Scott cradles the phone to his ear as he grabs a pair of jeans and throws on his t-shirt that had been thrown across the room the night before.

He grabs a notepad from the living room, writing a quick note for the guy still sleeping on the bed.

Ben. He had whispered his name in his ear after he bought him a drink.

Had to run. Work emergency. Thanks for the fun night. -Scott

It was short and to the point. Scott didn't do romance. Not lately at least. And he had a feeling Ben wasn't expecting much else anyways.

He can hear Mitchell breathing on the line, his breaths quick and heavy, like he's on the verge of passing out.

"Hey, Mitchell," He's hoping he has Mitchell's attention as he buckles his belt and shimmies his feet into his boots.

"Listen to me. You're going to be okay." He hurries into the kitchen and grabs the keys from where they were thrown on the table.

"But you have to focus, got it?" He instructs, letting the apartment door slam shut behind him.

"Yeah. Got it." Mitchell says, and he can hear the tremble in each of his words.

"Take a deep breath." He climbs into his car, wasting no time to start the engine and pulls out of his parking spot, tires screeching against the pavement as the Mustang roars to life.

He pulls the phone away from his ear, pulling up a new text message and typing in the number he had seen on the card from metro detective Kevin Olusola

Kevin–Scott Hoying FBI. 911 with my witness. Let dispatch know not to pull over a black Mustang plates ch79rh.
He glances up from his phone as he hits send to make sure he's still in his lane.

Send anyone available to findlay market west sector for protection. His fingers fly across the screen.

His phone dings as the message sends and almost immediately there's a response.

Done.

Scott puts his phone back up to his ear.
"Mitchell?" He asks, the line silent the few seconds he was texting.

Despite the calm in his voice, Scott's heart was racing.

Not only was Mitchell's life in danger, but if he lost him, even the slightest chance of getting his help would be gone forever.

"I'm still here." Mitchell's voice is quiet, but the tremble is gone.

"Good." Scott's single grasp on the steering wheel tightens as he weaves through traffic.

"If you see a cop before I get there, they know what's happening. Stay with them until I can get you."

Scott passes a sign that reads Findlay Market-Next Exit and speeds up, needing every second he can get.

{*#*}

I continue to stroll through the market, trying to appear as if nothing is wrong, and that a murderer wasn't stalking me, probably with an awaiting gun, ready to kill me.

I swallow hard at the thought. Get a grip. Just keep it together until Agent Hoying gets here.

I nod to yourself, rolling my shoulders and taking in a deep, strong breath as my chest puffs out. If I wanted to survive this, I had to buckle down and put my brave face on, no matter how terrified and small I felt on the inside.

As I turn the corner to head indoors where I'm pretty sure the meat vendor is, I see a cop strolling towards me.

I let out a breath and smile, wanting to cry with relief.

"I found a cop!" I yell into the microphone, ignoring the bounceback sound that rings in my ears from yelling too loudly.

"Perfect." Scott sighs, and I wonder if he's as nervous as I am.

Probably not. It's not his life.

"Have him escort you to Bender's and wait with you until I get there. I'm only a few minutes away." He orders like he's been bossing people around his entire life, but I don't question it. Not now at least.

I don't dare look behind me as I push myself through the crowds until I'm standing in front of the cop. He looks down at me with brown eyes and wrinkles around his frown as I take out one of my headphones so I can hear him.

"Hi, sir." I have no idea how to address him. "There's a man following me and I think he wants to hurt me."

The cop looks away from me and over my shoulder. He probably has no idea what I'm talking about, but I just hope that I don't sound crazy.

"I'm actually waiting to be picked up by an FBI agent–I'm a witness." I start to ramble, my words pouring out before I can stop them. I have no idea what I'm supposed to tell him, but I hope that I sound legitimate enough for him to believe me. "I'm supposed to meet him at Bender's Meat Stand." The cop's eyes find mine again, and he watches me with a blank expression. I have no idea if he is believing a single word I say.

"I'm actually on the phone with him right now." That seems to break the cop out of his stare and he nods slowly, and I can see my words replaying in his head.

"I'd be happy to help you, Mister." I sigh and let my head fall back. I want to hug him, but I figure that would be crossing a line.

"Oh my god, thank you so much!" I want to cartwheel, stress untangling from my body as I finally relax into safety.

"Good," Scott's voice rings out in my right ear. "Stay with him. I'm parking now."

The cop nods forward and begins walking, and I stick to his side as he weaves through the crowds.

I stay on the cop's heel, almost giving him a flat tire several times as we make our way through the market. I was happy I found him, not just for his protection, but I had only been to this market a handful of times and wasn't exactly sure where Bender's was. I had just been walking towards the food court hoping that I would find it.

As I keep walking, the crowds begin to thin out, and I see less and less tents ahead of me. I peek around the cop, trying to get a sense of where we're going.

In my headphone, I can hear a car door slam shut.

My stomach begins to twist and I look up at the cop, suddenly unsure.
I'm being ridiculous. He probably knows this place better than me and is taking a faster route. It's just the adrenaline.

