Chapter 34
CASSIDY
I grip the steering wheel with white-knuckle force as I pull out of the St. Luke’s parking lot. I did it! The hard part is over, Cass. Calm your ass down.
I’d managed to drive from Northern Virginia to Hanover, my gaze bouncing between the windshield and the rearview mirror so often I’d almost given myself vertigo.
The neurologist’s words are still ringing in my ears like my own personal fight song. “You have a clean bill of health, young lady. No more monthly check-ins.” He’d cleared me for a solid year.
I felt lighter than I had since before the coma. It was as if I’d finally shed the virtual hospital gown I’d been wearing in my mind for years. Until I spotted the suits running down the corridor of the hospital. Now I can’t get my racing heart under control.
Four men in dark, tailored suits, wires curling behind their ears, had raced through the lobby with a precision that screamed DANGER. They weren’t focused on me, but my paranoia didn’t care. To my battered brain, it was an indication of a threat. Shadows returning to put me back in the dark.
I can barely remember how I made it to the women’s room. Once inside, I’d scrambled into a stall, locked the door, and hugged my knees to my chest. My breaths had come in short, hitching sounds activating my well-rehearsed mantra.
Five things you can see: The industrial silver of the toilet paper dispenser, a crack in the floor tile, my own shaking hands, the Out of Order sign on the next stall, the flickering fluorescent light above.
Four things you can touch: The cold metal of the door latch, the rough denim of my jeans, the smooth paper in my hand, the cool porcelain of the tank.
Three things you can hear: The hum of the ventilation system, the distant slamming of a door, the frantic thud of my own heart.
“You’ve got this,” I breathe, closing my eyes. “You’ve been through far worse. They aren’t here for you. Just get to the car. Just get home.”
I wince as the word home echoes in my head. When had The Devil’s Playground become my home?
Sitting here on a public toilet, the clarity hits me with the force of a physical blow. I can’t remain in the shadows anymore. That job isn’t a home. It served its purpose, but I’m meant for more.
I think back to the dinner at Max’s house. He’d asked me where I’d go if I could go anywhere. I’d been too nervous to answer then, too caught up in the domestic porn of watching him cook. But I know now.
I want to go everywhere.
I want to travel the world. I want to go to a movie and sit in the middle of the theater instead of the seat closest to the exit. I want an exotic island vacation where the only thing I have to worry about is the SPF of my sunscreen.
I want to go to a county fair, walk down the midway hand-in-hand with the man I love. No blending into the shadows. My pink hair on full display.
I force my fingers to unlock the stall door, the metallic click sounding like a gunshot in the tiled silence. My breath is still coming in shallow, jagged hitches as I stumble toward the exit, my gaze darting to every corner.
The lobby feels a mile wide. I keep my head down, my newly blonde hair acting as a curtain between me and anyone I encounter. I burst through the heavy glass doors, the humid Hanover air slapping my face. Yet it does nothing to distract me from the panic rising in my throat.
Once outside, I begin to run. My heels click frantically against the asphalt as I fumble for my keys. Every slam of a car door makes me flinch, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I reach my car, wrench the door open, and scramble inside, locking it instantly. I lean my forehead against the steering wheel, waiting for the world to stop spinning.
You’re okay. You’re safe.
Suddenly, a name flickers through the static in my brain. I dig through my wallet with trembling hands, tossing aside receipts until I find it. That plain white business card. I dial the number before I can talk myself out of it.
“Hello, Dr. Lee?”
Max
I’m sitting at my usual table in the corner of the club. I should be looking at my laptop screen, but my eyes are fixed on the slip of paper Cassidy left me. I’m killing time, waiting for the meeting Gianni called, though I have no idea why we’re gathering on a random Tuesday.
I’d wanted to wait until I was back in my office to investigate the number she left, but this delay is making me stir-crazy. I’d been so close to dropping to my knees and begging her to give me a chance.
I finally punch the digits she’d scribbled on that paper into my system, more out of a need to keep my hands busy.
I’ve all but given up on hoping for a miracle.
I’ve scraped for connections, and any links to the predator we’ve been hunting, to no avail.
But when I enter this number into the system, my screen doesn’t just flicker, it ignites.
If I were in a casino, the bells would be earsplitting.
There are loads of hidden images connected to this phone. I can only imagine they’ll match the ones his ex-wife located. “She did it,” I whisper, a rush of pure, unadulterated pride surging through me.
