Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
SAUL
I keep a list.
Forty-four names now. Forty-four people I’ve helped disappear into new lives.
Stevie’s name sits at the bottom. The newest. The one I think about when I shouldn’t.
I’ve got her favorite granola bars in the passenger seat.
The kind that are more candy than granola, chocolate chips dipped in more chocolate.
Cookie Crisp cereal because she’s almost out and she eats it dry by the handful while she works, which isn’t breakfast but I’ve stopped trying to convince her otherwise.
Small things. The kind of things I notice because noticing her has become second nature.
I park in my usual spot. Three spaces from the stairs. Close enough to see her door, far enough to not be obvious.
Kill the engine.
And that’s when I see him.
A man walking out of her building. Dark hair. Leather jacket. Moving with controlled purpose, the kind of walk that comes from training, from knowing how to handle yourself, from being dangerous enough that you don’t need to prove it.
I know that walk. I’ve seen it in courtrooms. In surveillance photos. In the nightmares I have about witnesses who didn’t make it.
More than that, I know that man.
Enzo Mancini.
Dario Marchetti’s enforcer.
Coming out of Stevie’s apartment building at seven in the morning.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. I count. Trying to slow my heart rate, trying to think instead of react.
One. Two. Three.
He’s moving easy. Relaxed. No tension in his shoulders, no urgency in his stride. He stops at his car, checks his phone, smiles at something on the screen.
Smiles.
Four. Five. Six.
He drives away.
I watch his taillights disappear around the corner.
Then I’m out of the car, moving toward her building, taking the stairs two at a time.
Please be okay. Please be alive. Please let there be an explanation that doesn’t mean what I think it means.
I knock on her door. Too hard. Don’t care.
“Stevie. Open up.”
Shuffling inside. The lock clicking.
The door opens.
She’s alive. Whole. Standing in front of me looking confused, sleep-soft, her hair messy and her cheeks flushed and…
She’s wearing a man’s shirt.
Black. Too big. Falling off one shoulder, the collar stretched wide, the hem hitting mid-thigh.
Not her shirt.
I’ve seen her in that one, grey, soft cotton.
This is different. This is new.
And I know, with the certainty of someone who’s been paying attention even when he didn’t want to, exactly whose shirt it is.
“Saul?” She blinks at me. “What are you doing here so early?”
I step inside. Close the door behind me.
The apartment smells like coffee. Like eggs, burnt, slightly. Like sex.
Like a morning after.
My chest does something painful.
“The man who just left.” My voice comes out steady. Professional. The voice I use when I’m holding myself together by threads. “Enzo. Dario Marchetti’s enforcer.”
Her face changes. The sleepy softness disappears. Something careful sliding into place.
“Saul.”
“How long?”
“It’s not.”
“How. Long.”
She doesn’t answer. Just stands there in another man’s shirt, looking at me, and I watch her decide how much to tell me.
That’s what breaks something in me.
Not that she’s been doing something. I can handle that. Witnesses make mistakes. They get scared, lonely, desperate. They do stupid things.
But she’s deciding what I get to know.
She’s been lying to me. Not just breaking rules, lying. To me. While I brought her blankets and coffee and baking supplies. While I sat in diners with her and stole her fries and told her she was going to be okay.
“The mug,” I say quietly.
She blinks. “What?”
I look around the apartment, really seeing it now. “The dishes in the sink, two plates, two forks. The way you’ve been different lately. Happier.”
I thought it was the baking. The routine. Me. I thought I was helping her adjust.
“I thought you were doing better,” I say, and I can hear the crack in my own voice. “I thought the blankets and the coffee and the… I thought I was helping.”
“You were helping. You are.”
“Then why.” I stop. Take a breath. “How long has he been coming here?”
“A few weeks.” She wraps her arms around herself. “He was watching me. Protecting me. Dario asked him to.”
“Protecting you.” The word tastes bitter. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
Her chin lifts. Something fierce flickering in her expression. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make it sound like that. Like it’s just.” She shakes her head. “It’s not just sex. It’s not some mistake I made. Enzo is…”
“A killer.” The word comes out harsh. “An enforcer for a crime family. A man who hurts people for a living.”
“A man who brings me wings because I mentioned once that I liked them. Who watches terrible movies without complaining. Who taught me to throw a punch and burned my eggs this morning because he wanted to make me breakfast even though he can’t cook.