"Mitchell?" Scott pants into my ear as if he's been running. "I'm here. Where are you?"

I had just passed the last vendor and had missed the name. I actually have no idea where I am.

"Uh, sir, are we almost there?" I ask as kindly as possible, not wanting to seem ungrateful for his help.

Ahead of us is a red building, still on the market grounds, but with no one going in or out.

"Shortcut." He says flatly, and I nod.
"I think we're almost there. We're taking a shortcut through a red building past the vendors."

"What?"

"We're almost—" A hand wraps painfully around my bicep as my headphone is wretched from my ear as I stumble forward from the unexpected force.

Before I can react, the cop is reaching into my back pocket and pulling my phone out, throwing it onto the ground with enough force that it instantly shatters and the screen goes dark.

"What the hell are you doing?" I pull against his grip as he drags me forward towards the building, using his free hand to open the door.

I suddenly realize that my gut feeling was right, and something had been wrong all along. Just too late.

"Help!" I scream, digging my feet into the ground, using my free hand to try and free my arm. "Help!" I scream again, hoping my voice travels to the vendors nearby as I try to pull away.

"Shut up!" He hisses, his free hand covering my mouth as his hand around my arm falls to my waist to pick me up and carry me inside.

I kick my legs, trying to get some force to use against him, but it's useless. My feet connect with his shins, but not hard enough to make him drop me.

My mind goes into panic mode as I try to think of every defense technique I've ever seen on tv.

I force your lips apart against his hand and reach out and grab one if his fingers in between my teeth, biting down as hard as I can, a shiver racing down my spine as a crunch rings through my ears. He screams out in pain, his hand falling from my mouth and his arm loosening around me enough to push myself away from him and make a break for the door.

"Not so fast!" I hear the click of a gun and my footsteps falter. I look over my shoulder, seeing the black gun pointed directly at me.

I grit my teeth as tears prick my eyes.

I just want to go home. I don't want this.

I grit down on my teeth and swallow down the bile rising in my throat.

"I thought you were supposed to protect people, not kill them." I spit, my voice quivering as a fire burns instead of me as I turn around to face him. If he was going to kill me, he had to look me in the eye while he did it.

"I'm not going to kill you." He speaks as if each word is tough for him to get through. "And don't you stand there and think you have the right to judge me. You have no idea what goes on."
I frown at him, not understanding what he's talking about.

"Please," I plead, the tears finally falling over. "Please just let me go."
Something flashes in his eyes, but he shakes his head, and it was gone.

"I'm sorry." His nostrils flare and his eyes look watery. And in that moment, I believe him.

"FBI! Drop it!" The cop's gun points behind me, and I twist my head to see Agent Hoying standing in the doorway I had been forced into.

He takes small steps in, his eyes trained on the cop in front of you. Just looking at him, I knew he wouldn't miss if he decided to take the shot.

"I said drop it!" Agent Hoying roars, getting closer and closer to me with each step.

The cops brown eyes dart between me and Agent Hoying, his eyes flickering behind the trained agent for a moment before his hands go up in surrender and he squats down slowly, placing his gun on the floor.

Agent Hoying lowers his gun, walking up beside me and looking me up and down.

"You okay?" He asks, his voice much softer than it had been a minute ago.
My throat is clenched, and I can't even swallow the lump that seems to be blocking the air in my lungs. I nod.

His blue eyes scan my face, and I notice how bright they seem. Much brighter than the few times I had seen him before.

I look down at his chest and notices he's wearing a grey shirt with a blue and red plaid button down over it, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and his biceps straining against the material.
Suddenly the lump in my throat disappears.

He nods at me then brushes by towards the cop, kicking the discarded gun away and pulling out his cell phone.

"Hey Kevin, Scott Hoying. I need some boys in blue down here for an arrest." He keeps his gun aimed at the cop. "Red house, on the edge of the market. Thanks."

Scott hangs up and pockets his phone, keeping his gun aimed until some patrolmen enter the building, their guns raised the same way Scott's had been, though not with the surety.

"DiMarcus?" One of the cops asks, his gun lowering. I look across the room to the man who had tried to lead me to my death, his head hung in shame. Scott turns around and motions with his finger between the colleagues.

"Cuff him and get him down to the station. Kevin Olusola will take care of him." The two cops nod and with sullen faces make their way over to DiMarcus, the sound of handcuffs clicking shut echoing through the room.

Scott reaches behind his back as he walks towards me, tucking his gun away. My eyes widen, never having actually seen someone do that in real life.

As he gets closer, I can see his jaw set, his cheek flexing as he seems to be thinking. His eyes are looking away from me, and I follow his gaze to a blank wall across the room. I frown. I take in a deep breath, about to ask him what he's looking at when he cuts me off.

"I think you should come with me." He states, leaving no room for discussion in his voice.

The heavy footsteps of three men pass by me, and as I look at the downcasted face of the man who was willing to let me die, I can't help but wonder what he had meant when he said that I wouldn't understand what was happening.

It had all seemed pretty clear to me, but perhaps I was wrong.

As they disappear out the door, I look up at Scott, his eyes waiting for your answer.

"I think you're right."