Chapter 6

Geneva

I wake to Bo's giggles and a slight pinch on my hand.

"You're awake." A woman I've never met before stands over me, removing the IV tubing on my hand. She has fawn colored hair pulled back into a braid and hazel-green eyes.

"Where am I?" I glance around at the hospital-like setting, only she's not wearing scrubs. She's wearing a jogging bra and a pair of running shorts that highlight her fit and muscular physique.

"Our clinic. You had quite the infection building, but you responded beautifully to antibiotics. How are you feeling?"

"Where's Bo?"

She smiles and turns her head away. "Bo Bo. Your Momma's awake."

Bo Bo? Looks like my little boy has made himself at home with the strangers.

"Hey, Momma." Wiley—the man who stubbornly refused to ignore me at the ammo shop—carries Bo into the room and places him on the bed at my side.

Tears fill my eyes as I hug my little boy, but I stare up at the man who looks down on us with a possessive kind of love. He flashes me a warm smile. "Welcome back, Geneva. Your color looks good, fever is down, and your white blood cell count has decreased. How do you feel?"

"I feel better." I glance around and realize the woman I woke to slipped out of the room. "Thank you for what you've done, but we should go."

He shakes his head. "No, you should rest and allow your little boy to sleep in a real bed."

"We had pizza!" Bo sits up and exclaims. "Are you hungry?"

"I think I am." Glancing down at my arms, I realize there's nothing tethering me down. There's a bandage on my hand, but any tubes that were attached to me are gone.

Wiley puts his hand gently on mine. "You were dehydrated on top of fighting a decent infection on your hip. We gave you an IV of fluids to include antibiotics and a mild sedative, and used a localized numbing agent so we could clean and properly dress the wound."

He saw the wound, but did he see James' initials burned into my hip? "I can't afford this."

"There's no charge for family." He winks at me as if I should understand what he's saying. "Would you like to get up, use the bathroom, maybe get Bo ready for bed?"

"Bed?"

"Our clinic shares a yard with our houses. Bo and I have already set up the spare room for the two of you." I stare at him like he's a crazy man while the woman walks back into the room to stand beside him.

"Is this your wife?" It's a logical question and a positive answer should comfort me. A charitable couple who deeply love each other seems less threatening than a sexy man who smells so damn edible, it causes me to be stupid and tell him things like my name.

"Ewww, no." The woman scrunches up her nose. "I'm Nan, his sister."

Bo whispers. "She's the doctor."

Wiley chuckles. "That's right. She's the smart one who went to medical school. I, on the other hand, went into the Army."

"Come on." Nan holds out a robe for me as Wiley lifts Bo off the bed.

I pull the blankets back and swing my bare legs off the hospital bed, realizing I'm only in a hospital gown. The fever must have made me delirious, because I barely remember Wiley coming into the train car, picking me up, or carrying me in here. I do remember another man holding Bo as he kept telling me it was going to be okay.

My five-year-old son reassured me we're going to be okay. This is not how it's supposed to be—I should be taking care of him—but one look at my little boy's face, and I see that he feels safe with these people. He doesn't understand the bigger threat—none of them do—but maybe for a few nights I can relax long enough to give him peace of mind.

I let Nan help me into the robe, my right hip protesting the movement. Wincing, Wiley moves to my side and scoops me into his arms before I can tell him no.

Nan backs off, rolls her eyes, and offers Bo her hand. "Come on, Bo Bo. Time for bed."

"You don't have to carry me." I make the mistake of meeting his eyes, our faces too close for veritable strangers. His eyes are also a hazel-green, but there's a golden shimmer to them as he stares deeply into mine.

"You're in pain." The words are soft, simple, and full of remorse as if he's the one to have caused me this agony. His eyes drift down to my lips and the muscles in his jaw flex as his pupils dilate and he takes in a deep breath.

I swallow the lump in my throat, his cologne hitting my nostrils again and causing every nerve ending in my body to tingle. Damn, he smells good. I wonder if he'd spray the scent on my pillow, because that is a fragrance to send me off to naughty nighttime dreams. "I'm sore, but I should probably push through it and walk it off. Don't you think so?"

His eyes come back up to mine. "First you eat, then you can walk it off."

He carries me out through the back of the clinic and down a stone path that cuts through the backyards of multiple properties. "Do you live with your sister?"

"She lives in the house to the left and I live in the house to the right. Currently, me and my friend Sly—who you'll meet tomorrow—are living there while we remodel it in our free time, which has taken longer than expected."

We enter a house that is very basic. There aren't a lot of decorations on the walls, or knickknacks cluttering the space. There are bookshelves filled with books and a giant TV with a couple of gaming systems laid out in front of an oversized sofa and two leather recliners.

