"And?"
"And we're meeting for coffee at eight." I waited for the explosion, but there was only silence on the other end. "Max?"
"You know Gideon is going to have your balls for this," he said, but then sighed. "I’ve got no room to talk."
I huffed. No, Maddox had removed his mask in the middle of an op, and it had been caught on camera.
"It worked for you," I pointed out. "You have Clare."
He sighed. "How is Emily?"
The question caught me off guard. "She seems... okay. Working. Functioning." Though I hadn't missed the fear in her eyes when she first saw me. "But I don't know what's going on beneath the surface."
"Be careful with her, Dion. A month is nothing.”
"I don't know how she's managing to function," I confessed. But was she? Appearances could be very deceptive. I understood Maddox's concern. After all, we'd seen firsthand the conditions those women had been kept in. The psychological trauma couldn't be erased in a matter of days.
"I know," I said quietly. "I'm not expecting anything. Just want to make sure she's really okay."
Max was silent for a moment. "Just... tread carefully. And for fuck's sake, don't tell Gideon until you have to."
I chuckled. "Copy that." Although, I was surprised Gideon hadn't already called me as he would have seen my location too. He must be busy with Abby.
After ending the call, I drove home to feed Hades and Anubis. I let them run around outside with a ball and tried to figure out what I was doing.
The truth was, I couldn't get Emily out of my head. The way she'd stood up to that guard, her voice shaking but determined. How small she'd looked when we finally got her out, but still somehow holding herself together. Her file said she was a social worker, someone who helped others for a living. Even after what she'd been through, she was back at work and helping rescue animals find homes.
She was brave. And I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
I pulled into a spot near Murphy's at 7:45, and noticed the place was emptying out before it shut at nine. If it hadn't been so close to the local college, I doubt it would have stayed open so late. The coffee shop was a quaint little place with exposed brick walls and mismatched furniture that somehow worked together. I ordered a black coffee and claimed a table in the corner where I could see the door. I knew our team would follow her from the rescue so I didn't have to worry about her being outside.
At exactly 8:14, Emily walked in. She'd changed out of her Furbabies shirt into a soft-looking pink sweater, but the pigtails remained. My heart did that weird stutter thing again as she scanned the room, her face lighting up when she spotted me.
I stood immediately, planning to order and pay for her, but she waved me down. I didn’t like it, but she was here so I kept my big ugly mouth shut. She joined me, setting down a mug topped with whipped cream and what looked like chocolate sprinkles.
"Sorry I'm a little late," she said, sliding into the chair across from me. "One of our new rescues needed some extra attention before I could leave."
"No problem." I took a sip of my coffee to give my hands something to do. "What kind of rescue?"
"A three-legged pit bull mix. Someone found him tied to a dumpster." Her expression darkened momentarily before she forced a smile. "But he's safe now. That's what matters."
I nodded, understanding completely. Sometimes the only way to keep going was to focus on the ones you could save.
I’d learned that the hard way.
"So," she said, wrapping her hands around her mug, "you wanted to check on me?"
"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "As you live so close,” I lied.
She raised an eyebrow, and I could tell she wasn't buying it. Smart woman. "Really? Because Furbabies is a forty-minute drive from Salvation."
I nearly choked on my coffee. "You know about Salvation?"
"I'm pretty sure I was rescued by a team of military-looking guys who happen to be my ex-roomie’s employers. The same ones that turned up at my place of work to ask about me." She took a sip of her sugary concoction, leaving a small dot of whipped cream on her upper lip. "Both Jennifer and Margaret told me."
My fingers twitched with the urge to wipe away that dot of cream. Instead, I handed her a napkin.
"Thanks," she said, dabbing at her mouth. "So, are you going to tell me your name, or should I just call you 'intimidatingly large rescue guy'?"
