Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Her left hand combs through my hair.
For the second time in as many days, I fucking break down and cry.
"How is she?" I ask the same ER doctor who took care of her when she fell down the stairs, staring up at the man through bleary eyes. Pushing myself to my feet, I stride across the small waiting room to meet him, not giving a shit if Danvers and his detectives are done asking me questions or not.
We've been here for hours, and I haven't gotten to see her since we stepped over the threshold. Tahani's with her, watching over her while I deal with Danvers.
Dr. Lina's gaze runs over the uniformed men scattered around the room, one eyebrow rising before he quickly schools his expression again. I'm guessing it's not every day twenty or so cops are crammed into one of his waiting rooms together. I don't even know who the fuck half of them are, but they're here anyway.
Some, like Danvers, are here because they have to be. Others, like Finn, Arias, Carter―even a few I don't know―are here to lend their support. Like I said, doesn't matter what agency you work for, we're one big family. No one goes through shit like this alone.
Finn, Arias, and Carter flank me, standing at my back as Dr. Lina stops in front of me.
"She's going to be fine, Agent Gregory," Dr. Lina says, pitching his voice so it doesn't carry beyond our little group.
I plant my feet to keep my legs from buckling as hard knots of fear loosen all over my body. My head bows for a moment, a fervent prayer of gratitude issuing from my lips.
Finn claps his hand on my shoulder.
"The bullet went straight through," Dr. Lina continues. "We cleaned out the wound and stitched her up. She will be sore for a while and probably need physical therapy to rebuild strength in that arm, but she will be just fine."
"And the baby?" I ask softly.
"Ms. Lawson has been through a lot," he says like I don't already fucking know that. "The pregnancy appears to be progressing normally. Her HCG levels are rising, which is a good sign, but it's still very early in her pregnancy. In a week or two, we should be able to detect a heartbeat, which will give us a better indication of where things stand. But for now, you need to keep her calm, minimize her stress, and let her heal."
"I…" I swallow hard and nod, praying like hell that things continue to look good. "Thank you," I mumble to Dr. Lina.
He nods, slipping his hands into his coat. "I'd like to keep her here overnight to keep an eye on her. We'll get her out of here if everything still looks good tomorrow."
The last thing I want her to have to do is spend the night here, but I'll do whatever she needs.
"One other thing," he says before I can stumble away. His gaze sweeps over the crowded waiting room again before he shakes his head and gives me a wry smile. "You might want to finish up here soon. The main waiting room is starting to get crowded. We're going to need this room."
"We'll be out of your hair soon," Finn promises him.
"Good luck, Agent Gregory," Dr. Lina says. "I'm sure I'll see you in the morning."
Yeah, he will. I'm not leaving this hospital until Mila does.
Christ, I need to see her.
As Dr. Lina walks away, I turn to Finn.
"Are they done with me yet?" I ask him, knowing damn well that Danvers has been dragging this shit out for as long as possible to piss me off. And I get his frustration. Two women and a Sacramento police officer were kidnapped and brought to his city. The men responsible died on his beach, one by my hand. He's going to be doing paperwork for the next month straight. Any other day, I'd empathize with him. But I've told him everything I'm willing to tell him.
"Not likely," Finn snorts, narrowing his eyes on Danvers. He's pissed about the man's attitude too. "Go see your girl, Roman. I'll deal with the rest of this shit."
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet," he mumbles so only I can hear him. "You aren't even remotely close to finished answering my fucking questions."
"Didn't think I was," I mutter, knowing damn well he's referring to the fact that Brady and Selena Ortega are missing in action. He isn't going to like what I have to say about that when the time comes. We'll be fucking lucky if Brady and I have jobs once the dust settles, but I don't regret my decision to help her disappear. She isn't a pawn for Francisco, his rival cartels, or the federal government; neither is her kid.
"Go take care of your girl, Roman."