out, avoiding the vehicles at the other entrance.
A guard stepped out, gun pointed. Stuart swung the metal and the man went down. He took the gun and the man’s phone, making the call before he even fully broke free of the compound. Even if he didn’t succeed, he wanted someone he trusted to know the truth.
Brad was the only friend he had, but the group of men were those he knew he could count on. He’d always known they lived lives of honor. And though they were hours away on a mission, he’d hide, and they’d find him. Get him out.
Stuart took the phone with him and stepped out of the cover of the compound wall. A pickup truck was parked fifteen feet to his left. Aside from that, there was nothing but shrubs and mountains for as far as he could see.
The second he left cover, Stuart would be completely exposed.
But he did it. He’d driven away, fighting his way out the entire time, and then he had hidden in a neighboring farm until Zander and his team, Dean with them, had picked him up. That had been a battle of its own. So much war.
Stuart was still exhausted, and it had been months since he climbed into the chopper and they took off.
He never wanted to see another desert or scrub bush—or pickup truck, for that matter. Not for as long as he lived.
He rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling, one hand on his chest. The password. He had to go back further, to the days before he’d been forced to shove that knife into Brad’s stomach, murdering him.
“Dean!”
The door cracked. “Yeah?”
“Stuart, are you okay?” Kaylee’s face was so much like her brother’s, he saw there in her eyes the same expression Brad wore when Stuart had killed him.
He rolled away from her to face the wall. That was why he couldn’t stay. Every time he looked at her, he would see the gaze of the man he’d killed. He would know that the hurt she lived with was because of him.
And he would keep hurting her. He knew that with as much certainty as he knew she would find someone else.
A man who knew how to love her.
“I’ll get my kit.” Dean’s footsteps retreated.
Stuart pulled in a long breath and blew it out slowly. His entire body was sweat slicked and achy. His head pounded, and his muscles were cramped.
“Are you okay?”
He didn’t look at her.
“What is this room?”
Stuart pressed his lips together.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”
Dean came back. “Kaylee, I need you to wait outside. Everything is okay.”
It wasn’t, but Stuart understood the sentiment behind Dean’s words. He needed to reassure her in a way that was efficient, so they could get back to work.
“I don’t know.” She even sounded unsure. “I think—”
Stuart needed her to leave. He wanted to get this over with as soon as he could, get the password, and take the flash drive. Leave the town of Last Chance for good, so she would finally be safe.
From him.
He rolled over. “Kaylee, get out.”
She glanced around the room. “But—”
“GET OUT.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she ran from the room.