Oh my god.
That girl needs help. Someone needs to get her the hell out of there. Panic grips my chest, and I start fumbling around for my phone only to realize I don’t have it. I need to call the police, child services—something. She’s too young for this. She’s too young. Maybe I should go in. Maybe I should demand they give her to me. Maybe . . .
My thoughts come to an abrupt halt as a hand clamps around my mouth, and I’m jerked backwards.
I scream, but it’s muffled.
“Don’t move. Don’t scream.”
That voice.
Heath.
My body goes slack, and I stop fighting, letting him pull me backwards through the trees. Only when we’re far enough away that we can’t see anyone does he let me go. He spins me around, but I can’t see him in the dark.
“What the hell are you doing here, Lucy?”
“Heath?” I croak.
“Answer me,” he barks, low and throaty.
“I . . . I was looking for you.”
“You need to stop looking for me. You need to stop asking questions. You just need to go—do you understand? I don’t want you to ever come back here again. Do you hear me?” he hisses angrily.
My heart sinks. “I just wanted to—”
“No,” he growls. “No. I won’t ask you again.”
My throat grows tight. He doesn’t want to see me.
“I’ve lost everything,” I whisper. “Please don’t make me leave.”
“This is unsafe and dangerous. You need to leave and never come back.”
“Not until you tell me why I can’t talk to you,” I protest weakly.
He grabs my arm again and pulls me in the direction of where I parked my car. When we get to it, he reaches into my pocket, jerking my keys out and unlocking my driver’s side door. He pulls it open and twists, putting me in the front seat. The interior light is on now, and I can see him. My breath catches in my throat as he stares down at me, both hands on the roof of my car, his head bent down low so he can pin me with that silver glare.
“How did you find this place?” he demands.
I meet his eyes, and I can’t speak. I just want to throw myself into his arms. I want him to take it all away.
“Lucy,” he prompts.
“I found it on the internet.”
“Fucking internet,” he mutters. “You need to stop searching for whatever it is you’re searching for.”
“I was searching for you.”
“Stop,” he growls. “I can’t keep telling you that.”
“No,” I whisper, holding his gaze. “You drugged me last night, but you don’t get to keep doing that. You don’t get to keep running from me.”
“Lucy,” he warns. “I’m protecting you.”
“People think I’m crazy,” My voice trembles. “They think I’m losing my mind because the police won’t tell me where you are. They’re all acting as if you don’t exist.”
“You ever think that’s how it has to be? You need to stop asking questions, stop searching. Just let it go.”
“You saved my life,” I whisper, “then you disappeared, and now you want me to just forget it?”
He sighs, and his eyes drop to my mouth for a few seconds before he looks away. “I can’t be anything to you right now. I’m working something serious and I need you to understand that.”
“What they’re doing in there . . .” I say, my voice tightening as I recall that poor young girl.
“Is fucked,” he mutters. “But it’s also incredibly dangerous. You need to trust me when I say to let it go.”
“I can’t.”
His eyes flash and then harden. “Lucy . . .”
I reach up and my fingers graze his jaw, moving over the muscle that jumps and stopping when my palm cups his cheek. “You saved my life. You understand. I’ve lost everything, please . . .”
He closes his eyes for a second, then reaches up and closes his big hand over mine, turning his cheek into my palm, closing his eyes and exhaling loudly. My bottom lip trembles. He opens his eyes and studies it before stepping back and letting my hand fall. “I have to go, Lucy.”
“Don’t,” I cry, my voice trembling. “Please, don’t go again . . .”
“This is for the best; trust that. Go home, get better, be happy . . .”
“My husband left. I lost my baby. I have nothing left to be happy about.”
His eyes flash and his jaw tics again. “I have to go.”
“No,” I cry leaping out of the car when he steps away. “No, please.”
He takes my upper arms, and I look into his eyes helplessly. “Lucy, get in your car and go.”
“No.”
“God dammit,” he growls. “You have to stop.”
“Doesn’t it matter to you?”
“Of course it fucking matters to me. I can’t get you out of my fucking mind. It’s taking all my power not to come for you, but I can’t. Don’t you get that? I can’t. You need to go home and forget about me.”
“No.”
He cups my jaw in his hand and tilts my head back. “Go home, Lucy girl.”
Lucy girl. My heart pounds.