“Who?”
“Tate Barnes.”
Tate’s here. After everything I put him through, after the way we left things in that parking garage, he’s here.
“Yeah,” I rasp. “Yeah, I want to see him.”
Dr. Gandolfo nods, then disappears. A few minutes later, the door opens. Tate walks in, and he looks worse than I feel. Unshaven and in rumpled clothes, his eyes red-rimmed like he hasn’t slept in days.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey.”
He sinks down on the chair next to my bed, and for a long minute, we just look at each other. Finally, I speak.
“How did you find out I was here?” I ask.
“Coach Enver called me when the news broke. I also saw the reports on television. I came here as fast as I could.” He pauses. “That was a day and a half ago. You had complications and internal bleeding. They had to operate again. I…I didn’t know if I’d ever get to talk to you again.” His voice breaks a little for that last bit.
“I’m sorry,” I croak out.
“For what?”
“For scaring you. For nearly dying. For putting you through this.”
His eyebrows fly upward. “Don’t apologize for nearly dying. Apologize for being stupid enough to wear a wire into a meeting with criminals who kill people.”
“I had to.”
“No, you didn’t. You chose to.”
“Did it work?”
“What?”
“The FBI mission. Did we get them?”
“Yeah. Volkov, Petrov, and their whole crew. Morrison says the recordings you made were enough for RICO charges. The whole organization’s finished.”
I let out a slow breath. “Good.”
“Good? You nearly died, Zane. You nearly fucking died, and all you can say is good?”
“I nearly died, but you’re safe. The syndicate’s gone, you don’t have to throw any games, your family’s not in danger.” I try to sit up, and yelp at the pain that shoots through my chest. “That’s more than good. That’s everything I wanted.”
“What about what I wanted?”
I furrow my brows at him.
“I wanted you to not get shot. I wanted you to not nearly die trying to save me from a mess I made myself.” He wrings his hands together. “I wanted you to trust me enough to let me help instead of trying to handle everything alone.”
“I couldn’t risk you.”
“You couldn’t risk me what?”
“Getting hurt. Getting killed. Getting involved with federal investigations and criminal syndicates and all the shit that comes with my fucked-up life. You have too much going for you.”
“That wasn’t your choice to make.”
