Deliverer by Tamara Hart Heiner

eyes and gave a short nod, then pulled her into the room. He closed the door, not bothering to lock it. She wouldn't run. She could if she wanted to; he wouldn't force to her stay.
    She didn't lift her head, and it was so easy to believe she was Becca. Except Becca would say something. She'd toss her hair, show the dimple in her left cheek as she smiled, her eyes crinkling in happiness.
    "I'm not going to hurt you." Truman unfolded a chair by the nightstand and sat, eager to show her his intentions. "I just want to talk to you."
    Still she said nothing, and he began to get the uneasy feeling that this was a bad idea. What did he plan on saying, anyway? Sorry for kidnapping you? "Do you go by Sara?"
    Silence. He shifted, sweat prickling his hairline. He felt as uncertain and nervous as a grade-schooler. "Would you like anything? Something to eat?" Images of their pea soup dinner flickered through his mind, and he winced. "You don't have to stand there. Sit."
    She didn't move. Maybe she didn't know where to sit. True, he had the only chair. Truman exhaled, realizing he'd just have to show her. He stood up and took her hand. Sara flinched and yanked it back, tucking her fists into her side.
    His hand ached where he'd touched her skin. He softened his voice. "I won't hurt you. Come on." Taking her forearm in a gentle grip, he guided her to the bed. She didn't fight him, but seemed to take longer to lift her feet with every step. In the end Truman plucked her up and sat her down in the middle of the bed, a little impatient with her fear of him. Then he settled himself down in his chair, several feet away.
    "There. I'm not even close to you. I want to help you, Sara."
    She clasped her hands in front of her, not meeting his eyes.
    Like a little girl. She looked so vulnerable, so scared. He knew in that moment that he couldn't sell her to Sid. He couldn't bear for someone to take her, to possess her, to strip her of her innocence.
    But how? How could he keep her from Sid?
    He could claim her as his.
    The idea lighted in his thoughts and the room seemed to brighten. He never wanted to be in this world of crime. Here was his chance to pursue a different endeavor.
    He got up from the chair and sat cross-legged in front of her on the bed. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to see her face. Not Becca. Sara. He lifted her chin, but she met his eyes only briefly before closing them. Her lips moved but no sound came out, and then a tear rolled down one cheek, followed by another on the other side. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head, pulling her arms close to her body as if to shut him out.
    Her obvious despair tugged at his heart. Truman moved closer and put his hand behind her head. She froze, even the sniffles stopping. With a sigh, he removed his hand. "Sara, don't be afraid of me. I'll do anything for you. You're safe now. You can have anything you want, anything at all."
    Even as the words left his mouth, it dawned on him what he was offering her. More than just freedom. He was offering her the chance to be his equal, to be a part of his empire.
    He reached over and clasped her hand, but she tightened her fingers into a fist. She whispered something, a tear trailing down her face and dripping from her chin.
    "What?" Truman leaned in closer.
    "Take me back."
    "Back where?" he asked, before comprehension hit him. Hit him hard, like an iron fist to the gut. "Back to the attic?" But certainly she'd rather be with him than in there. Here she had everything. There she was a prisoner.
    She only nodded, the tears chasing each other down her cheeks.
    He stared at her, a rock in his chest. All his attempts to make her feel safe had failed. She didn't want to be with him. Well, he certainly hoped she adjusted, because he wasn't selling her to Sid. He'd give her some space, wait for her to come around.
    Truman picked up his phone and called Claber. His eyes never left Sara as he said, “Come get the girl. You can take her