Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Two weeks later
Kylie
I wasn’t sure whether it was the praying or merely a medical miracle, but I didn’t die in that shit hole.
I had Kieran and Allison to thank for that.
Then again, I blamed them for putting me there in the first place. Never mind the fact that Martin probably would’ve made someone else do it if they hadn’t, but still. They weren’t absolved of their crimes. Not by a long shot.
Yes, Kieran and Allison had gotten me out of there, and someone had nursed me back from the brink of death—though I wasn’t sure who.
Allison had mentioned a doctor, but I didn’t recall ever seeing one.
Since neither Kieran nor Allison had a medical degree, I had to assume they brought someone in.
Whoever they were, I wanted to thank them because, as I stood on my own two feet now, I felt as though I’d been reborn.
Mostly.
More like a newborn calf with wobbly legs.
Standing on my own two feet required a tremendous amount of physical exertion.
More than my body was happy with. While I was capable of getting out of bed, doing anything else was the equivalent of running a marathon.
Even taking a shower required a nap afterward.
Which was next on my agenda since I’d just gotten the shower part out of the way.
Although I was no longer dying and felt significantly better, I was nowhere near 100%.
Now, as I stood in the steamy bathroom—leaning was a better description, really—staring at my blurry reflection in the mirror, I wanted to cry.
The woman staring back at me looked nothing like me.
Nothing. This woman with stringy hair and sallow skin was so skinny it was disturbing.
My collarbones were prominent, and I could see the knobby bones in my shoulders and elbows.
Noticing a bruise on my forearm, I reached down to touch it. There were others in various places. They were showing up randomly. All I had to do was bump something and a bruise would form. They didn’t hurt, but they weren’t going away quickly.
I reached for the comb on the counter. I hated this part.
Watching myself in the mirror, I dragged the comb through my wet hair.
As expected, the wide teeth gathered the loose strands.
My hair was falling out. According to what I’d read on Kieran’s iPad, it was from malnutrition.
Supposedly, it would get better with time, but I wasn’t sure that would be before all my hair fell out.
Sighing, I set the comb down and reached for the clothes on the counter.
I knew from experience that I would start to shiver if I didn’t get dressed.
No matter how many layers I had on or how many blankets I draped over myself, I was always cold.
Enough that Allison and Kieran had to suffer because, although it was August and the outside temps were equivalent to the surface of the sun, I made them keep the thermostat set at a balmy seventy-seven inside.
It took longer than I would’ve liked to get dressed. I had to take a break in the process of pulling on a long-sleeved T-shirt and leggings—clothes that Allison had provided me with—and a pair of socks. By the time I was finished, I was exhausted and my leg hurt.
Limping and slow, I made my way back to the bed.
The curtains were open wide, the floor-to-ceiling windows helping to alleviate my claustrophobia.
I’d read about that too. According to the internet, having endured a traumatic event that involved confinement, it was likely my brain had been conditioned to see confined spaces as big red flags signaling danger.
To avoid triggering my fight-or-flight instinct, we were keeping the curtains open and letting the outside in as much as possible.
It was helping. What helped more was sitting outside on the back porch that overlooked the thick trees and the fast-flowing river.
I wanted to go down there, to sit on the bank with the water rushing by, but it was taxing enough to make it to the porch. One of these days, though.
A ding sounded from the other room.
I recognized it as the reminder alarm Kieran had set. It was time for more pain medication.
I didn’t need the medicine as much now. My foot hurt when I walked, but it wasn’t the same sort of pain as before.
Since I wasn’t at death’s door anymore, I figured I could deal with some discomfort.
According to what Allison had learned from the doctor, I might always have pain in my foot, but I would be able to function normally.
Normally. That was an interesting word. Especially since nothing felt normal anymore.
Nothing.
However, my sheer determination told me she wasn’t wrong.
What would help to make things normal would be for them to let me go home. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to see my kids. I wanted to hug them, to tell them I loved them. They thought I was dead, and the longer they thought that…
I swallowed past the lump that formed in my throat. I wanted to go home.
But I couldn’t. Not yet.
Kieran and Allison were convinced this was safer.
I wasn’t sure they were right. Martin had kidnapped me to draw my mother out.
What if he did the same thing? What if he kidnapped one of my kids to draw me out?
That would be the easiest and fastest way for him to get me to comply.
However, Kieran didn’t think he would do something that would bring the heat down on him.
All I knew for sure was that they were being incredibly careful to ensure Martin couldn’t find us.
For that, I was grateful.
One or both of them remained with me at all times, keeping watch.
If they weren’t in the room, I could hear them somewhere else in the house, talking quietly.
From time to time, I would catch the sound of the television in the living room.
