Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
STARLING
Beep, beep, beep. The sound is so annoying that even though my head is booming, my mouth is dry, and my limbs feel so heavy that I know that it’ll hurt to lift them, I still force my eyes open, blinking until the room comes into view.
“Sebastian,” I croak.
“I’m here, Little Bird,” he assures me, his fingers, which I didn’t realize were holding mine, tightening.
“What?” I try to question.
“You had a reaction to the drug Courtney injected you with. You’re okay, it’s just taking you some time to wake up properly,” he says, his voice tight and controlled.
Courtney. At the sound of her name, everything rushes back to me. Evan tying me up, gagging me, then injecting me with a drug so that after we led the cops to her, they’d find me in the trunk.
“Courtney?” I croak.
“The cops arrested her.”
I try to nod, but the movement makes the thudding pulse in my head boom even louder. Squeezing my eyes shut, I wince as dizziness makes it feel like the bed beneath me is moving.
“You wouldn’t wake up, Little Bird. I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Not yet, you’re not, but you will be. I won’t lose you, Starling. I’d follow you to hell and back, but I won’t live even a moment without you.”
I shouldn’t smile, but I do, his threat reminding me how crazily I love my husband. My whole face hurts as I curve my lips, forcing my eyes open so I can see him. “Why are you sitting there?” I question, blinking at how far away he is.
“Where else would I be?” he asks.
“In here, with me,” I say, feeling sleep threatening to drag me under again.
“I can’t.”
“Please,” I beg, needing him close enough to surround me as I drift back off to sleep.
The next time I wake up, I’m surrounded by heat and Sebastian’s arms encircling me, my face pressed into his shirt.
“The nurses keep telling me to get out of the bed,” he says, knowing I’m awake before my eyes have opened.
“What did you tell them?” I ask, sounding more coherent now that it doesn’t feel like my head is on the verge of exploding.
“That you needed me.”
“I do need you,” I tell him, tentatively opening my eyes and blinking until my vision is clear enough that I can see the deep-seated pain on his face.
“Fuck,” he exhales, cupping my cheeks in his palms as he leans down and kisses me.
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
“You could have died. You could have died in that trunk, and I’d have had no idea.”
“I didn’t die. I’m okay.”
“Never again. I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again.”
“Okay,” I tell him, knowing he’ll calm down once I’m out of the hospital, or whatever this unfamiliar room is. “This doesn’t look like a hospital,” I say, glancing around at the soft lighting, comfortable-looking furniture, and drapes hiding the windows.
“It’s the VIP wing,” Sebastian states nonchalantly.
“I could have just gone into a normal room.”
“No, you couldn’t.”
“Tell me what happened,” I ask, shuffling up the bed so I can rest my head on the pillow and not on Sebastian’s chest.
“The cops used the tracker to find you. They arrested Courtney after they found you in the trunk and called an ambulance because you were unconscious. The EMTs brought you here, and they checked you over. They were worried about your breathing. They did a tox screen and the drug she used was a low dose of Rohypnol. If you hadn’t had a reaction to it, you likely would have woken up after an hour or so. ”
“So how long have I been unconscious for?”
“You woke up very briefly, just as the ambulance arrived, and several times since then, but it’s been twelve hours since we got to the hospital.”
“Twelve hours?” I gasp.
“Twelve fucking hours,” Sebastian repeats, his jaw twitching manically.
Our conversation is interrupted by a nurse wearing pink scrubs entering the room.
“She’s awake and talking,” Sebastian tells her, carefully extracting himself from the bed and retaking a seat in the chair again.
“Mrs. Lockwood, how do you feel?”
“Tired,” I admit.
Nodding, she types something into the tablet that’s attached to a strap hanging across her chest. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake. The police are still here, but the doctor will want to see you first.”
“Could I have a drink, please?” I croak, my throat dry.
“I’ll get it for you,” Sebastian says, standing and moving to a small refrigerator built into the wall. Pulling out a bottle of water, he unscrews the lid, slides a straw into the top, then holds it up to my lips, not letting me take it from him.
I take a small sip, then a longer one, sighing happily as the cool water coats my throat.
“Mrs. Lockwood,” a young female doctor says as she pushes through the door and into the room, wearing a white lab coat with a stethoscope hung around her neck. “I’m Dr. Gupta. How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay, tired and confused, but other than that, I think I feel fine.”
