Brant was pulled from a very rare, deep sleep and hit consciousness at full speed. He sat up fast and grabbed his gun on the nightstand, aiming it at the door. His breathing was fast, heart doing a slow pound in anticipation.
"Brant," Kate said behind him. "It's the room next to us."
"Huh?" He turned his head to look at her, his eyes blinking in the sudden brightness of her lamp that she turned on. Remnants of the nightmare he'd been having were still floating in his mind, and it had been about her...Norman's hand wrapped around her throat while Brant couldn't move.
"The screaming...it's next door," Kate said, pointing. He looked at the wall, hearing it more clearly as well as the sound of something being thrown.
Or someone.
He was up and charging to the door, his gun hanging by his side.
"Brant, what are you doing?" Kate asked. He flung open the door, ignoring her. If there was one thing he just could not stand, it was a man beating on a woman.
"Brant!"
He stormed to the door next to theirs and kicked it open. He aimed his gun at the man, who had a girl in a choke hold against the wall. For a second, it mimicked the image of Norman doing that to Kate in his nightmare, but he blinked it away.
"ENOUGH!" he bellowed. The man turned, and Brant recognized him from the pizza joint. The girl was also the same one. He briefly wondered where the second girl was.
"This ain't your business, shithead," the man retorted. Brant saw a bit of red starting to crowd the edges of his vision.
"Brant," Kate said, appearing behind him. "Don't..." She stopped, no doubt recognizing the two people just like he had.
"Yea, listen to your bitch," the man said to Brant. The girl under his hand was whimpering and crying.
"Hold this," Brant said, handing his gun to Kate.
"What are you doing?" she asked. He moved forward, grabbing the wooden chair from the corner and heading towards the man, who never saw it coming.
It felt so good, beating on someone. Brant reveled in the man's scream and beat him a second time with it. The girl fell from the man's grasp, and she hurried out of the way while Brant chucked the chair and grabbed the man by his shirt and yanked him up. He barely registered Kate going to get the girl and pull her out of the way.
The man was clearly only a fighter when his opponent was a woman. Brant very easily beat the stuffing out of him and tossed him to the ground to moan and cry and bleed.
"Where's the other girl?" Kate asked, and Brant looked around. He suddenly had a very bad feeling. The girl Kate was half hugging, half holding up was sobbing and pointed to the bathroom. His heart sank, and he walked slowly towards it. He stopped in the doorway, reaching to flick the light on.
And then he closed his eyes.
That image would forever stay with him, though. It would be added to his collection of nightmares.
"Brant?" Kate asked behind him. "Is she...is she okay?"
"No," the first girl whispered.
"Brant?" Kate asked again. He turned to look at her and gave a slight shake of his head. Kate bit her lip and looked like she was trying not to cry. Brant felt bad because obviously Porter hadn't been able to get on it as quickly as he'd hoped. He backed away, going back to the man on the floor and kneeling down by his head.
"You did that to her?" he asked. The man just sneered, his teeth covered in blood when he smiled next. Brant reached to wrap his fingers around the man's neck, squeezing tightly. The man choked but said nothing.
"Brant," Kate said in the background, sounding faded and far away. "Brant!"
Brant only had eyes for this man...this horrible, evil, sadistic man. The longer he held on, the more fear the man showed, which was exactly what he was going for.
"Stop!" Kate shouted, shoving him and knocking him over. The man gasped for air, and Brant leaped to his feet.
"Don't you dare interrupt me," he said to her angrily.
"Leave him for the police," Kate told him sharply, her meaning clear. They had a cover to keep. He knew that. Did she think he'd forget?
The man muttered something, and Brant looked around Kate at him.
"What did you say?" he demanded.
"I said listen to your bitch," the man repeated a little louder. Brant lunged, but Kate rammed her arm across his chest close to his throat and shoved him against the wall while curling the fingers of her other hand around the top of his pants and pushing into his abdomen hard. Brant was taken aback not only by her speed but by the fierce look in her eyes.
"Leave it," she said. Sirens could be heard now, and Brant knew they had to get out of there before he was recognized.
"Today's your lucky day, pal," Brant spat at the man before reaching to grab the pressure point by Kate's left elbow to make her release him. She yanked her arms back, shooting him a dark look, and moved to the bathroom. It was his turn to quickly grab her and haul her back.
"Brant!"
"Don't," he said fiercely. "Don't look in there." She put up a brief struggle before he managed to turn her around and march her out. The other girl was sitting outside no longer crying, just staring into space.
