Twist My Heart, Brooke Taylor [best 7 inch ereader TXT] 📗

get away from him, but feared leaving the Ring with no way to go home. That is, until I watched your video on Michael Maddox. You gave me an idea for how to get out.”

Coop had briefed us on the whole Rebecca Meade story. But I hadn’t understood why she couldn’t go home until she’d started filling me in on her recruitment into the Ring. By encouraging her to fake her own disappearance, they’d had leverage against her. And they always found ways to get more, Clay especially so. When he admitted to taking money from her father to make sure Rebecca never resurfaced, she’d known she was trapped.

“Faking my abduction wasn’t right. And I know my father didn’t sell me to Clay, but he sure as hell made certain I belonged to him. I was never going to leave the Ring alive. Never going to confront my father about abusing my sister and me. When I saw your video, the wheels in my head started turning. What if I killed Clay and flipped the story? Missing girl kills the suspected sex trafficker who kidnapped her. I know I brought this on myself and it’s wrong for me to come out like a hero in all of this…”

I squeezed her hand. “You didn’t bring this on yourself—you were preyed upon. And you are a hero to me.”

“You’re the hero. You gave me a way to get home. You sacrificed yourself to give me an opportunity to escape, and when I didn’t, you gave me the idea to use the knife. We’re heroes to each other. If you’re all right with it, I talked to Agent Coleman and in return for helping him build a case against the Ring, he’ll go public with Clay and my father being responsible for my disappearance using the payments my father made as proof. We’ll say Clay and I were alone in the cabin when everything went down. You won’t be dragged into any of it and Coleman assures me guys like Nik and Coop prefer to stay out of the press.”

Coleman had advised me to stay “dead” for a while, at least until he could figure out who else Clay might’ve been working with at the agency. With my amnesia, it wasn’t like I could go back to work anyway. “Whatever you need me to do, Rebecca. I just want you to be at peace with it.”

“I’ll be at peace after I confront my father and he’s locked away where he belongs. Agent Coleman said there’d likely be a news conference after he’s in custody. The world will finally know who my father really is and that he was the reason my sister was strung out on drugs and killed herself.”

“I’m so sorry.” I leaned over and hugged her as she let some of her hurt go along with her tears.

“Losing her, first to the drugs and then to the overdose… I felt so alone. I hated how she’d suffered as I did, but having someone who knew my truth, knew my pain, made it more bearable. Then she was ripped from me and I was so lost. I turned to the Ring. I wanted my sister back and since I couldn’t have her, I found the next best thing.”

I leaned back out of the hug, looking her in the eyes. “You have me. I’ll be your sister.”

Half sniffing back tears and half laughing, she said, “I always wanted an ex-Amish sister who says ‘asshole’ too many times.”

“How about an ex-FBI agent, no longer a fugitive, amnesiac sister who says ‘asshole’ too many times?”

“Even better.”

The nurse came in to tell me it was time for Rebecca to get some rest. We hugged again, promising to stay in touch through all the craziness that was sure to follow the press conference. Then Nik wheeled me back to the room and helped me into the hospital bed.

As soon as I’d gotten comfortable again, the doctor returned. He scanned the room, noting the three warrior men, and wisely kept his mouth shut about the German shepherd curled up at my feet.

“Everything looks good. You do have a concussion, but nothing serious enough to hold you overnight. I’m going to release you to these guys as long as they promise to keep a close eye on you.”

“Won’t be an issue.” Leo smirked. “Nik here hasn’t taken his eyes off her even to blink.”

Coop nodded. “I had to hold him back from getting in the MRI tube with her.”

My mind flicked back to the MRI machine they’d used to scan my brain. Nik had given the technician his phone with Mr. Foxtrot’s Songs about Whiskey playlist to play in the machine while I had tried to stay as still as possible. When one of the twangy, oldies country songs had come on, the music had wrapped around me and given me the most amazing sense of love. I had been curled up in a white pickup and I felt certain I had been remembering someone very important to me.

“What about my memories?” I tentatively asked.

“The amnesia is a bit trickier than the concussion. What, if anything, you remember will depend on your individual brain.”

“You’re saying my memories may never come back?”

“There are no guarantees.”

The guys all eyed me cautiously, probably expecting some tears. Knowing I wasn’t some crazed fugitive had alleviated much of my fear of remembering the recent past. But given how traumatic my childhood had been, I was okay with not having to remember everything, at least for now.

I smiled and gave Nik’s hand a squeeze. “As long as I don’t forget my new memories, I’m not going to worry about the rest.”

Nik bent down and kissed my forehead.

The doctor patted my shin before turning to leave. “I’ll let the nurse get started on your discharge papers and you’ll be free to go.”

“Thank you for all your help.”

Coop followed the doctor out, talking to him further in a muffled voice. He was outside for a few minutes