Chapter Forty-Four
A phone call from Parker interrupted a lovely breakfast after a fitful night of tossing and turning and thinking of wishes and dreams. Angela was almost glad to have work to focus on as she and Sawyer retreated to the living room to take Parker’s phone call.
“Two things,” Parker said. “First, Angela, you’ll be happy to hear that Mylene Hathaway has been transported to a first-rate mental health facility and will be reunited with her family.”
Angela’s heart jumped into her throat, and tears burned at the back of it. She was a ball of emotions. None had been focused on Mylene, but they were all about to be. “Really?”
“Really,” Parker confirmed. “Hang on—”
“Angela?” Jared barked, joining the call.
“Yes, sir?”
“You did it. Mission accomplished.”
She did, didn’t she? Her fingers pressed to her throat. Angela couldn’t speak and looked to Sawyer to say something. If she had to talk, she might cry in an over-the-top kind of way and embarrass herself.
He read her loud and clear. “Angela’s the kind of happy where nothing’s coming out of her mouth.”
Jared and Parker chuckled.
“Thanks,” she mouthed.
“Was there a second thing?” Sawyer asked. “Or should we just throw ourselves a little congratulatory party?”
“Yeah, there’s more. Federal prosecutors told Pham’s lawyers to shove it. Negotiations are off. They’re sticking to the trial schedule. The judge says they have time to make up for.”
Her eyes opened wide. A whole new level of emotion made her head spin like a Tasmanian Devil.
White noise roared in Angela’s ears. The trial had seemed years away.
Ibrahim had tried to prep her as those years had ticked by, but she’d pushed reality away.
The trial would always be next month, next year.
Pham would always be the good guy and bad guy and person she had to testify against. Violent, stomach-churning nausea made the room feel too warm.
“Which means,” Parker continued, “opening statements could be as soon as next week.”
Angela tried to focus on Sawyer as though he were a lighthouse in a tumultuous sea. Strong and tall and capable. But worry tightened on his face. That didn’t bode well for her beacon of stability.
“What does that mean for witnesses?” Sawyer asked.
Good. He was asking questions to get the answers she needed. Angela hadn’t even thought about when she was supposed to testify. No, her panic was stuck at square one. The trial would start. After years of building this court case, it was time for action.
“It’s the prosecution’s prerogative as to who’s called when. Opening statement and then they’ll be off and running. Angela, they’ll want to speak with you soon.”
Her head swam. She tried to nod. Panic blanketed her chest, compressing until each breath was a shallow, racing mess. Parker continued talking, but she couldn’t hear him. White noise and a little screeching voice in her head yelled that she would see Pham next week.
Oh, God. If not next week, then very, very soon. Bile rose into her throat. “I’m going to see Pham,” she tried to say but wasn’t sure that any words came out of her mouth.
“Angela?” Sawyer put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a little shake.
She couldn’t focus on him. Her tongue felt thick. Swimming through the nausea, she swayed.
“Guys, we’ll call you back.” Sawyer hung up. “Ange, hey? You okay?”
Years had passed since she saw Pham. Her mind had been so screwed up then. He abducted her! How had she ever thought of him as family? Her stomach roiled, twisting and tying into revolting knots. Cold sweat and confused memories prickled over her skin.
“Ange, look at me.” His hands squeezed her shoulders. “Focus on me.”
As her head swam, her eyes pinched shut. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Sawyer half carried, half hustled her to the bathroom. Her legs gave out. Gently, he laid her on the cold tile floor. She curled into a ball, pressing her pounding temple to the tile.
Sawyer remained close. She could hear him speak but wasn’t sure of what he said. Thoughts of testifying bore down on her with strangling force. Pham had stolen her life and pretended to care about her, but he didn’t. She was a wealthy man’s plaything, used and abused without a finger laid on her.
At one time, she’d almost loved him, or at least thought she had, desperately needing the attention that Pham had given easily.
But it wasn’t real.
Knowing that made it better and worse.
A damp, cold cloth was pressed to her forehead. Angela moaned. It felt so good.
“There you go.” He held the cloth against her skin. “Take a couple of slow breaths.”
She hadn’t realized how fast her heart was racing. Angela tried to slow her pulse. She inhaled through her nose, dragging in deeper, longer breaths.
“There you go,” he repeated soothingly. “Nice and easy.”
The heart-racing nausea slowly ebbed. Angela propped herself against the bathtub.
Sawyer sat on the tub’s edge and smoothed his strong hand over the back of her head. He brushed her hair off her cheek and the washcloth and resumed stroking the back of her head. Finally, she’d caught her breath.
