Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Gabe

Everything around me felt like it was moving when I woke up. I cracked my eyelids open, and I was looking at an unfamiliar ceiling.

No, wait, not unfamiliar. I'd seen it before.

But where?

Memories came back to me slowly.

Meeting with Director Thornton. His accusation, and then his death. The shoot out with unknown assailants. The feeling of a bullet tearing through my shoulder. Hiding submerged under the surface of the lake for hours as I swam to safety, breathing only through a thin reed.

But what happened after that?

I had a brief memory of making a phone call.

Sitting up on what turned out to be a bed, I groaned and clutched my shoulder. It hurt, but not as much as I expected, and the wound had been expertly stitched and bandaged.

Oh, now I recognized my surroundings. I was in the RV. Looking toward the driver's seat, I was unsurprised to find Frankie behind the wheel.

"You're awake," he said, sounding happy, though he never took his eyes off the road. "Hold on one moment."

I swayed with the change in momentum as Frankie pulled the RV to a stop at the side of the road. As soon as he turned the vehicle off, he joined me at the back of the RV and immediately started checking my wound. "Thank God your fever broke. How are you? We're about twenty miles from the safe house. Can you wait that long, or is there anything that needs to be taken care of now?"

Fever?

That explained why I felt so shaky.

When Frankie unwrapped the bandages, I got a good look at the damage. The first thing I noticed was the sign of infection. I remembered crawling from the lake with my whole arm and shoulder on fire and touching anywhere near the wound felt like I was being shot all over again.

"Is everyone all right?" I asked, directing my words to the top of Frankie's head as he was leaning down to inspect my shoulder. His braids looked better than before.

He froze and looked up at me, dark eyes wide enough to see the whites all the way around. Then he laughed, the sound coming mostly out of his nose like he wasn't sure if he should be controlling his reaction or not.

"Of course that's your first question."

My brow furrowed in confusion. I didn't know what time it was, or even what day it was, but one thing was clear. The people I was meant to be protecting had been left alone for much longer than expected. Of course I would want to know if they were all right.

Why was that surprising?

"Yeah," Frankie nodded as he returned to his work. "We're all fine. Sebastian is even starting to show some improvement. You're the one we need to worry about right now. What happened? How much do you remember?"

I explained in detail about my meeting with the FBI director and the subsequent fallout. My memory was extremely clear about what had happened and didn't turn fuzzy until after I crawled out of the lake.

"Oh, yeah," Frankie laughed. "Spending hours submerged in a lake with an open wound will definitely do it. No wonder your wound got infected."

More memories were coming back to me. After escaping the park, I couldn't go back to my car as it was under surveillance, so I'd walked until I found a town. From there, I'd intended to catch a public bus to get back to the safe house, but it was late, and I missed the last bus for the night. The next one wouldn't come until morning. At first, I'd been prepared to wait, but the infection in my wound worsened rapidly until I didn't think I'd be able to stay conscious that long. So, I'd called Frankie and told him where I was.

It was honestly a miracle he'd managed to find me at all. By the time I called him, I was already struggling to stay conscious and wasn't very precise in my directions.

I checked the position of the sun through the RV's window. It was a few hours past sunrise. "I've been gone too long. We should return quickly in case something happens to the others. After this, there will be even more people looking for us."

Frankie finished applying the bandages but didn't immediately return to the driver's seat. "Wow. You are determined to prove me wrong, aren't you."

I didn't know what to say to that statement, so I just stared at him, silently willing him to explain so I wouldn't have to ask.

He sighed and shook his head like he was trying to get water out of his eyes. His braids swayed and knocked against each other before falling still.

"At first I thought you were just some emotionless soldier, following orders without any actual care for the people under your protection."

He looked at me, and for the first time I noticed how long his eyelashes were. They framed his eyes nicely and highlighted his expressions.

"You aren't the first person to accuse me of being heartless."

If anything, it was a mild insult compared to some of the things I'd been called before. "Stone cold bastard" had been thrown my way more than once.

However, rather than agree with me, Frankie shook his head again and took a seat on the bed next to me. "The point is that I've realized I was wrong. You do care. So much so, that your very first question after waking up from getting shot is about the welfare of other people. In fact, I think you care very deeply, and this whole automaton persona you present to everyone is just a way to protect yourself."

He tipped his head on his shoulder, so he was smiling at me sideways.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

We were sitting close enough for our shoulders to brush, though he made sure to avoid my injury. My right shoulder still hurt terribly, but I couldn't help bringing my hand up to trace over the scars running down my left arm. It was a habit I'd picked up ever since first getting them years ago, and the action was now automatic whenever I found myself thinking deeply.

I also realized that I was shirtless, and that the scars were on full display. Frankie must have seen them but hadn't said a word about them.

"The way that you are... you make it easy."

I knew I'd said the wrong thing when Frankie leaned back to give me a strange look.

"Easy? Are you calling me a slut?"

I gaped at him, horrified by my own words. It was a common occurrence. Things that made sense in my mind often didn't sound how I thought they would once spoken out loud. It was why I usually chose to remain silent unless I was positive about the reaction my words would get. I'd hurt people in similar ways in the past, though this was one of the more egregious mistakes I'd made.

"No, I don't mean..." My fingers found the largest scar on my arm, which cut across my bicep just above the elbow. I traced the line over and over again as I grasped to find the right words. "You're bright. You offer hope. Like light at the end of a dark tunnel. Your personality makes it easy to care about you."

This time I got the words right, for Frankie's face lit up with a genuine smile rather than the sarcastic one he'd been using earlier.

"Aw. That's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me. Now, let's get back to the safe house so you can see that everyone is fine."

He patted my leg, then stood from the bed so he could return to his place in the driver's seat. As the RV rumbled to life again, a new memory pushed its way through the fog of my fever.

A cool press of lips against my own fever hot ones.

Had I imagined it?

Possible. Hallucinations were a common fever symptom and made more sense than Frankie actually kissing me.

Still, I couldn't be sure. I brought my fingers up to my lips and could so easily imagine it was Frankie's mouth pressing against me rather than my own touch.

As I watched him steering the RV back onto the road, I fell back on my tried-and-true reaction. Since I didn't know what to say or how he would react, I chose to keep my silence.