Page 23 of How Much For A Broken Heart?

“Navy? Talk to me.”

I tried to move, to help in any way I could, but the white-hot blaze of agony consumed all other thoughts. I reached out for something to hold, something to pull myself up, and he gripped my hand tight, held it so I might never be able to let go. The room was a tomb, a dark, enclosed space that threatened to be our end. But I wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. There had to be a way out, a chance for escape.

In my fading consciousness, thoughts of Annie swirled. James’s sweet girl, whose life had been turned upside down, whose innocence had been stolen. I’d fought so hard to bring the whole thing down, wanting revenge, wanting to free her.

Finally, I’d found her.

And now, as I was dying, the bitter realization was made real—it was best I was gone. Annie wouldn’t have a broken, murdering ghost of a man haunting her steps. A desperate urgency surged within me—one last thing I had to say.

“Find… where they… ” I coughed, and there was blood again. “… took Annie,” I managed to gasp out, each word a battle against the pain that raged through my body.

“Stop talking,” Ryder snapped, pressing down on my belly, the pain so sharp I think I screamed.

“No… tell her… James loved her.” Saying it was excruciating, not only because of the physical agony, but because of the weight of those words, the finality they carried.

“You can tell her yourself. Help’s on the way. You hear me?”

“S’okay,” I slurred. “Annie’s okay… tell her.”

“Shut your mouth,” Ryder snarled, then cursed and thumped the wall.

No. Please. It was important, more than anything, that Annie knew about her dad.

The effort of speaking was monumental, leaving me drained and hollow. I tried to focus, to cling to the fading edges of life, but each breath was a battle, each minute a war I was losing. In the dim light of the room, with the cold grip of death inching closer, I found a twisted comfort that I wasn’t dying alone, and I regretted it.

As darkness edged my vision, I heard someone in the distance, calling my name, telling me to fight and stay with him. It sounded like Ryder, but it was so far away, a lifeline just out of reach. I wanted to respond, to tell him to stop. But the words wouldn’t come, my voice lost in the void that was claiming me.

So, I lay there, in the cold embrace of the floor, and I could feel the last tendrils of consciousness slipping away, and my grip on Ryder’s hand weakening. I’d done what I could, fought as hard as I could. Now, it was up to Ryder to tell her how much James had loved her.

It had to be enough.

Something thumped on the door, loud clanging.

“They’re here, Navy. We’re gonna be okay.”

Chapter Nine

RYDER

Outside August’s room at Kingscliff, where he lay unconscious, I leaned against the wall lost in thought. When Cain had broken into the program holding us inside, we’d both been taken to local critical care, but Sanctuary had soon transported us to the Maine safe house; the one the new Shadow Team called home. The weight of everything that had happened pushed me down, a mix of relief and unresolved tension and pain, and I rearranged the crutch that was all that was keeping me up.

“Hey, Ryder,” a familiar voice called—Josh, Ethan’s boyfriend, and the reason our team had become involved with Sanctuary—trailing behind a small girl. It took me a moment to register—this was Annie, the girl from the compound, and this was the first time I’d met her since the helo had landed yesterday. I straightened, watching them approach, wobbling on my crutch, but trying not to wince in pain.

Annie had the look of her dad, James Lerner, with fluffy blonde hair and the biggest blue eyes. She moved with a caution and quiet that seemed wrong, scanning the surroundings with an intensity that spoke of things no four-year-old should understand. Josh was a teacher here, in charge of admin for all the kids, and right now, he was in charge of one small and very confused girl.

As they drew nearer, I heard her small voice, “Is Clara here?” Her words were soft, almost hesitant. Clara? Shit. All I could think of was Clara’s lifeless body sprawled in the dirt. Amos had said the man in charge had killed her—well that was him, so it must have been Amos who’d shot her? Why would he have done that? Was it anger at losing Annie? Hell, was it my fault? Maybe I should have calmed Clara down, told her to run while she had the chance? Should I say something inane, like Clara was in heaven, or… Josh met my gaze, and I shook my head.

He kneeled beside her, answering in a gentle tone. “How about we go bake some cookies?”

“I want Mr. Amos,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “Where’s Clara and Mr. Amos?”

My heart broke for her, and Josh was fighting back tears.

“How about those cookies, and we can talk to Lizzie.”

“I don’t like Lizzie!” Annie snapped, and stomped, and cried some more.

I stood there helpless. Dr. Lizzie Malone, an experienced counselor, was one of the team caring for the kids who passed through here, victims of trafficking, and I couldn’t help but think she had her work cut out with Annie. Too much time spent with Amos in that compound.

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