"They'll help you," Kate said to her. "Just tell them the truth."
The girl said nothing and wouldn't look at her. Brant tugged Kate away.
"We weren't here," he said to the girl, and she gave a very slight nod of recognition of his words. They went into their room and gathered their things. As he loaded the car, the sound of a man begging before two gunshots went off made him whirl to face the motel. Kate covered her mouth with a hand in horror, and they both walked back towards the room a second later. Brant held up a hand to stop her from going any further when they were by the door, and he tentatively stepped into the room. The girl was sitting on the edge of the bed crying again. The gun was in her lap, and the man was now dead on the floor.
"He deserved it," the girl whispered, her makeup running down her cheeks.
"Looks like self-defense to me," Brant reasoned.
"How am I going to live without my sister?" she asked, her voice a ragged whisper. His heart broke for her, but he couldn't help her. He made a note to let Stokes know so he could look into it further.
"You'll live because now you're free, and she would want you to live free," he stated. The girl hung her head, and he wondered if he should take the gun from her when she tossed it to the floor and buried her face in her hands. The sirens were getting closer, and he had to go.
"Ask for DI Stokes in London," he told her, and she lifted her head a little to look at him again. "He's good. I promise."
"Okay."
He gave a tight smile and turned to leave, pulling Kate with him. They got to the car, and soon Brant was pulling out of the parking lot just as two police cars crested the hill in his rear view mirror. After he was out of their sight, he turned the car lights on.
He pressed his fingers into his cheek as his arm rested on the door. He couldn't stop seeing that younger girl in the bathroom, bound and gagged with obvious torture done to her before her throat was slit. His stomach tightened and he wanted to be sick. How did people become such monsters? He'd never understand it.
"It was that bad?" Kate asked a while later. He didn't answer right away, but he knew he had to give her something.
"Yea," he answered. "It was."
He heard her breath shake and knew she was crying a little. For whatever reason, he started to think about his mother and sister...could see the damage his father had done to them time and time again until Brant had been old enough to put a stop to it, but the damage had already been done. He'd been too late.
Just like he'd been too late to save this girl.
Once they were far enough away, he pulled over and parked on the side of the road. Kate was crying silently, and he sat there staring ahead and feeling numb. Then the anger hit.
"F***!" he raged, banging his fist on the wheel over and over until Kate stopped him. He jerked in surprise, having almost blacked out from anger and forgot she was even there. He didn't have blackouts much anymore, but he still worried they would happen.
"Stop, Brant, stop," she said, catching his hands in hers and half sitting on him now. "Please. You'll hurt yourself."
He was breathing hard and feeling sick and blaming himself when her cool hands rested on either side of his face. For some reason, it was helping to cool his anger too.
"It's not your fault," she said to him, and he finally could see her...the red having dissipated from his eyes now. "Brant, it isn't. I promise."
And then something strange happened—something that never happened.
He cried.
...
Kate had a feeling that Brant did not do this, so the fact that he was in her presence made her feel honored that he trusted her so much already.
"It's okay," she said to him, pressing her forehead against his as he shook with silent sobs. "It's okay."
His hands moved to hold her waist and then wrapped around her to pull her into him. She buried her face into his neck, crying with him a little. It was short lived, but he kept holding her a while longer regardless.
"Kate," he said, his voice hoarse.
"Yes?"
"You ever tell anyone about this and I'll cap your ass."
She let out a strangled laugh, knowing he was trying to regain control of the situation by making light of what had just happened here. She let it go, knowing he needed her to.
"You do know that by showing emotion you're actually showing true strength," she advised, pulling back to look at him. He was watching her, and she felt a flutter inside despite everything that had happened tonight. She pushed it down deep.
"We gotta go," he said now, his eyes showing something similar to hers.
"Okay."
She untangled herself from him and got back into her seat. He started driving again, and she wondered what personal experience he had that had been triggered by tonight's tragedy to make him cry like that. She didn't think she'd ever get to know.
...
DI Craig Stokes felt very nauseous as he looked at the photos on his desk that morning. Sometime in the night, this incident had happened, and it had somehow included the people he was helping investigate with the French police.
And somehow, Tom Brant had been involved.
The description of Brant was given by the motel owner, but no officer had seen Brant at the scene, so Stokes put two and two together that Brant had been there for his undercover job and fled so as not to be publicized and associated with it.
Which made entire sense because it was very much tied to the world he was undercover in.
