HIDE: A DANGEROUS AFFAIR

There were no survivors. It was as simple as that. Brandon wanted to cry, scream and hurt himself. But, he couldn't. Wilson would want him to get to safety first. His sacrifice shouldn't be in vain. Feeling numb, he began walking. Although he had no idea where he was or where he was heading, he didn't care. All he needed was to get as far away from that place as possible. By the time it started getting dark, he came across a cluster of tiny houses made of wooden poles and cardboard. There was a shallow creek running through the middle of the settlement, and he saw a couple of women manually doing their laundry. Their shocked faces were the last thing he remembered before he collapsed a few feet away from them. * * * “Mr. Daniel, do you feel up to answering a few questions for me? I’m Agent Luke, FBI, and this is Agent Stan.” Brandon looked up at the plump middle-aged man standing next to his bed. He was not at all what you imagined FBI agents to be. His face was round, almost cherubic-looking, with rosy cheeks and dancing blue eyes. If Agent Luke wore a red hat and had a white beard, he would’ve made a great Santa Claus. In contrast, his partner—Agent Stan—was painfully hot, with a sharp jawline and a beautiful face. For the past two days, he had been recuperating in a hospital in Romania. Apparently, one of the women at the creek had notified the local authorities about the guy who wandered into their village. He vaguely recalled them questioning him, but he had doubts that he made sense when he spoke to them. However, they understood enough to contact the American Embassy on his behalf, and the US officials took it from there. “Your sister is on the way,” Agent Stan said when he continued to stare at them without saying a word. “Her flight lands in a few hours.” He blinked, his words somehow penetrating the layer of ice that had kept him insulated from everyone and everything since the explosion. “My sister?” he croaked, his throat feeling strangely swollen. The handsome agent nodded. “Yes, Sir. She was notified yesterday, and we got her on the earliest flight to Romania. She wanted to speak to you, but you were sedated at that point.” He processed that information. The doctors already informed him that he had a mild concussion, along with first-degree burns and lacerations on his feet. Other than that, they were impressed by his overall good health—dehydration, recent surgery, and various bruises notwithstanding. Still, they must’ve sedated him to let him rest. “Do you think you could answer some questions before your sister arrives?” Agent Luke asked gently when he remained silent. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and he pulled up a chair. Agent Stan did the same thing. “Mr. Daniel, you were abducted, and we would like to know by who and why?” Agent Luke said, the expression on his round face, warm and understanding. “Can you tell us anything about your abduction? From what we gathered, your record is clean, and you don't have any bad blood with anyone to deserve this.” He hesitated for a moment. Did he want to tell them anything about Wilson and his Calvary? And then he remembered that he was dead and that none of it mattered. For a second, the agony was so sharp, it stole his breath away, but then the numbing wall of ice took over him again. “Sure, ” he said evenly. “What do you want to know?” “Anything you can remember?” “I think it's someone who wanted to teach him a lesson,” he said, pausing. Their relationship wasn't public yet, and he wasn't certain revealing it now was a wise idea. Wilson might have preferred to keep it private. The FBI agent’s faces were indifferent. “And why would taking you affect Mr. Edward in any way?” Brandon swallowed hard, his sides aching. “Because we worked together and hitting his employee would hurt his reputation.” Brandon prayed that his story was believable enough and not sounding like crap to FBI agents who have dealt with worse cases and could read anyone like an open book. Agent Stan scribbled down notes as quickly as he could, while Agent Luke continued asking him questions about how he was able to escape. “We are sorry to announce to you that Mr. Edward's body parts were found among the shreds of the culprits. Although the mastermind has not been caught. But, we're working tirelessly to bring justice.” Brandon knew that before they announced it to him. Although he had the hopes that his suspicions would be proved wrong. Getting this confirmation was shattering. The person who took him was no ordinary person, and he would have to play dirty to get justice. Going through the proper authorities would only cause the culprit to cover up his tracks. “Do you think they'll be coming, after you, anytime soon?” Agent Luke asked, the frown lines on his thin face deepening. “I don't know.” “Do you need security?” “No.” The agents exchanged a look, and Brandon stared at them, knowing what they were thinking. What was giving him the boldness to reject such an offer? Agent Luke turned toward him and cleared his throat. “Mr. Daniel, don't even think about taking matters into your hands. It will only worsen the situation and land you in trouble.” “I know.” “We've arranged a therapist for you, too. She will speak to you later this afternoon. She's very good—” “There’s no need,” he interrupted. “I’m fine.” And he was. The only thing he felt was anger and betrayal. He wanted to hurt someone, not let the anger out. All that emotion made him feel numb. After a few more questions, they left him alone. Brandon still failed to mention his relationship with Wilson. He didn't want such a valuable detail making rounds yet. The next person to visit his room was the s****l therapist they mentioned to him before. She was a slightly overweight brunette who looked to be in her late forties, but something about her direct gaze reminded Brandon of Brenda from HR. That thought alone brought memories of his encounter with Wilson rushing freshly to his brain. “I’m Lucy,” she said, introducing herself to him as she pulled up a chair. “May I call you Brad?” “That’s fine,” he said wearily. He didn't particularly want to talk to this woman, but the determined look on her face told him that she had no intention of leaving until he did. “Brad, can you tell me about your time in your kidnapper's den?” she asked, looking at him. “What do you want to know?” “Whatever you feel comfortable telling me.” He thought about it for a moment. The truth of the matter was that he was not in a state of mind to be talking to anyone. More so, he was uncomfortable reliving his experience. There were no words to describe the entire incident. It was something he never wanted to bring to light ever again. Brandon gave Lucy a polite smile. “I’m sorry, ” he said quietly. “I’d rather not talk to you right now.” She nodded, not the least bit surprised. “I understand. Often, as victims, we blame ourselves for what happened. We think we did something to cause this thing to happen to us.” “I don’t think that,” he said, frowning. Okay, maybe the thought did flit briefly through his mind when he was first taken. He questioned if it would have been better never to have met Wilson and then, this wouldn't have happened to him. But, that thought was easily replaced with how worthy it was to die for Wilson because of the unexplainable love he had for the man. “I see,” she said, looking slightly puzzled. Then her brow cleared as she appeared to solve the mystery in her mind. “He was a very good-good man, wasn’t he?” she guessed, staring at him. “Talking about this will hurt. Yet, help you to heal. Mr. Edward would have given himself up even if it wasn't you. No need to blame yourself.” He held her gaze silently, not willing to admit anything. He couldn’t elaborate on their feelings right now, not if he wanted to maintain that icy distance that kept him sane. Furthermore, he wanted to avoid seeming weak when he should be holding his s**t together. Get to the root of this and rain havoc on everyone involved. He didn't know how, but, it must be done.