His left arm was in a sling, but she didn’t see a bandage. It had to be his collarbone. He’d, of course, refused to run down all his injuries for her and simply stressed that he would be back soon.
Broken ribs. Sprains. Who knew what else.
He had a similar limp to Zeyla and walked with Preston holding his elbow. Jax shrugged him off.
Preston said, “I’ll go get the golf cart, so you don’t have to walk.”
“I can make it. I don’t need a ride.” He looked grumpy.
Kenna wanted to roll her eyes, but that wouldn’t go down well right now. She slid under his nonbandaged arm. “I’m glad you’re fine. You look great.”
He didn’t laugh.
Another man climbed from the helicopter, carrying one of those old medical bags. Preston’s private doctor? She’d heard that he had one before but didn’t want to be paranoid right now that they needed someone on hand.
They set off, walking slowly toward the house while Preston watched them. She wanted to ask Preston what he knew of their injuries, but not with Jax here.
He and his doctor friend walked behind them, talking quietly.
“Are you really all right?” She spoke in a low voice so only Jax would hear her.
“Everything important is in one piece and functioning.”
“That’s the bar we’re measuring things against?” Didn’t seem like a super high bar to her, more like rock bottom, baseline health. Or aliveness. Not even health, because that required something to be optimal.
“The doctor gave me something, but it’s wearing off, and I’m due for another dose in an hour. I just need to lay down so I can hold on until then.” Jax blew out a slow breath as they stepped from the grass onto the stones and headed for the French doors where Maizie stood watching them.
Jax continued, “He has this experimental pain management stuff that isn’t a narcotic. Seems like it works pretty well.”
“That’s great.” She’d rather he didn’t need it in the first place, but that wasn’t the reality of the lives they led and their jobs. “Let’s get you to the couch.”
She and Maizie both helped him up the step into the back porch room, then over to a small couch. Zeyla had slumped into a chair over by Maizie’s workstation, where she now had her head back against the wall and her eyes closed.
Jax lay back with a groan.
Kenna looked over at her sister. “You good, Zeyla?”
“Peachy.” She didn’t open her eyes.
“Maybe Preston can explain to me how a bomb packed in Gabby’s stomach exploded in the hospital, killing her, the doctor, the nurse, and the janitor on the floor above them.” Kenna folded her arms above her baby bump and resisted the urge to tap her foot. “Because I’m having trouble assimilating how you were both almost killed.”
Jax opened one eye. “Zeyla realized it. But we were too late.” He paused to take a breath. “I’m surprised she didn’t explode when she hit the water, to be honest.”
If that had happened, and the device planted in Gabby’s abdominal cavity blew at that point, she would have likely killed Zeyla and the owner of the boat. “I had the same thought.”
Maizie said, “They probably realized the drive was fake and hit the button to blow the bomb.”
Kenna glanced at her, then back at Jax. “But if they went to the trouble of packing it in her stomach, they planned to blow her up, regardless. It was just a question of when that happened.”
The doctor wandered to Zeyla and pulled up a chair to sit in front of her, clicking on a tiny pen light.
Jax said, “They thought they got what they wanted. They were never going to let her go.”
“Who were they?” She’d rather have said it more diplomatically than that, and with a whole lot more patience to find out if he saw their faces and could somehow describe them.
Jax shook his head, which looked like it hurt. “They were wearing masks.” His voice had started to slur. “I didn’t see them.”
He was falling asleep or passing out. “Doctor?”
