Chapter 204

The officer who called my name escorted me out of the holding tank and then out toward the front of the police station, where Dylan was loudly replaying the recorded conversation from my wrongful arrest.

“I want Miss Whitaker released right now, or I will sue the entire department,” Dylan loudly announced. “Anyone who was handed money by Mr. Hatfield Senior will find themselves giving twice that to Hazel.”

I cleared my throat as I came nearer.

“Hazel, thank God.” Dylan looked me over, then, as if determining I was okay, turned his attention to the officer at my arm. “I trust she is free to go.”

The officer looked over to a different man in a suit. That man nodded.

“Yes, sir,” the officer said.

“Good.” Dylan touched my elbow and led me toward the exit. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

When we are in the parking lot, I tell Dylan what happened to my car. “I’ll personally buy you another one.”

“But my things…”

“We’ll get you new things.”

At least I hadn’t packed anything I couldn’t live without. My keepsakes were still all safely back at my apartment… if my apartment was still safe.

I didn’t want to think about this. I’d never felt so in danger in all my life. I couldn’t stop shaking.

Dylan, noticing, stopped me by placing his hand on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay now. I’m here. We’ll get you back to town, back to Logan, and no one will be able to hurt you anymore.”

“I’m okay,” I lied.

Dylan gave me a look of disbelief.

“I’ll be okay,” I corrected.

That one, he did believe. He opened the passenger door of his sedan for me and then closed it once I was securely inside. Rounding the car, he entered the driver’s side.

I didn’t feel safe, even when we left the police station, or when we continued on the highway, even when the familiar signs for home crept closer and closer.

Shadows seemed everywhere, like someone could pop out at any minute and drag me back to that holding cell. Or worse.

I curved my hands around my knees and tried to stay strong.

“We’ll be there before you know it,” Dylan said, now and again, maybe just to fill the uneasy quiet in the car. Eventually, he started counting down miles. “Forty miles left.” Then, “Thirty.” Then, “Almost there.”

I didn’t even feel safe when Dylan finally made an exit, because he wasn’t driving to any parts of town that I recognized.

“Where are we going?” I asked him.

“Mr. Hatfield is going nuclear, so we have to take precautions,” Dylan said. “We can’t put you two anywhere that he knows about, or he will find you and then who knows what he will do. So I got you and Logan an apartment in a safe, quiet part of town under false names.”

“That’s where we’re going?” I asked, to be sure.

“Yes.”

I looked out the window as Dylan drove. It was dark, late in the evening now, but with the streetlights and the moonlight, I could tell we were driving out of the downtown area and into the suburbs.

Eventually, Dylan pulled up to a two story apartment building nestled in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. There was a small grocery store nearby, and a little bookshop on the corner.

Dylan parked under a tree and we both got out.

The apartments were set up like townhomes. Dylan confidently strode to one, opened it with a key, and then ushered me inside.

The room was an open concept. The living room and kitchen were connected, separated only with a small island in between. Logan stood at that island. He looked over to me as I walked in.

“Hazel, thank God.” He rushed to me, threw his arms around me, and held me close.

Finally, after hours and hours of feeling on edge, adrenaline surging with fear and worry…

Finally, I could relax. And I did, sinking fully into the safety of Logan’s embrace.

“We have to get her a new phone,” Dylan said from somewhere behind us. “New clothes. Probably a new car. We left everything behind. I’m going to sue the hell out of that police station.”

“Tomorrow,” Logan said. His voice rumbled in his chest under my ear. I held on tighter.

“Tomorrow,” Dylan agreed, softer. “I’m taking the spare room. I need eight hours before I can deal with any of this.”

“It’s yours,” Logan said.

The stairs creaked, presumably as Dylan went up them.

In the quiet, I knew Logan and I were alone.

“I’m so sorry, Hazel,” Logan said. “I can’t believe he went this far…”

It wasn’t okay, so I couldn’t comfort him as I normally would. Instead, I said, “As long as we are together, we will survive.”

Logan hummed and kissed my forehead.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No,” I told him.

“Tired?”

“I don’t know.” Then I remembered the holding tank. “I’d like to get a shower,” I said. “In the jail… I can still smell it.”

“A shower it is.”

Logan stepped back from me. Before I could panic, he laced his fingers with mine and then led me towards the stairs. He passed a closed door where we could hear Dylan on his phone.

“I’m telling you, the entire place was corrupt…”

So much for needing those eight hours.

Logan led me to the end of the hall and into a master bedroom. Attached, was a small full bath with a shower.

He stopped just outside of it, released my hand, and turned it on.

“I can join you,” he said.

The thought was tempting. I didn’t really want to be alone. But, more than that, I didn’t want to share this gross feeling with him.

“When I don’t feel like I have this… muck all over me, I want to be held,” I told him. “All night if possible.”

“But for now?”

“I just want to shower. Alone.”

He nodded with understanding. “Take as long as you need. I’ll prepare the bed and be waiting for you. Oh. You’ll need something to sleep in. I have a t-shirt… If you don’t mind wearing mine?”

As if I would ever mind wearing his clothes. “That would be wonderful.”

As he turned toward his suitcase, I went into the bathroom, shutting the door closed behind me.

Slowly, as the water heated, I peeled off my clothes, already feeling somewhat better with them gone.

Then, I stepped into the shower and let the hot water burn away the bad feelings of the day. Lathering a washcloth, I scrubbed at my skin, eager to remove any trace of that place from my skin. Even when I washed once, I didn’t feel fully clean, so I did so again.

I don’t know how long I was in the shower, but when I stepped out of it, Logan was half-sitting, half-resting in bed. The bedside light was on, but his eyes were closed. He must have dozed off.

He looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake him.

Coming closer, I saw that he left out a t-shirt for me as he said he would. It looked soft and well worn.

Looking again at Logan, I gazed over the features I’ve become so familiar with on the man I have fallen so deeply in love with.

Today frightened me, but it also proved my resolve.

I was not going to give up this man.

No matter what else Mr. Hatfield Sr. tried to throw our way.