“So are you planning on keeping me here until I agree? Or are you fine to let me think about it, or, what?”
“If we can’t convince you to help, we can always use you as bait.”
“Oh, that’s fun. We could do a hostage video.”
“You’d prefer to be a hostage?”
“I’d prefer to have another cream tea. The one I had was delicious. And if the cream teas are anything as good as the grilled cheese, I think I am in for a treat.”
Leo
The bullet wound aches, but it’s a comforting kind of hurt. I never really took myself for a masochist before, but here we are. Every time I shift a bit, my gut complains. Apparently stomach shots are some of the most painful you can endure. I am on enough drugs that most of the time it is no more than a dull ache, but the memory of the initial injury is going to stay with me for quite some time.
“Do you need anything?” Luke is by my side, full of guilt. I don’t need him to keep feeling bad, but then again, having him wait on me hand and foot is pretty convenient in my current state. “Do you want snacks? A drink? Do you want me to ask the nurses if they can give you another sponge bath?”
He thinks he’s being funny with that last question, but there really is little dignity in being this wounded. All sorts of things have been done to my person of late, many of which I could have gone a lifetime without experiencing. But I tell myself it’s all useful material. One day, I may find a use for some of these little medical indignities.
Aiden has been less present in person, but I know he’s hard at work behind the scenes trying to uncover who is responsible for what happened to me. Besides Luke, of course.
He makes an appearance mid-morning, not bothering with any pleasantries, or asking me how I am. I’ve been shot. I’m in the hospital. That’s all anybody really needs to know.
“We’ve gotten a video about Ella,” he says grimly. I don’t read too much into his tone. That’s more or less how he always speaks these days. He’s annoyed at me having been shot, I’m sure. He wants to go hunt Ella down, but he can’t have me left vulnerable to further marksmen, and I can’t very well go anywhere, and Luke is absolutely paralyzed with guilt and grief. The three of us have been paralyzed for seven days, and in that time the woman we love has gotten farther and farther away.
“A video about Ella?” Luke perks up. He’s been sleeping in the chair next to my hospital bed every night. I need to get out of here. We all need to get the hell out of here. I feel practically back to normal already, and they could just give me painkillers to take if it gets too bad. I’ve been negotiating for release for a few days now, but the doctors are insistent on my continued stay, and as a result, so are my brothers.
Aiden hands me the phone with the video cued up. Luke snugs up onto the bed next to me. I play the video.
Ella is sitting in a tall-backed chair that suits her immensely. I make a mental note to have one bought for her. She is wearing a black lace dress and her hair is parted down the middle, falling to just above her shoulders in a long bob. She looks good. She looks happy. I feel much of the tension in my chest ebb at the sight of her.
“Do I start talking now?” She asks the question to someone off camera.
They respond in the affirmative.
“Hi, boys. Didn’t think you’d take so long to catch up with me, but maybe you’re losing your touch in your combined ages,” shegrins. Brat. I cannot wait to get my hands on her again, and show her just how much touch I have not lost when it comes to her.
She’s now grinning from ear to ear just from imagining our reactions to that slight. “Hey. So, apparently… you’re not going to believe this… I’m a hostage. In England, of all places. I didn’t think they did that here.”
“What?” I look up at Aiden.
“Keep watching,” he says, his tone even more grim.
The camera shifts as a man comes into frame. It’s a face we all know. We’ve never met him, of course. You hope to never meet Mr. Red. It’s the equivalent of meeting the Pope, if the Pope was the leader of an international crime syndicate known for murderous brutality.
He speaks in a low, soft, refined tone. “She doesn’t know who I am, poor poppet. But I’d wager you gentlemen do. Deliver yourselves to me, and I won’t have to kill her. It would be a pity, given how charming I find her company. You have seventy-two hours from receipt of this video.”
“When did we get the video?” Luke asks the question.
I pull the IV line out of my hand. “We’re going. Now.”
“You know who that is. You know what he’s capable of.”
“Most of it is probably exaggeration,” Aiden says. “He traffics on his reputation. Ella looks unharmed.”
“For now,” I say. “Get the doctors and tell them to do whatever they need to do.”
Aiden calls the doctor, who arrives thirty precious minutes later. By that point, I’ve disconnected myself from the machines and am getting dressed. Putting on socks feels like hell.
“You really should stay, Mr. Levin,” the doctor says. “The bullet was very close to an artery, and when I say very close to, I mean it grazed it. During surgery, we repaired the area. We want you to rest to stabilize the area and allow it to entirely heal. There’s a small chance if you are knocked about, or over-exert yourself, you could cause a bleed that would be almost impossible to stabilize outside hospital conditions.”
