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As soon as I’m seated, the waitress rushes over to take my order. I haven’t seen Hugh since the day I was taken. We’ve spoken on the phone, but that’s all. He’s wanted to come and visit, but I’ve kept everyone but my dad and Willow at arm’s length.
“Hi,” we both say at the same time. I giggle nervously and gesture for him to continue.
“Aurora… I… I.” Hugh pauses to take a deep breath. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“No, Hugh,” I rebuff. “Nothing was your fault. I chose to do the story. It was my choice to meet with my informant alone after you insisted I take Jansen with me. The fault lies on my shoulders alone.” I reach over to grab his hand. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Who knows how long it would've taken for anyone else to realize I was gone?”
“Doesn’t feel like it was enough.” He slams his fist on the table. “Two fucking weeks, Aurora. I thought… we all thought…”
I dip my head to hide my unshed tears because I know exactly what he’s trying to say. “I’m here because of you.”
“How are you holding up?”
This question plagues me in my dreams. The one that keeps me up at night. What’s the correct response to that, except fine? I can’t tell everyone I’m breaking. Healing is what they want to hear.
“Healing.” I paste on the same fake smile I do for everyone else. “One day at a time.”
Hugh rubs his hands together as the waitress sets down our sandwiches. Acid rises in my throat, but I swallow it down and nibble on the corner of the bread, not wanting to draw attention to my sudden change in mood.
Hugh excitedly explains all the stories they are currently covering and how happy everyone is that I’m possibly coming back to work soon.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and goosebumps erupt all over my body. I scan the restaurant for whatever set off my sixth sense. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary—normal diners enjoying lunch with family and colleagues.
Calm down. You’re in a public place with your boss in the middle of downtown Boston. You’re fine. There’s no one here stalking you. Get. A. Grip.
“Hugh, I don’t know if I’m ready to come back,” I admit. “I know that puts you in a predicament, and you might have to replace me.”
“Stop. I’m not replacing you.”
“Hugh, you have a paper to run.”
“And you’re one of my best reporters,” he argues. “I can’t lose you. What about working from home?”
“I’m not in any shape to interview anyone either,” I counter.
Hugh smirks. “What if we set you up with a pen name, and you write some articles that require research? If anyone needs to be interviewed, I can send another reporter out to get the questions answered, and they can email those to you.”
I lean back in my chair to consider his proposal. This could work. I love research, and having a pen name would keep me out of the spotlight a little longer. I could work from the comfort of my own home, behind the security of my building.
“How long would you be comfortable letting me do this, though?” I ask hesitantly.
“For as long as you need,” he answers.
I stick my hand out. “You got yourself a deal.”
CHAPTER 7
JAXSON
“Help!”
A muffled voice echoes through the night as we wade through the shipping containers to find the one our intel says holds human cargo. This is the fourth country we’ve raided since we rescued Aurora, and we’re all tired. The son of a bitch at the helm of the organization keeps evading us. Every time we think we are close to eliminating him, he slips through our fingers. Despite this, we have managed to recover almost fifty trafficking victims.
I hold up my fist. “Did you hear that?”
All of our heads swivel when a thump reverberates to the left of us. Switching to hand signals, I form a circle with my thumb and pointer finger and hold it up to my eye indicating to my team to be on the lookout for hostiles and then wave them forward to the storage unit.
Pop. Pop.