Page 15 of Her Faithful Protector

“Ava, calm down,” I say, caressing her back.

“We’ll be careful, Ava,” Sam assures her. “We won’t let anything happen to Quinton.”

Ava looks at me, silently begging for action.

“They’re the best at what they do,” I emphasize. Although I feel an overwhelming urge to take matters into my own hands, I know my anger and personal biases may cloud my judgment. One careless move and everything could go horribly wrong. “You can count on them,” I say firmly, holding her hand.

She nods, exhausted, and soon falls asleep. While Sam and his men swing into action, I stay by her side. The dog stands guard, ever vigilant. I look at his name tag and give him a gentle pat. “Good dog, Elmo. Good dog,” I whisper, determined not to move from my spot. I will not leave Ava’s side until I uncover the truth about what’s going on.

5

AVA

Squinting my eyes open, I find myself in an unfamiliar room. The tightness in my chest is suffocating. It feels like an elephant has taken residence on top of me. As I turn my head to the right, I’m greeted by the outline of a familiar figure. A sense of comfort shrouds me upon seeing him.

Elmo.

My loyal companion is with me. But where the hell am I?

Behind Elmo’s fuzzy image and his enthusiastic licking, a shadowy figure emerges. It’s a man. I should run or seek help from Elmo, but instead, I allow the man to approach me. Is this some kind of dream? The kind where you desperately want to flee, but your body refuses to respond? Strangely, I feel no threat, no urge to escape.

The man takes my hand, shaking it gently. Is he calling me ‘sweetheart?’

My eyes focus, my mind wavering between acceptance and disbelief at the sight before me.

“Ava? Can you hear me?” His voice is crystal clear, cutting through people’s chatter outside my room. It’s steady, assertingits authority as though he’s the only one with the rightful claim to my name.

Although I have no recollection of how I got here, this isn’t a dream. That man, he took me here. When we bid farewell in Bozeman, his hair was wavy and thick. Now, the ash-blond mane is neatly cropped, the signature haircut of a Marine. His face is clean-shaven, accentuating his sharp features. My goodness, he looks breathtaking.

As I sit up, pressure converges in my head. Jack tries to persuade me to lie back down, but now I understand why I’m here. My admiration for the Marine should be the last thing on my mind.

“Have you…” I struggle to finish my sentence, coughing from my dry throat.

“Here.” Jack offers me a glass of water.

Elmo attempts to join me in bed, but as usual, he fails. Seeing this, Jack gives him a push so the pup can lie next to me.

After a few gulps, I ask, “Have you found my baby?”

“No,” he murmurs as if he doesn’t want to deliver the news. “We’ve analyzed the CCTV from the hospital parking garage. We saw two men, but their faces were obscured, and the van registration number was fake. Do you remember anything about them?”

“I remember their faces. Give me a pencil and paper.”

Jack leaves the room and soon returns with a drawing pad and an HB pencil. My hand can barely grip them. Stroke by stroke, shaking as if I’m possessed, I manage to draw something.

My fingers unfurl, the pencil rolling down to the floor.

That face. It’s faint, but…

“I can’t, Jack. I can’t.”

“It’s okay. Forget about the sketch.” He tries to take thedrawing pad away from me, but I hold onto it. “Ava, we’ll do it another time.”

I sob, staring at the black-and-white, faded impression of Quinton. My Quinnie-Bear is out there alone, and who knows what those men are doing to him!

Jack wraps his hand around my trembling fingers as I grip the paper tightly. But finally, I let it go.

“I do remember their faces, Jack. I just can’t put them on paper.”

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