10. Ember #2
“And you just kept walking?” I narrow my eyes.
“Neither Ripley nor Xander will hurt you. Not if they value their lives. Though I am surprised to see them out and about in public.”
Locating the in-store coffee machine, I jab the buttons to fill a Styrofoam cup with black nectar. Hyland grunts in affirmation when I wave a hand towards the cups before filling one for him.
“What’s this about a documentary?”
He moodily eyes the rows of magazines. “Ripley talked to the press about the Harrowdean Manor case. She’s being featured in an anniversary documentary. It’s caused a bit of a fall out.”
Grabbing three sachets of sugar, I dump them into my cup. Hyland abandons the rack to come stand next to me, his mouth wrinkling.
“You don’t take sugar.”
“Today I do.” I sigh tiredly.
“Go home and rest, red. I can stay with Tom.”
“I want to be here when they ease the sedation. He shouldn’t be alone.”
“We don’t know when that’ll be.”
“I don’t care. I’m staying.”
Taking both coffee cups, Hyland fits plastic lids to the steaming receptacles. I try to reach for mine, but he clasps my wrist in a loose hold, urging me to look up at him.
“You know what Doctor Fawn said. Pushing yourself to your limit will only trigger your seizures more. Are you having symptoms?”
“No.”
“You’re a good liar, but I can see through your shit. It’s my job.”
“Unfair,” I complain. “Don’t use your secret agent crap on me.”
“Secret agent crap?” He barks out a laugh.
“You know what I mean.”
“What other tactic would you prefer I use?”
Thoughts of being caught between him and Axel while they played my body like their favourite line of music flash through my mind. The grin on Hyland’s face tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking about.
“Well?” he urges.
Snatching the coffee back, I ignore his taunt and head for the pharmaceuticals. Hyland grunts under his breath when I locate a box of painkillers, adding them to my stash with some snacks.
“You need to rest,” he insists.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“We can handle the incoming evidence from the docks. Until we get some new leads, you need to get your strength back. It’s been an intense couple of weeks.”
“This isn’t the time to take our foot off the gas.” I cut him a stony glare. “We just struck a decisive blow. Now we need to put the pressure on and find Gael while his operations are wounded.”
“You’re in no state to be finding anyone.”
“Do I need to remind you who saved our asses in that dockyard?”
“No.” Hyland shakes his head. “The bodies in our morgue do that well enough.”
“Then get off my case. I don’t need to rest.”
“Look at yourself, Em. You’re black and blue, barely able to walk. Stuffing yourself with painkillers and shit coffee instead of getting a few hours’ sleep. This isn’t sustainable.”
“Living our lives in fear isn’t sustainable!”
Heading for the cashier, I’m sidestepped before I can pay. Hyland draws out his wallet then tosses two crumpled notes down. I’m on the verge of yelling when both of our phones chirp simultaneously.
I pull mine out, glancing over the message. Axel’s in HQ this morning, meeting with the directors and the Falcon Team. He’s sent a group text to all three of us—wait, four. Blaine’s number is included.
Well, this is new.
“What is it?” Hyland grabs my elbow to steer me into a quiet corner.
“Axel’s made a new group chat. With Blaine.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Nope. He’s sent an update in it.”
Flipping the screen, I let him read the text.
Axel: A package has arrived.
Warner: What kind of package?
His nap clearly didn’t last long.
Axel: Addressed to Ember and covered in international postmarks. It’s been bounced around. Can’t track where it originated from beyond Europe.
Warner: You scan it?
Axel: Fox did an X-Ray. It’s non-explosive. Can’t tell much else.
“Fucking hell,” Hyland mutters.
“Gael?”
“Could be. He knows by now that Carlos and his men are dead.”
“But what on earth could he possibly be sending me?”
At Hyland’s shrug, I tap back a quick response.
Ember: We’re still at the hospital. Hold tight.
Blaine: I’ll open it for you.
Ember: What if it’s some kind of trap?
