“I don’t know,” John replies.

* * *

—

We spend the rest of the day together, and I introduce him to Sam. After we’ve spent hours talking in the hospital waiting room, it’s time to go, and I give John the name and address of the hotel where Sam secured us two rooms.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?” he asks me.

“That’s kind of you, but I’ll be fine. I want to get out of this hospital and sleep in a normal bed, wear regular clothes, feel like myself again.”

“I have some money,” he offers. “It’s not much, but I saved most of what I made working.”

I lift the diamond engagement ring Frank gave me out of my pocket. “Don’t worry. If I get into trouble, this will help.”

I was too afraid to pawn it before, but it could be the start to a whole new life.

“That guy—” John jerks his head toward the front door, where Sam left to get his car. “He seems like a good one.”

“I hope he is. I’m not sure I’m much of a judge of character anymore, but when you’ve been through something like this—”

“You see people at their best and worst, and from there you can take the measure of a man,” John finishes for me.

I nod. “What about you?” I ask.

“What about me?”

“The woman here in the hospital. Helen. With the baby. Is that my niece?”

“No.”

Surprise fills me. “And the father?”

He doesn’t answer me.

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“With the woman? The child? You care for them.”

“I don’t know. It’s not—I’m not anyone to them. I just helped her when she was having a hard time.”

“She called you her friend. She looked at you like you were maybe more than that.”

A flash of something that sure seems a whole lot like hope mixed with pain crosses his face.

“She has a husband.”

“She isn’t with him, though, is she? Does she love him?”

“I don’t know. How could I ask her something like that?”

“Are they separated?” I ask.

Somehow I can’t fathom my big brother, my war hero of a big brother, stealing someone’s wife. Then again, who knows how much has changed.

“She left him,” John answers.

“So not wholly married, then.”

“No, not entirely. He’s on the missing list after the storm. But it’s so crazy down there; that could mean anything. He could be missing, he could be dead, he could be on his way up to Miami.”

“Then you still have a chance. Worry about one problem at a time. He’s not here right now. You are. The way I see it, if she’d wanted to stay with him, she would have. She chose to leave and make her own way. You should take your shot.”

His lips curve. “You haven’t changed, have you?”

“I have, actually. I’m not a girl anymore. And it’s time I fixed my own problems.”

Thirty-Three

Sam and I check into the hotel in Miami under false names, as a brother and sister traveling from Connecticut. It’s not the most plausible of disguises considering our meager bags and injuries—we appear exactly as we are, people who have fled a natural disaster and are still stunned by the whole experience, but hopefully, it will be enough to momentarily draw Frank’s people away from our trail if they are looking for us.

Surely, Frank himself is too important to come down here, too disinterested in our relationship to do more than send a few lackeys down to inquire about my whereabouts. Perhaps he is content with the knowledge that Sam is with me and the flowers were a mere formality.

The not knowing is the worst part.

We shuffle to our rooms in silence. There is so much unresolved with Sam, so much we were unable to discuss. If Frank came for me now, would Sam protect me? Can I trust him?

We stop in front of a pair of rooms.

“This is us,” Sam says, opening the door to my room first. “Do you want me to check it for you?”

“Please.”

He pulls a gun from the waistband of his trousers.

I follow him into the room and close the door behind us, leaning back against the wall. Sam sets down our bags on the ground and flicks on the light. He goes through the room with military precision, his body tense, weapon in hand. When he’s finished checking the bathroom, the closet, he lowers the weapon.

“You should be safe here for the night. I’ll be next door if you need me.”

“You’re worried Frank is coming after me, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. The flowers—”

“They scared me,” I admit, even as much as it pains me. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to survive, on my strength, and I hate that Frank Morgan has taken a piece of that away from me.

“I know. We don’t have enough to arrest him,” Sam says. “Frank isn’t a stupid man. He’s spent years cultivating the right connections within the government. There are rumors that he has contacts within the Bureau, which wouldn’t surprise me. Other agents have tried to build cases against him and found nothing but trouble and death for their efforts.”

“Do you think he’s figured out that you’re working for the government? That you’re with the FBI?”

“I don’t know. Part of the reason I was chosen for this mission is because I wasn’t known in New York circles. I’ve spent most of my career in Florida, a bit in Cuba. But Frank doesn’t strike me as a particularly trusting man, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s done some digging.”

“There has to be something to get me out of this. Something he’s done that will put him behind bars.”

“He’s very careful about the people closest to him. He buys their loyalty through a combination of fear and greed. The lower-level grunts are too unreliable. They don’t have any proof, any real connection to him.”

“I’m one of the people closest to him. Who is more privy to personal information than a wife?”

“You are not marrying Frank Morgan.”

“Because he’s a criminal?” I ask, my heart pounding.