Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

T wo days later

Arlington hospital

Emma sat beside the bed, zoning out to the never-ending beep, beep, beep of the monitor.

Her mother was awake and talking. Her father was bruised but recovering.

Gani had been moved out of the ICU but had months of surgeries and rehabilitation ahead of her.

Truman was barely clinging to life.

The bullets had done extensive damage, and, at one point, he’d stopped breathing before the ambulance had arrived. There’d been so much blood that Emma still saw it every time she closed her eyes.

That was why she wasn’t sleeping, even though she and her father had been cleared of all charges. Even though a judge was currently reviewing her mother’s case, along with the last two Red Hearts still imprisoned. Yes, they were guilty of multiple counts of theft, but Ian Bastian’s involvement tainted each case.

Invictus was being investigated; the testimonies of Spencer and Dolan were kept classified. She’d given her own statement about everything she knew multiple times to Pearson and several other men and women from Homeland and Scotland Yard.

The dressings bound around Truman’s chest were only slightly whiter than his skin. Purple circles shadowed his eyes. His always smiling face was devoid of anything more than stubble.

A constant parade of people came and went to check on her and him. It was almost like having a family again. Michael and Brigit. Conrad—she’d finally learned the Viper’s name—and Julia. Zara and her husband, Lawson.

Because Truman was in serious condition, visitations were limited, but Brigit had pulled some strings and the hospital had granted Emma permission to sit with him around the clock.

At least once a day, Dolan or Spence kept her company. They told stories about growing up with Truman, and he became a bit more human in her eyes. She’d only known the barest of trivia about him until now, but like most folks, he’d survived life’s ups and downs. Unlike many, he’d used them to make him a better person.

She hoped all three men would be exonerated for their ties to Britain’s secret government organization through Bastian. While they’d believed they were helping the SIS and Britain’s leaders keep Invictus from exerting undue influence on the stock market, healthcare, and more, they’d actually been feeding information to one of the monsters working for it.

It was all such a mess.

At least Pearson and the task force had the recording of Bastian’s confession. The man himself had been whisked away to a secret site for interrogation. Dolan had told her at one point that it was doubtful Ian would ever see sunlight again, and if he weren’t careful, he’d end up with a shiv in his neck courtesy of the very organization he’d been loyal to. They didn’t let their generals talk.

She didn’t care. He could rot in hell.

The door opened, and her father peeked in. After their ordeal, she would swear he had more gray hair. He gave her a smile, and she motioned him inside.

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head before eyeing Truman. "Any improvement?"

She accepted the bag he handed her. Everyone had been bringing her food and beverages. Brigit and Julia had made sure to provide her with clean clothes. She’d been washing up in the attached bathroom sink and was grateful for all of their kindness, but man, she longed for a real bath, a big, home-cooked meal, and Truman’s teasing smile.

All of those had to wait. "He's the same. The doctors keep claiming he'll wake up on his own anytime now, but he hasn't. Do you think that's normal?"

Her father squeezed her shoulder. It was a gesture that reminded her of Truman. Hell, right now, everything reminded her of him. “He's strong. A fighter. Don't give up on him."

"How's mum?"

"She's…" Emma didn't miss the faint smile that crossed his lips. "Back to her old self, pretty much. I don't know what your friends did, but she believes she'll be a free woman soon. She's made an agreement of some sort with the United States justice system. She won't give me the details, but it sounds like she's going to put her sordid past behind her and turn over a new leaf."

The scent of honey barbecue drifted to her nose. Her stomach growled. "Here? Or is she going back to London?"

"It's the funniest thing," he said, the smile growing. "She asked if she could stay in the spare room at my place. What do you think that means?"

Emma hoped it was her mother being clever and taking the first step to get back into Charlie's life. "I think you better watch out or you're going to have a whole family in that house before you know it."

He chuckled, rubbing the spot on his chest where the rubber bullet had left a sizable bruise. "Your room is always there if you need it."

Would she? She had no idea what the future held. "Thanks, Dad. I'm not sure what's in store for me next. I haven't even talked to my boss yet, and after this, I doubt I still have a job. I may have to move back in with you."

"I'd be happy to have you. You'll figure it out. For now, it's one day at a time."

After he left, she dug into the sandwich he’d brought. There was a slice of cherry pie, as well. She never was one to wait and eat her dessert after her main meal, and she popped open the plastic container and took a bite.

