Chapter 39 #2
A.J. was next to Owen, and Harper sat opposite of them. Asher, on the other hand, paced in the hall outside the waiting room.
A man carrying an arrangement of lilies walked past the open doorway, a reminder of the flowers Liam had snuck into her rental last week, and the sight had her burying her fingertips into her palms.
“Some surgeries take longer than others,” Knox answered and motioned for her to sit next to Harper.
“When will the rest of the team get here?” They were wrapping up loose ends after the operation, and Jessica and Luke were on their way to the hospital after having dropped Elaina and Hans off at the base in Suffolk.
She wanted Elaina there with her. It wasn’t right she was sent away, especially without the chance to say goodbye.
“The Brits think you work for Scott and Scott, right?” she asked no one in particular once sitting.
Owen gripped the arms of his chair. “POTUS told the police and PM we were operating on our own accord. Hired by Hans to rescue his daughter.”
“Our story is that our team found Elaina, and we were fired upon by Elliott’s men,” Harper added. “Connor and the guards were killed during the rescue.”
“And Hans is sticking to that?” Would Hans vouch for them? Would he do the right thing? He’d taken off from the hotel and nearly gotten his bodyguard killed.
“That’s what Hans told the police,” Harper said. “Same with Elaina.”
“Elaina had to be questioned?” She should’ve been there for her.
“Yeah, and then POTUS issued the request to put her and Hans on a military flight,” Owen said. “They should be in the air now.”
“That’s fast,” Emily murmured.
“NORAD, so . . .” Owen lifted his shoulders. “Hans’s friend from NORAD is already in D.C. being questioned. Looks like he was blackmailed by Elliott to keep an eye on Hans.”
Harper patted her phone atop her thigh, her leg lightly shaking. “Thankfully Elliott can’t hurt anyone ever again.”
“Gonna check with the nurse for an update.” Knox left the room, his third time checking in the last hour.
“I don’t even know what happened to Elliott or Jeremiah,” Emily said at the realization. She’d been too worried about Liam and Elaina to think about anything else.
“We didn’t know if you wanted to hear about it,” A.J. responded, his eyes cutting to hers. “Jeremiah flipped on Elliott. He started squawking the second the police arrived.”
“Not that we needed more evidence with the treasure trove of intel we collected at the mansion,” Harper said, “but he’s willing to testify that Elliott masterminded everything. Approached Jeremiah after Hans won the NORAD gig.”
Asher strode into the room from the hall and joined their conversation. “The authorities have evidence Vanessa’s death wasn’t an accident. And they know about the Weston fires in Nottingham and Bristol, too. Elliott will be put away for a long time.”
“Actually, the police discovered Elliott had plans to torch the site in Manchester this coming Monday—so, we saved some lives.” Harper pressed a hand to Emily’s shoulder, an attempt to comfort her, but honestly, nothing would help right now.
Even knowing the bad guys were behind bars couldn’t ease the pain. She just needed to hear the words that Liam was okay.
Emily jumped to her feet at the sight of a doctor entering the room with Knox.
“I’m Doctor Lee.” His light brown eyes surveyed everyone in the room. “Liam’s stable now. A few fractures. His right leg is pretty banged up, though. Plus the cut on his head required stitches. And we managed to contain the bleeding in his abdomen.”
But. She could feel it coming from a mile away, and she clutched her stomach as she waited for the word.
“What is it, Doc?” Owen could feel it, too.
“There’s some minor swelling in the brain.” Doctor Lee held a palm in the air when her lips parted. “We’ve induced a coma just as a precaution to help the healing process and ensure he gets better, not worse.”
“A coma,” she said under her breath. “For how long? Is it safe? My brother was put into a coma two years ago.” She hadn’t known Jake had been hurt until he’d already recovered—giving her no time to panic. To rock. To cry. But . . . “When my brother woke up he had amnesia, and—”
“Each circumstance is different, but it was our best option to ensure he has a smoother recovery,” he cut her off, sensing her obvious alarm. “When you injure an external body part it swells. Gets inflamed. But the brain is encased in your skull. Expansion can damage the—”
“Doc,” Knox interrupted this time. “We understand.”
