Three days later…
"Pack your bags," Dave says, storming into my room.
"What?" I jump to my feet.
"First, I’m going to kill your f*cking boyfriend. Then we have to move," he barks.
"Wait. What did Slate do?"
"He’s hired an entire f*cking network of PIs to investigate you!" he roars.
"No," I barely breathe. I fall back onto the bed and my legs start shaking as my worst nightmare comes true. "How? I mean, did he find anything?"
"Well, one of his guys found Jessica Lynn and Chris Webb."
"Oh, God. No, no, no!" I begin to pace as my breath stills in my chest. "How is that even possible?"
"I have no f*cking idea, but I guess, when you have unlimited resources, anything is possible. Point is, if Slate can do it, so can Wilkes. We have to go."
"I’m not leaving him."
"I’m sorry, babe. We don’t have any other options. We need to go."
"I’m not leaving him!" I scream.
"Riley, we don’t have any options. I’ll see what I can do in a few months about getting back in touch with him. But right now, the safest thing for everyone is to put some distance between you two. Let’s set up a new life, get settled, then maybe see if we can figure out how to bring him back into the picture."
Tears spring to my eyes at the very idea of going months without him. I just got him. "He can come with us. Please. I can’t. I just. I…" I begin to stumble out irrationally.
"I’m so sorry," Dave whispers, folding me into a hug.
I suck in a deep breath and try to collect my thoughts, but my mind is spinning. "Wait. Please just stop for a minute. I can’t think. How do you know this isn’t Wilkes? Maybe Slate has nothing to do with it?" I plead, looking for any possible way to keep him in my life.
"One of the big boys moved into our old apartment in Utah, hoping Wilkes would come looking for us there again. Well, lo and behold, a PI showed up at his f*cking door yesterday with a picture of you and asking a million questions about Jessica Lynn, a.k.a. Riley Peterson. Feds brought him in, traced it all back to Jimmy Douglas, Slate’s trainer and owner of the apartment. Jimmy doesn’t have access to that kind of money, Riley, but I’ll give you one guess who does."
"No." I reject his theory. "Slate's not dangerous. He’s just curious. Maybe I can tell him to back off. He’ll listen to me. Please, just let me talk to him."
"We have to leave before he gets back."
"No!" I yell again. "I am not leaving him!"
"He’s going to get you killed!" he shouts back in a way Dave has never spoken to me. It startles me at first, but suddenly, it dawns on me that he’s actually scared this time too.
"Yeah, well. I told you that months ago. And you said we could make it work. Make. It. Work."
"Fine. I’ll take the blame. But pack your shit!" he snaps, stomping out of my room. I know he's not mad at me. He's pissed at the whole situation, but his tone still stings.
I sit on my bed, staring into space for over an hour. Shifting from tears to fear, but I finally just get really angry. I have zero control over my life, and I’m sick and tired of it. They want me to recover and live again. That's a joke. How can anyone be expected to truly live with the knowledge that they can lose everything with only a moments notice? F*ck that. I'm not losing Slate. I rush out of my room to find Dave sitting on the couch, whispering into the phone.
"Give me the phone." I snap my fingers at him and his eyebrows lift in surprise.
In all the years that we have been on the run, I have never once spoken to anyone at the US Marshal’s office. Dave handles everything when it comes to the Witness Protection Program, or "big boys" as he calls them. I’m so f*cking done with hiding though.
I don’t wait for his response. I just snatch the phone from his hands.
"Who is this?" I bark into the phone.
"Miss Peterson, it’s so nice to finally talk to you." I can hear the smile in the woman’s voice on the other end of the line.
"Screw you. I’m not leaving."
"I’m sorry. You don’t have much of a choice in the matter. You have been compromised by Mr. Andrews."
"Nothing has happened. All we know is you didn’t do your job at covering our trail. So what if Slate found out we have a past. He’s not working for Wilkes. He’s not a f*cking threat, so I’m not f*cking leaving!"
"My, my. How you have changed since we last met." She almost laughs.
"You listen to me now. Do your f*cking job. Erase the past and ensure our safety. If a couple of high-price PIs can find me, it seems to me you are failing. We can move across town, fine. But I am absolutely not leaving Slate, so figure it out."
