Dr. Reyes maneuvers the wheelchair next to the recliner. “I am a doctor first. Cartel second. If you trust nothing else about me, Stone, trust that.”
Chapter Twenty
AJ
Five minutes after I text my brother to find out where Connor and Parker are, all three of them crowd through the door of the tiny hospital room.
Parker’s gaze snaps to the bed. “Is Grace okay? Where is she?”
“Ease up. The doc took her for a CT scan. We do have a problem, but right now, it ain’t Grace’s health. Miguel Sandoval is comin’ for a look-see of his personal medical clinic tomorrow, and we gotta be long gone before he shows up.”
Connor pulls out his phone. “The plane can be ready to go in four hours if you want to leave tonight.”
I run a hand over my jaw, three days of stubble so thick, my beard might rival Jasper’s soon.
Is that why Grace doesn’t recognize me? I shaved every other day before.
Fuck. Focus on the problem, dumbass.
“There’s not a damn thing I want more, but you should know better than any of us that flying with a head injury ain’t exactly…smart.”
On the way here, Connor admitted he’s still suffering from post-concussion syndrome. When he’s stressed or exhausted, aphasia can make it hard for him to talk, and the migraines are no joke. Grace could have all the same side effects—and more—if we put her on a plane before she’s ready.
Parker pulls a tablet from her backpack, drags the visitor’s chair over to the bed, and props the device on the mattress. “Near as I can figure, Sandoval’s territory goes south to Durango, northwest to Nogales, and east all the way to the Texas border. The Cordova gang takes over at the Rio Grande. Our best chance is Chihuahua. If the roads are decent, we can be there in five, maybe six hours. Everywhere else is too far away. And it wouldn’t be too hard to disappear in a city that size for a day or two until Grace is able to fly.”
“We’d need to find a doctor too—a good one. She can’t—or won’t—talk much yet. And it ain’t aphasia, it’s fear. Whoever had her…” I shake my head. “I think they hurt her if she talked back. And my Grace would’ve talked back.”
Jasper cracks a grim smile. “She was a firecracker. Took no shit from anyone.”
“There’s too much at stake to just hope another couple of days will make a difference,” I say as I scrub my hands over the top of my head. “Even in Chihuahua, we could end up pickin’ the one doc who’s loyal to Sandoval.”
“AJ, have you forgotten who I work for?” Connor asks. “Or the hacker on Pritchard’s payroll who helped you find me, Isabel, and Veronica? Zephyr can track down a doc we can trust. That’s the one thing we don’t have to worry about. Keepin’ Grace comfortable during a five-hour car ride and not settin’ her recovery back…that’s a horse of a different color.”
“Hell, even getting back to the airport is a trek.” Jasper leans a hip against the wall and rubs his thigh. “If I had a hard time spendin’ almost two hours in the car, she’s—Shit.”
My brother suddenly looks like the cat who ate the canary, and I turn toward the door.
Fuck.
Grace looks so small sitting in the wheelchair. Small and terrified. Her entire body trembles, and she drops her gaze to her hands, tugging at the sleeves of her robe to cover the scars around her wrists.
Dr. Reyes glares at me. “What is going on here? I told you about Miguel so you could make arrangements to leave. Not so you could ambush Grace with all these people she does not know.”
I step out into the hall, pull the door shut behind me, and sidestep Reyes to drop to one knee in front of my wife. To keep myself from reaching for her—she’s too scared for that right now—I rest my hands on the arms of the wheelchair.
“Darlin’, I’m sorry. I didn’t ask ‘em all to come in here. But…they’re the only people in this world—besides you—I trust. We were tryin’ to figure out how to keep you safe if we can’t fly home tomorrow. The guy closest to the door? That’s my twin brother, Jasper. The other man is Connor Davis. He used to be an FBI agent. Now, he works for a group of…well, I don’t know what they call themselves, but they help folks who don’t have anywhere else to go. Then there’s Parker. She’s the best Ranger I ever trained, and she put her whole career on the line so I wouldn’t do somethin’ supremely idiotic like driving all night through cartel territory—alone—to get to you.”
Grace glances up at me—just for a beat—then lowers her gaze again. “Why?”
“Why what, darlin’?”
The first tear rolls down her cheek. It’s so damn hard watching her struggle for every word. What the fuck happened to her the past three years that she’s this scared to speak—even to me?
“Grace, can I touch you? Please?”
I expect a nod. Or for her to pull away completely. But instead, she takes my hand. Her calloused fingers hold little strength, but still, she curls them around mine. This simple gesture shouldn’t mean so much, but right now, it’s everything.
There’s so much I want to say, but I’m afraid to spook her. After another quick glance at the door to her room, Grace releases a slow breath. “Why would she risk her career…for me?” she asks softly.