” Her voice shakes. “He sees me, Saul. The real me. Not Beth Taylor. And he cares for that me.”
The real her.
I’ve been trying to help her become Beth Taylor. Build a life. Settle in. And the whole time, she’s been finding her way back to Stevie with someone else.
“And Dario?” I ask.
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I’ve been going back,” she admits. “To the city. To his restaurant. His house.”
“His house.”
“The door was unlocked. He left it unlocked for me.”
I close my eyes. Count again. Try to find something solid to hold onto. “How many times?”
“A few.”
“A few.” I open my eyes. “You’ve been violating witness protection to visit the man you testified against. Breaking into his house. And now you’re sleeping with his enforcer.”
“And him. Dario too. I know how it sounds.”
“I don’t think you do.” My voice rises despite myself.
“I don’t think you understand that you’ve just told me you’re in a relationship with two members of a crime family.
That everything I’ve done to keep you safe is worthless because you’ve been broadcasting your location to the people most likely to want you dead. ”
“They’re not going to hurt me. They told him to. Enzo won’t. Dario would never let his family hurt me.”
“Enzo was sent to hurt you!” The words explode out of me. “Someone in the family gave him orders. And what do you think happens when they realize he didn’t follow through? When they send someone else?”
She flinches.
“He told me,” she says quietly. “About the orders. That’s why he came to warn me. That’s why he’s been watching.”
“And you thought sleeping with him would help the situation?” The words are cruel. I know they’re cruel even as I say them.
She looks at me like I’ve slapped her.
“I didn’t plan it,” she whispers. “I didn’t plan any of this.
I just… I was disappearing, Saul. Every day a little more.
And they see me. Both of them. They see Stevie, not Beth.
And I know it’s dangerous and I know it’s stupid and I know you’re angry but I can’t.
” Her voice breaks. “I can’t go back to being invisible. I can’t.”
“You’re not invisible,” I snap back. “You were never invisible to me. I saw you. Every day. I brought you…”
“Blankets!” She’s yelling now too. “You brought me blankets and coffee and baking supplies like I’m a project! Like if you just give me the right things I’ll settle into being Beth Taylor and be grateful!”
“That’s not…”
“It is!” Her hands are shaking. “You want me to survive. They want me to live. There’s a difference, Saul.”
She’s right.
I’ve been trying to help her survive witness protection. They made her feel alive despite it.
The fight drains out of both of us.
I sink onto her couch. The one with the teal blanket I brought her. The one where I’ve sat with her eating takeout and talking about nothing, pretending this was just a job.
“You lied to me.” I don’t look at her. “All those check-ins. All those times I asked if you were okay. You looked me in the eye and lied.”
“I know.”
“I drove by at two in the morning to check if your light was on.”
“I know.”
“And the whole time…”
“I’m sorry.” She sits on the coffee table across from me. Close but not touching. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you. You’ve been so kind, and I…”
“Don’t.” I hold up a hand. “Don’t apologize for the lying and then tell me you’d do it again. Because you would. Wouldn’t you.”
She doesn’t answer.
We sit in silence. Her in Enzo’s shirt. Me on the couch with blankets I picked out because I thought the color might make her smile.
Forty-four names on my list. Not one of them has ever made me feel like this.
“We have to relocate you,” I say finally.
“No.”
“Stevie.”
“No.” She stands. Backs away like I’ve threatened her. “I’m not leaving. Not again. I can’t.”
“You don’t have a choice. You’ve been compromised. The family knows you’re in the area. Whether Enzo told them or not, someone saw you. Someone reported back. It’s only a matter of time before…”
“Enzo is coming back tonight.”
The words hit like a physical blow.
“He said he’d come back. After he handled some things. He’s coming tonight.”
And there it is. The thing underneath her defiance. The thing she’s really fighting for.
Not just her identity. Not just feeling seen.
Him.
She’s in love with him. Maybe both of them. And I’m the one who has to tear it all away.
“If you’re here when he comes back,” I say carefully, “you’re putting him at risk too. If the family finds out he’s been protecting you instead of following orders.”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracks. “Don’t use him against me.”
“I’m not using anything. I’m telling you the truth.” I stand. Face her. “You staying here puts everyone in danger. You, Enzo, Dario. Everyone.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Disappear. Again. Somewhere new. Somewhere they can’t find you.”
“And just leave? Without saying goodbye? Without telling him.”
“Yes.”
The word is brutal. I know it’s brutal. But it’s also true.
