The Missing

looked up, and she saw a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You got nothing?”

    SHE waited until Jones disappeared into the bathroom before she slipped out of the office and made her way down the crowded hallway. She kept her chin up, shoulders back, and she took a minute to loop the lanyard holding her badge in place around her neck. It displayed her official identification with the FBI and that, coupled with her confident stride, kept anybody from stopping her as she sought out Jillian and Cullen.

    It didn’t take long. Busy as it was, the county emergency room was small. She sensed Cullen’s presence before she actually saw him and turned to find him sitting behind a curtain that partially blocked him from view. Keeping quiet, she moved to the curtain, intending only to glance in and see Jillian for herself. After dreaming of this girl for more than a decade, for longer than Jillian had even been alive, it was hard to believe those dreams might actually be over.

    Very hard.

    But Jillian lay on the bed, her pretty little face peaceful, once more the soft, fragile ivory that Taige remembered from her dreams and no longer stained with the hot red flush that had come from the heat and dehydration. Cautious, Taige lowered her shields and reached out to Jillian.

    The girl slept with the deep, dreamless sleep of the exhausted. Taige didn’t sense any torment, any bad dreams, or any fear. All she could pick up was a sense of peace now that Jillian had her dad with her. The bad dreams would come, of that Taige had no doubt. Hopefully, it would be a while. The mind had a way of protecting itself, and maybe Jillian would forget for a while, at least until she was a little older, a little more ready to deal with what had happened.

    Taige certainly hoped so.

    “Hey.”

    Startled, she turned her head and saw that Cullen had opened his eyes. He stared at her, his lids hanging low over his eyes. “You look exhausted,” she said.

    His lips quirked in a smile. “You, too.”

    Nodding toward Jillian, she asked, “She woken up yet?”

    Cullen shrugged. “For a minute. Saw me and told me she knew I’d find her. Then she went back to sleep and hasn’t woken up since. The doctor said not to worry.” His mouth twisted in a sullen scowl. “How in the hell can I not worry?”

    He glanced at Jillian and then stood up slowly, arching his back and groaning a little. He slid out of the small, curtained room and leaned his shoulder up against the wall, staring at Taige with intense eyes. “I don’t how to say thank you.”

    Taige wished she could move away a little, get some distance between them, but she couldn’t, even though she tried to make herself. Her body seemed to be reaching out to his, and it was all she could do not to touch him. She’d made it this long without touching him, but that had been because she’d been focused on Jillian and saving her. Now that Jillian was safe, it was harder.

    Quietly, she said, “You don’t need to say thanks for anything, Cullen.” She glanced back at Jillian and sighed. A faint smile, almost amazed, curved her lips. The relief she felt was unreal. “It’s kind of hard to believe all of this is over. I’ve seen her face so many times. I’m just glad she’s finally safe.”

    Cullen’s eyes darkened. “You saved her life, Taige. Saved mine—it would have killed me if anything happened to her. I owe you a hell of a lot more than thanks.” He looked away for a minute, hooked his thumbs in his pockets. A harsh breath escaped him, and he looked back at her. Under the thick fringe of his lashes, his eyes were stormy. “One thing I do owe you is an apology. What I did to you when you came to see me about Mom, it was wrong. All of it. For blaming you.” A faint rush of blood darkened his tanned face. “And for what happened before you left.”

    She swallowed. The knot in her throat was going to choke her; she knew it. Taige turned away from him, nervously toying with one of her braids. “It’s over with, Cullen. It doesn’t matter now.”

    His voice was rough as he murmured, “The hell it doesn’t.” His hand curved over her shoulder and he turned her to face him. He cupped her chin in his hand. The feel of his hand, callused and warm, against her flesh brought a rush of sensation. All at once, it eased the ache that had lived inside her for years—and added to it. She tried to pull away, and Cullen’s eyes narrowed.

    He glanced over her shoulder at