"It's nice that you and your sister get along," I say as he ascends the stairs while showing no signs of exertion. I'm not huge, but I'm by no means petite, and the fact that he's carrying me without breaking into a sweat is impressive.

Hell, he's not even breathing hard.

"We didn't always, but time heals all wounds."

"Not all of them," I say, thinking no amount of time will ever make me forget or forgive John. Speaking of time… "What time is it?"

"It's half-past nine."

"Bo should have been asleep hours ago."

"He was fighting it for the last hour while we watched his favorite movie, Brave. I guess he likes bears?"

I chuckle. "Yeah, he's fascinated with them right now."

Wiley frowns. "I'll have to see if I can get him hooked on wolves instead."

"Why wolves?" He sets me down on the edge of a queen size bed. All of our clothes are washed, dried, and folded on the end. Bo comes running in from the bathroom wearing his PJs.

"Lots of reasons," Wiley says dryly and turns to open a dresser drawer. He grabs all of Bo's clothes and sets them in the top drawer. Then he does the same with all of my clothes, placing them in the bottom drawer.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting you settled so you and Bo can do your nighttime routine." His eyes land on me before moving to Bo, who stops by his side. "When you're ready, come down to the kitchen. We need to talk and you need to eat."

He reaches down and ruffles Bo's hair. "Sleep well, buddy."

"Love you, Uncle Wiley," Bo wraps his arms around Wiley's leg in a hug.

Exactly what happened while I was out of it?

Wiley winks at him. "Love you too."

Leaving us alone, he grants us a modicum of privacy by closing the door behind him but leaving it unlatched.

Privacy without confinement, which fills me with a calming comfort.

I turn as Bo climbs onto the bed. "Why did you tell that man you love him?"

"Because I do, Momma. Him and Uncle Jimmy, and Auntie Nan. They're our new family." He makes the declaration like it's the simplest thing in the world, and I almost feel foolish for questioning him.

"What happened while I was asleep?"

"Well, Uncle Wiley and Jimmy brought us here—I got to drive a Jeep!—and then Jimmy ordered pizza and we watched movies and waited for you to wake up."

I'm going to skip over the driving a Jeep declaration for now. "And you love them?"

"Yes. They said we're their lost family and we're welcome to stay with them forever." Bo climbs under the blankets and pulls them to his chin. "Can we, Momma? Stay with them forever?"

"I…" I shake my head. "I don't know, Bo. Let's take it day by day, okay?"

"Tomorrow, Uncle Wiley said we could go to the park and meet some of the local kids." He speaks fast, his voice filled with excitement.

It's enough to break my heart.

John isolated us. The big house built on land outside of town was a dream come true in the beginning. A mini-mansion I never dreamed of affording on my own, I thought he was giving me a life full of luxury. We got pregnant quickly, and my days were filled with taking care of Bo and keeping house for us. Over the years, John grew suspicious of anyone I befriended. It didn't matter if it was other moms, he didn't trust them not to fill my head with ideas that "weren't in line with our values."

Bo suffered for it, unable to make friends with kids his age. Eventually, I couldn't take him to the park without starting a fight at home, and John knew if I moved the car. That's how I learned about the trackers, or him annotating the mileage, or even drawing lines on the tires. He allowed me to go to the store unattended once a week, but even that stopped once he retired from the state.

He didn't want me talking to anyone.

Bo wants to have friends more than anything, and I want that for him too—but only once it's safe.

I lay down next to Bo, wrapping my arms around him. "I love you, Bo bear."

"I love you too."

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah. We've had a couple of big days." He frames my face with his little hands. "I'm glad you're better."

"Me too. Thank you for being brave and taking care of me."

"I'll always take care of you, Momma."

Fighting back the tears, I kiss his forehead and sit up. "Go to sleep. I'm going downstairs to grab a bite and talk to Uncle Wiley."

I grab a pair of cotton sleep shorts and a tank top and slip into the bathroom, shedding the lightweight robe and hospital gown. My hip has a sterile gauze wrap on it, but the persistent ache I felt earlier is gone. Part of me wants to rip off the bandage and check on the wound, but I suppose I should let the professionals take care of me—for now. My hair has been brushed—although I have no idea who, when, or why they would have brushed my hair—and pulled back in a braid. Despite sweating profusely earlier, my skin feels clean. Did they give me a sponge bath?

Did he ?

No…

My energy restored with indignation and maybe a touch of arousal—the idea of a man who looks like Wiley touching me with anything other than a clinical eye is preposterous—I hobble down the stairs and into the kitchen to find the stud himself leaning against a counter with his arms crossed over his chest. He flashes me a wry grin, as if he knows I'm about to chew his ass and is looking forward to it.

"Hungry?" he asks.