"What do you got?" Porter asked, coming up behind him and looking over his shoulder. He swore softly at the sight of the pictures.
"A big ugly mess is what I've got," Stokes replied, dropping the photos on his desk with a heavy sigh.
"Looks like Brant put the knuckles to him," Porter commented, reaching to shift one with his index finger. It revealed the dead man all banged up on top of the bullet holes in his chest.
"And no wonder," Stokes said. "That poor girl." He pressed his fingers into his closed eyes and massaged lightly. That image was not going to leave his brain anytime soon.
"Is he linked to Norman?" Porter asked.
"I dunno. I haven't deep dived on him yet."
"Just make sure nothing leads back to Brant."
"Will do."
Stokes brought up his home screen on his computer and began to type while Porter walked away.
...
Brant felt like such an idiot. He glanced over at Kate curled on her side sleeping while he drove, and he mentally kicked himself for crying. He hadn't cried in a long time, not since he was a boy. He'd barely cried at his mother and sister's funerals. Sure, he'd been sad and had wet eyes and a tight throat at times, but he hadn't lost it like that. Ever.
So what was happening to him?
He'd made the decision to just keep driving rather than find another place to sleep. With the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he couldn't sleep anyway. It all kept playing through his mind: the screams, the man's leering face, the girl in the bathroom, the other girl sitting on the bed holding the gun. The more he thought about it now, the more he realized those girls were barely 20 years old, if that.
He rested an arm on the door with his fingers against his jaw as he drove. He had to link Norman to the drugs. Once he had that, Norman was done.
The sunrise was pretty, he'd give it that. He dug for his aviators when it got too bright and slid them on. The sun beam fell on Kate, and he couldn't help but look at her and feel something inside. Her hair was framing her face, and her mouth looked soft. He could see the weariness on her, even in sleep, and he felt bad that she'd endured so much the past little while on top of whatever else she'd experienced in her life.
Kate opened her eyes, catching him looking at her. Something passed between them in that moment, but Brant didn't know what it was exactly. She shifted onto her back, being the first one to look away. Neither of them spoke.
And Brant was just fine with that.
...
Kate looked at herself in the mirror and took in her fake persona. Brant had stopped so she could change before they met their contact and dropped off the car (she was envious that all he'd done was pull a t-shirt on over his tank top). Her feet hated those stupid high heeled boots, and she felt so restricted in the leggings that barely covered anything anyway. She pulled her coat around her tightly as she gave herself one last look over and walked out, ignoring the looks of some people on the way. She hugged her bag under her arm and kept her head down until she reached the car.
"His name's Gregorio," Brant said after she was buckled in.
"Will he be meeting us personally?" she asked.
"Not sure."
Brant drove to their final destination. She could tell he was tired, having not slept much the night before. It was afternoon now.
When they arrived, Kate stayed put while Brant got out and walked towards a man leaning against the wall of the run down building with his hands in his pockets. She watched them talk; Brant handed over the keys and nodded. Then, to her surprise, he was handed another set of keys. She watched them converse a bit more, and then Brant was walking back towards her. She noticed his face looked a bit dark.
"What's going on?" she asked when he opened her door.
"Get out," he instructed. She obeyed, knowing the man was watching. She did her best to look beaten down and scared. Brant grabbed her bag and his, stuffing hers into her arms before walking off to the left where a steel blue sports car was. Kate didn't know the model, but it seemed like another rich person's car.
She said nothing as they got in and started to drive away. She said nothing, knowing the car could be bugged. He drove to a hotel, which surprised her. When they parked and got out, he led her inside and checked in. Kate guessed he'd been given a room already by the associate.
"What are we doing?" she asked when they were in the elevator together.
"We are to make an appearance tonight," Brant answered. "At Gregorio's party. Then we leave in the morning and take this car back to Norman."
"Oh..."
"I have no idea what we're gonna find in this room," Brant said honestly, "but just go with it, alright?"
"Okay."
The elevator stopped, and he gave a quick, encouraging smile before stepping out. She followed, and they reached their room easily enough. When they stepped inside, she felt Brant tense up and heard him inhale sharply, and she felt sick.
"Hello," Kip said, his typical sneer on his face. "Norman wanted me to check in and see how things were going."
"Just fine, thanks," Brant said curtly. Kate could tell he was unsure what to do. She tried not to feel scared. Kip came towards her, and she did her best not to react. He reached to tilt her chin up with his fingers, turning her head side to side.
