I woke up wrapped in the thin white covers and Joey's muscular arms. His head rested beside mine with his chin on my shoulder. His stubble felt prickly on my skin. Memories of the night before danced through my mind in a mess of loud, pleasured sounds and damp, sweaty sheets. We hadn't called it a night until almost three in the morning, and it had taken me an extra hour after that to finally fall asleep.

The sun was beginning to rise, shining through the window, and I could hear a car alarm going off outside. From my spot in bed, I could see the pinkish-yellow glow of the sunrise through the clouds. I groaned and covered up my head with the sheets. I wasn't just tired. I was exhausted. My eyes burned and I felt so sluggish, like I'd just worked back-to-back twelve hour shifts with no breaks.

Joey's quiet snores helped to relax me back into a comfortable, half-asleep state. He moved in his sleep, wrapping his arms tighter around my body. His firm chest pressed against my back and I felt protected. I felt safe.

My peaceful state didn't last as long as I wanted it to, though. No matter how hard I tried to fall back asleep, I couldn't. Memories of the previous few days haunted me. I couldn't close my eyes without seeing his face. The hitman. The man in the black Cadillac.

I slapped my cheek in attempts to make myself snap out of it. It didn't work. I felt like my brain was fighting with me. I wanted to run and hide from my thoughts but there was nowhere I could go. I couldn't get away. There he was in my head.

If one of Richard Lux's goals was scaring the hell out of me, he was definitely succeeding. I wanted to change my identity and disappear.

Feeling restless and needing some fresh air, I slowly begun to sneak out of Joey's warm embrace. I tiptoed to my bag of clothes and threw on a sweatshirt and jeans, and double checked to make sure Joey was still asleep before slipping out the door as quietly as I could and heading down to the lobby. If I timed it right, I could be back before he woke up. He'd never know I was gone.

I sneaked out to the portico, a heavily crape-myrtle-decorated area. There was a tiny yellow butterfly fluttering around one of the plants. I watched it in envy. I longed to have the freedom that that tiny insect had. It didn't have to worry about armed men chasing after it. It didn't have to worry about school and work, or stress, or not getting enough sleep, or those damn student loans that would take me decades to pay off. It didn't have to deal with a crazy ex-lover. It didn't have to experience drama at all. How lucky could one creature be?

Get a grip, Jess, the voice in my head said. You're jealous of a fucking butterfly.

I plopped down on a small wooden bench to the side of the double doors. The early morning breeze was moderately chilly. Realizing the burner phone was still in my jeans pocket, I pulled it out and stared at it. I missed my own phone. The one I left in my apartment. No doubt someone had gotten to it, along with my computer. I imagined my apartment completely destroyed. What would my landlord think? I briefly wondered what Mrs. Simpson had done if she'd happened to be home when the ruckus began. Surely, she would have had a thing or twelve to say about someone breaking down my door and barging in my apartment. It would've disturbed her reading, or one of her cat's naps, heaven forbid.

Staring at the phone in my hand, I thought about all the people who had to be wondering where the hell I was. I thought about how pissed off my boss was that I'd missed several days of work. She would probably fire me, if she hadn't already. I thought about my professors who were probably failing me since I hadn't turned in any work, taken my final exams, or attended any classes. I thought about my grandmother who had undoubtedly repeatedly contacted the police and probably all six of the local news channels. She was probably stapling missing person posters to telephone poles right that moment.

I felt a responsibility to tell people what was going on. I knew Joey had told me to leave my phone at home because it could be traced, but since I had a different phone that nobody would assume was mine, I didn't see why I couldn't use it to call Boston for just a few minutes to at least put my grandmother's mind at ease. It was a burner phone. What harm could it do to use it?

Dialing my grandmother's landline, I put the phone to my ear and waited impatiently. No answer. Her familiar answering machine greeting came on the line and I debated whether or not to leave a message while I listened to it, overcome with emotion from the sound of her voice. It felt like it had been ages since I'd heard her sweet, loving voice.

I decided against it, hanging up. It probably would have shaken her up more if I'd left her a voicemail. It sure felt good to hear her voice again, though – even if it was just a recording.

