Chapter 29
The Jeep lurches to a stop, the engine humming as it cools. I sit in the passenger seat, staring at my hands locked together in my lap. My whole body feels wrong—like it’s vibrating on adrenaline, fear, and exhaustion—and my muscles are all tight.
My door opens, and the hot desert heat spills in.
“Hey,” Jagger says softly. That one little word and his deep voice cut through the noise in my head.
He steps closer, placing one hand on my forearm and bracing the other at my back as I slide out of the seat, feeling like my knees might give out at any second.
They almost do. My legs wobble, and he catches me without comment.
He silently pulls me into his chest; it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.
His arms come around me, strong and sure, anchoring me.
I press my face into his chest, breathing him in, letting the shaking run its course.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs against my hair.
“We’re okay. No one knows we’re staying here.
” I cling to him for a minute, maybe two.
He loosens his hold enough to look at me, his hands still warm on my arms as his thumbs brush slow reassurance into my skin, like he’s reminding my nervous system that he is my safe place. “Ready?”
I’m not. Not even remotely. But I nod anyway.
The house sits back from the street, half-hidden by overgrown bushes and a sagging fence that has seen better decades. The porch light flickers, casting uneven shadows across peeling paint and warped steps. This place looks forgotten.
Inside isn’t much better. The bare floors creak faintly underfoot.
Mismatched furniture has seen too much life and not nearly enough cleaning.
A small kitchen is sparse, with outdated appliances, the refrigerator humming, on its last leg.
A single lamp tosses a dim, yellow glow over everything. It’s functional and barely livable.
“It’s… Um…” I search for the right word, the corner of my lips twitching despite everything. “Quaint.”
Jagger snorts. “No need for pleasantries, Doc. It’s a fucking shithole.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it—short, sharp, and a little hysterical, but real.
The sound startles me as much as it does him.
“It’s a fucking shithole,” I agree, wiping at my tear-filled eyes with the heel of my hand.
A smile spreads across his face like he’s relieved I’m capable of laughing.
Without warning, the door opens behind us. I jump, my heart simultaneously lurching into my throat and slamming into my ribs. My hand flies out to grab Jagger’s, and he laces our fingers together immediately.
Damon and a man I haven’t met step inside, scanning the room on reflex before their attention lands on me.
“Jesus,” Damon blurts. “You okay, Dr. Hart?”
I nod. “I think so.” The words feel thin, but they’re the best I’ve got.
The other man’s gaze flicks between me and Jagger. “Bringing her here is risky.”
Jagger answers without hesitation, “Her place isn’t safe. Not unless we’re all watching her.”
Damon affirms. “Agreed.”
The casual way they talk about my safety—like it’s a shared responsibility, like it’s obvious—hits me harder than I expect. It’s not control, but inclusion.
They fill Jagger in quickly on their meeting with Abrahim, their voices low but urgent. Maryam’s brother is aware something is wrong. He knows other people are looking for her. He’s angry and desperate. Fear does that to people.
“Now that he knows we have a lead,” Damon shares, “he wants her found. Yesterday.”
My stomach twists, guilt blooming sharp and acidic, as they talk about Maryam and this job they are on. “I lied,” I mutter quietly. All three of them turn to me. “I know where Maryam is.”
The room goes still for a moment before Jagger sighs. “We know.”
“Of course you do.” I blink at him in disbelief. “Is there anything you don’t know?”
“Where Maryam is,” he shoots back with a smirk.
I roll my eyes, irritation flaring through my exhaustion. “That isn’t funny.”
“Poor timing,” Damon agrees.
He holds up two fingers, pinching them together. “It’s a little bit funny.”
I draw in a steadying breath, feeling the weight of what I’m about to do settle in my chest. “I will tell you. But I have… stipulations.”
Hawk, not once wavering in his seriousness, arches a brow. “What is this? Are you holding her hostage and negotiating?”
“I’m not holding her hostage. Or against her will,” I snap. “She’s hiding with me because she’s terrified, healing, and trying to keep her baby alive.”
“What do you want?” Hawk asks. “What are your so-called stipulations?”
“I want to talk to her brother,” I give my demand. “Face-to-face.”
Hawk glances at Jagger, then nods slowly. “I can arrange that.”
“And,” I continue, my voice shaking but resolute, “her husband.”
“Absolutely not,” Jagger explodes beside me, the two words sharp enough to make me flinch.
“I want him to hear it from me,” I argue. “He needs to know she’s gone, and that she’s not coming back.”
“He’ll kill you,” Jagger snarls. “That’s not a conversation. That’s a death wish.”
“I’m already on his list,” I fire back. “At least this way I control the terms.”
They argue over me like I’m not standing here, voices overlapping and tension crackling. I hug myself, arms tight around my chest, trying to hold myself together as their voices become shouts over the high stakes and fear.
The argument is still humming in the room, unresolved and sharp-edged, when Hawk pulls his phone from his pocket. Jagger turns away, jaw clenched, dragging a hand through his hair, knowing he’s not going to stop Hawk from the decision he’s already made.
Hawk dials, and Jagger’s expression pivots as the call connects, the shift from fury to cold control in real time. “Abrahim,” Hawk says into the phone. “It’s Hawk. We need to talk.”
There’s a pause. A longer one. Hawk exhales through his nose. “No. Not later. Now.” There’s another long pause, and his brows draw together before he snaps, “I don’t care if you’ve packed. This can’t wait.”
With my heart pounding, I step closer. Close enough to hear the muffled reply through the speaker.
Abrahim’s voice is strained, accented, and edged with an urgency of its own.
“I’m flying out in a few hours,” he says.
“UAE. Two days. Whatever you have to say, say it now. Or we can meet when I get back.”
“No,” I whisper firmly before Hawk can answer. “It has to be in person.” He glances back at me, surprised. “It has to be in person,” I repeat, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands.
“I don’t understand,” Abrahim spits sharply. “If you know something… if you know where my sister is… don’t make me wait.”
Jagger watches me intensely, something unreadable in his eyes as Abrahim lets out a frustrated breath. “Two days,” Abrahim says at last. “That’s the soonest I can be back.”
“Then two days,” Hawk replies. “Text me, and we’ll come to you.”
The call ends, and Hawk lowers the phone, his gaze locking onto mine. He studies me for a long moment, then nods once like he’s made up his mind about me. “We hold the line for two days.”
Two days.
And then everything is going to change.