Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
If this was the price for his choices, so be it.
But he’d only wished he’d gotten the chance to say goodbye.
Vasquez stared at the gray-speckled ceiling tiles so long his vision blurred.
He tried to shift his position, but a bolt of pain ripped through his middle that made him bite his tongue to keep from screaming.
Fuck.
He’d been awake for nine days, before that, it’d been an endless black void.
Now he existed again, and every inch of him hurt like a motherfucker.
When he’d first come to, it’d been so excruciating and intolerable he’d begged for death instead.
The doctor had come and listed all his injuries and surgeries as if he was reading a grocery list.
Three bullet wounds. One had ripped through his lower abdomen, puncturing his small intestine. Another had lodged near his right kidney. The third had torn into his shoulder and exited through his lower back.
He’d had two emergency surgeries. One to repair the bowel perforation and stop internal bleeding. Another to remove fragments and reconstruct muscle tissue in his shoulder. There’d be a lot more work ahead. Physical therapy. Occupational therapy. Follow-ups with half a dozen specialists.
But the doctor said—in an optimistic tone—he should be able to walk again. And with hard work and determination, maybe even return to full duty.
“You were lucky, officer. Not many survive that kind of maliciousness.”
Vasquez turned his head and stared at the slim sliver of city skyline through his hospital window.
Duty. Lucky. Maliciousness.
He let out a quick, humorless scoff that scraped his dry throat.
He’d known there’d be a price when he’d taken Mercer’s money and fed him the bad intel.
Some debts had to be paid in blood.
He just hadn’t realized it’d be so much of his own shed all over a sidewalk one block from his precinct.
He’d made the mistake of asking the nurse yesterday if anyone had come to see him while he’d been in the coma.
“Um, no,” she’d said softly. “Nobody. We tried to contact your next of kin but got no answer.”
He thought he’d be used to no one giving a shit about him by now. But it still felt like someone had driven a rusty spike through his chest.
Kiran.
He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the sting that built behind them. Where the hell was he?
Had he bailed because Vasquez was damaged goods? Had Joshi asked around and realized who he was and the kind of man he was?
He pictured Kiran’s dark eyes and warm touch. His smile.
Before he could get further lost in his thoughts, the door swung open and a nurse breezed in, smiling with relentless cheer as if she’d been sheltered from the worst parts of the world.
He shifted again, wincing as a deep ache flared under his ribs.
“Morning, Officer Vasquez!” she chirped. “Just going to check your vitals before we take you down for imaging.”
Officer.
He grimaced as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his bicep.
“I need to make a phone call today?” he rasped. “I need to call my dad’s nursing home. Make some arrangements.”
“Of course.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “We can help you with whatever you need.”
Can you?
His entire life felt as if it was officially over.
He didn’t have a dollar to his name. Everything he’d harbored was gone. He’d closed the offshore account the morning of the press conference, leaving him with nothing. Not even his father’s living fees were paid.
He was about to close his eyes again when the nurse straightened, looking past his shoulder.
“Officer…it looks like you have a visitor.”
“I’ve already taken care of the nursing home,” a deep, wonderful, familiar voice answered.
Vasquez’s heart skipped a beat.
Joshi stood at the threshold, in a dark polo shirt and tailored denims. He had a shadow of beard stubble that matched those beautiful, intelligent eyes. His gaze fixed on him…studying and dark.
The air rushed out of his lungs. He almost wanted to leap out of the bed and bury himself in Joshi’s chest. He needed to feel his solid, strong arms around him.
But his body refused to move even an inch. Just the thought of rising hurt too much.
Joshi’s eyes softened when they saw the tears he couldn’t hold back.
The nurse hurried and finished checking his IV lines before she left quietly, pulling the door shut behind her.
Silence stretched long and uncomfortable between them.
Joshi didn’t move at first. He just stood there in the doorway with his mouth in a firm line, as if he already knew the whole deceitful, vengeful, bloody story, and was holding back a storm of accusations.
Joshi’s gaze dropped to the floor for half a second… and that was the tell. The confirmation.
Vasquez swallowed hard. His voice scraped out like rusty steel.
“You know…don’t you?”
Joshi’s face tightened before he gave him a slow nod.
Vasquez stared at the blanket, feeling unworthy to meet his eyes.
“Are you here to officially charge me? Handcuff me to the bed?”