Page 58 of Rogue Survivor
The EMTs rush over, but Connor holds on to Veronica’s hand for one more moment. “Me too, lil’ bit. Promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Connor
Four hours.It’s been four hours since the EMTs loaded me into an ambulance. Four hours since the doors closed with Isabel calling my name. Four hours since I promised Veronica we’d be a family. And no one will tell me if they’re okay.
The only reason I haven’t gone room to room looking for them? When I tried to get up after the CT scan the docsinsistedI have, I passed out.
Fucking concussion.
Someone stitched up the gash from the bullet—which, thank fuck didn’t crack the bone—and I have a brand new brace on my knee and orders to use crutches for at least a week. Orders I’m going to ignore as soon as they let me out of here.
The door swings open, and AJ pokes his head in. “Word is, you’re a stubborn son of a bitch who’s not gettin’ any Jell-O.”
I snort, which makes the pounding in my head ten times worse. Shit.
“If you can’t tell me where Isabel and Veronica are, start runnin’. Because I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“Whoa! You’re not running or kickin’ anything for a while, dumbfuck. You had to know we were on our way. In what universe did you think it was smart to go ten rounds with those idjits?”
“The world where they were gonna kill us if I didn’t do somethin’.” He’s trying my last nerve, and he still hasn’t answered my fucking question.
“Five minutes. We werefive minutesout when you started playing Rambo—”
“AJ…”
“They’re fine,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “Two floors down, in a room together, with Elmore and Hardison stationed outside. Damn fools refused to turn the detail over to anyone else.”
A fraction of my worry eases, but it’s not enough. “Care to elaborate on ‘fine’?”
“Bruises, scrapes, exhaustion. Isabel’s wrists were pretty torn up, but the shoulder wound was just a graze. No stitches. The kid aggravated the knee some and caught hell for shovin’ that kitchen fork down her arm until Isabel told the docs they’d all be dead if she hadn’t.”
My girls. Stubborn as hell and twice as smart.
Pride—and a whole mess of relief—chokes me, and all I can manage is a raspy, “Thank fuck.”
AJ passes me the industrial-sized water cup, and I take a couple of sips. Wonder how much groveling I’d have to do for the nurses to put me back on the Jell-O list?
“I need to see them. Make it happen.”
The Ranger’s eyebrows shoot up. “You think I have that kind of power here? Shit. The nurses would laugh me right out of the building.”
“Fine. I’ll do it myself. If I pass out, it’s on you.” Shoving the blankets aside, I’m about to swing my legs over the edge of the bed when AJ grabs my shoulders and tries to push me back down.
“You’re gonna want to take your hands off me right fucking now,” I warn.
“You’re under orders to stay in this bed. Who do you think the staff is gonna side with? Or do you want to see just how many more hits you can take before you end up withpermanentbrain damage?”
I slump back against the pillows, suddenly so tired, the idea of moving at all is too much. “You know about the aphasia.” It’s not a question, and shame crawls up the back of my neck.
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past however long? Sitting around with my thumb up my ass? No. Been takin’ statements, writin’ reports, makin’ sure Archer is locked up so tight, he’s never seein’ the light of day again…and visiting McGrath’s wife.”
“Fuckin’ hell. I’m sorry. They were good men.”
We let a moment of silence pass between us, and AJ loosens his tie. First time I’ve seen him anything less than a hundred percent professional.
“Some days, I really hate this job. Others…it’s the only thing I live for. Today…it’s both.”
