Chapter 37
37
Bea
A gent Rahmer insisted on driving Bea to the hospital. Bea agreed, though she wanted nothing more than to jump into the back of the ambulance with Rogue and Thorne, because Slate had promised he’d stay with both men and keep her updated, and because she hadn’t been sure if she’d be allowed to leave or if the police would detain her.
Bea knew she was a victim here, but she wasn’t stupid. She was also Emiliano Cruz’s niece, and she’d been found in a shipping container with his dead body. There was no reason for the police men and women swarming the docks to trust her or believe in her innocence.
In the end, it was Rahmer and Griffin who had solved the problem. Griffin had made it clear he would be the one staying behind with Cruz’s body—for that Bea was grateful, because the thought of going back inside the shipping container was more than she could bear. Emergency services personnel had bandaged Bea’s wrists, and then Agent Rahmer had insisted Bea needed to be checked out at the hospital.
The way Rahmer drove, Bea thought they might actually make it to the hospital before the ambulance. She watched the streets fly by as Rahmer floored it through another red light, her hands steady and relaxed around the steering wheel.
She hadn’t tried to speak to Bea or question her, and for that Bea was a relief. She knew she’d have a lot to answer for, but right now all she could think about were the two men in the ambulance. Three, if you counted Dark, since Slate had told her he was also at the hospital and had been since Roberts attacked them in the hotel room.
“I don’t actually need a doctor,” Bea said, finally, as Rahmer raced through an amber light. She was starting to wonder if the Interpol agent might be colorblind.
“I know,” the woman said gruffly. “But it was the quickest way to get you out of there. Consider it a first apology. We’re not all bad apples.”
“First?”
“There will be other apologies coming your way. Quiet, unofficial ones, of course. Nobody will want to admit a DEA agent could have been working with Emiliano Cruz for years without the international intelligence community knowing anything about it.”
Bea shuddered. She didn’t understand herself how this could have happened without any of Roberts’s colleagues knowing. But then, she’d lived with her uncle for years, and she hadn’t known any of his business associates either.
Her uncle. The last family she’d had left in the world. The bloodless, crumpled up body she’d left behind was the last family she’d had. A man who would have sold you to another man. A man who would have raped you. The thought of how close he’d come to doing so made her gag. If Thorne hadn’t been there to delay things … if Rogue hadn’t arrived when he did …
“Do you need me to stop the car?” Agent Rahmer said mildly. There was no surprise and no judgment in her tone. Bea shook her head. She had to get to the hospital. Even though Slate had assured her Rogue would be fine, she had to see with her own eyes. She had to be there for him when he woke up.
“Will they let me in to see Rogue?” she asked, suddenly fearful.
“Let me take care of that,” Agent Rahmer replied, a small smile playing on her thin lips.
A petite, blonde doctor met them at the entrance to the hospital. She greeted Bea with a quick nod, then took Agent Rahmer’s hand in hers and gave brought it to her mouth to kiss. Bea’s eyebrow arched up in surprise.
“Beatriz, meet Dr. Raines. My wife.”
“Come with me,” the doctor said, already whisking Bea through the imposing emergency room doors. “This way.” Bea turned back to look at Agent Rahmer.
“I told you I’d help you,” Agent Rahmer said. “I’ll wait here. I have a few calls to make.”
The thick, cloying smell of disinfectant filled Bea’s lungs, reminding her of the way her father’s body had smelled when she’d said goodbye to him.
“Are you alright?” the petite doctor asked.
Bea swallowed compulsively, struggling to think over the voice hissing in her head, telling her that if Rogue died, it would all be her fault. “I’m okay,” she lied. She had to see Rogue. No matter what. And telling the doctor about the voices in her head wasn’t the way to accomplish that.
“Third door to the right,” the doctor said. “He’s been asking about you.”
“Thank you,” Bea said, realizing how weak the words sounded. “For … for helping me.” The doctor said a quick farewell, and then Bea was through the door, and into a room that was barely more than a small stall.
Fear filled her at the thought of what she might find, but she forced herself to look up. Then she blinked. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t to see Rogue, naked from the waist up, sitting on the stretcher, tugging at the IV line in his arm.
“Rogue!” Bea said, launching herself forward to stop him. “What are you doing?
