Burn (15 page)

Neither of us sleep.

Neither of us eat.

We sit together, waiting for the dawn, holding our breath
. If Alexis makes it through the night, there’s a good chance she’ll survive.
When the sun rises and we haven’t had any bad news, Sloane loses her fight against exhaustion. She passes out on the uncomfortable hospital chairs and sleeps like the dead.

The nurse comes back at ten to tell us Alexis’ stats are improving. She’s still unconscious but they’re hoping she’ll wake up at some point in the next few hours. I have to say I’m Sloane’s husband so the nurse will tell me any of that shit without waking Sloane up, though, and that feels fucking awkward.

At midday, Cade appears through the glass window of the family room; he sees me, sees Sloane still passed the fuck out, and gestures me to him.

“Man, we’ve been looking for you everywhere. This was the sixth hospital we tried before we saw your man outside.”

So Michael’s waited for us. Goddamn hero. “You get away from Julio’s without a problem?”

Cade rubs the back of his neck. “Had a little Mexican stand off if you will. None of the boys got hurt too bad, though.” He turns and tenses as he looks back over his shoulder; three men are fast approaching down the hall, and the one at the front looks ready to kill. “Oh fuck. I said I’d come find you first.”

I stand my ground, squaring off, ready to start throwing fists if I have to. After everything that’s happened, I could give a shit that we’re in a hospital. I could really use the chance to break someone’s face.

The guy in front’s a monster, and his hands are scuffed and already bloody. Looks like he’s started the fight without me. He looks to Cade and says, “This him?”

Cade nods. “Yeah, this is Zeth.” He turns back to me with a look of apprehension on his face. “And this is—”

“Yeah, I know who this is,” I reply. “You’re Rebel.”

The guy nods. He’s wound up tighter than a fucking bowstring. He clenches his fist by his sides, takes a deep breath and says, “Thank you, man. Thank you for helping my wife.”

My sister is a married woman.

A series of thoughts go through my mind when I learn this. The first and foremost of these thoughts is
Hell. To. The. Fucking. No.

My sister was kidnapped.
Kidnapped
. And then nearly three years later she turns up married? A pretty considerable part of my brain is assuming that this marriage was forced on her. The remaining part of my brain is dedicated to imagining brutal and painful ways of killing this Rebel guy without being arrested for murder. I’m a doctor. I have access to any number of substances that could be used in excessive amounts to cause irreparable damage to a human body. Or in the least I can think of a particular item in Zeth’s duffel bag that would go halfway to fixing the situation. While shooting Rebel with a Desert Eagle won’t undo the damage that’s already been done, it would definitely free Lexi from future torment. But my homicidal plans are brought to a halt when I meet the guy. He saw fit to leave the hospital when he learned that Lexi was still asleep, but he returns a couple of hours later, when we’re waiting for permission to go and see her.

Cade seems as on edge as I am. I can only imagine he’s worried about what Lexi’s gonna say to me if I get the chance to talk to her before Rebel can intimidate her into saying something she might not otherwise. However, his nerves only seem to grow when a tall, dark guy with arms full of tattoos saunters down the corridor towards us. Zeth is leaning against the wall opposite me, his own arms crossed and eyes fixed firmly on me as I watch the guy approach. Cade rubs his hands on his thighs, sucking in a deep breath.

“He’s left the other guys outside, doll. Just go easy on him, okay?” he says to me.

“Go easy on him? I’m gonna tear his fucking balls off.”

Zeth’s mouth curves into the most evil smile imaginable.

Cade on the other hand, doesn’t seem so amused. “Soph’s gon’ be pissed you at if you do that.”

“My sister’s name is Alexis. And this bastard’s probably brainwashed her, haven’t you, you fuck?”

The guy, arriving in front of me, reels back, eyebrows rocketing up his forehead. The most annoying thing about him, aside from the fact that he’s incredibly good looking in a rugged, bad boy kind of way, is that he has the gall to look shocked at my accusation. He gives me an irritated look. “The hell you talking about, woman?”