Blaine: Then I’ll take Sabre to court for a workplace injury when my arm’s blown off.
Warner: Don’t let him open it, Ax.
It feels strange to laugh after recent events, but it bubbles out of me anyway.
Axel: Let the criminal take the risk. I’d pay to see his face get melted off by whatever’s inside.
Blaine: If Ember will kiss my face better, I’ll do it regardless.
Warner: DEFINITELY don’t let him open it.
Axel: Why’s babysitting my responsibility?
The phone is plucked from my hands and replaced by a coffee cup. I have to bite back another laugh at the thunderous look on Hyland’s face. Someone doesn’t approve of Blaine’s desire for me to kiss his boo-boo better.
“Come on,” he growls.
“Are you done being an overbearing prick?”
“For now. Let’s check on Tom then head to HQ. If the criminal bastard gets his face melted off, I wanna be the first to see it and make sure he doesn’t get medical help.”
“Hy…”
“Take your pills and drink the coffee, red. Though we will be continuing this conversation later.”
“You know, barking orders isn’t making you a more appealing choice.”
“Do you think I’m trying to be appealing?” he huffs.
“Evidently not. But your jealousy is showing, big man.”
Coffee in hand, Hyland towers over me. It’s almost intimidating. He’s a solid wall of muscle, standing between me and the world’s dangers, but sometimes, I wonder if the biggest threat lies within him.
“I’m only going to say this once, Ember. You’re ours . And we are not in competition with Blaine fucking Madden.”
Delicious treacle pulsates through me at his possessive words. Fuck, I want to be theirs. It’s all I’ve wanted for a long time. But frankly, we do not need any distractions or in-fighting right now.
“Isn’t our current predicament a little bigger than your ridiculous rivalry with Blaine? He’s part of this investigation. You need to put everything else aside.”
Hyland slurps his coffee with a heavy grimace. “People like Madden are the reason why we have to investigate. Just because he sold drugs and not people doesn’t make him any different.”
“He’s atoning for his father’s sins.”
“He’s cashing in on an opportunity to clear his name and remove a threat to his enterprise,” Hyland corrects haughtily.
“Do you really believe that’s all he’s here for?”
For a millisecond, I can see conflict flash in his olive spheres. “Yes.”
“Now who’s the shit liar?”
Grimacing at me, Hyland stomps off towards the elevators, leaving me to catch up to him while swallowing a handful of painkillers. He holds his silence for the journey back to the ICU, a stormy frown fixed in place.
While I don’t understand Blaine or his motives at the best of times, he isn’t like the monsters we’re chasing. Not by a long shot. If Hyland could stop seeing threats all around him, he wouldn’t spend his life perpetually afraid of the past repeating itself.
Back in Tom’s hospital room, Warner is pacing up and down in front of the windows with his phone pressed to his ear. I’m checking on Tom as Hyland sets down the bags when Warner’s curse draws me to his worried stare.
“How many photographs? Are they dated?”
The colour drains from his face, blue eyes darkening with a look of rage.
“Can the techs confirm that?”
I place my coffee down on the bedside table to cross my arms over my lurching stomach.
“Alright, I’ll tell her. Start analysing the images for any locations or spatial context. We’ll be there soon.”
With the phone call finished, Warner drags a hand down his weary face. His short, silver-streaked hair is as rumpled as his dark clothing, far from the pristine professionalism he usually exudes.
“What is it?” I almost don’t want to ask.
“Madden opened the package.”
Hyland spits a cuss. “Of course he did.”
“It appears to be some kind of taunt,” Warner continues grimly. “The parcel’s full of polaroid photos. All recently dated.”
“Photos… of who?”
His hesitation unfurls a dread-filled infestation inside me. The blood-sucking creatures take flight in my veins and almost knock me off-kilter after days of emotional exhaustion.
“Warner?”
“I’m sorry, Em.” He scratches at his stubble-covered jaw.
“Who is in the photos?”
Wincing, he looks outside then back to me.
“Gracie. She’s alive.”