His free arm stopped fiddling with the IV line and wrapped tight around her. “Bea. Are you alright?”
“I am now. What’s going on? Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.
“Nowhere, now,” he said, pressing her tighter against him. She went willingly, until she was close enough that she could hear the staccato beat of his heart. “I was going to find you. Fuck, I was scared.”
Bea almost laughed. She’d been scared as well. So scared. But the use of the past tense served to calm her.
“You’re okay?” she asked, hating how tremulous her voice sounded.
He shrugged. “Help me take this off. I need to go see Thorne.”
“Uh, I don’t know if?—”
And then Rahmer’s wife was there again. Bea had forgotten her name, but clearly she’d erected herself as their champion. Before Rogue could hurt himself, she helped him pull out the IV line and found a pair of scrubs for him.
“So you’re not walking around the hospital half-naked,” she clarified. “Come on. I’ll take you to see your friend.”
“How is he?” Rogue asked, his expression serious.
The doctor shook her head. “He’s a stubborn bastard, is what he is.”
Bea linked her hand with Rogue, and together they walked the long corridor, each of them in turn supporting and supported by the other.
This room was bigger, and full of beeping machines. Thorne lay pale and wan on a bed that seemed too narrow for him. To his left, several machines beeped asynchronously. Bea’s fear spiked again.
This is my fault. All my fault.
This man was here because of her. All she wanted to do was run away, but she forced herself to stand her ground. She was done running. She dug her heels in, taking comfort from Rogue’s arm on the small of her back, took a deep breath, and padded softly into the room.
“Thorne,” Bea said, staggering forward. She’d been thinking of what to say to him, but any and all words seemed inappropriate. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this moment. What to say to someone who, without even knowing you, had been willing to die for you.
“He saved my life,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. Thank you. I’m sorry.” Rogue squeezed her arm protectively and then Thorne’s eyes opened. One of them, anyway. His left eye was swollen shut, his face black all the way from the eye socket down to his square jaw.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.
“Don’t,” Thorne rasped, speaking through gritted teeth.
Don’t what? Don’t come closer. Don’t speak to me.
Thorne mumbled something, his voice almost unintelligible, his brow furrowed in what had to be pain. At her blank look, he repeated it again, then exchanged a quick look with Rogue.
“Don’t apologize,” Rogue translated. “He means none of this is your fault, Bea.” Thorne blinked his assent.
“You almost died because of me,” Bea said. Another unintelligible mumble from Thorne.
“Because of Cruz,” Rogue said, taking on the role of interpreter. This time, Thorne nodded. He looked tired, as if just those few words had exhausted him.
Bea nodded. Okay. So Thorne wasn’t blaming her. And Rogue wasn’t blaming her.
If only she could stop blaming herself.
“I should go see my uncle,” Bea said, the words rancid on her tongue.
“Fuck him.” This time, Thorne’s words required no interpreting, but Rogue repeated them anyway.
Bea looked at both men. Could it really be as simple as that? “But if I don’t go …” There was nobody else. Nobody would take her uncle’s body.
“The FBI, the DEA, and Interpol will take care of it, Bea. Not you,” Rogue said, squeezing her hand gently. “Not unless you want to.”
She shook her head quickly. “I don’t want to.”
Thorne’s expression grew rigid. It was clear even to her that his pain levels were increasing.
“Can we call someone for you, Thorne?” she asked.
“Get her the fuck out of here, Rogue. And don’t leave her alone.”
The words seemed to exhaust him, and he closed his eyes.
“I swear I won’t, Thorne,” Rogue promised.
“Can we come back tomorrow to see you?” Thorne’s eye had already closed again, but he grunted something.
“That means he might not be here tomorrow, Bea,” Rogue said, chuckling. He sounded more relaxed now than before they’d walked in. “Come on, let me take you home, honey.”
Home. Such a foreign concept. She had no home. She hadn’t had a home in many, many years. But of course, she knew what he meant. And she knew also that she would go anywhere with Rogue. Anywhere he went, she would follow, if he let her.
They limped down the corridor together, towards the exit. It had only been Agent Rahmer there earlier, but now there were several faces she recognized. Her eyes fell on Griffin first, as he paced the hallway in an uncharacteristically nervous fashion. Slate sat on one of the plastic chairs, his back ramrod straight. Beside him, Dark sat on a hospital-issued wheelchair. A white bandage covered his head, but his eyes were alert.
