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~ brIDGET ~

I was chittering, wringing my hands. Horrified. “Why… why would you even ask that question—?”

“Is it true?” Sam said, his eyes reddened and his voice hoarse. “Did he sleep with you? Did you… did you sleep with him?”

I backed away a step and Sam’s eyes got even sadder.

“I told you,” I breathed, my head spinning, no no no no no. “I told you what I was like back then… We agreed, we were letting the past go. You can’t be mad, Sam. I didn’t even know you—”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m asking if that bastard slept with you when you were his informant and under his professional care.”

Hands over my mouth. Head screaming. But it all came rushing back.

Dumb, dumb, dumb mistake.

“I was so messed up that night, Sam. You have to understand—”

“That makes it worse! Bridget… did he rape you?!”

“What?! No!” His eyes were so pained. I panicked. “Listen, Sam. Listen. It’s not what… what you think. You have to listen.”

“I will. That’s why I’m here. But, please… tell me the truth. All of it, Bridget.”

I nodded. Then I babbled like a crazy woman.

I almost got my insides opened like a zipper. That’s what happened, Sam.

None of us thought he was that dangerous. None of us caught it. A common thief, maybe a peeping Tom. Violent, but towards men. Kinky. That’s what we all thought.

No urgency.

But we were wrong. We were all wrong.

Jeremy showed up just in time. Just like the night they got you. When it was all done, all I wanted was to be at home in my bed in the dark alone. I couldn’t stand to have noise. I couldn’t answer any more questions. I didn’t want hugs.

Get me home. Please.

And he did. And he wanted to stay and make sure I was okay, but I insisted that he leave. And he did that too.

And then I was alone and my skin started to itch.

I was alone and we’d all been so wrong, and maybe… maybe I wasn’t cut out for this kind of work after all, because I threw up twice.

The buzzing in my head wouldn’t stop. I jumped at every creak or rustle.

In the end, I sat down and got drunk, just so I could breathe.

But that made me sad and scared and confused and messed up and… and alone. I was falling apart and I didn’t know who else to call, so I called Jeremy, and he came back.

Turns out he’d been drinking too. And he drove drunk to get to my house because he was worried.

We were both shaken—me more than him, but both of us kind of desperate and…

I made the first move. He hadn’t even flirted. It was me. I needed to be held and I didn’t know how else to do that.

So, we comforted each other.

And the next day we both agreed it had been the wrong thing to do. A mistake. A stress release.

That was all.

Sam stared at me, his face sad and horrified, but his body tense, muscles rigid .

I licked my lips. “Nothing else ever happened,” I breathed. “I swear.”

“Ever?” he rasped.

I shook my head. “Never.”

Sam still didn’t move, just stared, and I could see him thinking.

“It was a mistake—we both said that. But he wasn’t…he’s never pushed, Sam. He’s never touched me again, or tried to. He’s never flirted. Nothing. He’s protective, but not…”

“But he’s taken a very serious dislike to me,” he growled.

I nodded slowly, but my heart was threatening to bust out of my chest. “Are you mad?”

Sam’s breath rushed out of him. He was suddenly all motion, pacing back and forth in front of the couch, shaking his head. “I don't know, that’s the truth. I just know I don’t trust him. I never have. And I know a helluva lot makes sense now. But…” he stopped and turned to face me. Then dropped onto the couch like his legs had given out. “Bridget, what happened to no more secrets? I told you everything. Everything. ”

Fighting tears, I rushed to him and threw my arms around his neck, crawling into his lap. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, trying to resist me at first, but I was growing frantic. “I’m sorry, Sam. Forgive me, please. Please… Please.”

~ SAM ~

It hit like a Mac truck. Not just because Jeremy had his hands on her.

I’d always half suspected that prick wanted her, but she’d been so fragile, and it felt too close to home, so I never asked. The way she talked about him, there’d never been any hint of attraction. I always thought she saw him like a fucked-up older brother.

But she didn’t tell me .

So did that mean there was more? Was that why she’d been so bothered by what he brought her about me?

Bridget was frantic, curling into my chest, whispering her apologies over and over.

“He’s never meant anything to me—and I haven’t to him, either. It was one time. A really messed up situation—please, Sam. Forgive me. I love you, please—”

It finally registered that she sounded terrified. And a little bit childish.

I blinked out of my thoughts and took her face in my hands and made her meet my eyes. “Babe… this isn’t… I’m not leaving you. I’m shocked. And a little pissed. You were so mad at me for holding things back.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Sam. Please!”

I kissed her quickly, but I was shaking. She reached for my jeans, but I shook my head and grabbed her hands.

“You’re rejecting me?” she breathed.

Shit. “No. No, that’s not… God, I don’t even know how to say this now,” I muttered.

But I took her hands and held them, then looked in her eyes.

“Bridget… Can’t you see? This is my out. This is the leverage I need.

Bridget went still. “But… how?”

I stared at her. Did she really not understand? “Babe, this taints everything about this case and the charges. Jeremy was investigated for this and they covered it up. Whether he had feelings for you or not, he was sexually involved with an informant. And then when you took him the next job and told him I was good, he brought the charges even against your will. It reeks of misconduct… it’s my out,” I repeated lamely.

She was stunned. “I never… I had no idea. I thought it was allowed but frowned upon. The Feds have pearl clutchers, too,” she said with a hesitant smile. I shook my head. I couldn’t smile yet.

“Bridget, this is huge.”

