Page 101 of Her Faithful Protector

“Touching,” he jeers. “But I still can’t remember your name. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you were one of my cargos back in the day. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

“My name isn’t important. I just want to know what you did to me.”

“How could I do that when I can’t even remember your name?”

“Kidnapping is a game of faces, Mr. Cooper, and you do remember me. Because I was the one who got away. Just like the boy who sent you here.”

The prisoner grunts.

“Come on, Cooper,” I taunt him. “You’re in here for life. I’m sure you won’t mind sharing how you broke me once upon a time.”

“I destroyed you! You’re done for!” His face contorts with bitterness. “But that fucking Castro mini-me? Gotta hand it to that boy.” He waves his index finger repeatedly, probably regretting the day he got caught. His eyes scan left and right as if considering a confession. Suddenly, he turns around, making me instinctively shield Ava. A guard approaches, but Cooper’s actions aren’t meant to harm us. Instead, he lifts his hair, revealing something hidden.

It all clicks into place in my memory. The tattoo on the back of his neck. That’s why he always keeps his hair long. I recall seeing it once before when his hair was inadvertently brushed aside during the chaotic moments of him chasing me or me desperately trying to escape from him.

I mockingly ask, “So that boy recognized you because of your tattoo?” Taking my time, I burst into laughter. “Did he ever say it resembled the shape of a poop emoji?” I wait for Cooper to process my comment, but he remains indifferent. I challenge him, “So what did you do to me?”

“Like I said. There are too many to remember. But let me tell you, you all had one thing in common. Your wails, the smell of your fear and hopelessness—you were all the same!”

The way he describes it triggers something in my head, like damaged film clips flickering on a massive screen. “You tried to kill me, but your knife only inflicted a surface wound.I was bleeding, but I still got away,” I grit. “By then, I was already addicted to the drugs you constantly loaded me with. You staged my bloodied clothes, convincing everyone I was dead so the investigation would cease. But guess what? I got away right before your eyes.”

He hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he won’t be able to forget that.

I continue taunting him. Why not kick him while he’s down? I say, “And here’s the best part. I ran far, but you know, I came back. I was found by a nun only a block away from your sin house. You could’ve gotten me, but I guess God has a funny sense of humor. I slipped…right. Under. Your. Nose.”

“Fuck you! You’re nothing but trouble!” His voice bears no substance, as if uttered by a playground wimp.

Satisfaction sings in my heart like a choir. The man has just admitted that he remembers me. I lean in, lowering my voice. “Nobody will remember your name, only the man with a tattoo resembling a pile of shit.”

Cooper scratches the back of his neck. Perhaps no one had ever told him that.

I rise to my feet and take Ava’s hand. “Come on.” I help her up, then we head toward the exit.

But something halts me—Cooper’s distinct call, which my brain suddenly recognizes, the reason why I got the knife wound on my back.

I turn around as the prisoner is about to be escorted inside. I declare proudly, “Actually, my name is Jack Kelleher—the troublesome one.” My voice echoes, momentarily pausing the mutters and chit-chat in the room. “And you’ll remember that for the rest of your life.”

With my head high, I walk away, firmly gripping Ava’s hand. There are still five minutes left in the visitation, but that man doesn’t deserve even an extra second from us. He maystill haunt my nightmares, but as Ava said, we’ll face it together. And with my mind filled with her love, thoughts of Quinton, and dreams of our future children, he will be nothing more than a speck of dust.

As soon as we reach our car, I kiss Ava.

“Thank you.” There’s nothing more I can say to her. The rest is in my eyes, on my lips, and in my shivers.

“You did it, Jack.”

Tears choke my voice as a wave of numbness washes over me, transforming into comforting relief. Ava pulls me into her arms—an irreplaceable source of calm after relinquishing a lifetime of fear.

“Wedid it, Ava Belle,” my voice breaks at the end of my sob. “You have no idea how much I needed you in there.”

“I’m always here for you. But don’t forget, I need you too—I always will. There’s no safe place quite like you.” She rubs my chest as if feeling its strength.

“Let’s go home.”

“Where’s home for you, Jack?”

It’s the easiest question I’ve had to answer. “Montana. My family is there.”

“And your demons?”

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