Bea rushed towards him. “Dark!” She kneeled in front of him and grabbed his hand.
“You’re okay?” she asked fearfully.
“I’m good,” Dark said, his lips pressed together. “I’m sorry I let him get you, Bea.” He shot her an agonized look.
“What? No. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Dark leaned forward in his chair and pulled her up easily, all but shoving her back into Rogue’s arms.
“Are you both okay?” Slate asked.
“We just saw Thorne,” Rogue said quickly. “He was conscious. The bastard thinks he will be home tomorrow.”
A tall, thin doctor cleared his throat behind them. He must have followed them out, but Bea hadn’t even noticed him until now.
“That may be a bit premature,” he said. “I’ve been told by Mr. Thorne that I could speak with all of you,” he continued. “That you’re his family.”
Dark nodded, wheeling himself forward. “We are. How is he doing, doctor?”
“A full list of injuries would take too long, but whoever hit him knew what he was doing. Mr. Thorne has a broken eye socket, broken ribs, and internal bleeding that we’re still working on getting under control.”
Bea shrunk in on herself, remembering how he’d taunted Cruz, in an attempt to keep Cruz’s attention away from her. She bit her lip to stop herself from whimpering, but then Rogue was there, his arms around her.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. He’s going to be okay.”
The doctor nodded. “I expect him to make a full recovery,” he agreed, “ if he does everything we tell him to do.”
“He will,” Dark said. “We’ll make sure of it.”
“Mr. Thorne has already stated he wishes to be released. That won’t happen until we’re sure his internal bleeding is under control, but, when it does, he can’t go home alone. And he certainly can’t travel.”
“He’ll be with us,” Dark said. “We’ll take care of him until he’s fit to travel.”
And Bea knew they would. These men, who weren’t family but who behaved more like family than her own family ever had, took care of one another.
Rogue
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Bea asked, her face glowing as she looked out from one of the city’s emblematic bridges. Below them, the water shimmered with the colors of the sunset.
“Beautiful,” he agreed. She didn’t have to know if wasn’t the sunset he was referring to. “What’s wrong, Bea?” he asked, hating the sad, almost haunted look in her beautiful eyes. Bea took a deep breath before replying.
“I should feel sad that my uncle is dead, but I don’t feel anything.”
Rogue sighed. He’d known this was coming. He hadn’t wanted to rush her, because this was something she needed to come to terms with on her own, but he couldn’t stay silent now that she was bringing it up.
“Whatever you feel is right, Bea. Me? I’m fucking celebrating the bastard’s death,” he growled. Rogue would have hated the man anyway, for his role in bringing drugs into the hands of innocent people. Children, even. But the way he’d treated Bea … what he’d attempted to do … it was more than Rogue could stomach.
“I wish I could mourn him,” she said. “Because he was family. Because I remember him as a young man, when his entire future was unwritten. I know he could have become anything and maybe my father had a lot to do with what he ended up becoming.”
Bea was a much better person than he was. Not that he’d needed confirmation. Here she was, worrying herself silly about the dead man, when Rogue’s only regret was that he’d made the man’s death too easy.
“Your father,” Rogue reminded her gently. “Not you. You didn’t do any of this.”
She nodded. “I know. But I keep having to tell myself that.”
“Then keep telling yourself that, honey. And if you need to hear it from someone else, you call me, day or night. As many times as you need to hear it.” And he would. Even when she left—and fuck it, she was going to leave him and he would stand by and let her go because it was the right thing to do, regardless of how much it hurt—even then, he would make fucking sure she knew how to reach him, if she ever needed him.
He’d been hoping to make her smile, but her eyes turned even sadder.
Fuck.
Making her sad was the last thing he wanted. He had to let her know everything was going to be okay.
“The doctors say Thorne’s ready to travel,” he said. “We’re flying back to Zurich tomorrow.”
“I know. He called me earlier. The government has confiscated all of my uncle’s accounts, but Thorne managed to set aside a small amount for me to be able to study.”
