Page 130 of In My Heart
The relentless buzzing woke me. I opened my eyes with a groan, my head pounding and glanced to the table beside the bed I lay on. My cell phone was lit up and buzzing again and again. Finally it stopped and I sighed with relief.
We were in the private clinic where Rafe had arranged for us all to get healthcare under the table, so as not to draw police attention. When we’d arrived there earlier, Cal and Dante had been rushed off, worst injured and in need of the most urgent help. Arran had gone with them while Dio and I went to find Rafe a bed and some oxygen. He was really struggling to catch his breath and almost too exhausted to stand, leaning heavily against Dio.
By the time we got him settled and he had passed out, Arran had tracked us down to say Dante needed to go into surgery. He had some internal bleeding and broken ribs, as well as a break in his arm that would need fixing with metal rods and plates. Cal’s shoulder wound was less worrying, since the bullet had gone straight through and not hit anything vital. He was simply stitched up and the wound dressed, then dosed with painkillers.
I left Dio watching over my brother, confident we were covered since most of Rafe’s men were outside the rooms and in and out of the clinic, securing us all as Dio had ordered.
When I got to Cal’s room he was sitting up against pillows, pale, but alert, his shoulder heavily bandaged, and an IV in his arm, but he looked good. Like himself, and I needed that. I had believed for several much too long moments earlier that I had lost him and it had almost ended me there and then.
Of course Cal had gone into medical mode as soon as he saw me and demanded a nurse get me checked over. Arran brought in a bed from who knew where, scooped me up, and set me on it before I could even utter an‘I’m fine.’ Then Cal was barking orders like he worked there. There were x-rays and tests. The dress was cut away from me and I was changed into a hospital gown.
My right wrist was broken so it was set in a cast, and all of the cuts and grazes all over me were cleaned and dressed where needed. I’d torn a ligament in my shoulder, or Daniel had, I figured. My cheek bone was intact, but there was severe swelling on that side of my face, and I had a mild concussion. All in all, I figured I got off pretty lightly, but Arran and Cal just seemed to get increasingly irate with every injury revealed.
What was odd to me, was how numb I felt. I wasn’t breaking down or falling apart. I didn’t feel fear or relief, or anything really. I was just numb. No tears fell. No emotion, nor panic, or even anxiety hit me. Nothing. It was almost like I was on the outside, just watching it all happen. Of course I was relieved my guys and my brother were safe, but beyond that…nothing. Just nothing.
I had fallen asleep sometime later, high on painkillers I hadn’t even objected to being given, and curled up tight in Arran’s arms, Cal in the bed right beside us.
Now, waking up, I felt the pain in my abused body. It ached and throbbed. My headache was relentless and my wrist was clearlyangry. I glanced behind me, but Arran was gone and when I looked over to Cal, he was out cold.
I was about to attempt to get up to use the bathroom when my cell started to buzz again. Arran had given it to me before I fell asleep. They had recovered it from the side of the road during their search for me.
I blindly reached out for the damned thing with my good hand and sighed with relief and exhaustion when my hand wrapped around it. I hesitated when the screen read ‘No Caller ID’ but answered it anyway. Who else could there possibly be who meant me harm?
“Yeah,” I croaked, my throat dry.
“Cara?”
“Who’s this?” I demanded when I heard the American accent. I was trying to push up, ready to get help, anticipating the next threat already.
“It’s Hilt, kid. You okay? You safe?” he asked.
“Yes, to both,” I sighed, relieved it wasn’t an enemy at least. “What about you? Did you get out?”
“Yeah. Me and Dev split as soon as we saw cars approaching the warehouse we were working at last night. We got out clean. There were whispers that Grigor got his hands on you.” He sounded genuinely concerned, and paired with the fact he was calling to check on me, made me certain of the fact he did care about me, in his own way.
“He did, but I got out. My brother and his men found me. Daniel and Grigor are dead. The Armenians are out of commission.”
“Good. So you’re safe?”
“I’m safe, Hilt.”
“Is there a guy working for your family who goes by the name Jase?” he asked.
“Jase? No….I mean, there was, but he’s dead. He was a traitor,” I explained with confusion.
“You knew?”
“Yeah. It’s a long story, but we figured it out a while ago. I actually killed him. How did you know?”
“Dev overheard some guys talking about him. He worked for the Russians. He was a plant, but he was also selling information about your family to the Armenians and anyone else willing to pay. I just wanted to be sure you knew.”
“We knew what he was doing, but not why. Do you have anything else about him?” I pushed.
“Something about vengeance. His brother worked for your Dad, or whoever he was, years ago, and he crossed him, or at least that’s the reasoning Marcello used for executing him. I’m guessing this Jase didn’t buy the whole story,” Hilt surmised.
“That’s what we figured,” I agreed. “Thanks for the heads up though.”
“Just doing what I can. Listen, Dev and I are headed out of the country. We’ve got money and passports. I can get you one too if you want to come with us? We can protect you, wild girl.”