The memory of sharing cherry Pop-Tarts brought a bittersweet grin to her face. She scooped up a bit of the filling and leaned over Truman, waving it under his nose. "You better wake up," she murmured. "Otherwise, I'm going to share this with someone who appreciates it."

There was no response, and she eased onto the mattress, licking it off the end of her finger. There had to be something she could do to bring him out of his unconscious state.

"I know you've been through a lot of hard stuff in your life, and confronting Ian after what he did to you may have been one of the toughest emotional challenges you ever faced.” She smoothed a strand of hair off his forehead. “You have every right to want to hide from the world right now, but I need you. Your brothers need you. It's time to build new relationships.”

The monitor continued its steady beep. His chest rose and fell. She interlinked her fingers with his, worrying her bottom lip.

“I want you to meet my mum and dad,” she continued. “We’re a pretty messed up family, too, but they're going to love you. Outside of the fact that you shot my dad, I'm pretty sure he already thinks you walk on water because you saved me. Please, Truman. Stop hiding and come back to me."

The nurses had said he could hear her, but when he didn’t so much as twitch a finger, she wondered if that were true.

Or maybe he was just done with her. Done with all of them.

She left the rest of her sandwich and pie unfinished, sinking into the chair again and closing her eyes.

The sound of muttering drew her out of her foggy dreams sometime later, and when she sat up, she found Dolan and Spence there.

"Sorry," Spence said. "We didn't mean to wake you.”

Her neck was stiff, and her foot was asleep. She stood and stretched. "You’re not supposed to be in here at the same time, remember?"

Dolan smirked. “Spence has the nurses wrapped around his finger. They won't bother us."

She glared at them. "Just don't get me thrown out, okay?”

“Never," Spence protested. “You really should take a break, though. Let us take care of him for a while.”

Dolan nodded. "We’re used to it. He was always getting his ass in trouble as a kid, and we were charged with keeping an eye on him.”

"But…” a quiet voice said from the bed, “I was…his favorite."

The men whipped their heads around, and Emma gasped. Truman's eyes were slit open.

Her relief was all-encompassing, and she grabbed his hand, squashing it between hers. "You're awake."

He tried to lift his free arm to rub at his face, then noticed the tangle of the IV line and heart monitor cords. "What the bloody hell…?”

"Take it easy there, slugger," Spence said. “You may have been the old man's favorite, but he put three bullets in your chest."

Truman's eyes locked on Emma's. The pain medications pumping into his system couldn't wholly overcome what he'd been through. His voice was hoarse, and she could tell every word, every breath, caused agony. "Are you…all right?"

The relief continued to surge through her, making her almost giddy. "Better than all right, now that you're awake. I feel like I'm walking on air."

He gave her a reasonable facsimile of his signature grin. "I have that…effect…on people."

That was how she knew he was going to be okay. Even though he was in pain and had a long recovery ahead of him, the fact that he could still be a smartass spoke volumes.

Dolan patted his leg through the blanket. “We’ll leave you with your lady and chat later. We have a lot to catch you up on. Just don't think this gets you out of what you owe me, wanker."

Spence tussled the top of Truman's hair. "You pulled off a hell of an operation. I didn't think the old man would go for it, but you’re right. You were his favorite. He always let you get away with everything and never thought you'd betray him."

Truman’s smile fell as if the memories were all coming back now. “Did he get away?"

Spence gave him an exasperated expression. “Your fail rate on ops is less than ten percent, mate, and for once in your life, you didn't go lone wolf on us. Well, you did in the beginning, but at least you smartened up and let me and Lanny get in on it. The three of us have always been an unstoppable force. Can anyone outsmart us when we're working together?"

The weak smile returned. "I owe you both."

Spence winked. "You just focus on getting better so we can settle up as soon as you're out of here."

They left, and Emma fussed with Truman's blankets and pillow. "Do you want me to call the nurse? Do you need more pain meds?”

He grabbed one of her hands to stop her nervous activity. “All I need…is you."

His strength surprised her when he tugged her into the bed beside him. She protested. "This is a terrible idea. There's not enough room. I could end up hurting you."

He grimaced as he shifted to squeeze her in but didn't let go of his hold. “Please.”

She stopped short. Smiled. Caressing his face, she looked into his eyes and sighed. “I never could resist your begging.”

The side of his mouth quirked, and he closed his eyes. “Get used to it. I love you, Emma Grant, and I’m ready to beg for the rest of my life.”

“That should do it, then,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. His breathing was already deepening into sleep. “Because I love you, too.”