Just as I begin to hand back the phone, she shouts across the line. "Miss Peterson, you are allowed to leave the program any time you would like. Your identity can be reinstated. But just know that comes with zero protection. You will be completely on your own."
I laugh at her. If there is one thing I have learned, it’s that they need me. They won’t let me go. "But then who would you use as bait?" I throw the phone at Dave and storm back to my room, slamming the door behind me.
I’m lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling when Dave casually opens the door to my room. "That was some serious attitude."
"I’m sick of it. I hate this f*cking life. I finally found someone who makes me feel like me again and they want to take him away from me too." I don't even bother looking up.
"Damn it, Riley. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I should have taken you far away from here before you ever had the chance to get to know him, but the night that I walked in and saw you holding his arm, a part of me was freed."
"What?" I roll over, and the expression on his face shocks me. I always knew the events from that night had affected him too, but this? I never expected this level of devastation.
"When I walked in that first night, you were sound asleep but gripping his arm as if your life depended on it. Then, when he first got back, you ran right past me and into his arms. God, it was liberating watching you come alive again."
"Leo, I…" I fade off, and he painfully closes his eyes at the sound of his name.
He puts a finger to his mouth, signaling me to be quiet. "Erica, I have relived your screams while I stood outside your door all those years ago for too long. And when I saw just the tiniest flash of hope that you really could be a person again, I wanted you to take it. I told you once that I never thought you would be okay again, but that doesn’t mean I’ve ever stopped hoping you would." His voice catches in his throat and his brown eyes fill with tears as he tries to fight back the emotions.
He clears his throat and continues. "Then I found out who he was and realized that he not only had the time, money, and resources to protect you, but that he could give you something I never could. He could repair you from the inside out. I've always made sure you were safe, be he can truly fix things for you—give you back all the things I stole."
The tears are streaming down my face as I whimper, "You didn’t steal anything from me. You saved me."
"I love you, but I hope, one day, he fixes that mentality too."
"Leo, you did the best you could."
"I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I just wanted to tell you I’ll figure it out. You talk to Slate. Make him stop searching or we will have no choice but to leave. We may have to move. I’m not really sure what to do at this point, but I won’t make you give him up. Just make him stop asking questions." He gives me a weak smile.
"Okay."
He turns to walk away and pauses at the door. "When’s Slate getting back?"
"Couple of hours."
"Is it cool if I take off for a bit? I need a drink and I think you need some privacy."
"Yeah. Privacy sounds good." I try to dry my eyes, but the tears won’t stop flowing. Leo James is an amazing man. What I wouldn't give to have met him under different circumstances. I can only imagine how incredible it would be to have a friendship with him that wasn't based on guilt and pain.
"See ya later, babe."
"Night, Leo." I purposely use his name once again. He needs to hear it as much as I need to say it.
F*cking weather. My flight was delayed for two hours, and worse than that, Riley isn’t answering her phone. It’s killing me not being able to get back to her and away from the craziness of Slate The Silent Storm Andrews yet.
I announced my official retirement a few days ago, and you would have thought the world had imploded. I know it was unexpected. I was at the top of my game, and a rematch was already in the works, but I’m done. The media went nuts, and it took a lot longer than I’d thought it would to escape the attention. My plan is to see if I can convince Riley to go on an extended vacation with me. Get away for a while, somewhere we can escape until the attention dies down. Maybe even see if I can get her to open up and stop hiding.
I learned quite a bit about Riley while I was gone. The biggest part being that her real name is Jessica Lynn. I had a sneaking suspicion for a while that Riley wasn’t really her name, mainly because she insists that I call her beautiful in bed. But also because, if she is reading late at night or watching TV, she never answers you immediately when you call her. And then there is the whole Dave/Leo thing from when I first met them. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that something is going on with them.
My guys have never found this ex of hers, and by all accounts, Jessica was a hermit, never leaving the house. If she did, she was always accompanied by her cousin. The good news is neither she nor Dave seems to have a criminal history. My agent, Mitch, spent hours trying to convince me she was some sort of con-woman. Obviously, they have never met Riley. She is a terrible liar.
