“Get her home,” Lee ordered.

Disconnect.

I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to deal with Hank.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I told Vance after I watched him press a button on the phone.

“You don’t have to,” he said, not looking at me. “Not now.

Nebraska yawns before us. We’ve got time.” I sat there a second and then whispered, “Thank you.” I meant about him rescuing me, not about him letting me be quiet.

I think he knew what I meant.

* * * * *

X-rays showed I had three cracked ribs. There was nothing they could do but wrap me up and I think they did this more for my peace of mind than for my ribs. The cuts on my face would heal, they told me, and didn’t need stitches. They didn’t like what they saw and gently asked if I wanted them to cal in a police officer.

I said no.

I hadn’t decided what I was going to do next. I was getting by, minute-by-minute.

Vance loaded me up and we rol ed.

Without asking, he pul ed off at an outlet mal .

I could have kissed him, but I didn’t. If there was anything a high maintenance girl like me needed after being kidnapped and assaulted, it was an outlet mal .

We went into the Levi’s store where he bought me a pair of low-rise jeans that were just this short of being as good as Lucky’s, a great belt that was so dark brown, it was nearly black and a dusty pink henley. It wasn’t D&G but it would do in a pinch. Then we went into a Body Gap and I got new underwear. Then we went to Designer Shoe Warehouse and Vance bought me a pair of Keds so I could change out of Manolo Mary Jane’s.

Vance pul ed off at a hotel and I would have born his first child if he but asked (though I didn’t tel him this) when we checked in and I took a shower, using the hotel’s shampoo and body wash.

I came out of the bathroom squeaky clean but stil feeling dirty. I threw my clothes in the trash bin, never wanting to see them again (al but the Manolos because even being abducted and on the run couldn’t taint Manolo Blahnik shoes).

I looked at Vance who was sitting on the bed.

“Ready to rol ?” he asked, coming up from the bed, al action even though I suspected he’d had about as much sleep as I’d had these past few days.

That was to say, none.

I suspected that Hank or Uncle Tex sicced him on me the minute Hank found me gone.

“I need you to re-wrap my ribs,” I said, holding out the bandages to him.

He came toward me. I lifted my shirt to just under my br**sts, beyond embarrassment at this point. I mean he found me handcuffed to a sink with real y bad hair.

Embarrassment was a now a luxury.

He re-wrapped me, quickly, expertly, no-nonsense, like he’d done it before a hundred times. When he was done, I nodded to him and said, “Ready.” But I didn’t move.

He watched me for a few beats then stood in my space and looked down at me. For the first time I noticed his eyes were shuttered and he was holding back from me.

Then he asked, “You need time? Lee wants you home but if you need time, we’l make time. You can get into bed and let sleep heal.”

Shit.

Here I was again, with another good, f**king guy.

I couldn’t cope.

I swal owed the threatening tears.

“Home is Chicago,” I told him. I decided to focus on that and not tel him that I could likely sleep for a hundred years and not be healed.

He kept looking at me but stayed quiet.

“Wil you take me to Chicago?” I asked.

He stil kept looking at me.

Then he said, “I want to say yes, but I’m gonna say no.” I closed my eyes and felt his hands on my arms.

“Girl,” he said softly. I opened my eyes and looked at him. “If I came home and found what Hank found with my woman bein’ gone and the man I sent lookin’ for her took her further away, there’s no tel in’ what I’d do. I’m sorry, it’s a guy thing. I respect him and I’m not gonna make him show me what he’l do.”

I’d had a good look in the bathroom mirror. The cuts had scabbed over, the blood was gone, but the bruising and swel ing on my cheekbone and around my eye were worse than ever. I had more bruises on my throat, arms, ribs, h*ps and wrists. I was an absolute mess. I was hideous; I felt it like a physical thing, inside and out.

“Look at me, Vance. I can’t go back to Hank,” I whispered and it sounded like a plea, because it was a plea. Hank was goodness and truth. I was secrets and lies.

I had no business with Hank Nightingale.

Vance watched me for a few more beats, came to a decision and nodded, “I can give you that, I’l take you to Tex.”

My relief was so great, I couldn’t help it, I sagged into him. His arms slid around me and I pressed my good cheek against his chest.

“Thank you,” I said.

He didn’t respond. We stood there awhile, him holding me, until I felt warmer and able to move. The minute my body prepared for action, he felt it and stepped away, took my hand in his and guided me to the car.

* * * * *

We stopped only for lunch and dinner and to fil up the gas tank. I didn’t eat much. Vance noticed and made me stay hydrated by buying me bottles of water and handing them to me every once in awhile, making me drink. I tried to sleep but it wouldn’t come.

So, when I was ready, on a long stretch of straight road that was al I’d ever known of Nebraska (until now, now I knew of a sleazy motel, a hospital with nice people working there and an outlet mal ), I told Vance my story.

As I talked, the cab felt like it was vibrating with the open anger that was rol ing off him.

I just kept talking.

He didn’t say anything when I was done, he simply phoned it in to Lee’s surveil ance room.

* * * * *

Denver loomed bright in the darkness. Before I knew it, we were exiting off I-25 onto Speer Boulevard, wel into the city, when Vance hit a button on the phone and the ring fil ed the cab of the SUV.

“Yeah?”

“We’re in Denver.”

“I see you,” the voice said, “You’re headin’ the wrong way.”

“I’m takin’ her to Tex,” Vance replied.

Silence.

Then the voice said, “Hank wants her.”

“She wants to go to her uncle, I’m takin’ her there.” Another beat of silence, then, “Your cal .” Vance hit a button and the phone went dead.