“You must be starving, sweetie,” Callie said, walking in with a bag in her hands and a tray of coffee. “I would have gotten you something as soon as we got here but you nodded off. I figured sleep was more important than foodat that point.”
Drew got up to make room for Callie and he and Jack drifted off to the other corner of the room. She wanted to know what they were discussing, but for the moment her stomach took precedence over her curiosity. It had been more than a day since she’d eaten.
“It’s only bagels and an egg sandwich. You choose first and I’ll take whatever you don’t.” Callie tipped her head to the side. “Unless you want them all. I can send Jack to get more.”
The egg sandwich had more protein. She grabbed that and practically inhaled it. Between sips of coffee and bites of the egg and ham combination, she told her friend more details about what had happened while they’d been encasedin the chamber.
“It’s very Edgar Allan Poe and ‘The Cask of Amontillado.’ Remember we read that story in high school?”
Heather laughed. “Yeah, and I remember Kayla Reems saying she was going to do the same thing to Mr. Peabody.”
A scrub covered man entered the room, stopping them in their memories. Jack turned swiftly and Heather jumped up, heading over.
“Mr. Holland.”
Jack shook the man’shand. “Scott?”
At Heather and Callie’s presence, the doctor introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Ruiz, the surgeon who worked on Mr. Holland. We managed to get the bleeding stopped but he had quite a bit of damage we had to fix. A ruptured spleen and a small puncture wound to his left lung were the worst.”
“He’ll be okay, though?” Heatherneeded to know.
“It’ll be touch and go for the next few days. We’ll keep him in the ICU so he’ll be under constant care. But barring any unforeseen circumstances, in time, he should make a full recovery. We got to him fast enough and managed to do an arterial embolization. As long as there aren’t complications with that, he should be fine.”
“I’m not even going to ask what that is.” Heather blinked a few times. “Can we see him?”
“He’s still in recovery, but he’ll be in ICU in about a half hour. It’s only family and no more than two people at a time. He needs rest more than anything. Get something to eat and then you can head up.”
As the doctor walked away Heather sank into one of the chairs. Jack settled beside her.
“Only family.” Tears filled her eyes again. Damn, when would these stupid things stop?
Pulling her close to his shoulder he said, “You are family. His fiancé, according to the nurse at the desk.”
Rolling her eyes, she smiled at him. If onlythat were true.
* * * *
Dull pain throbbed through Scott as he attempted to open his eyes. He’d been trying for some time. At least he thought it was a long time. He felt like he’d been drugged, or had a few too many shots. It had been college since he’d done any heavy drinking. Well, a few times when he’d first gotten home from Afghanistan, but not recently.
Medicinal smells set him on alert and he pushed his eyes open harder. Beeps from machines. Machines that seemed to be attached to him. An oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, IV jammed into his arm, and sticky things pulling at his chest hair. Definitely a hospital. Why was he here?
His foggy memory drifted back and it all fell into place. The mill. Being trapped in with the coffins. The explosion. Heather.
Struggling to sit up, he grunted at the pain in his abdomen. What the fuck had happened to him? Last he remembered they’d gotten out and were disarming the C-4. He hadn’t gotten to one in time. But what had happened to Heather? Shit, heneeded to know.
A nurse walked in, frowning when she saw him trying to sit up.
“Mr. Holland, you need to lie back down. You could reinjure yourself. You don’t want to end up in surgeryagain, do you?”
He’d had surgery? Not important now. Heneeded to know.
“Heather.” He slipped the mask off and grabbed the woman’s arm, holding as tight as he could. Damn, he felt ridiculously weak. “What happened to Heather?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have any information on anyone named Heather. This is the Intensive Care Unit. She might have been sent to aregular floor.”
“Has anyone been to see me? My cousin, Jack?” Jack was his emergency contact person and was listedin his wallet.
“I came on shift at three. The only person I saw was a tall, dark-haired man. Kind of intense.”
