She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Alex. I just can’t—”

“Please,” I plead with her, cutting her off.

She looks up and finally gives in. “Okay, I’ll stay. But I’m going to call her every day just to make sure he hasn’t stopped by.”

“That’s fine with me.”

Crisis averted.

“CAN YOU TELL us why there was a search warrant issued?” one reporter asks. “Does this have anything to do with his wife’s disappearance?” another questions.

“We’re not answering any questions at this time. Senator Fitzgerald is giving his full cooperation in this matter and we’re confident that this will be resolved in the near future. Thank you.” The caption on the television says that this is Cal’s attorney. He quickly passes the journalists and gets into a waiting car.

The warrant was served yesterday and the media has gone crazy over it. Of course, no one has explained why the police were searching his house, but that doesn’t stop them from guessing. Most are speculating that he has something to do with Elizabeth suddenly vanishing. I hear the bathroom door open and quickly shut the television off.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” she deadpans.

“What?”

“Turn it off when I walk in.” She starts digging through her bag for some clean clothes.

“I just don’t want it to stress you out.”

“You don’t have to treat me like a child, Alex. I can handle it.” I know she’s right. She’s proved it. But that doesn’t mean my instincts to protect her go away. I open my mouth to reply, but my phone vibrates in my pocket. “I’m going to take this outside real quick,” I tell her as I hold up my phone.

Once I’m outside, I answer it. “Hey.”

“When was the last time Elizabeth talked to her mother?” Turner asks me.

“Yesterday, why?” That’s a random thing to ask. I have a really bad feeling.

“She’s in the hospital,” he says on a sigh.

My spine instantly stiffens. “What?” My voice is strained as I try my best not to shout. I don’t want to alarm Elizabeth. “What the fuck happened?”

“Her father called 9–1-1. Said someone broke in in the middle of the night and beat her up pretty bad.”

“Goddamn it, Turner! If you had fucking listened to me and put someone on her this wouldn’t have happened! What’s her condition?”

“Calm down, Matthews. I’m still your boss, so you better watch it,” he warns. I don’t give a fuck who he is. He’s wrong and he fucking knows it, and his piss poor decision making could’ve cost Elizabeth’s mother her life. “She’s stable, but they’re going to keep her for a few days to monitor the swelling to her head.”

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Do you have any suspects?”

“Not yet. It could be one of Cal’s guys trying to get a location on Elizabeth, or it could be the cartel trying to get to you. We did a search of his house yesterday and took his laptop and all his files. He’s getting desperate and probably feeling the pressure from Henry Williams and his organization. They know it’s only a matter of time before the whole damn thing falls apart.”

“Did her dad get a good look at the assailants? What about the reporters parked on their damn lawn? They didn’t see anything?”

“Her dad said they had hats on their heads and bandanas tied around their faces. He couldn’t even tell what color hair they had. It was in the middle of the night. There were no reporters.”

“How many were there?”

“He said three. Two restrained him so he couldn’t help his wife, and the other one assaulted her.”

I pull my arm back and punch the brick wall. Bone crushing pain radiates through my hand and up my arm. Looking at my knuckles, I see they’re shredded and bleeding. Fucking great. “I can’t tell Elizabeth. I won’t be able to stop her from going to the hospital and I’m sure they’re waiting on her. She’ll fall right into their trap.”

“I agree, but how are you going to keep it from her? Won’t she want to call her and check in?”

My hand rakes roughly through my hair, the movement making me wince. “Yeah, I’ll have to think of something”

“This is almost over,” he reminds me.

“Yeah, I hope so.” I hang up the phone, and walk back in the room.

“You about ready to go?” I ask her. We’ve packed up all our things and are switching motels again.

“Almost. I just have to pack my toothbrush. Come lay with me for a minute.” She pats the mattress next to her.

I lay back on the bed and place my hands behind my head to hide my messed up knuckles from her. Staring at the ceiling, I’m lost in thought for I don’t know how long when her voice pulls me back to the present. “Did you play sports in school?”

Looking over at her, I quirk an eyebrow. “That’s random.”

She shrugs. “The silence was starting to get to me.”

I stare at her for a few moments before answering. “Yeah, I played baseball.”

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it.” I sit up and move up against the headboard. “There’s nothing like standing at home plate and staring down the pitcher, daring him to strike you out. The rush you get when you hear the ball crack off the bat when you nail it, and the feeling you get as you round the bases. I don’t care what anyone says, the official start of spring is Opening Day.” A soft smile graces her lips. “What?” I ask.

“Nothing, I just like listening to you talk about something you enjoy. Did you want to continue playing?”

I nod. “Yeah, I even got a scholarship to play at a college.”

“What happened then?”

“I joined the Army instead. I felt a greater duty to my country than to a hobby.”

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” I’m such a pussy, because I actually look away feeling shy with her compliment.

“Come here.” I hold my arm out to her so she can snuggle and turn the focus away from me. She moves across the bed and settles in beside me. A content sigh leaves her lips, or maybe it’s from stress. Either way, I’m holding onto her tight hoping I can convey with actions what I can’t with words.

I’m sorry I can’t tell you everything and I’m making you feel insecure.

I’m sorry I keep lying to you.

And I’m so fucking sorry I put your mom in danger. Please forgive me.

“So, what about you? I know you said you played basketball for a year. Did you not like it?”

“I liked it a lot actually, but my mother didn’t think it was appropriate.” I don’t miss the bitterness in her voice. I know her mother pushed her to be a lot of things, but she never went into much detail. All she’s really said is that she was basically brainwashed into marrying for money.

“What do you mean it wasn’t appropriate?”

“It means that the future wife of an affluent man isn’t a tomboy running around shooting hoops. She’s well-groomed and participates in girlier activities.”

“That’s a bunch of bullshit.” My face pulls into a scowl listening to the shit her mother fed her as a child.

“Yeah, well that’s how Mother explained it. A man who could take care of me would be more attracted to a more refined girl who was involved in social things versus a girl who was rough around the edges and got sweaty.” She shrugs nonchalantly, but I can see that it bothers her. “So she put me in cheerleading instead and said it would be good for me to hang out with like-minded girls. What she really meant is hang out with girls that she wanted me to mimic.” She sounds so sad when she says all of this stuff and it breaks my heart a little for her.

“I’ve resented my mother for a lot of things as an adult,” she continues, “and I blamed her for my unhappiness, but what hurt the most was never feeling like I was good enough. I often wondered why it wasn’t enough to just be me. She made me feel like no one could possibly love me unless I pretended to be something I wasn’t. It got to a point where I was so good at acting like this perfect version of myself, that even I believed it was the real me. It wasn’t until you came along that I started seeing my life for what it really was; an empty, fake shell coated in misery.”