Then she blinked and her mouth dropped open. “That must be why he got so scared.”

I frowned. “What? ”

“When I threatened him the other day—I wasn’t thinking of this. I was thinking about the fact that he drove drunk that night. I knew there were reports about him being at my house, and I knew he was drunk. I thought… I thought I could… I don’t know, blackmail him or—”

“Bridget, what?!”

“But he must have thought this was what I meant. I didn’t realize… No wonder he got so mad.” She shook her head. “What a clusterfuck. I wish I’d known. I would have told you, Sam. If I knew that could get you off, I would have told you. I thought he was investigated for the drinking. I had no idea—" She cut off.

I looked at her warily. “What?”

Bridget licked her lips like she was scared, her eyes wide. She whispered. “No matter what the answer is, I still love you,” she breathed, smoothing the front of my hoodie. “Is there… is there any way to keep it out of the media? I’m glad if it gets you free, Sam. I’ll testify, whatever. But if we could… if we could not have to talk to journalists… Jeremy and I were both adults. And I made the first move. I don’t want people having those questions—about you and me, I mean. If they think I fell to him, they’ll think I’m being used by you too.”

I sucked in a deep breath, unsure how I felt about that. A part of me wanted retri-fucking-bution. But I’d been talking to her about forgiveness for two months… now it was my turn. Was I going to be a complete hypocrite?

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I’ll talk to my lawyers.”

She nodded, breathing out heavily as she relaxed and turned to sit, letting her butt fall between my thigh and the arm of the couch, then leaned her head against my shoulder.

We held each other.

“Wait,” she said a moment later, lifting her head. “How are you here? It’s the middle of the day. Is this already happening? Have you already—”

“No.” I had hope, but we were a long step from being finished. “But this was important enough to risk getting caught.” Then I huffed, because irony.

Now who doesn’t want to talk, Sam?

“What?” she asked .

I took a deep breath. “I think your father is the one that gave us the lead.”

She tensed in my arms. “What? How? Wait… did you go—”

“No, no. Nothing like that. Someone left an envelope for me on our table in the Courtroom. That’s hard enough to do on its own, but the things it said referred to our conversation. And the timing was… pretty fucking perfect.”

Bridget sighed. “God, of course he’d wait to give up the goods when they have the biggest impact. Just so he could go watch it all play out and know he did it.”

I nodded and held her to me tightly. She cupped a hand at my neck and sighed.

“I just want to have a life where I don’t have to destroy other people—or myself—to be happy,” she breathes.

I swallowed hard. “Me too. Though, I have to say, Jeremy doesn’t seem to have any moral dilemma with ambushing people, so maybe it’s about time he had a taste of his own medicine.”

She snorted.

We both agreed we had to do this by the book. The whole situation felt sordid and awful, and like a fucking lifeline. But I told her the only way I’d ever be free is if we did this in the light, not in the shadows.

She agreed.

So, with her sitting there with me, I called Stephen.

“I have to tell you, I think I know who left that message.”

Stephen cursed, then cursed again when I told him the truth about how I got the envelope, and why.

There was frantic scrambling on the other end of the line, Stephen and his team, fluttering papers and tapping on computers. “Leave it with us. You come in tomorrow. And until then, you keep your fucking nose clean, do you understand me?”

I looked at Bridget and nodded. “I hear you. ”

“What is it?” she asked as soon as I hung up the call.

“I can’t stay,” I said hoarsely.

“What? Surely it’s better for you to leave when it’s dark and—”

“I had to be above board with all this, Bridget. I can’t… I have to do this right.”

She sighed and leaned into my shoulder again, hugging me. “Okay. But, call me?”

I cupped a hand over her head, laying my arm along her spine. Then I closed my eyes and said the thing I’d wanted to say to her countless times, but always been too scared. “Bridget… could I pray with you?”

She went still. “I, um, I don’t really—”

“No, I mean… Could I hold you, and pray for you. And for us. And just… can we do that together? You don’t have to say anything.”

She hesitated, then sighed. “What could it hurt? Sure.”

~ brIDGET ~

I snuggled my forehead into the crook of his neck, then folded my hands together.

Sam gave a warm chuckle and the sound soothed some of the racing of my heart.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“I thought—”

“Nah, talking to God is like talking to anyone else. We close our eyes because we’re focusing, but… you don’t have to.”

I shifted my weight and let my hands fall into my lap. “Okay.”

Sam took a deep, long breath, brought his hand back up to rest on the back of my head again, pulling me against him. And then he started talking.

Low, deep, calm. Humble .

To my surprise, he talked to God pretty much the same way he talked to me when he was thoughtful.

“…we don’t know why this is happening, and it seems like a good thing. Thank you. Help us to accept it even if it doesn’t go well. And if it is supposed to help me, give us insight. Help Stephen and his team see how to use it properly.

“Lord, Show us the way. Make it clear. And please… please… let me finally be free of this. All of it. Let Bridget and I be together. Give us the freedom to live our lives without all this hanging over our heads. Make it all go away, Lord. Please. And if it was Gordon… bless him for it. I know if he did this, he did it to help Bridget more than me. So… thank you…”

It was a strange sensation. It made my chest tight and like I wanted to squirm. But it also made me feel… sweet. Warm.

Sam was so earnest. And so real. I’d never heard anyone pray that way before.

And when he was done, he sighed like he’d let go of a big burden. Then he took my chin in his hand and he kissed me.

“There’s hope, Bridge,” he whispered. “Thank God, I think there’s really hope.”