“He’ll come here tonight,” I continue. “He’ll find an empty apartment. He’ll know something happened. And he’ll be safe because he won’t know where you went. Can’t tell anyone what he doesn’t know.”
She’s crying now. Silent tears tracking down her face.
I’ve seen witnesses cry before. It’s part of the job. You learn to compartmentalize, to stay professional, to do what needs to be done.
But watching Stevie cry while wearing the shirt of the man she loves, knowing I’m about to erase her life for the second time? It takes everything I have not to reach for her.
“I can’t do this again,” she whispers. “I can’t be someone else again. I’ll die, Saul. I’ll disappear for real this time.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that!” She’s shouting. Her hands come up. Fists against my chest. Not trying to hurt. Just desperate. Trying to make me understand. “You don’t know that!”
She hits again. Weaker. Her voice cracking. “I just.” Hit. “I just got.” Hit. “I just got to be myself again.”
The hits turn to just her hands pressed flat against my chest. She’s sobbing now. Full-body shaking.
I catch her wrists. Gently. Hold them. “Stevie.”
“He made me breakfast,” she chokes out. “Terrible eggs. Burned. And I ate them anyway because he tried. Because he was there. Because for two weeks I got to wake up and not be alone.”
Her knees give out.
I catch her. Lower us both to the floor. She curls against me, sobbing into my shirt, and I hold her. This woman I’ve been falling for while she was falling for someone else.
“I’m sorry,” I say into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t relocate me,” she begs. “Please. I’ll be careful. I’ll stay away from them. Just don’t make me disappear again.”
“I have to keep you safe.”
“I don’t want to be safe!” She pulls back. Looks at me with red eyes and a tear-stained face. “I want to be alive. Even if it’s dangerous. Even if it kills me. I’d rather die as Stevie than live forever as Beth.”
The words echo in the small apartment.
She’s shaking. Crying. Looking at me with something that might be hate or might be desperation or might be both.
And I make a decision.
“If you won’t relocate tonight,” I say slowly, “then I’m staying.”
“What?”
“Here. On your couch. Until we figure out the next steps.”
“Saul, you can’t.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.” I hold her gaze. “Not tonight. Not knowing what’s out there. What might come.”
“Enzo will come back. If you’re here.”
“Then I’ll be here when he does.”
She stares at me. Processing. “Why?” she asks quietly. “Why aren’t you just calling this in? Reporting me? Forcing the relocation?”
Because I care about you. Because watching you fall in love with someone else has made me realize I was falling too. Because I can’t stand the thought of you hating me, even if hating me would keep you alive.
“Because you’re my witness,” I say instead. “My responsibility. And I’m not giving up on you just because you’ve made things complicated.”
She laughs. Wet and broken. “Complicated is an understatement.”
“Yeah.” I almost smile. “It is.”
She wipes her face. Takes a shaky breath. “Enzo was coming back tonight,” she says again. Quieter now. Like she’s letting go of something.
“I’m sorry.”
She looks at me. “He’s not what you think. Neither of them are.”
“Maybe not.” I sit back down on the couch. “But that doesn’t change what has to happen.”
“I know.” She disappears down the hall. Comes back with a pillow and blanket. Different from the ones I brought her. These are plain, beige, forgettable.
“Saul?”
“Yeah?”
“If I have to leave.” She stops. Starts again. “Will you tell him? Enzo? That I didn’t want to go?”
She’s asking me to deliver a message to the man she loves. The man who isn’t me. “I’ll try,” I say.
She nods. Disappears into her bedroom. Closes the door.
I sit on her couch. The apartment is quiet. I should make calls. Start the relocation process. Do my job.
Instead, I pull out my phone. Stare at the screen. Put it away. Sit there trying not to think about the fact that she asked me to tell another man she loved him.
Trying not to name the feeling in my chest that’s been there for weeks, growing every time she laughed at my jokes or looked at me like I might be someone worth keeping.
She asked me to tell him she didn’t want to go.
Not I love you. Not tell him I’m sorry. Just I didn’t want to go.
Like she knows he’ll already know the rest.
Stevie Reeves is in love with two men who could get her killed.
And I’m sitting on her couch, making sure she survives the night, knowing I’d do anything to keep her safe.
Even lose her. Even watch her love someone else. Even break my own heart in the process.
I’ve relocated forty-four witnesses. Watched them leave behind lives, loves, everything that mattered.
I’ve never felt like I was losing something too.