"What did I say about touching her?" Brant asked angrily.
"Relax," Kip said, sliding a hand on Kate's lower back to bring her closer to him. She fought the fear hard. "I ain't gonna hurt her." She wanted him away from her. Right now. Then suddenly, he was. Brant had him in his grip and slammed against the wall in no time.
"Hands. Off," he said slowly, menacingly. Kip smirked.
"You'll have to share her tonight," he said, tapping Brant's nose and pissing Brant off even more. Kate could see Brant wanted to end him, but he had to let him go or else Norman would get suspicious.
"What are you saying?" Brant asked aggressively as Kip adjusted his clothes from being manhandled.
"You'll just have to wait and see," Kip replied with a slick smile. Kate's heart was pounding now. Just what was going to happen to her tonight? Kip tilted his head at Brant, surveying him.
"What?" Brant was pissed now.
"For someone who is supposed to be your bitch," Kip said carefully. "You don't seem too eager to touch her. Is there a reason for that, Brant? Something you're hiding, maybe?" Kate watched Brant breathe heavily, and she knew they had to do something to keep up this cover or else everything was going to end very badly. She saw Brant's eyes flick to hers, and she hoped she conveyed her permission loud and clear.
She yelped slightly when he snagged her arm and yanked her into him, turning her so her back was against his chest. His arm looped under hers to hold her there, his hand resting on her throat. She knew he didn't want to look at her when he did what he did next, and she gripped his arm that was diagonal across her upper chest with her hands before she closed her eyes, making sure to appear like she was in distress. This was a professional act, something needed to be done in order to keep their cover and finish taking down this organization. Kate knew she'd do anything to save her niece and any other girl stuck in this awful nightmare.
"That enough to satisfy you?" Brant asked Kip roughly a moment later, his free hand now holding her waist. Kate opened her eyes to find Kip surveying them, and she felt nervous that he didn't buy it. She felt Brant's fingers against her throat still, applying some pressure but not enough to hurt. She could feel his heart beating rapidly against her back.
"I suppose," Kip answered softly, and she released the breath she'd been holding. She felt Brant slightly relax as well. He let her go now, and she stumbled away from him. Kip caught her next by putting a hand on her arm. "Come along."
"I don't think so," Brant started.
"Norman's orders," Kip countered. "Call him if you want." He pulled Kate with him, and she panicked.
"Brant," she said.
"Tsk, tsk, now," Kip chastised, putting an arm around her so she was stuck next to him as they walked. "Don't make me bang up that pretty little face of yours. Although, some might like that."
Kate resisted fighting. She knew she couldn't. She couldn't give away their cover. She looked over at Brant, who was standing there helpless and looking both angry and afraid for her. Kip ushered her out, and then the door shut behind them.
...
Brant felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He had no idea where Kip had taken Kate. He had no idea what was going to happen to Kate tonight. He felt really, really bad for having to do what he did to her earlier, although it made his feelings for her a bit stronger, and that in turn made him feel guilty. He needed to talk to her about it and make things right. He made his way down to where the private party was being held in the hotel, and he scanned the room desperately for Kate. There were a lot of people there, mostly men. Brant pushed his way through the crowd and finally saw Kate.
And his heart sank.
Some older man with too many rings on his fingers and too much gold in his mouth had her in his grip and was mauling her too much. He could see Kate was barely tolerating it. He knew the fighter in her was ready to snap. He admired her for keeping it together for the sake of this job. Her dedication was impressive.
"Brant, glad you could make it," Kip said, coming up to him now and handing him a beer. "Isn't she a gorgeous piece?" He looked at Kate, and Brant wanted to punch him in the face.
"She sure is," Brant agreed, knowing he had to agree. The thing was: he did think she was gorgeous, but not like this. She was gorgeous just being who she was.
"Lots of cash rolling in tonight," Kip added. "Go relax. Have some fun. And don't get too jealous." He winked and slapped Brant on the back before melting into the crowd. Brant wanted to rescue Kate, but he couldn't. When the man led Kate away to a private room, he started to boil in rage.
He suddenly didn't care what image he was supposed to uphold. He couldn't let Kate get hurt. Not on his watch.
...
Kate watched it happen from above. She had learned the art of dissociation, so the person below her getting touched and ordered to do things wasn't really her. She was up and far away, safe and sound. She rationalized that she was doing this for Delia. She had to. In order to find her, she had to make sacrifices, and while this type of sacrifice was going to cost her a lot in therapy later, she had to give in to it. When it seemed like the obvious was inevitable, a ruckus started outside the door. She was jerked back down into her body, trying not to feel crushed underneath the awful man and struggling to breathe with her face pressed into the pillow hard, when Brant came bursting in.
