Page 26 of Her Faithful Protector

Sam sits beside me. “I’m surprised he talked about his birthday with you. He hated it. It took some convincing from me, Cass, Grace, and our father, but he finally agreed to have his thirtieth celebration with us.”

I scoff. “He told me that, too.”

Sam then laces his fingers in front of him. “Well, to be honest, a lot still remains unresolved. I’ll tell you what I know. As you’re aware, we’re originally from New York. That day, we were in Syracuse, just being kids at the fairground over LaborDay weekend. We both wanted to go on a rollercoaster ride, but he was too short.”

“He was too short?” I say in disbelief. How did he grow to the size of a tower?

“Yeah,” Sam chuckles. “So, I rode alone, and he stayed with our father. When the ride was over, I couldn’t find either of them. I searched and searched, only to find my dad surrounded by police, but Jack was nowhere to be found.”

He pauses, his hand trembling as he clears his throat, then waves at me to wait. The event, though it occurred when he was a child, is still clearly raw for him. He rises from the couch, facing the window, searching for the sun as it peeks over the landscape surrounding this country house.

His voice is slow and deliberate as he recounts, “Jack slipped from our father’s grip while the old man was busy taking photographs of me. Someone in the crowd just grabbed my little brother and dragged him away, maybe even sedated him so he couldn’t scream or fight back.”

Jack could have been sedated in many ways, but my mind instinctively deduces it, and my neck pulsates involuntarily, as if a syringe pierced my jugular vein.

After a moment, Sam returns to my side, saying, “Years passed, and the only evidence we had was Jack’s bloodstained clothes. The case was eventually closed, and he was presumed dead.”

“That must’ve been devastating.”

“I never believed it, and I was goddamn right. We still don’t have much information. Jack’s memory is practically non-existent. But I know he was wounded, maybe even tortured. And he was definitely drugged, mercilessly.”

The revelation hurts me. “I don’t know how he copes. God… he’s done well to absorb all that. If you spoke to him, you wouldn’t have known, would you?”

“He still has a lot to reconcile with himself. Be gentle with him.”

Suddenly, Sam’s phone rings, interrupting our conversation. He doesn’t say much, but I understand. Jack has landed.

After a covert transferfrom Sam’s house to our new safe house in Belgrade, we wait. Elmo paces around us like a satellite, his nails clicking against the hardwood floor, in rhythm with our own nervous energy. Jack should have arrived by now.

Then, the distant hum of a car reaches our room, causing Sam and I to spring to our feet. Though I know the car is there and the engine has stopped, my surroundings are taken over by the jumbled voices of the two brothers, blended with Elmo’s barks.

In a blur of movement, I find myself enveloped in Jack’s arms.

“Ava, you okay?” His voice is as gentle as his hold.

“Jack… you’re back,” I whisper, the words more for my own solace than for him. I press against his chest, needing to feel him to confirm his presence. And there he is, as tangible as flesh and muscle, despite the darkness of his suit jacket.

“Come inside,” Sam urges, breaking the spell.

In response, Jack guides me in while never fully releasing his grip. We settle in the living room of the safe house, and Jack helps me find a seat. As my mind gradually quiets, I can finally take in the full sight of Jack before me. A different kind of whirlwind holds me captive.

I’m compelled to momentarily set aside the grim reality we’ve been facing and immerse myself in the breathtaking scene that unfolds before me. Jack stands tall, his handsresting on my waist. His face is marred with concern, but boy, his whole body exudes handsomeness that can only come from the Kelleher genes. He’s wearing a borrowed suit, with the absence of a tie, but he looks as if he’s stepped straight out of a scene from the TV show “Suits.”

“What took you so long!” Sam opens the conversation.

“Taxi got a flat tire,” Jack reveals.

Sam peeks out, rechecking the vehicle Jack drove to get here. “But you took that car from the motel I told you about, right?”

“I’m not an idiot, Sam! I took a cab to the motel and drove here—wasn’t that what we discussed?”

“You’re here,” I say. “That’s all that matters.” My fingertips glide over the damp fabric of his chest as his restlessness grows amid the tension between him and his brother. They’re both tired, I can tell.

“I guess the suit makes up for your tardiness,” Sam jokes as I help Jack remove his jacket. Sweat clings to his shirt, evidence of the physical and mental strain he carries.

Sam heats up some pre-made meals from the fridge, and we have a late lunch.

He then packs his things, saying, “I’ve left a laptop in the bedroom. If you need to revisit any CCTV footage, that’s your go-to machine. Call me if you need anything else. And there’s still plenty more food in the fridge and pantry. Don’t order pizza!”

---