Page 64 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

I opened the door and felt the cool air brush against my skin, a quiet shiver running through me. Outside, it was still and filled with the kind of silence that settles right before something breaks. I paused in the doorway, glancing back just once to see Webb still sleeping, one arm curled into the space I’d left.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and then stepped out into the dark.

I slipped into the SUV, my hands steady as I turned the key. The engine came to life with a quiet growl, and I eased it down the gravel road, headlights off until I was out of sight. My emotions were so raw that I didn't even feel the potholes and pain from them this time.

Every mile between us hurt, but it was the only way I knew to protect him.

I was going back to Orlando, and this time, I wasn’t running.

Chapter Twenty

Gabby

By the time I made it out of Branford and started the drive toward Orlando, the sky had shifted from deep charcoal to a pale, hesitant blue, like the day was dragging its feet to begin. The world was waking up around me with early commuters and joggers and people with normal lives who’d never had to hide a gun in the glove box or drive through the night to turn themselves in.

I almost turned around twice. Once, I passed a faded green sign for Tallahassee—nowhere near where I was headed, but it still made me glance that way like some part of me was tempted to turn. Another time, when I stopped for gas on the outskirts of Orlando, I just ended up sitting there in the SUV with my hand gripping the steering wheel like I could force myself to let go.

My mind kept drifting back to Webb. To the sound of his breathing beside me in the dark and his hand resting on my waist like it belonged there. All I could hear in my mind was the soft rasp of his voice when he’d said, “I’ll keep you safe.”

But I couldn’t let that promise ruin him. I couldn’t be the reason his family became collateral damage, so I took the next exit and drove straight into the city.

Before I hit the hotel, I made a stop at a 24-hour surplus electronics store tucked behind a row of auto shops, which I knew was run by a man who didn't ask questions if you paid in cash.

I picked up what I needed quickly: a micro-recorder with long battery life, two button-sized wireless cameras, and a prepaid burner phone.

On the way back to the SUV, I sat in the front seat and stared at the two phones resting on my thigh. The burner was clean and cold and ready, and my original phone, which I’d shut off the night I ran. The one I’d kept hidden, wrapped in tin foil, and stored deep in my pack like it was radioactive.

I powered it on, and I could almost feel the digital scent trail going out like a flare. This time, I wanted the asshole to find it. I needed him to.

Maddox and anyone working with him would be watching for a signal. My digital shadow had been silent too long, now I was giving it just enough to pull them in.

I typed the text message on that phone.

Me: Meet me in one hour. Room 1712, Halcyon Hotel. Alone.

Then I turned the phone face up, with thescreen still active, and set it on the passenger seat like bait. If they were watching—and I knew they were—they’d see it, and they’d come.

I parked in the hotel's garage, locked the SUV, and walked around to the entrance. My bag was light, but it might as well have been filled with bricks, seeing as how every step felt like I was sinking.

The hotel was polished and elegant, with all brushed-gold fixtures and soft-spoken staff. Under normal circumstances, it'd be a nice place to stay, but I wasn't anywhere near 'normal circumstances.' My life was a wreck, and it was going to get worse in a pretty hotel. Still, I wasn't a quitter, so I checked in under a name no one would think to search for using one of the fake IDs I'd set up long before things went to hell.

Once I got inside the room, I did a full sweep. I checked behind the curtains, pulled back the shower curtain in the bathroom, and glanced up at the vents. Every shadow, every corner—I needed to know exactly what I had available. Then I set up the two pinhole cameras—one tucked into the fake bookends on the TV stand and another behind the armchair angled toward the bed. They fed wirelessly to the burner, which I placed on the nightstand, with the screen dark and recording live. Then, I slid the mini recorder into place and took a seat on the edge of the bed. I wasn't taking any chances of missing this recording for people to use afterward.

I didn’t know what was going to happen when Colin Maddox walked through that door, but I knew I wouldn’t run.

Not anymore.

Webb

The bed was cold. It was the first thing I noticed when I rolled over—my bare chest meeting the cool stretch of sheets where Gabby should’ve been.

I blinked blearily at the sliver of dawn light slipping through the blinds. The ranch was still and silent—no rumble of distant truck engines, no early birds calling out the day. Just that strange, off-kilter quiet that crawled under your skin and whispered that something wasn’t right.

I sat up.

“Gabby?” I called softly, rubbing the back of my neck.

No answer.

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