Rogue nodded. He already knew about this and knew also that Thorne and Agent Rahmer had used every trick in the book to secure this money for Bea.
“Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, I will help you, Bea,” Rogue said, keeping his eyes on the water beneath them so she wouldn’t see how much it was costing him to say this. “You still want to go to university?”
“I do,” she said, after a long silence. “More than ever, I want to become a social worker.”
Rogue nodded. Of course she did. “How can I help?” he asked, gripping the railing tighter.
He would help her, no matter what it cost him. Even though his heart was breaking at the thought of her leaving. She had a plan, she had a life ahead of her and he would fucking well help her.
Bea placed her small hand on his larger one. “You can let me stay with you,” she said, “until I know if the University of Zurich has accepted my application.”
Rogue wondered if he’d heard correctly. “You’ve applied to the University of Zurich?”
Bea nodded. A small smile played on her lips. “Dark and Slate helped me pull everything together these last few days.”
Rogue’s heart hammered against his ribcage. Hope soared inside him. He didn’t have to give her up. They could be together in Zurich. He would take care of her and they would— No. You don’t have anything to offer her. You need to let her go and give her the chance to find something better. Someone better. More deserving. Less damaged.
“No. You can’t come to Zurich with me,” he said, his voice a strangled growl.
Bea’s smile froze on her face. “Why not?”
Rogue swallowed through what felt like sticks in his throat.
“You know why.”
“Don’t you want me there?”
“Dammit, Bea. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what makes the most sense for you. It’s about your life. I can’t be responsible for keeping you caged.”
“Caged …” Bea’s eyes went hard. “You think I don’t know what it feels like to be caged?”
“That’s exactly it. I know you know. And I …” he swallowed thickly. “I would do anything to stop you from feeling that way again.” Because I love you. He bit his lip to stop himself from saying the words out loud. It wasn’t her fault that he’d fallen hopelessly in love with her.
Bea’s chin came up defiantly. “That’s exactly my point. I am free. Free to know what I want. And I want you, Rogue.” Her chin came up defiantly. “I want you and I love you.” Rogue’s mouth fell open.
“You … what?”
“I love you. And I think you love me too. I think you’re just trying to protect me.” She took a step closer to him. “But you’re going about it the wrong way.”
“You … love me?”
“That’s what I said. So if you don’t feel the same way, you’re going to have to be very clear with me now.”
Rogue’s heart bumped hard against his chest. Tell her. Tell her you love her, too. It would be so easy to do just that. But if he’d learned anything in life, it was that easy wasn’t always right . Because Bea deserved better than anything he could offer her. She deserved her freedom. And he could give it to her. All you have to do is tell her you don’t love her. But his lips refused to form the words. He couldn’t lie to her.
“No,” he finally growled.
“No, as in, you don’t love me?” she pressed.
“No as in, I promised you I’d get you somewhere safe, somewhere where you could start your life.” He looked up to catch Bea staring at him with a quiet intensity. And then the corner of her eyes crinkled with something he couldn’t identify. Something that looked like … amusement. That, he hadn’t expected.
“Is something funny?”
“I think you’re funny, Rogue. Because the fact you’re trying so hard to protect me from yourself, tells me you love me.”
Fuck it. He couldn’t keep denying the obvious. He was done denying the obvious. He was going to tell her the truth.
“I do love you, Bea. I would do anything for you, but that’s precisely why I can’t?—”
“Stop. Please stop right there. I love you, and you love me. I’m coming with you to Zurich tomorrow. Anything else, we can sort out later.”
Bea pressed her small body against him, her cheek, warm and delicate, coming to rest on his chest. Rogue held himself very still for an instant, but it was impossible to resist. His arms folded around her, bringing her close.
“Mmmm,” Bea whispered. “You feel so good.”
Rogue inhaled her clean, fresh scent and felt the tension rolling off him in waves, leaving only an unexpected feeling of calm and contentedness.
He hugged Bea’s slight form to him. Because his woman might look fragile, but she was the strongest, fiercest warrior. She’d saved him. Even when he thought he was saving her, he was the one who’d needed to be saved. And she’d done it for him.
That day, for the first time in many years, Rogue felt things were going to be fine, or even better than fine. Because the two of them together … they could take on anything.
“You feel pretty good yourself, sweetheart.”