"Riley, it’s me!" I shout when I get to her door. I don’t bother knocking. It will only scare her.
But as I swing open her door, it appears I’m too late for that. She’s standing with her hands knotted in front of her and her eyes are red and puffy as if she has been crying all day.
"Jesus, are you okay?" I quickly glance around the room, but nothing seems out of place.
"We can be together but only if you stop asking questions."
"What the hell are you talking about? What’s going on, Riley?" I drop my bags and slowly walk towards her, but for the first time in months, she backs away.
"I know you hired investigators to look into my past. You swore you wouldn’t ask, Slate. You promised me." Her face crumbles.
"I wasn’t trying to find out what happened to you. I was only searching for that a*shole ex of yours who made you this way. But yeah, I found out a lot more than I bargained for, Jessica," I say, lifting my brows knowingly. I’m not trying to be a dick, but I want her to know that she can stop hiding.
"Beautiful," she corrects on a heartfelt cry. "Slate, please. You can’t look into me anymore. I’ll have to leave if you do. Please don’t make me disappear again." She pauses and her lips begin to quiver. I try to take another step forward, but once again, she retreats. "You’re the only one who truly sees me," she whispers.
"What's going on? You have to give me something here, beautiful. Tell me something true!"
"You. Can’t. Ask. Questions," she repeats very slowly, but it's not out of anger. She's desperate.
"Damn it, Riley! You have to trust me. What are you hiding?" I’m barely holding it together. I’m frustrated and angry and on the cusp of losing it all.
Her eyes are frantic and her entire body shakes as she pleads, "Stop. This is the whole problem. You’re asking questions. They will take you away from me."
A cold chill of rage slides through my body at the very idea. "I won’t let anyone take you away from me. Ever."
Her brown eyes light just before she drops her chin to her chest. "You won’t even know it’s happening until I'm gone," she whispers, and her shoulders shake with sobs.
I crack my neck, desperately trying to distract myself. She won’t let me touch her as she breaks down in front of me. Screaming at her is only going to make her shut down, but I need some God damn answers before I lose my mind. I take a breath, praying for a magical calm to wash over me.
"Riley, you’re mine. We’ve established that. No one, and I mean no one, will ever hurt you again. But you have to let me in on a little of the backstory here. I will fight the entire world for you, but I need you in my corner. I can’t do this blind."
"It’s the only way."
My frustration gets the best of me and I let out a long string of expletives. "You’re right, beautiful. I can see you, but I can’t hear you. There are too many lies and secrets echoing around us, distorting the real woman. I don’t know who you truly are, Riley, but tiny flashes of that woman whisper around the room between us. I will find the real you among the echoes—and I will make her mine."
Her eyes fly to mine, and in a sad voice, she breaks me. "Oh, Slate. That woman doesn’t exist. All I am are the bits and pieces of static."
"Not to me, you’re not," I say forcefully. "I’ll stop with the questions, but make no mistake. I will find you. I need that woman. Not this façade you put on or the fears that overwhelm you. I’m talking about the woman you only show for the briefest of seconds when we are alone. I will search to the ends of the earth to find that woman—because I love her. I don’t even know her real name, but I love her—fiercely."
"Slate," she breathes, shaking her head.
"Riley," I respond, taking another step toward her.
"Erica," I hear Dave interrupt from the doorway.
I turn around to find him standing behind me with defeat and grief painted all over his face.
"No!" she screams, rushing toward him.
"Her name is Erica," he clarifies, looking me directly in the eye.
"Shut up!" she screams, pushing him as hard as she can. My eyes go wide as I watch her detonate. "They will take him away from me! You a*shole!" she cries, pounding on his chest. I loop a restraining arm around her waist, but she continues to wildly kick her legs and swings her arms. "I hate you. I f*cking hate you."
"Good, because I f*cking hate me too," Dave bites out. "But you know what? He needs to know you. And more than that, you need him to know, Erica."
"They’ll make us disappear. You know that!" she cries, crumbling in my arms.
"I won’t let that happen, I swear. Tell him all of it, babe. Free yourself as well." Dave nods to me and walks away, leaving me holding the pieces of the shattered woman I’m madly in love with.