Page 10 of Enduring Promise

“I believe so. The more her mother tries to hold on, the more Claire pulls away. And with Claire’s independence, her mother’s constant meddling has driven a wedge between them. Claire has no idea of the extent to which her life has been monitored. All she knows is that she feels smothered and mistrustful of her family, but she doesn’t understand the full scope. So she’s not reaching out for help with these threats. Her mother doesn’t want to ask her directly because it will bring to light how intrusive she’s been.”

Hillary felt a surge of empathy for Claire, coupled with a sharp frustration at the situation. “This is twisted.”

Madame Fournier’s gaze turned steely. “That’s why I need the two of you. Claire has pushed away everyone else in her life. But she doesn’t know you, doesn’t have any history with you. If anyone can reach her, make her feel seen and understood... it’s you two.”

Russ threw up his hands, a look of sheer frustration contorting his face. “This is insane. They’re asking us to do the exact same thing they’ve been doing for years—getting inside Claire’s life without her permission, manipulating her. We might be staying here for safety, and I appreciate the refuge, but I am not going to pretend to be someone I’m not just to spy on her. I’m done with this.”

He turned to Hillary, expecting her to share his outrage. But she hesitated, her gaze steady on Madame Fournier as if she were weighing a silent decision. Her expression was serious, a quiet determination brewing in her eyes.

Finally, she looked up, breaking the silence. “We’ll do it.”

Russ’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Hillary, are you serious?”

Hillary nodded slowly, her tone resolute. “We’ll find out what’s going on with Claire. And we’ll keep her safe.”

Madame Fournier’s expression shifted from tense to something almost relieved. She didn’t wait for Russ to interject or argue further; instead, she locked eyes with Hillary, gave a firm, approving nod, and then swept out of the room, leaving them alone.

Russ stood there, flabbergasted, his hands still half-raised as if he were caught in the middle of a protest. He stared at Hillary, his exasperation palpable. “Hillary, what are you thinking? This isn’t us. This is the exact kind of manipulation Claire’s been suffering under her whole life. You’re a lawyer—you know this isn’t ethical!”

Hillary’s face softened, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes as she looked down, seemingly caught between her principles and her instincts. “I know it’s not ethical, Russ,” she admitted, her voice laced with heavy resignation. “And I hate the idea of deceiving her. But Claire may be in real danger. This isn’t about playing mind games; it’s about protecting her if that’s what she needs.”

Russ shook his head, incredulous. “And you think the best way to protect her is by becoming yet another person in her life who’s lying to her? Another person keeping secrets?”

“No,” Hillary said firmly, meeting his gaze with a quiet intensity. “But I think the best way to protect her is to gain her trust. We don’t need to deceive her or lie to her. We just need to be close enough to understand what’s really going on, close enough that she might trust us enough to open up.”

Russ let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “And if she finds out we’re here on orders from her mother?”

“We need to help. I’m not going to lie to her but you and I can’t get on the road again and pray we don’t end up dead. You are a witness in an important trial. You’re going to help put someone very dangerous behind bars. And maybe while we’re here we can help Claire.”

Russ studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching her face. Finally, he let out a slow breath, the fight draining from his stance. “Fine. But if it comes down to us having to leave or helping Claire, my bags will be packed.”

CHAPTER 9

Russ partially shut the bathroom door behind him, trying to steady his thoughts as he peeled off his clothes and changed into a pair of shorts. The dim light and quiet of the room only amplified the awareness simmering under his skin. After everything that had happened that night—the tension with Claire, the argument with Hillary, the strange alliance they’d formed with Madame Fournier—he’d expected to be exhausted. But as he glanced at his reflection, running a hand over his stubble, he felt restless instead.

He hated sleeping with a shirt on; it felt restrictive, and he needed to be comfortable if he was going to get any rest. Yet, as he pulled on his shorts and caught sight of the luxurious bed through the half-open bathroom door, he hesitated. He’d spent the past several nights sleeping wherever he could—cramped, dingy motel rooms with scratchy sheets and lumpy mattresses. But now, here was this massive, inviting bed with high thread-count sheets that looked as soft as clouds.

Still, he lingered, busying himself by folding his clothes neatly and adjusting his shorts as he tried to quiet the feeling of anticipation creeping over him. He wasn’t sure what Hillary expected tonight. They’d spent days in survival mode, barelythinking about anything but the next safe place to rest, and now, here they were, alone together in a room that seemed designed to make anyone feel more... intimate.

Finally, Hillary’s voice broke the silence. “Russ, what’s taking you so long?”

He glanced over to see her already in bed, nestled against the pillows with an expectant look. Her hair was loose, her face soft in the low light, and for a moment, he found himself rooted to the spot, admiring her without meaning to.

“This bed is amazing,” she said, shifting under the covers. “After all those nights in dank hotel rooms with scratchy blankets, this thread count feels like heaven.”

Russ chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can sleep on the floor if you’d be more comfortable.”

Hillary gave him a look, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. You have to get in this bed. We both deserve a decent place to sleep tonight. What do you think is going to happen?”

He hesitated, his gaze locking onto hers. “Think, or hope?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, carrying more weight than he’d intended. For a moment, the tension between them simmered in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

Hillary raised an eyebrow, her expression softening with a small, amused smile. “Get in the bed, Russ. You need sleep as much as I do.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Taking a breath, he moved to the other side of the bed and slipped under the covers. The cool, soft sheets against his skin were better than he’d imagined. He settled in beside her, trying to ignore the awareness prickling along his skin from her closeness.

They lay there in silence for a moment, the quiet of the room amplifying the beat of his own pulse. Finally, Hillary turned on her side, her voice a soft murmur. “Thanks for agreeing to help Claire, Russ.”

“What exactly is your motive?” he asked, not trying to sound accusatory. He was genuinely curious.

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