Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 90315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90315 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“I need this whole hospital locked down,” I bark at the security guard by the ambulance bay, who looks startled. “That’s the First Daughter of the United States, and I need this place locked down now. Do you understand?”
“On it,” he says, speaking into his radio.
I don’t let Lena leave my sight as the doctors work on her, and finally, the one who seems to be in charge steps over to me and shakes his head.
My heart fucking stops.
“If you tell me she’s dead—”
“No, she’s not dead. If you’re not her immediate family, I shouldn’t be telling you—”
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll fucking break your legs.”
His face hardens, but he must see the truth in my face, because he continues. “She’s unconscious, which tells me that hit to the head was harder than any of us would want it to be. I need to get images of her brain so I can see what’s going on.”
“Do whatever you have to do.”
He nods and drags his hand down his face. “The skull is fractured.”
No.
Baby, no.
My whole world is in that hospital bed. My life doesn’t work without her. She has to be fine.
This is all my fucking fault.
Why did I listen to them? Why did I cave when Lena ganged up on me with a friend again, only to have her end up in this hospital bed?
Fuck, I don’t deserve her. She should not be with me.
“Get the tests done. Her mother will be here in less than four hours, and we need to have answers for her.”
“I’m on it,” he says, and I run beside the gurney as Lena’s wheeled down to an imaging lab. I have to stand on the other side of a window while the test is run, and then she’s with me again as we return to the room, where Ryker and Willow wait.
“Oh, sweetie,” Willow says as she takes Lena’s hand and sits next to the bed. “Gideon, it happened so fast.”
“Yeah, well, that’s usually how it works, baby girl.” The guilt is eating away at me more and more with every passing second. “It’s my fault.”
“Whoa.” Ryker shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”
“It one thousand percent is. Goddamn it, I knew better. Until that threat was gone, we were to stay put, and I fucked up. I can’t work with a clear head because I’m too in love with her to think straight. She shouldn’t be in my care. I’m not safe for her.”
“We talked you into it,” Willow says softly. “What now? Does this mean that it’s over?”
“No, it means that four men are dead, but they were just foot soldiers.” I can’t stop pacing. “But now we know who, and I know who the fucking mole is.”
Bishop should be taking care of this as I speak, even from the air. They’ll have to land Air Force One in Missoula, and then they’ll come to Paradise Valley by helicopter.
As I stand at the foot of her bed, nurses bustle around, cleaning the wound on Lena’s head and bandaging it up. They change the fluid bag when it’s empty, and they take several vials of blood.
What for, I have no idea.
Finally, the doctor comes back, his face still in grim lines.
“The bad news is, there is definitely a small fracture in the skull, and a contusion on the brain. It’s caused some swelling. However, I don’t see a bleed anywhere, which is good news.”
“Is it normal for her to still be unconscious?” Willow asks, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Absolutely. Her body is protecting itself. Until that swelling goes down, it’s best if she’s asleep. In fact, if she were to naturally wake up now, I’d put her in a medically induced coma.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
I can’t stand any of the words coming out of his mouth.
My Rebel, my baby, is lying there, hurt and in a fucking coma because of my incompetence.
“Rest is the best thing for her,” he continues. “We’ll keep monitoring her closely. I’ll come talk to her parents when they arrive.”
“I’m shocked he told you so much,” Ryker says.
“I fucking threatened him,” I reply with a sneer.
“Gid, come hold your girl’s hand.”
I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be allowed near her. I had one goddamn job, and I couldn’t do it. But even now, I can’t stay away from her.
I circle the bed, take her free hand in mine, and kiss her knuckles, and then, as if my body is moving on its own, I crawl onto the bed with her and hold her gently against me, wrapping my body around her as if to keep her safe from anyone who might come storming in here to try to hurt her.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper against her ear. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I press my lips to her forehead and feel tears fill my eyes when I realize that I can’t smell her oranges. All I smell is the antiseptic of the hospital, and it makes me want to rage.