My already tense body went rock solid.

“He’s not in the surveil ance room, he’s in my office.

Bobby’s getting him now,” Lee replied.

I let out a breath.

“Tex?” Vance asked.

“Tex is systematical y tearing apart the weight machine in the down room.”

I almost smiled at that. Almost.

Vance started speaking, “Roxie’s been beaten but looks okay, she thinks he cracked her ribs. I’m gonna get her checked out. Then we’l head home.”

I wrapped my arms around my middle and kept my head against the window. I wanted the conversation to end before Bobby got Hank from Lee’s office and he made it to the surveil ance room. I didn’t know how long I had.

“You get Flynn?” Lee asked, breaking into my thoughts.

“No one was there, she was alone and cuffed to the sink in the bathroom. Signs of a struggle. I didn’t ask questions, just got her out.” His eyes moved to me, “That struggle yours?”

I shook my head.

“Someone came and took Bil y, cuffed me to the sink,” I said quietly.

“Hear that?” Vance asked.

“I’l get Ike on it,” Lee said.

I closed my eyes again. So much for not dragging Lee and his boys into this.

“Roxie?” Lee cal ed my name and I sat there and didn’t answer. I knew this was better than being on my wild ride with Bil y, but somehow, right then, it felt worse.

“Roxie,” Lee said again, his voice softer.

“Yes?” I replied, responding to his tone and to Vance’s coaxing squeeze on my knee.

“Talk to Vance, tel him everything that happened.

Everything you can remember. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

“Vance, I want regular cal -ins.”

“Roger that,” Vance replied.

“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.”