"Did you bathe me?" My tone is a bit more accusatory than I mean it to be, but he has me off-kilter. Bo's in love with him, which is too familiar for me, and while my head says run, I feel uncharacteristically safe with him.

He shrugs. "I gave you a medically-approved sponge bath."

"While I was unconscious?"

Wiley grins, his gaze slowly traveling over my body and causing a different emotion to flutter through my veins. Exactly how preposterous is it for someone like him to find me attractive?

"Relax, Geneva. I didn't wash any of the good parts and Nan was present the entire time. She would never let me do something untoward, regardless of who we are to each other. Besides, you were drenched in sweat when I picked you up, and I didn't want anything from the floor of that filthy train car to cause residual infection. If you want to take a shower, you can."

"Who we are to each other?" I latch on to that one statement that feels oddly specific.

"We'll talk about that later." He motions to the table. "Sit. Eat. What would you like to drink?"

My stomach grumbles as he turns and opens up the toaster oven to pull out a couple slices of white buffalo chicken pizza—which happens to be my favorite. The pizza smells heavenly and I involuntarily plop down in the chair as my mouth waters. "Anything is fine."

He places a hibiscus seltzer water in front of me, also one of my favorites. "How did you?—"

"Bo gave up all your secrets for a bowl of ice cream." Wiley sits in the chair next to me like we're lifelong friends. I know he's trying to be charming, but all the warning bells go off in my head. Bo is sweet enough to ramble to anyone interested in everything he knows—which could be the latest Disney movie, brown bears of Alaska, or our deep dark secrets.

This is exactly why I've kept such a tight hold on him since we escaped.

I tear off a chunk of crust and chew. "Exactly what did he tell you, and more importantly, did you call the police?"

Wiley's smile falls, all flirty pretenses fading with it. "I didn't call the police, but I did call a friend who used encrypted channels to get me the intel I need. I have a basic idea of your story, but I'd like to hear it from you."

Stuffing another chunk of pizza into my mouth, I shake my head and cast my gaze to my lap.

I'm so screwed. But the question is, how much time do I have before we have to run?

Wiley scoots his chair closer and gently lifts my chin with the crook of his finger. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but you and Bo are safer here than anywhere else in the world. I can and will protect you, but I need to understand exactly what you're running from."

"It doesn't matter." I pull back from him, his cologne making me dizzy. My brain says I should be shaking in my boots over what's coming, outraged by his presumption while grateful for his aid, but instead I'm relaxed and have an overwhelming desire to fall into his chest and rest my head there until morning. Where is my fight or flight when I need it? "If you put our names or descriptions out into the world, he'll find us and he'll kill me."

"Who is he? John Montrove of Spokane Washington? Disgraced former Washington State Trooper turned private investigator? Piece of shit human who beats and brands his wife and endangers his child?"

Human?

My jaw drops as I stare back at Wiley, whose ruggedly handsome features have morphed into something else—something primal and deadly. His eyes glow as he looks into me—not at me—like he's reading and connecting with part of my soul.

I push back from the table with a start, knocking my chair over in the process. "It sounds like you know everything."

Wiley closes his eyes and bows his head, his words strangled as he speaks through his clenched jaw. "He'll never touch you or Bo again, Geneva. You have my word. I swear it on my life. You don't have to move to Canada or hide in abandoned train cars anymore. Stay with me and I'll keep you safe."

"Why would you and your family take in two strangers?"

He lifts his head, stands up, and walks back to the counter, putting the table between us. He looks pointedly at my chair and my plate, and waits for me to take a seat before answering. I fix my chair and sit down, but my appetite is gone.

"You're not strangers. Not to us." His eyes are full of unspoken meaning as he looks at me with unwarranted longing. "We take care of our own."

Shaking my head, I grab my drink. "I don't have family in Montana."

"You do. It's me." He sighs and runs his fingers through his tawny brown hair, which makes his biceps bulge against the sleeves of his T-shirt as it rides up enough to showcase abs carved from stone.

Jesus! Why am I noticing all of this about him now? Up close he's overwhelming, his cologne relaxing and arousing at the same time. But to look upon him from a distance, he's captivating. Beautifully rugged, chiseled and hard, with soulful eyes begging me to believe in, love, and accept him.

I know this without him having to say a word—but that's pure craziness.

We stare at each other, communicating without words. I take a slow, deep breath, filling my lungs with his intoxicating scent, entranced by a sense of love and safety.

Then I remember this feeling and shake my head, breaking eye contact with Wiley so I can say the meanest thing I can think of. "I met a man once who told me he was all I'd ever need. He moved me to a big house far away from everyone and gave me a beautiful little boy. Then he beat and branded me. I can't rely on anyone but myself, Wiley, and the only thing that matters to me in this world is taking care of Bo."