“I need five minutes, then I’ll get those groceries from you and be on my way.” She sways, her eyelids fluttering for a beat before she braces her hand on the bed and glares at me.
Well, that’s a dismissal if I’ve ever heard one. Don’t mean I won’t try to change her mind. And convince her to go to a hotel, a friend’s house, anywhere but home.
Emi
Maybe I should have asked the nurse to stick around. Getting dressed by myself is…harder than I expected. Every inch of my body is bruised and swollen. My heart won’t stop racing, and I’m so close to a panic attack, it feels like I just got kicked in the chest.
I have to sit down on the bed to finish buttoning my blouse. I should be better by now. It’s been twenty-four years. But the scar at my bikini line aches like it was yesterday.
Breathe. In and out. You’re fine.
Except, I’m not. I have a concussion, my car is burnt to a crisp, and as of three hours ago, Eugene Fowler still hadn’t been arrested. I don’t know what the FBI is waiting for. After this evening’s piece, they should have all the evidence they need to prove he’s working with the cartel.
My head throbs with every beat of my heart. A burst of nausea crawls up my throat. Shit. That’s bad. I need a hot shower and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll call Agent Van and demand an update.
Easing my purse strap over my shoulder, I sway on my feet for a moment until I get my bearings. I can’t believe Jasper rescued my groceries too. What kind of guy does that?
My phone, still buried under my notebook, sunglasses, wallet, and lipstick, rings. I barely manage to answer before the call goes to voicemail. “Nelson, I’m fine,” I say when my boss starts talking a mile a minute.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you leave without a bodyguard. You got another five death threats after your report aired tonight, Emi. This is serious!”
“Fowler didn’t try to kill me,” I protest. “People as successful as he is don’t do this. He’s an ass and he’ll go to jail for a while, but he’s loaded enough it’ll be at some cushy country club facility with a gourmet chef and a certified yoga instructor on staff. He wouldn’t risk an actual murder charge over a couple million in bribes.”
“What if it’s not a couple of million?” Nelson asks. “What if it’s a hell of a lot more? Emi, just because this might be the world’s most predictable Law & Order plotline doesn’t mean it can’t happen. To you.”
I roll my eyes, then almost fall back on the bed from the motion. My headache intensifies, and while I’m no longer dizzy—or at least not very dizzy—I’m clearly not in great shape.
I should stay. I know that. But all I can think about is lying on a gurney bleeding out three days before Homecoming. If my mom and sister had come home ten minutes later, I would have died. Instead, I had a hysterectomy and started hormone replacement therapy at seventeen.
I have to get out of here. Right now.
Carefully, I pull back the curtain, step into the hall, and run right into Jasper. “Shit. Sorry.”
“Emi? What’s going on?” Nelson’s voice rises until he sounds like a screeching demon spawn, and I cringe.
“Nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow. But probably not until after noon. We can call the FBI together and tell them what happened. We can even talk about that bodyguard again.”
He grumbles something that might be, “Okay,” and ends the call.
In reality, nothing is even close to okay, but I’m too tired to fight with him tonight. All I want is a handful of ibuprofen and my bed.
Jasper shoots me a look I’m too exhausted to figure out. “Boyfriend?” he asks.
There’s a smudge of dirt on his short beard, right at his chin. I reach up and brush it away, almost losing myself in his deep blue eyes. His hair is swept back from his face like he’s been running his hand through it all night, and for the first time, I notice a few strands of gray at his temples.
Covering my hand with his, he holds me in place. “Emi? Did you hear me?”
Hear…? Shit. I’m so exhausted, I can’t focus. What did he ask me? Oh, right. Boyfriend.
“No, sorry. Nelson’s the news director at Channel 5.” Three guys, all dressed in scrubs, race down the hall. I try to get out of the way, but I’m not steady on my feet—not in these heels—and pitch sideways into Jasper.
“Careful there, sweetheart.” His strong arm wraps around my waist, and stars and garters. The expression—one my grandmother used to say all the time—just seems to fit with Jasper, though I’m not sure I’ve ever used it before in my life. He’s so solid. And completely focused on me. “You really should stay at the hospital tonight.”
“No. No, I can’t.” My heart starts to race. “I have to get out of here.” My vision starts to tunnel, and my throat tightens. “P-please, Jasper. Let…go…”
“Do you trust me?” His voice rumbles through me, deep and sexy and full of that twang I’ve always associated with home. With safety.
Amid the chaos of the emergency room, I hang on to that feeling, despite my panic. He’s so earnest. Like there’s nothing he can’t—or won’t—do to keep me safe. Jasper Blade is as honest as they come.