“I’m talking about you forcing my sister into doing…doing
godknowswhat
against her will. You do realize that a marriage isn’t legal unless it’s overseen by a state official, right?”

Rebel practically snorts. “Firstly, you’re wrong. Carnie got certified online; he married us back in New Mexico and we sent off the paperwork. Recognized by any court in America. And secondly, what the hell do you mean? Soph said you gave us her wholehearted blessing. She also said you were too busy being a fucking hotshot doctor to come to your own sister’s wedding.”

I’m shaking my head, screwing my eyes closed at that. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

Zeth snorts, eyes glinting with an outrageous level of mirth. I want to punch him in his face. “What, you think this is fucking
funny
?”

He shrugs, shoving off from his leaning post against the wall. “Not at all. I’ve just never heard you swear this much. Not even at
me
.”

If he thinks my language is bad right now, he should lock me in a room with this punk and see what I say to him then, with no innocent bystanders around to hear it.

“I’m not lying. I’m telling the truth. Not that I have any reason to justify myself to you,
Dr Romera
.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What?”

“
Dr Romera
? You say it like you’ve swallowed something bad.”

“Oh, nothing. I just don’t get why you haven’t spoken to your sister in so fucking long. She needed you, y’know. And where were you, huh? Your fucking job’s been too important. Your fucking patients have been too important to leave, even for a goddamn weekend?” He’s getting mad, now. He hasn’t gone red like most people do when they get angry; he’s gone a pasty white that makes his frosty blue eyes seem even cooler.

I gasp, trying to catch a breath. I can’t believe him. Of all the messed up, delusional things to accuse
me
of. The guy’s lost his freaking mind. “You clearly need medication, mister.” I jab my finger into his chest, hoping it hurts him as much as it hurts my goddamn finger. “My sister was taken from her home and her loving family, and you
bought her
from a fucking pimp
! Like she was fucking take out! You don’t get to lecture me on how much I care about my sister. I have been looking for her every single day since she went missing!” The finger stab wasn’t enough. I slam my palms into his chest, shoving him as hard as I can. I don’t even get to see how far Rebel—
who the fuck is called Rebel, anyway?
—staggers back. A solid band of muscle locks around my waist, and my feet are suddenly a clear six inches off the floor. Zeth’s voice is in my ear, dark and deep and hypnotic.

“Come on, now, angry girl. Less of the angry.”

I struggle against him but it’s fairly pointless; the man’s arms are made out of reinforced steel. “Alright. Alright, okay. Alright, I’m fine. Jesus!” I must be mad. Even though I don’t believe in the church anymore, I still have years of my father’s anti-blaspheming lectures under my belt. I think I was twelve the last time I said Jesus without it being in between the words
in the name of our savior, Lord
, and
Amen
.

Zeth puts me down although he lingers at my back, ready to grab a hold of me no doubt. I try and clear myself of vision of the red patina that has fallen over everything. To my dismay, Rebel isn’t on his ass three feet down the hall. He’s standing right where I left him, with a crooked frown on his face. “So Soph didn’t tell you she was okay?”

“No! Probably because she wasn’t okay!”

“She told me you didn’t wanna know her anymore.”

“I—that—” That makes no sense. I want to accuse him of lying, but this look on his face… Rebel isn’t a master of concealing his emotions like Zeth is. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve become very adept at reading people, having so little to work off with Zeth all the time. Either way, I think…I think he’s actually telling me the truth.

Over Rebel’s shoulder, a nurse is walking towards us with purpose. Her skin is a deep honey color, two shades lighter than Michael’s, and reminds me of an old teacher I had in high school, Mrs Whitson. That woman didn’t take crap from anyone, for any reason. And this nurse’s disapproving expression is exactly the same as Mrs Whitson’s.