"Oi!" he shouted. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!"
"Excuse me?" the man asked, bewildered. He got off, and she took in a breath finally, adjusting her skirt quickly. She didn't want Brant to see her like this, although it was too late.
"I've got this room booked, haven't I? You stole it!" Brant yelled. "Get the f*** out!" The man spluttered and tried to argue, but Brant had him by the scruff and tossed him out, the man trying to pull his pants up along the way and almost tripping. Brant slammed the door behind him and rested his forehead against it in between his fists.
"Brant," Kate whispered, standing now. "What did you just do?" While she was grateful, she knew he'd just put their entire job at risk. He turned his head to look at her.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "I just couldn't let it happen."
"I was willing to sacrifice for the sake of getting Delia back, for ending all of this," she said, her voice wobbling slightly. "You should have too."
"No." He shook his head. He came over to her now and put his hands on either side of her face. "No, it wasn't worth it."
"Brant..." Her voice was getting full of tears. Damn it, why did this keep happening? She was sick of crying.
"You don't even know if she's alive, so doing this...it is not worth it," he went on.
"How can you say that?" she asked, but her heart sank because she was scared he was right. "It's not just about her...it's about all of them."
"I'm sorry. I'm pulling you out," he told her. "This is not safe for you, and I can't risk it. Not anymore. What happened earlier was bad enough...this was too far."
"No! I need to find Delia..."
"And you can help Nash and Stokes in the safety of the station to do that. When we get back, I'll figure out what to do."
"Brant," she said again, but he stopped her.
"I'm the lead, remember? You're the guest here. I'm calling it, Kate. You're done." He was looking at her, and she was angry but also defeated and knew he was right. She could be just as useful working with Nash and Stokes. She lowered her head, trying to rid herself of the feeling of that horrible man just now. She felt Brant lift her chin to look at him again.
"You are a very brave woman, Kate," he said softly. She knew why he was saying it. Who else would do this in order to save someone else? Maybe others would. She didn't know.
"I don't feel like it right now," she confessed. His hand felt nice against her cheek, his thumb smoothing over it lightly.
"You are."
"Brant, about before," she started, and he shook his head, taking his hand back.
"I'm sorry for that," he cut in.
"No, it...it wasn't bad," she admitted, feeling embarrassed suddenly. She floundered for words for a moment until finding them. "I'm trying to say that I know we had to do it and I'm not upset by it."
"I see."
She looked at him, and she wished that they hadn't met this way, hadn't been stuck doing this kind of work, and had just somehow laid eyes on each other at some event somewhere and took things from there. She felt like she wanted to say that out loud when he spoke first.
"We gotta go, Kate."
"How am I getting out of this?" Kate asked, trying not to feel disappointed. "Kip will tell Norman..."
"You're gonna have to be sick," he told her. She groaned. She was not looking forward to that. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine. I'll do it."
"Only if he's looking."
"Okay."
He went to usher her out when she realized. She grabbed his arm. "Brant!"
"What?"
"You didn't clear this room for bugs," she said, eyes wide. He looked around then, and she saw him relax after a moment.
"We're good."
"Thank God," she breathed. He took off his suit jacket and put it around her shoulders.
"Let's go."
They walked out together, but they didn't make it very far when Kip caught them. Kate turned away, sticking her fingers into her throat.
"What the hell? Where are you going?" Kip demanded.
"She's sick," Brant said flatly. On cue, Kate turned and promptly vomited on Kip's shoes and pant legs.
"Argh!" he yelped, leaping away.
"You really want that happening on our fancy guests?" Brant asked, slightly sarcastic. Kip shook his head vehemently.
"No, no, absolutely not. Get her out of here!" he hissed.
"That's what I'm trying to do," Brant said, making a "duh" gesture before ushering Kate forward again. In the elevator, she moaned softly.
"I hate making myself sick," she stated.
"Sorry."
She leaned into him then, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt his cheek rest against her forehead a moment later. She wasn't sure what was happening here between them, but it was nice. They got to their room, and she changed into a t-shirt and pajama pants and buried herself into bed. They were leaving in the morning to take the new car back to Norman, which she was wondering why but guessed she wouldn't find out.
