Shit.
She’s bruised everywhere, dumbass. Be careful.
A wave of dizziness hits me, and I lean against the rear quarter panel.
Lisette narrows her eyes at me. “Can you even stand without assistance?”
“No. But I won’t drop him. I promise.” Having a purpose is the only way I’ll make it inside. It’s how I managed to get us here. How I’ve managed to keep us safe for two days.
I give Lisette the duffel bag, then scoop Mateen out of the back seat and kick the door closed. The motion almost sends me to my knees.
“Stick close.” Each word is harder than the last. When we reach the front of the building, I grit out, “Need you to get the radio. Trev…won’t let us in…without the code.”
She fishes the handheld device out of the duffel bag, holds it close to my lips, and presses the button.
“Open the damn door,” I manage.
Ford’s voice is the best damn thing I’ve ever heard. “Authentication code: Nine-Seven-Alpha-Oscar.”
“Foxtrot-Charlie.”
The locks disengage seconds before my vision tunnels. Lisette’s firm grip on my arm is all that keeps me upright as she ushers me inside.
“Oh, my God,” Joey cries. “Mateen!”
I’m shaking, but Lisette hasn’t let go, and I lean against her while the doctor checks the kid’s eyes, then leans down and sniffs him. “Lisette, why didn’t you tell me he was diabetic?”
“He isn’t. But last night, he started to complain that everything hurt. And now…” She shakes against me, her voice weak and trembling.
“He’s in ketoacidosis. His liver is malfunctioning. That’s why he smells like a bottle of rotten perfume. Mateen? Do you remember me, kiddo?”
“Dr. Joey,” he says softly and turns his head into my chest. “Nomar? Can we go home?”
After all I’ve seen—all I’ve done—these past twenty years, I didn’t think anything could touch me. But a six-year-old kid’s desperation is enough to crack my heart into pieces.
“Get him onto the couch.” Joey points halfway across the room, but I can’t focus. All I see is a patch of brown in the middle of a sea of beige.
“Nomar, please…” Lisette’s whisper close to my ear—and her grip on my arm—urge me forward until my shins hit the cushions.
Once I lay Mateen on the sofa, I blink hard, searching for somewhere I can rest.
The fucking room tilts on its axis and my knees wobble. Joey says something, but my heartbeat is so loud, she sounds like some dementedPeanutscharacter. Lisette isn’t holding onto me anymore. I stumble. My fingers close around the back of a chair.
“Trev!” Ford shouts. “Get the fuck out here. Now!”
The last pinpricks of light fade away, and I fall.
* * *
Lisette
I tug at my abaya, helpless to do anything for MateenorNomar.
“What happened?” Ford asks.
“He was shot. By Zaman as we were fleeing the compound. But he would not let me do anything to help him. We had to keep moving. I used my headscarf to tie around the wound. He kept us safe. Two days, he kept us safe.”
Another man bursts into the room, wild eyes and hair sticking up at all angles. I stifle my yelp as he growls, “What the hell is this? We’re not running an escape train here. Our mission was Joey, Ivy, and Mia.”
