Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Ats

"What the fuck did you think you were doing going in there alone?"

I grit my teeth together, glaring at Lex as I hold still and allow the doctor to check her handiwork on my gunshot wound. "I didn't go in alone," I remind him.

He glares. "Fine. Didn't go in alone, just stayed and did stupid shit after Sandra called it off."

That I can't argue with.

I want to, just because he's yelling at me.

But he's not wrong.

We staked out the warehouse all night, looking for an opening, but it was too dangerous. Not enough agents. Not a clear line of sight. Not the right time.

So, Sandra called it off.

Regroup.

Refocus.

Come back out and try again.

I'd been on board with that—up until I started slipping away to my car and saw the box truck pull in.

And the girls, scared and clinging to each other, dressed…well, dressed like they were going to be auctioned off, were being loaded into the back.

I knew if they were locked in, driven off…

We would never find them again.

I close my eyes, exhale, then wince as the doctor finishes with the wound at my side.

"Rest for minimum of four weeks," she tells me, tugging my gown back down and the blanket back up. She peels off her gloves and tosses them into the trash before typing something on the computer parked next to the bed. "Longer if you push it," she adds, giving me a look that communicates she knows exactly how I feel about someone ordering me to rest. "It's not serious?—"

Lex makes a sound of protest, but she just keeps her eyes on mine, holding my gaze.

"It's not serious," she says again, "but you can sure as hell make it become that way."

I grind my back teeth together, but I get the message loud and clear, so I nod.

She nods in return then steps back to the computer. Her fingers fly across the keyboard for several moments.

Moments that Lex spends sighing and shifting next to me, clearly impatient for me to explain exactly what the fuck-all I'd been thinking going into the warehouse alone.

I hadn't been thinking.

I'd been reacting.

Which is why I'm lying here with four weeks of rest ahead of me, listening to a doctor play typewriter on an industrial keyboard as my best friend in the entire world gets more pissed at me by the moment.

Stupid as hell.

So much of the last week is stupid as hell.

But that's a problem for tomorrow me—when the drugs wear off.

The doc pushes in the keyboard, says, "I'll send the nurse in with your discharge instructions."

"Thanks," I mutter.

She nods. "Be careful out there."

"Always am."

Lies.

Something else she sees, though she doesn't call me on it. She just flicks up her brows, glances at Lex, and then slips out into the hallway.

Of the hospital.

I should have gone home, should have taken care of it myself, but…

Cam.

I had needed Cam.

And Lex.

My family.

Because…I was scared and in love and miserable and alone and?—

Even if the stubborn fucks had called an ambulance—though I told them both not too because I was fine—and I've now spent the last hours getting patched up in the emergency department when a couple of butterfly bandages and some gauze would have done the job…I can't be mad.

I love them.

And I need them.

And—

" Why the fuck?—"

I hold my hand up, barely able to bite back the wince—because, yup, the good drugs are starting to wear off now. But I do manage it and say, "It was dumb as hell. I know that. You know that. But the girls were getting ready to be shipped out and the oldest one is sixteen." I drop my hand to my side, and I grimace, though at least Lex is doing the same. "The oldest ," I repeat. "I couldn't?—"

He exhales and shoves a hand through his hair, and I know I've won, at least a little.

He wouldn't have been able to walk away either.

"You're lucky you're not fucking dead, Attie."

I let the nickname slide—just this time. Because he's right. And because Cam's gotten me used to Athena, to Cupcake. To accepting that I'm not what my parents tried to make me.

No, I've been doing that too.

"I know," I whisper.

I was scared out of my mind, huddled in the corner of the warehouse, clinging to the shadows, participating in an illegal firefight in a very not nice part of town, waiting for that sixteen-year-old girl—the only one old enough to know how to drive the van I'd found and loaded the other girls into—to get far enough away for me to make a break for my car parked several blocks over.

The men guarding the warehouse weren't happy about losing their merchandise nor about my interference?—

The through-and-through on my side is more than enough proof of that.

"But I had to," I mutter.

Lex sighs again and sinks down into the chair next to me, his thundercloud of anger evaporating like valley fog on a hot summer day. "I know." A beat as he takes my hand. "But it was still fucking stupid."

I want to laugh, but because that'll fucking hurt, I just shake my head. "Yeah," I say quietly, "it was."

His fingers wrap around mine. "The girls are safe. They drove straight to the office and Connie met them."

My throat goes tight, and part of me hates that my eyes start stinging, but I manage, "Great."

A squeeze. "You did good, kid."

I laugh weakly. "That's my line to say after you do something stupid and somehow survive."

He scowls, but only for a second before going back to teasing, "You always have all the good ones." His big shoulder lifts then drops. "So, I gotta take what I can."

I open my mouth to give him another one, but I don't get to release my snark because the nurse walks in then, and he starts briskly giving me my discharge instructions.

It's all the usual stuff—keep the wounds clean, coming back if I spike a fever, staying on top of my pain medicine and antibiotics.

And making sure I rest.

Ugh. The idea of rest when we're this close, when I need to talk to Jean-Michel, when we need to put this thing to bed…

Painful.

But something I don't have time to ruminate on because the next hour is filled with getting dressed in some old scrubs and signing paperwork and being wheeled out to his rental car.

Cam isn't outside, even though I scan the shadows for him.

And I don't have the heart to ask where he is.

He called me baby.

But he asked for space.

He loves me.

But might not be sure it's enough.

"Don't bleed in this one," Lex mutters as he buckles me in. "I didn't buy the insurance."

I snort then grit my teeth together at the bolt of pain. "Hilarious."

"I thought so." He slams my door, rounds the hood, and gets in the driver's seat, carefully navigating us away from the hospital and onto the freeway.

I can't lie.

The fatigue catches up with me and pretty soon my eyes are sliding closed and I'm dozing off and?—

I stir when the car comes to a halt, slowly peeling my eyes open, and then gaping at my former partner.

Because Lex hasn't driven me home.

He's taken me to Cam's house.

My teeth click together. "Lex?—"

"Shut it," he snaps, jabbing a finger in my direction. "I know there's something going on between you two."

"There's—"

"Don't lie to me. He was out of his mind. And you've spent the last week sounding—and now that I'm here— looking like a puppy that's been kicked." He nods to the house. "So you're staying here until it's fixed."

Only, what if Cam doesn't want to fix it?

"And by the way," Lex says, turning off the ignition and swiveling in his seat to fix me in place with a narrow-eyed glare. "I had Cam drop your car at the bio-hazard cleaners, so deal with being here until you both fix it…or I decide you're ready to have your keys back."

"Seriously?" I snap. "I'm an adult, you know."

"I know. And?"

And…

What if Cam doesn't want me here and I need to GTFO?

"It's full of blood, Ats"—he jabs at the button to unlatch his seat belt—"same as Cam's entryway and bathroom were when I found you."

Guilt slices through my middle, but I hold tight to the anger and grit out, "I could have cleaned it up."

He sniffs. "When you can't even get your T-shirt on by yourself?"

I growl.

Then wince.

Both because it hurts and because he's right—I needed his help to get dressed in the hospital.

Ugh.

And both of which he clearly sees.

He rolls his eyes and unfolds himself out of the car, leaving me with a statement that steals my words almost as effectively as the pain radiating through my insides.

"Fix it, Ats," he murmurs. "Find a way to fix it before it's too late. Otherwise"—his eyes bore into mine—"you'll regret it forever."