“What’s going on here, people? We got complaints from the grief-stricken family members of very sick patients that there’s fighting going on in the hallways?”

“I’m sorry, I—” I can’t finish because I’m not sorry. I still want to kill this guy. The nurse gives me a look—bitch, you better finish that sentence—but Cade steps in; his leather cut creaks as he folds his arms across his chest.

“Sophia ready to see people now?”

The nurse shoots him a filthy look, and then transfers that look around our group, making sure to level it at each of us for an equally awkward amount of time. “I’m not taking a bunch of rowdy trouble makers into a sick patient’s room. Funny, but that’s the first thing they teach us at nursing school.”

I hold my hands up, knowing this woman might as well be God in this hospital; it’s the same back at St. Peter’s. If you piss Gracie off, you’re not going anywhere. “Look, I am sorry, okay. I’m just worried about my sister. If you could just let me see her—”

Rebel holds up his hand, then, too. “And I’m obviously worried about
my wife
. I think I should go and see her first, just to let her know—”

“Shut up. You can both go in and see her. Together. Sophia can chose which one of your asses she wants to kick out all by herself. You two,” the nurse says, pointing an authoritative finger at Zeth and Cade. “You two are gonna wait here.”

Zeth and Cade do as they’re told and wait in the hallway, and Rebel and me follow after the nurse, down the corridor, into an elevator, up three awkwardly silent floors, and then into the ICU. I should feel at home here—the majority of my trauma patients either start off or end up in a ward just like this one at some point within the length of their treatment—but I don’t feel at home. I feel sick. The smell of disinfectant and the chorus of life support machines blipping from behind closed doors ignites a level of panic inside me that I’ve only ever experienced once—yesterday in Julio Perez’s kitchen. The nurse guides us to a room and opens the door, giving both Rebel and me a glance of warning before disappearing. Rebel walks in before me, his hand covering his mouth.

Alexis is bundled up in the hospital bed, thankfully not hooked up to life support, but she looks bad. Her face is pallid and drawn, and her eyes are bloodshot. But most importantly, her eyes are
open
. She sees us the moment we enter the room and her mouth falls open. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “Sloane?”

I’m suddenly really fucking angry again. I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times before. A million. And in none of my imagined moments where Alexis and I are reunited does she look horrified. She’s overwhelmed, deliriously happy, crying with tears of joy. Not gripping hold of the blanket covering her legs so hard her knuckles turn white. She swallows, looking from me to Rebel and back again. “What are you doing here, Sloane?”

“What am I doing here? What the hell am I…” I can’t. I can’t even…

Rebel, a towering pillar of muscle and tattoos, moves around the side of her bed and sits on the edge of it, taking hold of her hand. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Alexis’ gaze flickers to him; she nods her head, the robotic movements of someone completely at a loss for words.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay,” he says carefully. “Babe, remember when we got married? And you said it would have been the most perfect day if only your sister could have been there? Well, about that…”

Alexis tries to pull her hand away, but Rebel’s got a decent if cautious grip on her. “I’m sorry, baby,” she says. “I just…I didn’t...” There are tears welling in her eyes. Alexis was always one for crocodile tears when she wasn’t getting her own way, but these look genuine enough. She’s shaking. “I swear I didn’t mean to lie to you. And I swear I’ll tell you everything. But…can I just have a moment with her?” With
her
? Alexis sees how black my mood is becoming and amends her words. “ I need a moment with my sister.”

Rebel grunts, stands and then places a kiss on the top of her head. “Be careful,” he says to her. “Dr Romera attacks when provoked.”

He leaves the room, winking at me as he goes. I think about Zeth and how he would react to something like; probably smash his head through the observation window. If only I had Zeth’s body mass.

“You can stop looking at him like that.”

Alexis’ voice is a little stronger now, but still a shaken. “How the hell should I be looking at him, Lex? Should I be warmly embracing my new brother in law, the human trafficker?”