“I’ll take her out,” Jamie said, scooping Samira up. “There’s enough going on in here.”
Laura touched Samira’s shoulder as Jamie swept her past. Her cornflower eyes glimmered. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.” To Jamie she added, “Take care of her—and get her to unlock my social media. I have a few updates of myownto post.”
“Will do.” The beginnings of a grin played on Jamie’s face. “And don’t worry. She can take care of herself—not that I’m going anywhere.” The grin faded. “Not for a while.”
Samira’s heart clunked as Jamie carried her out, his body warm and solid and lithe. She might not have lost him to death but she would lose him. When? Tomorrow, next week, next month?
She’d had enough of waking up alone. She wanted to wake up to him.
* * *
BEFORESAMIRAEVENproperly woke, the chemical smell clued her in. A hospital. She cracked her eyes open. A small dimmed room, blades of daylight sneaking in either side of a window blind. Distant voices murmured. A pair of sneakers squeaked, approaching and then receding.
She tried to pull herself up but her body wouldn’t respond. She patted her hip through a cotton blanket. It was like touching someone else’s body. Numbed. Beneath the blanket, beneath a hospital gown, a dressing crackled. An IV line was taped to the back of her hand but it wasn’t plugged into anything. She remembered the ambulance ride, lying on a gurney, Jamie holding her hand, breathing through the pain and nausea, waking briefly in a large, busy room—Recovery?
It was over. They’d done it. She exhaled, peace flushing through her veins like a cool anesthetic. They’d won.
And she’d woken alone. The first day of her new life and she’d woken alone. Had Jamie already returned to the Legion? Was this how it would be? Today a hospital, tomorrow maybe a hotel. Beyond that—what? Some apartment she couldn’t picture in a city she couldn’t picture. She couldn’t even picture a country. The world was hers again but she didn’t belong anywhere in it.
The door swished open. Jamie stepped in, still wearing his suit—and a smile that turned her insides to syrup. Turned out there was one thing sexier than a well-cut man in a well-cut suit—the same man in the same suit the morning after. Was it even morning?
“You’re kidding me,” he said. “I spend all night and all day sitting beside your bed and you wake up in the ten minutes it takes me to pop out and say goodbye to Rafe and Holly.”
“Wha—?” She coughed. Her throat felt like it had been blasted with a hairdryer.
He crossed to a cabinet beside the bed, poured water into a cup, popped a lid with a straw on it and passed it to her. She drank. Sometimes water tasted so good...
She cleared her throat. “Where are they going?”
“Rafe has a sister he was separated from as a child. He just got word that she’s been located, so he and Holly are flying out to meet her. Apparently she has a family of her own. He’s pretty stoked—and dare I say, emotional. I swear his eyes glazed for a second.”
“Wow.”
“They were sorry they couldn’t stick around. Holly’s looking forward to thanking you personally for saving her life.”
“I saved her li—? Oh that...” She touched her hip again.
“‘Oh that,’she says, like it’s an everyday kind of a something to do.”
“I can’t believe I did that.”
“I can. Though, fuck, hearing that gunshot, seeing the blood on you...” He shuddered. “I think it’s going to be one of those recurring nightmares, where I’m looking for you, in room after room, with guns going off.”
Her cheek throbbed. She touched it, lightly. It was puffy, tender. Fitz had hit her. And Hyland. “How long have I been asleep?”
“A while. The anesthetic wore off overnight but you were exhausted.”
“Awo.I remember waking in the night.” She’d been disorientated, tipped out of a shadowy dream. But then Jamie’s voice—soothing and deep... She’d drifted off again, with the comforting feeling of being spooned, though he wasn’t touching her.
She tried to sit again, and winced, remembering.
“Hey,” he said, leaping to the bedside. How did he have so much energy? “Don’t lift yourself up. I’ll adjust the bed.” He fiddled with a control, and the back slowly rose. “You were very lucky that the bullet shied away from your intestine but you have an impressive flesh wound.”
“Did you sleep here?”
“Sleep’s an exaggeration, but...” He nodded at an armchair. “There was a lot of explaining to do—not nearly as much for me as for Hyland, though. He’s on a plane back to the States. Laura talked him into coming clean about everything—seeing as there was no longer any point in denial. It was all in the files you released, clear as day. His links to terrorism, his long history of blackmail and corruption... Tess reckons it could take months before they even figure out how many crimes he’s committed—but conspiracy to mass murder is a good start. Honestly, I don’t understand half of it, but fortunately, the president does. Apparently he was most especially interested in the photo Hyland had used to blackmail the special counsel into burying evidence in the investigation into him. And Tess is in journalist nirvana, as you can imagine. Flynn reckons she hasn’t blinked since the files started uploading.”
“She’s been released?”
