Page 104 of Protected from Reprisal
“Come on,” I urge. “You can do this. I’ll be right there with you.”
Yara gives me a long look before lifting her chin. She rolls her shoulders. Takes a deep breath. Then she grasps my hand and walks through the door.
“Tink.” Malik smiles at her. “You’re here.”
Her nails dig into my palm. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she explains. “I wanted to. But the hospital said only family for the first couple days. I—well, me and Saint and everyone, really, were just waiting for the okay.”
Malik makes a dismissive sound. “That’s bullshit. You guysarefamily. I told them that, but the doctors wouldn’t listen.”
I’m relieved to see Malik looking much better than the last time I saw him. Three days ago, he looked scarily gaunt, as if a slight wind could blow him away. He had open sores from the wounds his captors refused to treat, and his skin had a yellowed, jaundiced tone. But thanks to antibiotics and IV fluids and whatever else they’re giving him, his face is fuller already. His color is healthy. And the wounds on his arms are freshly bandaged.
Yara lingers just inside the doorway, hesitant to go any closer. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” he replies. “The doctors say I should be released in another couple of days. I’ll have to come back for some surgery on my hands—” He raises one of them, displaying crooked fingers that were obviously broken and never healed right. “But that’ll be a few weeks away, at least.”
Yara flinches. Her hand convulses around mine. “I’m sorry. I mean, not that you’re being released soon. But your hands. The surgeries.”
Malik shrugs, playing it off like it doesn’t bother him. But I don’t miss the flicker of worry in his eyes. “It’s okay. I saw the orthopedic surgeon yesterday, and he thinks he’ll be able to get my fingers back to eighty percent mobility, at least. I’m pushing for ninety, though.”
A smile ghosts across Yara’s face. “That’s good.” Her gaze moves around the room, taking in all the balloons and flowers lining every available surface. “So…” She shifts on her feet. “Um…”
Her discomfort makes my heart hurt. She should be celebrating the return of her friend. Not standing here, terrified he’s going to say how much he hates her. Which, to anyone but Yara, is clearly untrue.
Malik stares at Yara. “Tink. Why are you still standing in the doorway? Are you planning a quick exit?”
“Oh, no.” She takes a jerky step forward. Then another. And another. I follow her lead until we’re maybe six feet from Malik’s bed. “Sorry.”
Malik looks at Yara and my entwined hands before shifting his attention to me. “Jensen. I remember you from Fort Campbell. But you took off to join Delta, didn’t you?”
“I did,” I confirm. “But I got out three years ago. I’m working with Blade and Arrow Security in Portland now.” We told him about B and A during the trip back home, but I don’t know how much he remembers, so I figure it can’t hurt to remind him again.
“Yeah.” He nods. “I remember you guys telling me about it.” He stops. His eyes shift to the doorway, like he’s checking to make sure no one’s listening. “So, are you guys doing okay? With the injuries and all?”
My respect for Malik increases even more. Not only does he remember the instructions we went over, the information we gave him about B and A, but also the injuries me and Yara incurred, which were impossible to hide from him while Indy treated us.
“I’m good,” I reply. “Just a quick through and through.”
Yara pins me with a fierce look. “It’snotjust a quick through and through, you were—” Her mouth clamps shut.
Malik turns his attention to Yara. “You doing alright, Tink?” Concern shadows his expression.
“Of course,” she replies quickly. “I’m fine.”
He gives her a doubtful look. “You don’t seem fine.”
“I am. Really. I?—”
“Yara Alves.” His voice sharpens. “What’s going on?” Casting an accusing glare at me, he says, “Is there something I should know about?”
Yara blinks. “It’s not Ace. I… I…” Her chin wobbles. “I’m just so sorry, Mal. I’m so sorry.” She wraps her arms around her stomach, hugging herself. “I didn’t know. They told us… I thought you were dead.”
Malik pushes himself up in bed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You guys… Shit. I’d still… There’s just nothing to be sorry about. Nothing.”
“I don’t want you to hate me,” Yara blurts. “I know you probably do. And I understand. I just?—”
“Hate you?” His face jerks with shock. “Why would I hate you?”
“Because… they didn’t take me with you. To the other place. And they… I know they treated me better than everyone else.”