“You were unconscious when you arrived at the hospital, and you’ve had several brief moments of consciousness, but not long enough for you to fully wake up.
We did a tox screen when you first arrived, which showed a low dose of Rohypnol in your bloodstream.
Given the low level of the drug, we believe that it was only intended to render you unconscious for a short amount of time.
Maybe an hour or two, perhaps less. However, your body reacted to the drug, and we have observed some mild side effects.
Your heart rate was slower than we’d like, your breathing became labored, and your blood pressure dropped to a concerning level.
Now that you’re awake, I’d like to do a few tests so we can rule out any complications,” the doctor says.
“Okay.” I nod.
Nodding back, the doctor glances over her shoulder to the drape-covered glass wall that separates the room from the rest of the hospital. “The police have been waiting to speak with you. Do you feel up to it, or would you like to wait until after the tests?”
“After,” Sebastian says, speaking before I have a chance.
“Okay,” Dr. Gupta agrees, speaking quickly to the nurse before turning and leaving.
“I could have talked to them now,” I tell Sebastian.
“We’ll talk to them later, at home.”
The next morning, Sebastian insists on carrying me from the car into the house, his hold firm, like he’s making sure I’m not going to disappear.
“I can walk, the doctor said I’m fine. All the tests were normal.”
“I’m carrying you,” he growls, carefully placing me in the corner of the couch and covering me with a soft blanket. Leaving the room, he returns a few minutes later with a glass of smoothie and a mason jar of yogurt, fruit, and seeds.
“Did you tell Armand what time we were going to get back?” I question.
“You didn’t eat anything at the hospital.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, eating a spoonful of the fruit and yogurt. “Now that we’re away from prying ears, tell me everything.”
“The others are on their way. I might as well wait for them to get here first,” Sebastian says, placing his hand on my thigh over the blanket.
I’m scraping my spoon around the bottom of the jar when the front door opens, and our friends arrive.
“Starling, I am too pregnant to be as scared as I was when you wouldn’t wake up,” Sammy says, bursting into tears as she drops down onto the couch beside me and throws her arms around me as much as she can with her enormous baby belly between us.
“I’m fine,” I assure her, hugging her back. When she releases me, Clay, then Hunter takes her place, hugging me tightly before eventually letting me go.
Evan is the last one to step forward, his eyes as dull and haunted as they were for years before him and Sammy got together. “This wasn’t your fault,” I assure him. “We had no idea I’d have a freak reaction. I’m fine. The doctors say I’m fine, even Sebastian will tell you I’m fine.”
When he finally hugs me, he’s shaking as silent tears drip from his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers against my ear.
“I’m fine, Evan, I promise. It’s okay.”
“The police are going to be here in thirty minutes,” Sebastian announces, pushing Evan away from me so he can lift me up and lower me back down into his lap.
“Tell me everything,” I demand.
“The cops found her in the warehouse, they took her outside, and after she refused to open her trunk, they looked through the car window and saw the syringe in her door. They cuffed her, then opened the trunk and found you,” Sebastian says emotionlessly.
“Did they find the stuff inside the warehouse?” I ask.
“Yep.” Sammy laughs. “One of the cops found it while they were searching for you. By the time they took you away in the ambulance, they already had people inside collecting evidence.”
“So, it worked?” I question.
“It worked,” Sebastian states, his voice strangely detached.
“So, why do you all look like the plan failed?” I question.
“Because you almost died,” Sebastian growls.
“I didn’t almost die. I was just passed out a bit longer than we planned,” I say dismissively.
“A bit longer,” Evan cries. “Sis, you were out for almost fourteen fucking hours. That’s not a bit longer, that’s practically a coma. That was enough time for us to think you were going to fucking die.”
“But I’m okay,” I assure them, looking at each of them in turn, meeting their eyes and finding the same haunted expression staring back at me. “I’m okay,” I repeat.
“Next time someone fucks with us, we just kill them,” Hunter growls.
A beeping sound breaks the intensity in the room, and Sebastian lifts his cell and exhales shakily. “The police are here.”
“I’ll go and let them in,” Clay offers, standing and heading to the front door. When he returns, it’s with Chief Turner and a smartly dressed woman following behind him.
“Mrs. Lockwood, how are you feeling?” Chief Turner asks, taking a seat in the chair opposite mine. “This is Detective Hollins.” He motions to the woman standing behind him.
“I’m tired, but otherwise I’m fine,” I tell him honestly.