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“What are you doing here, Fikes?” Jessica’s voice isn’t full of suspicion, it’s knowing, and it relieves me instantly of the chill wrapped tight around my spine.

“I followed you. You’ve been ditching me a lot lately, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He juts a thumb over his shoulder. “Glad I did too. You had some thugs out there that were about to come in here. I took care of them for you.”

Jessica laughs, the sound bitter as it echoes through the air. “Oh, geez man, thanks. Well, I got it now. You can go.”

Fikes ignores her response and peers over her to me. “Who’s that you got there? Not going to introduce me?”

“No, I’d rather not. But again, thanks for all your help. Be safe getting back to the car.”

He huffs. “Can’t leave here without you, Jess.”

She recoils at the name he uses, her grip tightening on the gun. “And why is that?”

“Porque ella le pertenece.” His hidden accent comes through heavily as he draws a gun from behind him, likely hidden in his belt, and flicks it in Jessica’s direction. “Go ahead and give me your gun. You won’t need it.”

For a while, she simply stands there, her eyes scanning over the man with methodical attention. It’s how I imagine she studies files at work, how she catalogs people to build a profile. I wonder if that’s what happened when she finally put my pieces together. When she finally sees me for what I was—am.

Before I can allow the dread to settle over me, Jessica takes another few steps to exit the cell before dropping her gun right at her feet. “Here ya go.”

“Kick it to me, Frances.”

“Why?” Her smile is arrogance incarnated, while her words are condescending. “You’ve got a gun, and I’m not fast enough to bend and get it before you shoot me standing like meters away, soooo…”

I’d laugh at my pretty girl’s dominance if I knew my lungs wouldn’t crack.

When he doesn’t move, she giggles—this time hitting her mark. “Don’t tell me you're scared to grab a gun from me, Fikes? Is that why they had you on undercover duty? Too much of a tender ball sack to hang out with the big boys?” She kicks the gun out a foot, far enough he should be comfortable, but close enough she can make physical contact if she plans to.

My nerves endings prickle, the notion that I can’t help and can only watch fraying the frail edges.But then the bait works. Fikes rolls his eyes and strides forward, his own ego keeping him from seeing her hand slide behind her. And when he foolishly crouches to get the gun, Jessica's fingers lock around the base of the metal bat in her harness and yank it free.

She jams her knee up, hitting him square in the nose where an audible crack splits the air. Blood shoots from his nose as his head flies back, but before the next breath, she swings, connecting the metal with the side of Fikes’ head.

Horrendous man didn’t stand a chance.

His head slams into the floor with a sound that makes her wince, but she doesn’t stop. She’s cautious as she walks near his unconscious body and grabs both guns, quickly patting down his frame to find another hidden at his ankle. After shoving them into her cargo pants’ pocket, she returns to me, her hands back on my body.

“We have to move, Elena.” My name leaving her lips penetrates my skin like water on starved earth. “Can you move?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t tried to move today.”

Her beautiful pupils flare. “Let’s do it together.”

Winding an arm behind my back, she lifts, and I’m immediately struck with a searing pain that slices from my spine down, coiling around my ribs. Her name leaves my lips in a hiss.

“I’m so sorry.” She’s careful when she lays me back down. “I’m going to check your body for where the most discomfort is coming from, then we’ll try again.”

After I give her a curt nod, she begins her inspection, her hands lightly brushing over me. I grunt when she hits a tender spot, courtesy of the cartel’s special treatment, and stop breathing when she touches a place that makes my vision cloudy. When she’s done, and her eyes connect back to mine, a wall of tears makes them glimmer.

“What did they do?”

I lift a shoulder—albeit only an inch. “Not enough to kill me.”

A tear falls over the brim. “They could have.”

Ignoring the pull against my tendons, I force my hand up to brush it away from her cheek. There are a hundred things I want to say, a dozen more I want her to understand, but only one that falls from my lips.

“Thank you.” I’m well aware it’s insignificant, and likely means nothing to her, but if by some chance this is the last thing she hears, I want her to know how grateful I am. For feeling again, for caring, for wanting tolive…

“Red.” Elena’s hands grip on either side of my shoulders. “Don’t start that shit. We’re going to get you out of here, and then you can tell me thank you a million times over.”