But during the day, Kieran was usually the one sitting with me.
Since I rarely saw Allison during daylight hours, I had to assume she was out doing whatever it was she did.
Rather than crawl right back into bed, I shuffled my way to the door, down the hall, and into the living room.
Kieran was sitting in the chair on the far side of the room, an iPad in his hand.
I leaned against the wall, staring out the large picture windows overlooking the river. The view was even better from in here.
“Can I go outside?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
My gaze slid toward him. “For real?”
He set the iPad down and met my eyes. “You’re not a prisoner here, Kylie.”
“Technically, I am,” I countered.
Smart man that he was, he didn’t argue. He’d learned his lesson about that because, regardless of what he said, the fact that I wasn’t allowed to go home made me a prisoner.
“I want to go home, Kieran.”
“I know.” He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It’s safer for you and them if you’re here. Just for a little while longer.”
Since that was what Allison had said, I’d expected no less.
“As long as he’s lookin’ for you or us, we can keep him from goin’ underground.”
Yep, they’d said that more than once, too. According to Allison, if I went home and told my family what happened, Martin would have to go off the radar. Possibly forever. I wasn’t sure what their plan was to take him down, but evidently, I was key.
Since I wasn’t going to stop requesting to go home, and they weren’t going to give in, I stood there, staring out the window, admiring the scenery. I waited until Kieran looked at his iPad again before I spoke.
“Why did you do it?”
He lowered his iPad and looked at me. “Do what?”
“Go to work for Martin?”
He didn’t answer right away, and for a moment, I thought he was going to ignore me. But he finally exhaled a sigh. “I don’t work for him. I work for the FBI.”
“Doesn’t Martin work for the FBI?”
“He does. But, technically, I don’t work for him.”
“Go on.” Moving into the room, I eased down onto the couch and waited for him to continue.
I sensed he wasn’t interested in elaborating, but he must’ve felt guilty enough to concede to my wishes. “I’m workin’ an undercover assignment.”
I knew that because I’d overheard enough conversations between Allison and Kieran to put a few things together. However, I wanted to hear him say it.
“Focused on Max Adorite?”
Kieran shook his head.
“On Martin?”
“Yes.”
“Does Allison work for him?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “So y’all are on opposite teams?”
“Not necessarily.”
That wasn’t a no, and I wasn’t sure that was a good thing. Was she loyal to Martin? What if she betrayed us? What if—
“You’re safe here,” Kieran said softly.
I didn’t feel safe. Not anymore. “How do you know?”
“Because I intend to make it so.” His words held more conviction than I expected.
I frowned, my gaze sliding toward the windows, then back to him. “Does she know you’re not who you say you are?”
“Yes.”
Turning my attention back to the outdoor scene, I studied the landscape for a few minutes before glancing at Kieran again. “Where is she?”
Kieran had gone back to looking at his iPad, but he set it aside again to answer. “She’s in Coyote Ridge.”
“What for?”
His dark eyebrows dipped low. “At your request.”
“Mine?”
“You asked her to check on your family.”
I did? I didn’t remember that. Then again, I was still having some issues with my memory. Another side effect of starvation, or so I’d read.
Again, the silence took over. Kieran went back to his iPad, while I resumed staring outside.
“How long was I there?” I asked without looking at him. “In that house.”
“We took you there on June fourth, got you out on August tenth.”
Avery’s birthday.
“Why didn’t you get me out before?” I turned my head, leveled him with a stare. “Why did you take me there in the first place?”
Instantly, his expression filled with something that looked like regret. “I had to.”
I let my stare linger on his face for a second, then looked out the window again. “Because it’s your job.”
It wasn’t a question, nor did he answer. He didn’t need to. We both knew the truth. He admitted he worked for the FBI, investigating Martin. Which meant he didn’t have to do Martin’s dirty work. Yet he did. And I was a near-casualty in the FBI’s plan to take down Martin Calloway.
“How long do I have to stay here?”
“Say the word and I’ll take you home.”
That got my attention. I looked into his dark brown eyes, seeking the truth. He didn’t appear to be lying, but I could tell he was hoping I wouldn’t push the issue.
I wanted to. God, I wanted to go home.
“Do you think he’d go to ground?” I asked. “Martin, I mean. If I go home.”
“Yes.”
I took a deep breath. And if he did, that meant he would still be out there, still be capable of coming after me or my kids or someone I loved at any time.
He paused for several heartbeats before saying, “We will take him down, Kylie. I promise you that. I will make it safe for you to go home if it’s the last thing I do.”
Turning my attention to the window once again, I said, “Then I guess we’d better do what’s needed to take him down because I won’t stay here much longer.”
“I understand.”
I cut my gaze to his, held his stare. “I really hope you do.”