She lifted her head, breathing a little harder, a little more purposefully. "Ben?"
Another dose of relief coursed through me like a soothing drug. "That's Benjamin to you, young lady."
"It hurts," she grated out.
"Two seconds," I promised, leveraging the door open with my foot and then crossing the living room quickly. I laid her on her side on the couch, brushing her hair away from her face. "Hey, can you see me?"
She fixed two eyes on me unsteadily. "I can. I—I don't know what…" she screwed her eyes shut again.
"I'll be right back." I made sure she was secure on the couch and wouldn't accidentally topple off and then I ran back to the front door where the security detail had left supplies. I grabbed the med kit they'd dropped off, and returning to Evie, I ripped it open to find the shears.
When I pulled them out, the silver glinted in the overhead light, and Evie flinched, gasping and trying to get away from me. "No!" she moaned, kicking and nearly rolling off the couch in her panic.
I wrapped my arms around her, keeping her horizontal and murmuring, "It's me, Evelyn. It's me. You're safe."
She released a tortured breath, beginning to shake as the drugs worked their way through her system. I moved the scissors behind her, and still uttering soothing phrases and reassuring her, I snapped off the zip ties. She inhaled sharply again, and I brought her hands around to her front, watching to make sure that blood flowed back into her hands quickly. She had deep, angry welts around her wrists, and I smoothed my thumb over one, gritting my teeth.
"God, Evie, I'm so sorry."
The blood on her forearm had come from a small puncture wound. After they'd sedated her, they must have taken a blood sample intravenously.
Breathing fast, Evie blinked hard, like she was having trouble seeing. "The food," she mumbled.
"Food?" I maneuvered her so she was on her back so I could look her over better. "Did you eat something?"
She shook her head, and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as she blinked again. "It was the food."
I tried to quell the frustration that made my fingers itch. "Whatfood?"
"The gate," she rasped, her eyes rolling closed again. "They came through with food."
The realization of what she meant smacked me hard in the middle of my chest. She'd ordered food. "They got through the gate disguised as the food delivery service?" She nodded, her mouth crumpling. She swallowed whatever tears looked like they might burst from the dam, and I cupped her face. "Evelyn,I amsosorry. Baby, I'm so sorry," I repeated, leaning down to press my forehead to hers.
This was my fault. I was a shit bodyguard, getting distracted by work that could have waited and being lulled into a false sense of security. I hadn't been able to save anyone in that hospital in Kandahar, either. I hadn’t been able to stop a crumbling building and gurgled screams. I closed my eyes, overcome with anguish and fear, assaulted by memories I didn’t want. "I shouldn't have left you alone."
Her breathing was still fast, still shallow, so I pushed aside my guilt and straightened again. My hands were shaking, but I made them busy by digging through the bag for the pulse oximeter. "Keep your eyes open, Evelyn."
Reluctantly, she forced them open. Her hazel eyes were dull and glassy, but she was focusing on me a little better. "M'sorry," she mumbled.
"Why are you sorry?" I asked, my tone unnecessarily angry. "I didn't do the one thing I was supposed to do—keep you safe." I clamped the pulse oximeter on her finger, feeling my own heart nearly punch its way out of my chest. I had to find a way to calm down. I cracked my knuckles and tried to force air into my lungs.But she could have died, a sinister voice reminded me.You let that happen.
"Should've checked," she slurred. "With you. For the groceries."
Why hadn't she? It wasn't that I thought this was her fault, but she'd been coming back from her Nan's cottage. Why hadn't she stopped to grab me? "It's fine," I assured her. "Take some deep breaths."
She tried, and then rasped out, "Feels like I'm underwater."
"I know," I soothed, taking her wrists in my hands and inspecting the damage. The fuckers had tied her so tight, she'd have bruises. But the skin wasn't broken, so I rubbed themgently, trying to return blood flow. "Do you remember what happened? Did they inject you with something?"
"Yes." Evie pointed to her neck. I smoothed her hair away and inspected what looked like a small injection site.
Anger replaced my self-pity lightning fast. "Fuckers," I hissed. "They didn't want you to call for help." She nodded, looking sleepy again. I patted her cheek. "Stay awake, Marshmallow. Can you do that for me? Just for a bit."
"Bossy," she replied with a ghost of a smile.
I choked out a laugh. "I'm going to be the most overbearing, bossy son of a bitch you've ever met after this." Her pulse ox was low but not dangerous. She just needed time. And fluids. "Relax and I'm going to get you some water." I didn't want to leave her, not when I couldn't be sure of what they'd given her and at what dosage. I hurried into the kitchen to fill a glass with water, and when I returned, I found her running her fingers over the inside of her elbow. She looked traumatized. Terrified. Guilt stabbed me with a fiery lance again, and I had to breathe through the pain, to try and push aside the darkness that wanted to consume me.
I pulled her into my arms, sitting down and propping her against me. "Drink some of this." I handed her the water, and she obliged, taking a cautious sip of water.
