Chapter TWENTY-NINE
Britton paced the floor of their cabin. Was he able to escape the handcuffs? What was taking so long? He'd been arrested two days earlier. She assumed he’d be laying low, trying not to attract any attention to his movements, and definitely trying not to lead the Feds to their cabin in the woods. Still, how much longer would she have to wait?
She recalled watching Jagger slowly walk toward his captors for surrender. He was giving her enough time to race away on the bike, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She wanted to follow him, even if it meant they would arrest her as well. Britton took two steps forward, and Jagger turned around. He shook his head at her and shrugged his shoulders. “Get out of here. Please.” He mouthed, praying she wouldn’t do anything stupid.
He was right. Implicating herself in any of his charges wouldn’t help him. She nodded in return, put on the helmet, and brought the motorcycle to life. She had never ridden a motorcycle before, but assumed it couldn’t be that difficult. She pushed forward slowly, over the small hill, and out of sight.
She was wrong; it was difficult. It was especially problematic because her tears were distorting her view. The bike stalled and pitched her forward. She couldn’t teach herself how to ride in her current state; she’d have to dump the bike. She pulled to the side of the road as soon as the area became more populated.
She thought to send Dominic a message, asking him to pick up Jagger’s bike and store it somewhere safe until he could escape, but she feared what might happen to her if the Harbingers of Sorrow found out that Jagger was arrested. Would they come after her? Would they avenge their leader? Would anyone believe her that she wasn’t the one who turned him in? No, she couldn’t risk it. She would have to keep it a secret for now, and sacrifice the motorcycle. Britton jumped off the bike, fearing that it would crush her leg in the fall. How did people ride those things? She ran to the corner and hailed a cab.
Champagne was waiting for her at the FBI headquarters, as well as a round of applause as soon as she stepped off the elevator. David floated his arm over her shoulder.
“This is all because of you. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Thanks sir.” It was all she could get out. It was all because of her. Jagger was in jail, and she had put him there without even trying. She'd hated herself.
They continued the festivities, all too cheerful to notice Britton’s sunken demeanor. How could she even pretend to celebrate? She had thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to her. She had thrown away her chance at love.
She continued to pace throughout the cabin, shaking herself from the memories of the previous days. Where was he? Britton opened the front door, hoping to find Jagger walking down the path. He never appeared. She stepped out into the cool night air. The moon was high and the stars were clear. There was a slight breeze, and she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.
She turned quickly, her heart jumping at the possibility of Jagger’s presence. It was only the swing set, begging for a passenger. Britton hadn’t been on a swing in so long. What an interesting edition to their home? She remembered once, as a teenager, mentioning that the only thing their secret place needed was a swing. Would Jagger have remembered that? Is that why a swing laid steps from the cabin? She strolled over and took her place, a faint smile spreading to her cheeks. Wrapping her fingers around the ropes, she pushed off.
The wind cooled her cheeks and blew her hair out of her face. Britton always enjoyed her time in seclusion. Now it felt like a punishment. She was lonely. She hopped off the play set and made her way back into the cabin. She finally accepted the fact that Jagger was not coming home tonight.
Britton opened her eyes to the sunrise. Looking around the bedroom, she was reminded that she was alone in the cabin. Jagger was still not there. She wrapped her body in a silk robe and proceeded into the living room. Her hand skimmed the stone of the fireplace. Those stones witnessed so many memories. How was she supposed to give this all up now?
The sound of the doorknob startled her. Someone was playing with a key. Who could it be? Britton’s heart stopped. She knew who it was: it was Jagger, coming to his senses and saving himself from jail. The fidgeting ceased, and the door cracked opened. It felt as though it took a lifetime before the warmth from the heat outside snuck into the cabin through the fully opened door.
Britton stared at the face in front of her.