Sweat poured from me, all the moisture escaping my pores. My eyes were dry—I had no tears left—and I simply whimpered.

“I want justice, Ms. Road. For me and my people,” she said, her words sounding as if they were far away as my consciousness wavered.

“From me?” I forced out through my bloody lips.

“You are defending my boyfriend, Gus Cameron, and I know that stupid limp-dick is up to no good. He wants to pin it all on me . . . and yes, most of the handiwork was mine. But I’m needed out here in the world to keep our race pure, to bring more justice for the Aryans.”

I took a deep inhale and tried to pull myself together. Breathe in, breathe out. Focus!

My client, Gus Cameron, was her boyfriend. He was waiting to turn someone in . . . was it her? Were all those pictures on the wall of his apartment hers? Had she committed all the hate crimes, and he only covered for her?

“He should’ve never fucked the blond Jew,” the woman spat out. “He should only dip his dick in Aryan pussy. I told him that, and he didn’t listen. I know she looked pure, being blond, but the bitch wasn’t. He’s going to pay because you’re going to fix the case and send him to prison.”

Fix the case?

Wasn’t that what the note said, the one left in my ransacked apartment? Did that make this woman my stalker?

“Okay, I don’t want to die,” I said slowly, croaking out the words. “I need medical help. Why don’t you help me, and then I’ll help you?”

“No! No medical help until the deal’s done and Cameron’s back behind bars.”

I would die if I didn’t get help soon; I was bleeding out. Already I was light-headed, having a hard time concentrating, and my vision kept going in and out.

A sob escaped my throat as my mind whirled. I wasn’t made to survive this type of thing. I was the daughter of a maid, a sheltered girl, poor but not necessarily tough. Praying frantically, I started making promises to God, to any higher power who would listen. A bright light flooded my face and I was sure it was Him—God—or maybe it was the light calling me.

Why did this woman have such a thick Russian accent? Hitler hated the Russians. Then I remembered reading something in my case preparation about neo-Nazi hate crimes, about some Russians declaring themselves Aryans.

The light brightened, and a booming voice rang out. “Marina! What the fuck? What the hell did you do?”

“You! You did it. You were going to turn me in and let them slaughter me like a pig, Gus. So I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

“You can’t fucking do that, Marina! She works for the government. You’re going to fry for this. I was trying to get us a deal. Fucking Christ, now what am I going to do?”

Lightness and darkness alternated, swirling around me. Voices faded in and out, and then I heard what sounded like a gunshot. I was pretty sure my body jerked at the sound, but that was only in theory, in my rattled brain.

Sometime later I realized my lap was soaking wet; I must have peed myself. Silence took over, and darkness returned. Unable to do anything else, I continued to lie there for a time, resting my eyes as I contemplated how much I really wanted to live.

With pain jolting through me, I turned my head and looked around.

There was blood everywhere, all over my skin and clothes. At the sight of the dark red liquid spilling from me onto the dirty floor, my head spun like the Tilt-A-Whirl at the carnival. My vision blurred, turning hazy as light came and went. I wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. The light seemed to be seeping in from somewhere, but I didn’t know where.

Was this death? Would I never live? At the thought, shrieks escaped my throat, barreling up through my vocal cords.

I’d never hurt so badly in my life. My eyes kept drooping from the shock and the pain. I didn’t know where I was or how the hell to get help, but I wanted it.

I wanted to live. I didn’t want to just survive, but I needed to breathe his air, Jake’s air, to live with him side by side. But like the blood seeping from my body, the chances of him finding me were slipping. Fading. Everything was darkening, and then the light came again.

“Help!” I screamed, but it came out more of a ragged whisper, my throat completely raw from earlier. “Help!” My voice echoed off the wooden walls that surrounded me, walls I hadn’t noticed before. I was in some kind of barn, but I didn’t know where.

How would anyone find me?

I’m going to die here.

Light blasted into the room and voices took up residence in my mind. This was it. It was over. I was in heaven or hell, or maybe it was purgatory. I didn’t know.

“Ma’am?” a soft voice called to me. “Ma’am,” the voice repeated, and a hand shook my shoulder.

I didn’t want to go. I’d changed my mind; I wanted to stay dead. I was ready to die. Whatever was left of me wouldn’t be enough for Jake . . . or for me.

“Miss, I’m here to help you. Can you blink or nod if you can hear me?” It was a woman’s voice, and she was gently untying my hands.

A swallow tumbled down my throat, and I nodded once, or at least I thought I did. I wasn’t sure if I did or not. Did the woman even see it?

“It’s okay, honey, I’m here. My name is Shirley, and I’m going to have my husband lift you now. There’s no way we can wait for an ambulance. We’ve got to get you to help.”

I watched as this stranger with red hair like mine ran a hand down my arm, saying soothing words as her middle-aged husband wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and lifted me. Shivers continued to rack my body. My lifeless limb hung by a thread, and blood dripped from me as he carried me to a small compact car.

The woman named Shirley sat in the cramped backseat with me, holding my head steady in her lap with one hand and putting pressure on my leg with the other. With every jolt of the car, pain crashed through me, and I moaned.

The car ride faded in and out. Murmurs, quiet discussion floated around me. I was pretty sure I heard someone say, “We need to go to the local hospital, can’t make it all the way to Pittsburgh.”

Where was I?

My focus drifted to sushi, and bowling with Jake. I thought about his gym, and how he was always asking me to go there. I was thinking so hard about him, I swore I heard his name on repeat.

“Jake, Jake, Jake . . .”

The next thing I remembered, I was waking up in a hospital bed. Dazed and confused, I blinked my bleary eyes, comforted by the certainty that was the Pittsburgh skyline I saw outside the window.

But the older redhead who sat in the chair next to me, holding my hand, her I wasn’t certain of.

“I’m going to get your Jake now,” she whispered to me.

My eyes were blurry and I squinted, trying to make out who the woman was, and how she knew Jake. “Bess?” I murmured, wondering if I was imagining the woman being middle-aged.

Bess is young? Right?

The stranger shook her head.

I reached out and grabbed her wrist and squeezed tight. “What happened? Who are you?” My voice sounded foreign and ragged, and I was beginning to imagine the worst.

“Darlin’, you were kidnapped, but I rescued you. I’ll tell you the rest later. I’m sure Jake is very worried about you. I waited until you were awake to go get him. Had to make sure you were really going to be okay,” she said in a hushed tone.

Everything was so fuzzy to me; her words sounded as if they were coated in a layer of static. My head throbbed and my body burned with pain, but neither were close to the odd absence I felt in my heart. Something was wrong with me—really wrong—but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

“Wait! What happened? Jake? How do you know Jake? Why do you keep talking about him? Please don’t leave me here guessing,” I pleaded with the woman as she stood to leave.