She fell asleep very quickly, the memory of Brant's hands on her face the last thing she thought about.
...
Brant could hear her tossing and turning in her sleep in the middle of the night. He'd called Nash to tell him the new plan, and he paced and fretted for a while afterwards. He couldn't stop thinking about what had almost happened to Kate. If he had been a few moments too late...
He couldn't think about it.
She was handling it fairly well, but he figured she'd dissociated and would deal with it later. She was a tough woman, he could tell. He knew she'd be all right. He also knew she wanted to say more about what happened between them, but he couldn't. He didn't want to admit to anything. He didn't want to get hurt, so he kept to himself. He sighed and brainstormed how he was going to get her out of this while giving Norman a good explanation. Perhaps he'd claim he sold her and give Norman half the cash. That could work. It was better than nothing.
"No, NO!" Kate shouted, and he was on his feet and hurrying to her room. "GET OFF OF ME!" He flicked the lamp on and knelt on the floor next to the bed by her, and she gasped as she sat up awake. She pressed a hand over her chest and breathed like she'd just run a marathon.
"Hey," he said, putting a hand on her arm. "It's okay. You're safe."
"Brant, can we just go?" she asked. "I don't want to stay here...not while Kip and everyone else are here."
"Sure," he agreed. "Let's go." They packed quickly, and they left discreetly. Kate put back on her other clothes in case they ran into anyone on the way. Brant would figure out a story later if Kip had questions or if Norman had questions after hearing about it from Kip. Kate reached for his hand, and he let her take it. There wasn't anyone awake at this point anyway. They got into the car, and he did a quick scan for bugs before getting them out of there.
Kate fell asleep again in her seat, and he knew she was also feeling embarrassed about what he saw earlier, but she wasn't addressing it. He was going to let it go too. He hadn't really been paying much attention anyway, not with his eyes on the ugly mug of a guy on her and kicking him out. He could only guess what Kip did to her when they were alone. She wasn't telling him anything, so he didn't know if she was just keeping it from him or if nothing really did happen.
He'd never know.
...
Kate had been awake for a while and watched the sun come up as they drove. They'd traveled quite a bit already, and she knew Brant was tired as he rubbed at his eyes. She knew he wanted sleep. She watched him discreetly for a moment, knowing he probably wondered what Kip did to her after leading her away. It hadn't been much, really, just some mauling and unwanted kisses along with some choking and threats of harm. She'd put up with it. She knew if they had been truly alone, he would have done what he wanted to her, and that made her feel a finger of fear down her spine. At least she wouldn't be seeing him again, though.
"Why don't we stop somewhere so you can get some rest?" she suggested to Brant finally. "Or let me drive?"
"I don't sleep well in cars," he answered.
"Then we can stop." She watched him think about this and was about to ask why it was such a hard decision to make when he spoke.
"Okay." He gave a curt nod as if he'd made a bigger decision than just taking a nap. He drove until he found another quiet motel and stopped. Kate waited while he got a room and then drove down to park closer to it but not in front of it. She knew they stood out with the car, but thankfully there weren't many people around to gawk.
Brant went inside with the bags and freshened up while Kate stood in the room looked around. She was thinking about why they were bringing this car back and what it could mean. Something in her gut didn't feel good about it, though.
She went back out to search the car, sticking a cigarette into her mouth on the way and getting closer to the car when it exploded.
...
Brant was finishing drying off from his shower, very ready for some sleep at this point, and standing in front of the vanity mirror in his cargo pants when his balance was rocked by an explosion. He lurched forward, grabbing the counter with his hands and feeling his fight or flight kicking into high gear. His brain was spinning, trying to understand what had just happened.
And then it hit him: he'd forgotten to check for a bomb under that car. Then he thought about Kate.
He listened, not hearing her say anything in the other room, and he panicked. He pushed himself off the counter and whipped the bathroom door open.
"Kate?" he called. "Kate?!"
She didn't answer, and he saw that she was not in the room at all. His heart dropped.
"KATE!"
He ran outside in his bare feet and stopped short at the sight of their car blown to bits and Kate lying on the ground halfway to it. A fist clenched around his heart, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. This was his fault. He'd failed to check. He'd gotten her killed.
"No," he said, starting to run towards her now. "No, no, no, KATE!" He barely felt the bits of glass and debris sinking into his feet as he ran. All he cared about was Kate.
He skidded into her on his knees and reached to grab her and roll her over, hoping to God that she opened her beautiful blue eyes and showed that she was still alive.