Remembering the number to the coffee shop, I called work next. Heather picked up on the second ring. Even though Heather and I had never been that close, I sure was glad to hear a familiar voice.

"Heather?" I cleared my throat.

To my surprise, she didn't sound angry. I'd expected her to demand I tell her my whereabouts, and rant about how mad everyone was at me, and tell me I was going to be fired. Instead, she sounded genuinely concerned.

"Jess! Holy shit!" she exclaimed in a hushed tone. "Where are you? Everyone's been looking for you!"

I wasn't surprised. Of course, everyone had been searching for me.

"I'm..."

I took a ragged breath, wiping tiny beads of sweat from my forehead. I began to think maybe it wasn't such a good idea to call anyone. Discomfort was setting in and I started glancing around the parking lot to make sure an all-too-familiar Cadillac wasn't sitting idly by. Maybe I should have left everything alone and not picked up the phone at all.

The possibility popped into my head that the police might be monitoring my grandmother's phone line. What if they'd seen the burner phone number? I didn't even know what it's number was. Did it even show a number or did it say unknown caller? Could the police trace where I'd made the call from?

I reminded myself I hadn't left a voicemail. Maybe they'd just assume it was one of those solicitation calls that never leaves a message. Maybe I was still in the clear.

"Jess? You there?"

"Huh? Oh... yeah. I'm here," I stuttered.

Heather was obviously worried. "Let me go in the back room so we can talk," she told me.

Shuffling sounds followed before I heard the door to our tiny break room close.

"Okay. Tell me what's going on, Jess. We haven't seen you in days and everyone's worried sick about you!"

I didn't know what I could or couldn't tell her. If Joey had known I was on the phone with her, he probably would've revoked my phone privileges. I wasn't one hundred percent sure if what I was doing was okay, but the longer the call lasted, the less confident I felt about the decision I'd made.

"Something happened that I don't think I can tell you about," I answered vaguely. "It was completely out of my control. A cop came and got me, and we've been out of town since like Friday. I don't think I can tell you anything else."

I probably shouldn't have told you any of that.

I already regretted the few details I'd given her. I wanted to believe I could trust Heather. I'd always thought I could before. Heather had always treated me like a good friend. But now it was becoming near impossible for me to trust anyone entirely.

Heather gasped. "Oh my god, Jess. When will you be back? Carolyn is so mad. She thinks you just decided to quit without telling her."

Carolyn was our boss - a woman no one wanted to piss off. She was our very own Miranda Priestly.

I ran a shaky hand through my hair, hunching over to place my elbows on my knees. The cement had tiny fragments of flower petals tossed across it. I stared at the grass ever so lightly dancing as the breeze swept through it. It was still wet with dew.

"I don't know," I sighed, feeling tears prick my eyes.

I wanted to go home. I wanted everything to go back to normal. I wanted my boring, uneventful barista life back. The only exception was that I wanted Joey in my life, too – but under normal circumstances.

Part of me wished we'd met by chance in the coffee shop, that it had been fate's plan to have us together. That probably sounded ridiculous and cliché, but I would've certainly taken that option over the real way we'd crossed paths.

"I didn't intentionally blow off work," I told Heather. "I'm sorry. I really am. I have no choice, though. I have no control over what's happening, and I know everyone's angry with me, but I can't do anything about it. I'm so sorry."

"No. No. I understand," she insisted. "Um... Jess, there was a guy in here on Thursday asking about you. He came back in Friday, too."

My blood pressure shot straight up. Thursday was the day I'd left my apartment – the same day I'd first seen the black Cadillac. Cadillac Man had been at my work?

"What did he look like? Did he tell you his name? What did he want?" I rattled off questions faster than gunshots.

Heather sounded surprised at my reaction. "He had a buzz cut and he was wearing a black jacket. He didn't say what his name was. He just asked where you were and when your next shift was. I didn't tell him because I thought it seemed suspicious. He was pretty creepy."

Creepy didn't begin to describe the man with the buzz cut. He was absolutely terrifying to look at. He had hitman written all over him. I prayed that Joey and I would make it back to Boston without coming into contact with him or any of his cohorts again.

