Page 75 of Her Mercenary

The afternoon, however, was filled with silence. The closer we got to civilization, the greater the weight that came with it.

I was going home to my mother, my job, my dog, my mind-numbingly boring life. And Roman was going back to his dangerous life as a hired gun. To where? I didn’t know. For how long? I didn’t know.

Most importantly ... would we see each other again?

The thought that I might never look into those green eyes again, feel the way he made me feel, absolutely sickened me.

I observed him as we hiked through the woods. Wanting him to address it, to tell me he wanted to see me again. Tell me he loved me.

But Roman never once looked in my direction. Not a single time. Over the course of the afternoon, he’d closed up, closed himself off to me.

This would be it. I was sure of it.

It was fucked up.

I should have been elated that I was going home, that I’d been rescued from hell on earth. Instead, I was absolutely torn apart at the thought that my time with this man was ending. It felt like a little piece of my heart was being ripped from my chest with each mile we walked that day.

We passed a trio of hikers, the first we’d seen since escaping the lodge. Normal people, on vacation, escaping the stresses of work and family. While we, on the other hand, were running for our lives, leaving a handful of dead bodies in our wake. The hikers were clueless of this, of course, offering polite nods and greetings as we passed.

I thought of my friends back home.

How would our interactions change? What would they say? How would they treat me?

No one would ever understand what I’d been through. No one but Roman.

Would I ever be the same again?

Would I ever be normal again?

33

SAM

“Tell me about your mom,” Roman said as we paused under a shade tree on an overlook, high above a sparkling blue river below. A magnificent waterfall poured down the opposite side of the ravine. We sat on the edge of the cliff, our legs dangling off.

“My mom is an angel on earth. She’s dedicated her entire life to helping others. She’s the most selfless person I’ve ever met.”

Roman handed me a granola bar. I took it, although my stomach had soured.

“You want to know what’s crazy?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Knowing the pain she’s in right now has been the worst part of this entire thing. She’s not in great health, you know. I hate that I’m contributing to that. Every day, I think about what I would do if something happened to her while I was in captivity. What if I wasn’t there if, God forbid ...” My jaw clenched with a rush of anger. “God, I hate them, Roman. I hate them.”

“I know.” He slid his hand over mine. “I understand.”

I slowly nodded. He did understand, truly—possibly the only person on earth who did.

“Tell me about your mom,” I said. “What was she like?”

Roman picked up a stone and tossed it in the air. We watched it slowly fall to the water below.

“She liked to bake,” he said. “She made these banana-chocolate-chip pancakes every Sunday morning.”

When I smiled, he continued.

“I don’t know where she got the extra money, but every Sunday morning, I woke up to these pancakes.” He laughed softly. “I’d look forward to it all week. Not just because they were the best ever—seriously, they were incredible—but because it was the only time of the week that she would sit with me, eat with me, and eat until her belly was full. It was the only time she would seem to relax. I remember her cheeks would be pink, her eyes would sparkle as we devoured the pancakes, in two mismatched plastic chairs at the folding table in the living room.”