Her Hero in Hiding

He sighed. “That’s a warning sign in huge red letters. But I suppose he had you so intimidated by that point that you didn’t even recognize it.”

“Not really. I just did it. I didn’t exactly think about all the reasons I felt the need to. When I look back, I feel stupid.”

“No, don’t. You have no idea how many people, doing the best they can in whatever situation they’re in, look back later and think they were stupid. It’s never stupid. It’s the best you can do at the time.”

“Thanks. I still feel stupid.”

“So let me guess. He found out about the savings account.”

She nodded. “That was the first time he beat me.”

“And then he was oh so apologetic, swore he’d never do it again and took the money.”

“Yeah. Like I said, stupid.”

“Stop saying that. It’s amazing how manipulative these bastards can be. It’s like they’re born knowing how to get what they want. So okay, that was the first time the line got crossed. And it got worse, right?”

“Yeah. With time. Until finally he broke my arm and left my face such a mess I couldn’t go to work, and my boss actually came to the house. He took one look at me and dragged me to the hospital, then called the cops.”

“Ah, a responsible person arrives on the scene. Amazing.”

In spite of herself, she felt the unbruised side of her face lift in a slight smile. “My boss was a good man.”

“I agree. So Kevin went to jail?”

“That time.”

“But he got out.”

“Of course. Less than two years later.”

“I think I can pretty much write the rest of the story.” He sipped his coffee and closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened, they held an ice that should have frightened her, but somehow it didn’t. Maybe she was too tired, too battered. Maybe she just couldn’t rustle up any more terror.

“Take my word for it, Kay Young, as long as you are in this house, that man will not lay a finger on you.”

Deep inside she shivered, because she believed him, because she feared the kind of protection he was capable of providing. Special Ops? Yeah, he could protect her.

“I don’t want you to get into any trouble on my account,” she blurted.

He smiled, but not pleasantly.

“I won’t,” he said. “Trust me, I won’t.”

She dozed off again, and when she woke, she felt disoriented. Not because she didn’t recognize the cabin or the fireplace, or Clint sitting across the way in his chair reading. No, it was something even more basic than that.

Almost before she opened her eyes, she asked, “What time is it? What day is it?”

He looked up from his book. “It’s Friday, December twelfth and it’s just after one in the afternoon.”

“Five days!”

“Since he took you?”

“Yes.” She looked around, trying to center herself somehow. “What state did you say this was?”

“Wyoming. Conard County, Wyoming, to be more precise.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Sorry. It’s like things are jumbled.”

“That’s normal enough, I suppose. How’s your head feel?”

“The headache is almost gone.”

“Good. That’s probably why you’re trying to sort things out.”

“I didn’t know he had me so long.”

“No?”

“No. He kept me in the trunk a lot. He didn’t feed me. He hardly gave me any water.”

“He would be wise not to come near you while I’m around.”

She looked at him, amazed by the calm way he spoke, as if such threats were commonplace in his world. Not a ripple of emotion showed on his face. Oddly, while his obvious self-control was horrifying in a way, it also reassured her far more than a display of anger would have. Far more.

Outside, judging from the sound of the wind, the storm still raged. Hard to believe it had gone on so long. Hard to accept that she was trapped in more ways than one.

“I’ve got to figure out what to do.”

“Relax,” he said. “I’m already figuring it out.”

“Why should you do that?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because it’s my problem?”

“It’s mine now, too.”

She realized he meant it. That was no token statement. “I can figure it out.”

“You’ve been figuring it out for a few years now. Let somebody else help you for a change.” He closed his book and placed it on the coffee table. “I’m not trying to take over, it’s not my place. You can make all the decisions yourself. But I have a few suggestions.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, we call the sheriff.”

“No! Then I’ll be in the blotter. I’ll be in the newspaper, like last time I made a complaint. I don’t want him to know I’m still in the area!”