“Cap, this looks horrible. I’ve never seen such a dark bruise before. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Cap pulled his shirt from her hand and lowered it.
“It’s fine. I’ve bruised my ribs before. They just need time to heal, that’s all.”
What wasn’t right was the nausea, which made his mouth water. His lunch wasn’t sitting well in his stomach. If he just gave it a minute, he’d probably feel better. Or, the distraction of the game might be helpful. He swallowed hard a few times to tamp down the bile rising in his throat.
Cap sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. Emma sat and leaned toward him, pressing lightly against his right side. He lifted his arm to sling it over her shoulders, and pain shot through his stomach. His reactionary wince seemed to go unnoticed by Emma. That was good. She didn’t need the stress of worrying about him on top of everything else.
He snagged the television remote from the end table and flipped through the channels until he found the game. It was already in the second inning.
Emma’s head drifted to his shoulder, then she lifted her legs and curled them to the side, resting them on the couch.
Within minutes, her slow, even breaths let him know she’d fallen asleep. That didn’t surprise him. After all she’d been through, starting with the fact she’d hardly slept a wink last night before the Colombian broke into the cabin, he could easily imagine her exhaustion.
By the fourth inning, Emma had slid down, resting her head on his lap. She drew herself into the fetal position. Out for the count.
Now that they were safe, at least for the time being, a little rest would do him some good too, and he could probably get some now that the nausea had subsided. If only the dull ache in his torso hadn’t turned sharp, his odds for sleep would be better. He thought sprawling out on the bed in the next room would help relieve the pain, but didn’t want to disturb Emma, so instead he simply leaned his head back and shut his eyes.
Was it too much wishful thinking that while he rested, the license plate reader system would ping the Colombian’s license plate and he’d be detained? If that happened, would the deepening heat on the situation be enough to have the cartel walk away from this one? It worked for Hannah, so would it work for Emma?
Chapter Twenty-Two
The hotel room was quiet
No pounding adrenaline echoing in Emma’s ears. Just pure relaxation.
Cap’s hard-muscled legs served as her pillow. His heavy arm blanketed over her, and his hand loosely held her forearm. In his hold, she was safe even though she knew he slept.
After indulging in a few more minutes of the comfort of his hold, she slipped out from under his arm, careful not to wake him. When she sat up and looked at him, her breath caught. His skin was a grayish hue, and he was too pale for a man who insisted he was fine.
She watched him breathe. Looking for anything wrong.
Unease gripped her spine.
She brushed her fingers over his forehead. Damp. Cold. Not the normal warmth she expected.
“Cap?” she whispered.
No response.
She leaned closer, pressing her hand lightly against his chest. His breathing was shallow, uneven—like his body had forgotten how to pull air all the way in.
Her pulse spiked.
“Cap,” she said louder.
Gripping his shoulder, she shook him.
Nothing.
An eerie chill slid through her veins.
She shook him harder. “Cap. Wake up.”
His head rolled slightly to the side, lips parting on a weak exhale—but he didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t react.
Panic surged.
