Page 32 of In The Darkness

He’d sat there in that brown leather chair staring back at him and hating himself for the real truth of what they’d been through. No matter what the reason, he’d done something even he couldn’t think about without being overcome with self-loathing.

And if Marshall Gilmore knew, he’d likely have him killed and no one could blame him.

Yet Persephone, the very person he’d wronged so terribly, showed nothing of hate or anger toward him that night when he walked out of her father’s office feeling guiltier than he’d ever felt before. The hate he thought would forever be reflected in her eyes had disappeared, replaced by something else that made him want to think they could be in each other’s life like Marshall Gilmore had suggested.

But as soon as that hope cropped up inside him, he snuffed it out. He had to. For as much as she may have been able to see past that one act to believe in him, he couldn’t do the same for himself.

No matter how much he wanted to so he could say she was still in his life.

Grabbing the remote off the nightstand, he flipped through the channels to find something to take his mind off her. A horror flick could work. C-SPAN might bore him to sleep. That could work too.

Anything to let him forget her for at least a little while.

Channel after channel flew by with nothing worth stopping for, but then as he clicked through the news channels he saw her right there on his TV. She looked fresh and clean and as beautiful as she had that night in the garden. Her long brown hair hung in loose waves around her face, softening the sharpness of cheekbones models would kill for. Her deep brown eyes looked different now, framed with makeup to show them off, but they still gave anyone who took the time to notice the impression that when she looked at them, she saw them through a filter that made her think they were kinder than they actually were. More a reflection of her gentle nature than theirs, those eyes could make a man get lost in them.

He’d seen her only in green scrubs for all that time she was a hostage and then a light blue t-shirt and jeans that last night they spoke. Now she wore a black long sleeve dress and a gold necklace with a diamond pendant hanging from it, and in her ears sat diamond studs. Her look screamed class and money and made Nick think how poorly he fit into that world of hers after all.

Turning up the volume, he listened to her speak and knew all of the exterior so carefully created to give her that look of the upper class wasn’t who she truly was inside. No matter how much money they spent on that dress or the jewelry, when she spoke, the kindness that transcended class and wealth came through loud and clear.

The TV interviewer leaned in toward Persephone and said in a soft voice, “Miss Gilmore, tell us how you got through your ordeal. What helped you to make it through everything you had to deal with?”

Nick listened intently. One of the few conditions he’d given Marshall Gilmore before he walked out of his office was that there must be no mention of his name or his part in bringing Persephone home. Her father had assured him his name would never be released to anyone who asked, even the police and the FBI. His job required that he be nameless as much as possible.

She smiled and looked at the woman before looking directly into the camera. “I believe I had a guardian angel who watched over me. He protected me, and for that, I can never thank him enough.”

Sure she’d give a vague comment about her belief in God and strength like all people who’d been through something horrible said in interviews, he sat back against his pillow and sighed as he listened but didn’t hear anything about religion or spirituality. She simply repeated that she’d had a guardian angel who saved her. Nobody had ever referred to him as a guardian angel. He’d been called all sorts of names, but never that.

“What are your plans now, Miss Gilmore? What do you want to do most of all now that you’re back home?”

Nick knew the interviewer probably expected her to say she wanted a double cheeseburger with bacon or something equally as frivolous. That was usually the kind of thing victims of traumatic experiences said in interviews like this. It made them appear to be normal and ready to return to the regular world. He suspected Persephone had been told to give an answer like that but slightly more refined. She was, after all, the daughter of a billionaire. People could excuse her wanting something a bit more than a fast food meal on her return to daily life.

He watched as Persephone smiled and nodded before answering, “I have a lot I want to accomplish, but first on my list of things to do is finding a way to make sure no woman ever has to go through what I went through, Angie.”

The newscaster looked genuinely surprised by that answer and attempted to ask a follow up question to get more details, but Persephone refused to give any. All she’d say was she planned to devote her life to that one goal of ensuring no woman would ever have to experience what she had.

Nick didn’t know what she meant exactly, but he knew if anyone could achieve that, she could.

Holding the remote in his hand, his thumb hovered over the button to change the channel as he stared at Persephone Gilmore for a few seconds more before the screen faded to black and a commercial for some kind of home gym began. She had looked as incredible as he knew she would. Now all she had to do was find that wealthy man to marry and her life would be set.

That he hated the very idea of that happening made him wonder if he was as much a monster as any of those militia fucks. Or maybe he was just selfish.

Either way, he felt certain it made him the last person in the world Persephone should be with.

No matter how much he wished the opposite was true.

Nearly a weekof no sleep made Nick feel like a bus had hit him and then backed over his head just for good measure. If he kept going like he was, he’d end up in some mental hospital clutching his knees and rocking back and forth as he recited the alphabet backwards.

He hadn’t had a sip of alcohol in years, but as this bout of insomnia inched into a second week, he wondered if the moratorium he’d forced on himself a year after leaving the bureau now seemed a little too strident for his current circumstances. Back then, he’d let himself become a drunken mess after Tanya’s death and walking away from the only life he’d known for so long. He lost himself in the bottom of a glass for months on end, draining not only bottle after bottle of whatever liquor he could find but his bank account as well.

Now he knew better, though. He didn’t need to drink to drown his misery. That misery would be there when he got sober again anyway, so if he went back to drinking now, it would only be so he could sleep.

Rationalizing all this as he dressed to head out to get a few bottles, he threw on a shirt and pants and slipped his feet into a pair of shoes before opening the front door to his apartment to see Persephone standing there with her hand raised ready to knock. How she found where he lived ran through his mind, although that question seemed pretty dumb since her father could have told her or she could have just hired someone to find out for her. It wasn’t like he lived off the grid.

He just preferred to remain unknown. It suited who he was.

“Nick, I was just going to knock on your door,” she said with a beautiful smile.

But all he could think of was how she shouldn’t be there. She should have been anywhere else but there with him.

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