I remembered what the papers Mike had given Joey said. Richard Lux had ties to the mafia. I wondered if the man in the Cadillac was part of the mafia.

Heather and I spoke for a few more minutes before hanging up. I slid the phone back into my pocket and leaned back on the bench, trying to calm my nerves. Surely, I hadn't done anything too stupid by calling. I hadn't left a message for my grandmother. I hadn't told Heather where I was or what I was doing. I hadn't given out any revealing details, as far as I knew. Maybe I was in the clear.

A shadow moved over me, blocking the sun's rays and I jumped, automatically assuming Cadillac Man was there to kidnap me. I spun around to throw a punch at my attacker and my wrist was captured by Joey's strong hand, halting me in my tracks.

I was startled to see him standing there, tapping his foot impatiently. My self-defense attempt hadn't even fazed him. Judging by the look on his face, I was in trouble. He was pissed, and it was my fault, no doubt.

"Shit, Joey!" I breathed, placing my free hand over my heart. "You scared me."

He released my wrist and jerked his thumb in the direction of the lobby. I knew I was going to get the third degree once we got upstairs.

The elevator ride was so silent; you could hear a pen drop. I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears. I tried to convince myself that I had nothing to worry about. I'd been careful with my words. Before hanging up, I'd asked Heather not to repeat our conversation to anyone, and I trusted her. She'd never given me a reason not to. She was sincerely worried for me. I could hear it in the shaky tone of her voice.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Joey snapped, slamming the door to our room.

I didn't know how to respond. Maybe I should've listened to my conscience and ended the call before it began. Maybe I shouldn't have even gone downstairs, or outside, for that matter. But I'd been so careful! I must've scanned over the parking lot a hundred times for anything suspicious!

"I'm sorry, okay!" I couldn't hold the welling tears back any longer and started to cry. "I just needed to tell somebody I was okay! You can't fucking imagine how horrible it feels to know that right now, my grandmother is probably scouring the city, looking for me! She's got to be scared shitless for me! I just couldn't bear to think of that any longer and not find some way to put her heart at ease. I hate this, Joey! I can't stop thinking about work and school and my grandma and-"

"Calm down," Joey's calm, but stern voice shut me up instantly.

He stared down at me like he was conducting an interrogation. The look in his eyes resembled a tiger about to pounce on its prey. But there was something else. There was worry. There was – dare I say it – even a dash of fear in his eyes. It was hard for me to believe he could be scared of anything, given the fearless, invincible shield he keeps up. I could see his pulse ticking wildly in his neck. He drew in a harsh breath.

"I get it, alright? I know you're freaking out about everything. I'm not exactly partying on a tropical vacation either, now, am I?" he raised his eyebrows.

I shook my head. I'd been wrong to act like I was the only one in danger, or the only one who was hurt by this ordeal. Joey had been going through hell right alongside me. He was just as hurt as I was, if not more. His career was in jeopardy. Granted, my graduation and employment were also on thin ice, but at least I would be able to make up for those losses. If Joey lost his job – his dream – he may never be able to be a police officer again. All because of me.

"I'm sorry, Joey," I sighed, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

I felt horrible. I realized those calls had been more about putting my own mind at ease, than anyone else's. But the calls hadn't made me feel any better. Now that I knew Cadillac Man had been looking for me at work, too, I felt even more violated. I wished I'd never called Heather.

Joey kneeled in front of me, grabbing my hands and lacing his fingers with mine. Those tiny fragments of fear were still laced in his gaze.

"Relax," he breathed.

He may have been trying to help me relax, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself to.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Jess, but you just can't do shit like that. You could make everything harder for both of us. I'm supposed to keep you safe. I don't want you getting hurt." His sapphire eyes twinkled. "I need you to tell me who you spoke to and everything that was said. I need to know if anything has been made worse."