“We’ll be monitoring his electrical brain activity and keeping an eye on the swelling. It could be a matter of hours or days before we pull him out.”
Owen looped his arm around Emily and kept her close to him for support.
“But he will wake up, right?” she asked.
“That’s the plan,” Doctor Lee answered with a so-called reassuring nod that did absolutely nothing for her.
“How’s his breathing?” Knox had the medical experience, and thank God for that. “Tube through the mouth or a tracheostomy tube?”
“Mouth for now, but if he’s under too long—”
“You’ll switch.” Knox turned away.
“Liam’s in ICU,” the doctor replied. “Who’s family? I can take one of you back to see him.”
“We’re all family,” Owen said, and the doctor rose a questioning brow.
Knox faced the room again and looked Emily’s way. “She’s Liam’s wife. She should go.”
“You’re his brothers,” she sputtered. They needed to see him, too, but the doctor flicked his wrist for Emily to follow him.
She couldn’t stop the fresh tears from rolling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell him you’re here.” He’ll hear me. He’ll hear me somehow.
“You okay?” Doctor Lee asked when they entered the expansive intensive care unit, his tone soft. “Dumb question, I know. But are you sure you’re up for this?”
“I have to see him,” she whispered, and he pulled a curtain to the side to reveal Liam’s bed.
Her heart thundered in her chest at the sight of him, so pale and lifeless. She knew it wasn’t possible, but his strong, muscular body appeared smaller. A breathing tube in his mouth. A chest IV from the looks of it. Monitors everywhere.
She sat next to the bed and reached for his hand. The tears wouldn’t stop. How could she ever stop them with him in this condition? “Why is he so cold?”
“Therapeutic hypothermia. We’ve found that by lowering the body temperature to thirty-five Celsius it’s more effective in reducing intracranial pressure.”
“Oh. That’s good, then.” She nodded without looking his way, unable to take her eyes off Liam, off the man she couldn’t live without.
“Giving him a system reboot, so to speak.” He circled the bed to stand opposite her and pointed to a device off to his side. “This is the EEG. It detects the brain’s electrical activity.”
Fat tears continued to hit her lips, and she used her free hand to wipe at her face. “Can he breathe on his own? If he didn’t have this tube would he be able to survive without it right now?”
There was more he wasn’t telling her. She could feel it.
He crossed his arms, a discomfort stretching across his weathered skin.
“When he arrived he was in respiratory arrest. We had to do endotracheal intubation to open the airways, but he also had a collapsed lung.” He paused for a moment as if to let her absorb the information.
“There was air in his chest outside his right lung, causing his lung to collapse—a pneumothorax.”
She did her best not to squeeze Liam’s hand too tight. “But he’s okay?”
“He’s stable.”
Was that a generic answer for I don’t know? She touched her chest for the hundredth time. “His stuff,” she sputtered. “Where is it?”
“I’ll have a nurse find it for you.”
She lowered her forehead to their clasped palms, allowing the sounds from the machines to fade away. “You can’t leave me. I just found you,” she whispered, hoping he could hear her. “We need more time.” Elaina needs you, too.
“Miss?” A woman in scrubs held two white plastic bags in her hand and strode toward her. “All of his belongings should be here.”
“Thank you.” She reluctantly lowered Liam’s hand to the bed so she could look through his things.
His coin was still in his cargo pants pocket, and the black band was at the bottom of the bag. Thank God.
She set the coin and band on the rolling table next to the bed, then leaned closer and kissed his forehead, careful not to disturb the white gauze wrapped in layers around his skull where he’d had the gash.
“You’re a survivor.” She sat again and reached for his hand, gently massaging it. “I’m not ready to let you go, Liam James Evans. So . . . you have no choice but to pull through.”