When my eyelids open, I’m greeted by fluorescent hospital lighting. White ceiling, stucco yellow walls, a closed door, and a counter covered in various supplies appear on my right. On my left, a large tinted window overlooking the California desert, and?—
Trinity Gallagher sits in a standard hospital chair, with my gun hidden beneath a sweatshirt on her lap. The exposed tip of the barrel points at me.
For a second, I wonder if I’m dreaming, but the tang of clinical-grade disinfectant stings my nose, assuring me that I’m awake. Maybe I’m hopped up on industrial-strength pain meds and hallucinating, though.
No way is Trinity here watching me, wearing that borrowed white t-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.
I blink at the apparition. “You’re not really here. They must have me on the good drugs.”
The apparition expels a noisy sigh. “Trust me, you’re not the only one having a tough time believing that I’m here.” The words come out ragged, like her throat’s made of sandpaper.
I slow-blink at her again. She watches me, her fingers wrapped around the grip of that gun.
I lick my dry lips. “This is a really weird dream.”
“Not a dream.” Trinity crosses her legs. “Andrei and his boys attacked this morning. We got away, but you pulled over on the side of the highway and collapsed.”
Memories crash through my brain like a freight train.
This morning. The ambush. Andrei.
Fighting with Trinity on the side of the road.
That’s the last thing I remember before?—
I try to sit up and immediately regret my choice, groaning as nausea swirls in my gut.
“Wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re on a lot of meds and lost a lot of blood.”
Fuck.I collapse against the stiff pillow with a groan.
I need to locate my phone and contact my father. If he reached the safe house after we left, then he probably believes us killed or captured.
“How badly was I hurt?”
The question is more for me than to her, but she exhales as if wrestling with the words.
“Bad enough. You almost bled out in the desert.”
My eyes tick up to hers, and something incredulous swells inside me. Is Trinity Gallagher trying to say that shehelpedme? “How am I alive, then?”
She averts her gaze and gives a single-shoulder shrug. “Guess hell wasn’t ready for you quite yet.”
“How’d we get here?” I push, hoping to see her expression break.
Why does the idea of Trinity caring about me spark such a victorious fire in my sore, battered body?
She shifts her weight in the chair. “How do we get anywhere, really?”
“You rescued me, didn’t you?” When she doesn’t respond, I prod her. “Trinity?”
Scowling, she raises her eyes to mine. Her chin thrusts out at a belligerent angle. “I treated the wound on your thigh and called 911.”
After the initial shock of her statement dissipates, I start to smile. “Wow. Gotta admit I’m a little surprised. With my injuries incapacitating me, you could’ve just left me for dead?—”
“Oh, I did that too.”
My jovial mood evaporates as her countenance becomes unrecognizable.