“Are you good for a minute?”
“I’m fine,” she managed, sounding hoarse and unbelievable.
Sawyer kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be back.”
Angela turned the cloth over and pressed its cooler side to her forehead again. With her head between her knees and her arms crossed protectively over the top of her head, she tried to steady her racing thoughts.
Sawyer returned. “Take a drink of water.”
She peeked up and took the glass. Her hand trembled, and deciding it was better to use two hands than to let the glass shatter on the tile, she sipped.
“Good, sweetheart.” He returned to his perch on the tub’s edge. “It will be okay.”
She wasn’t sure if that was true.
“Do you want me to call Ibrahim?” he asked.
She shook her head. “There’s nothing he will tell me that he hasn’t told me before.”
Sawyer frowned but didn’t try to convince Angela that she was wrong. He didn’t have to. She knew it, but that wasn’t what she needed.
“Have you seen Pham since Titan rescued you?” he asked, though she understood he knew the answer.
She shook her head. “Only in the news.”
He slid down beside her and put his strong arm around her shoulders. She folded into him. This was what she needed. Him holding her. Protecting her from the world as he always did.
“Pham doesn’t freak me out.” But saying that ratcheted her nerves into a tsunami again. “I just—”
Sawyer squeezed her close. His lips pressed to the top of her head.
“Whether he does, or he doesn’t…” He inched back and lifted her chin with his fingers.
Sawyer waited until he had her focus. “You’re not going to face that monster alone.
” His thumb swept across her cheek. “You’ve got me. All of us.”
She had Sawyer. She always had him. Angela nodded. When he looked at her like that, she felt invincible. She folded the damp washcloth and hung it on the side of the tub. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
“Sure you could.” He smiled. “But you wouldn’t have had as much fun along the way.”
God, she loved him. She loved him so much it hurt.
Sawyer tipped her chin up again and kissed her lips softly.
After an eternity of feather-light kisses, his forehead pressed to hers.
Angela crawled onto his lap and traced her fingers down his temples, his cheeks, and his chin, carefully studying every millimeter of his face.
This bond would be gone before too long.
“What’s on your mind, Ange?”
She couldn’t tell him. “Your parents probably think I’m nuts.”
She didn’t miss his scrutiny, but after a moment, he shook his head with a quiet laugh. “My parents are in the middle of a hot debate about what color to paint the laundry room shelves. They didn’t notice.”
That made her laugh. “Liar.”
He crossed his heart. “Scout’s honor.” Sawyer slid her from his lap and stood, holding out his hand and then pulling her to her feet. “How do you feel? Better?”
“Eh…” Angela made a face. “I’ve started my day with better phone calls.”
His lips quirked. “You probably need food in your stomach.”
“Probably right.”
Sure enough, when they reached the kitchen, Sam and Susan were shuffling paint chips in various shades of white and wheat. Susan barely paused to ask if either Sawyer or Angela needed more pancakes—the two had barely touched their plates.
“Told you.” He smacked a kiss on her cheek. Neither Sam nor Susan noticed that either. Such was the paint debate.
Five minutes and a generous heaping plate of pancakes later, Angela was ready to finish the conversation with Parker.
She finished her orange juice and decided that nothing would knock her down like that again.
They returned Parker and Jared’s call. The conversation continued without panic attacks or meltdowns.
“The only thing left to decide is where you wait it out,” Jared said. “I’m sure Casa de Cabot is lovely, but a safe house is the way to go.”
Not imposing on the Cabots was understandable, though she hated to leave a house that felt like a home.
“We need to be on high alert,” Sawyer said, agreeing. “This is Pham’s last time to keep Angela from testifying. I’m not heading anywhere that isn’t stocked with enough firepower to protect a battalion.”
That didn’t worry her. Maybe it should have, but the only thing that would tie Angela into knots was facing Pham in court.
Jared let out a long breath. “We’ve been down the safe house road already. It didn’t work as it should have.”
“And we know why,” Angela snapped. “I used to date an idiot who slept with Pham’s—”
“I know, Angela,” Jared said. “But it’s safer if the Federal Marshals can stash you somewhere temporarily—”
“No,” she and Sawyer said simultaneously.
Couldn’t Boss Man see how close Witness Protection felt like Pham’s abduction? Basic needs would be met, but she’d have to walk away from everyone until they let her go.
“I’m sorry to shit on your day, Angela,” Jared said. “But your only option that everyone will agree with is a temporary stint in Witness Protection.”