The data blooms into a cluster of image files and location pings connected to a burner phone. That predator made a mistake. He used this specific line just once. And Cassidy, with her amazing insight, caught the one pixel out of place.
I look up, desperate to find her. To show her what she’s accomplished. But my eyes land on the television over the bar instead.
brEAKING NEWS:
ATTEMPTED ABDUCTION AT ST. LUKE’S HOSPITAL
The footage is grainy, but it shows a woman with blonde hair being hustled away. My heart stops. Leaving my table, I walk toward the bar on unsteady feet.
Dropping to a stool, I reassure myself Cassidy being there would be ridiculous. Why would she be at St. Luke’s? And while their body types are identical, there’s no ribbon of pink decorating that woman’s hair. My tumultuous emotions are making me come unhinged.
“Shit, I thought that was Cassidy for a minute,” Fern says, her voice tight with worry. “But no pink hair.”
“She took the pink out,” Lala whispers from behind the bar.
“What?” I snap, the barstool screeching against the floor.
“Before she left for New York, she told me it was time,” Lala says, her eyes wide. “I didn’t ask what that meant.”
The air leaves my lungs. I’m ready to bolt when a hand like a vise clamps onto my biceps.
“Just hold up, Max,” Gianni says, his voice a low rumble. “I need you to come with me.”
I narrow my eyes at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Gianni, let go. I have to—”
He lowers his voice. “She’s fine, Max. Come to the office.”
I follow him, my adrenaline turning into a sickly dread. In the office, Anthony is waiting, his face like stone.
“How do you know she’s fine?” I demand.
“We had security at the hospital,” Gianni says, leaning against his desk. “We were looking out for Matteo’s ex-wife, Sydney. Turns out the men Vincenzo sent grabbed the wrong girl. Some look-alike named Alexis Patterson. Cassidy wasn’t touched.”
I drop into a chair, my sternum feeling like it’s about to split from the pressure of my heart. “Holy fuck.” Tears spill from my eyes. I haven’t cried since Isla disappeared. I don’t know what I would’ve done if anything happened to her. “You had security? You knew about her past? Everything?”
“Yes. It wasn’t my story to tell, Max,” Gianni says. “We’ve been monitoring the threats against her since Holt first brought her here. Most of it has just been big talk from inmates with revoked parole, but we didn’t take any chances.”
I drop my head. I’ve withheld so many secrets from these men, yet they’ve been quietly shielding the woman I love.
Love. There’s no fighting this. I’m in love with her.
“We could take care of them, Max,” Anthony adds. “The inmates. The guards who didn’t help her during the attack. Her boyfriend, for one.”
I sit up straighter, the vigilante in me screaming YES as rage fills my veins.
“Her boyfriend?”
“Yeah. She didn’t tell you?” Anthony looks as infuriated as I feel.
“Her boyfriend at the time, Henry Hamilton. Some piece of shit that guy was. He was in the academy with her. Apparently they were dating under everyone’s radar.
” Anthony shakes his head in disgust. “She’d graduated the academy and was doing some sort of mandatory rotation in the jail when a couple of the inmates started taunting her.
When they couldn’t get a rise out of her, one of them snapped and jumped her.
Before long, both were beating the shit out of her. ”
“Her son of a bitch boyfriend stood by and watched the whole thing happen. Ran off without lifting a finger to help her,” Gianni adds.
I jump to my feet, wanting to rip the guy limb from limb.
“Stop, Max. You need to think long and hard before doing anything rash,” Gianni warns. “Cassidy is still technically law enforcement. If we inflict our brand of justice, it could blow back on her career. Is that what you want?”
I pace about the office.
“Trust me, man. I get it. But this can’t be about you. Cassidy’s needs have to come first.”
Sitting in the back of the club, the heavy scent of expensive scotch and my own self-loathing clings to me like a second skin.
Every night since I left Alpine has been a descent into the digital abyss.
I’ve lived in the dark web, submerged in the worst of humanity, coming up for air only to refill my glass.
I shouldn’t have come back to the club tonight. I’m barely existing. My eyes are bloodshot, my skin feels tight with dehydration, and my brain is a frayed wire sparking in the dark.
I needed to see her. I fucking miss her. Miss her with an ache that frankly terrifies me. I hate that I pushed her away after visiting my parents. Yet if she’d looked into my eyes for more than a second, she would’ve seen the spiral. She would’ve seen I was drowning.