His pained, sincere expression comforted me and made me feel like shit at the same time. I was glad he wasn't hollering at me anymore, but I felt terrible for pissing him off and worrying him. I wished I could rewind the previous twenty minutes. I would've stayed in bed with him and this argument never would've happened. I wouldn't be crying right now. He wouldn't have that damned shred of fear in his eyes. Maybe we'd still be sleeping, all cuddled up and warm together. Safe.

"I tried to call my grandma, but she didn't answer," I told him, staring at my hands in his.

His calloused fingertips brushed back and forth over the backs of my hands in a slow, soothing motion.

"So I called the coffee shop and talked to Heather, my coworker."

Joey frowned and an expression came over his face like he was unsure whether or not to be angry.

"Can you trust Heather?" he asked in a very serious voice.

Surely, I could. She'd never given me any reason to think otherwise. "I think so."

"I need a yes or no, Jess," he stood up, towering over me again.

I felt shorter, almost like I was shrinking under his tough demeanor. I wanted to tell him to stop looking at me and asking questions, but I knew that would only frustrate him more. I understood why he wanted answers, but some things I didn't have answers for.

"Joey, I really don't know," I stressed. "I think I can trust her. That's the best answer I can give you, okay? I've never doubted her once. She's always tried to be a good friend to me."

I was on the verge of tears again. I felt stupid for calling Heather. I felt terrible for not asking Joey about it before I did anything. I made a mental note to not act on spur-of-the-moment ideas from then on. Apparently, they would only get me in trouble.

"I don't want you mad at me, Joey. I'm sorry, okay? I get what I did was wrong. It won't happen again."

He flopped back on the bed with a deep sigh, his arms spread out over the comforter. His hair was tousled and needed to be washed, and the dark circles under his eyes told me he hadn't slept hardly at all. I remembered he'd still been partially awake when I finally passed out for the night. At one point, I awoke to hear him mumbling something about the police department in his sleep, but I couldn't decipher what he was saying, and quickly fell back asleep, not waking up again until sunrise.

Joey laid on the bed in silence. I thought he was fed up with me. Seconds turned into a couple minutes and the lack of conversation - or any sound whatsoever - was becoming deafening.

"Joey?" I cautiously approached him, taking a seat beside him at the foot of the bed. He continued to stare up at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

I had no idea why he was sorry. He had nothing to apologize for.

I placed my hand on his thigh, momentarily thinking that might have been too forward until I remembered last night's events.

"What are you sorry for?"

He turned his head to the side to look at me. He looked so innocent, yet so hurt. There were years and years of pain layered in his gaze. Once again, I found myself wanting to know more about his past. The past he kept heavily guarded and locked away.

What the hell happened to you? I thought.

"When I... uh... assigned myself to this case, I didn't think it was going to be anything like this. I thought I'd take you to my place, or a hotel outside of town. Something simple. Something logical. All I had to do was get you out of harm's way. All I had to do was put you somewhere that Lux and his minions wouldn't think to look until we had them caught. It was supposed to run smoothly. It was supposed to be no big deal. So far, it's been anything but."

"Joey-"

"I'm trying to say I'm sorry for dragging you halfway across the country and putting you through hell."

How could he say such a thing? He wasn't the one putting me through this shit show. Cadillac Man and all his little buddies were. It wasn't Joey's fault that my life had been infiltrated by mad men. All he'd tried to do was help. How could he think he was putting me through hell?

"Joey-"

"Was there anything else said between you and this Heather?" he cut me off.

Once again, I'd gotten a rare glimpse into Joey's heart for a few split seconds, and just when I thought I could use the opportunity to discover more about him – figure him out a little better – he'd slammed the door shut on the conversation just as fast as he'd opened it.

"Uh, yeah..." I squeezed my eyes tightly at the headache brewing. "She said the man in the Cadillac was at my job last Thursday – the day you came to get me. He asked where I was and when my next shift was. She said she didn't tell him because he was creepy."

Joey's expression was unreadable. He seemed to automatically switch to detective mode and overanalyze the information he'd just been given.

"How do you know it was him?" he frowned.

"She described him and I put two and two together," I shrugged. "Joey, I-"

He put his hand up to silence me and whipped out his phone. "I'm going to pass this information along to my partner. While I'm doing this, get packed up."