Chapter Sixteen #2
It only takes the doctor a minute to emerge around a corner. “AJ. I am glad—” He stops short, his hardened gaze focused over my shoulder. “Mierda. I warned you not to tell anyone.”
“You told me not to tell anyone I didn’t trust with my life. And Grace’s. Well, these are the people who fall into that category. I sure as shit wasn’t gonna go deep into cartel territory without backup.”
Jasper sidles up next to me, his hand resting on the butt of the SIG in his holster.
“Might as well get this over with,” he says, his voice as gravelly and serious as I’ve ever heard it.
“We’re the only ones AJ told about Grace.
But there’s one more guy back in the States who knows where we are.
Anything happens to us, we don’t check in at regular intervals, and he’ll blow your town—hell, the entire Sandoval Cartel—off the fuckin’ map. ”
Reyes gives a small shake of his head. “Miguel Sandoval has no interest in a war with the Texas Rangers. Nor did he have anything to do with Grace’s injuries. Of that I am certain.”
I study the man for a full minute. “He’s tellin’ the truth. At least what he knows of it. Stand down, Jas. For now. Reyes, where’s my wife?”
Jasper takes a seat in the waiting room while Parker walks the perimeter and Connor goes outside to call Pritchard and let him know we arrived safely.
“Come into my office first,” the doctor says, his polished smile gone and a weariness to the set of his shoulders. “My nurse, Lourdes, is with Grace now. I have not yet told her anything about you.”
“Why the fuck not?” I want to grab the guy and shake him, but he ushers me into a tidy office—bright walls, shelves stacked with medical texts, and a small vase of flowers on the desk.
Reyes takes a seat and steeples his fingers. “Because if you did not show up for any reason, I feared what the disappointment would do to her.”
Fuck.
“All I know of you, AJ, came from the website you set up for Grace and a few news articles online. My responsibility is to my patient, not to you.”
My anger ebbs slightly, and I take a seat in his guest chair. “You can ask me anything, Reyes. As long as you don’t make me wait much longer to see my wife. I’ve lived without her for two years, eleven months, and five days. I won’t last another hour.”
He inclines his head with a small smile.
“I will save my questions for later. But you should be prepared for her physical and emotional state. When she was left on my doorstep, she had a deep stab wound to her right side. The blade missed all the major organs, and that surgery was simple. Her stitches are healing well, though she will have pain for another week, at least. She had also ingested a toxin that put her heart into arrhythmia. I sent blood samples to a lab in Chihuahua for analysis, but the results are not back yet. It is the skull fracture I was—and still am—most concerned with. It caused her brain to swell. That, along with whatever trauma she experienced at the hands of her abusers, is what led to her amnesia.”
“Is it permanent?” The lump in my throat is the size of hell’s half acre.
“The brain is the most complicated, delicate, and resilient organ in the human body, AJ. I have no answer to your question. She needs to be seen by a neurologist as soon as possible.”
“The minute it’s safe for her to travel, I’ll get her on a plane back to the States. She’ll have whatever care she needs for as long as she needs it.”
“A commercial flight would not be advisable for at least a week, perhaps longer,” Reyes says. “The air pressure change at thirty thousand feet—”
“What if we go private? We topped out at nine thousand on the way down here.”
He nods slowly, a small frown curving his lips.
“You could perhaps go as soon as tomorrow then. If she agrees. She is suffering from strong bouts of vertigo, and there is significant weakness along the left side of her body. She cannot—and should not—walk unaided yet. A fall could be catastrophic if she were to hit her head. Physical therapy will be helpful.”
I know I need to hear all of this. But every word out of the doctor’s mouth does nothing but stoke my rage. When I find the fuckers who took her, I’ll be hard pressed not to kill them. Slowly.
“Did they…did anyone…?” Fuck. How can I even ask this question? I sure as shit don’t want to know the answer, though I need to. “Was she…?”
His dark brown eyes crinkle with understanding. “I saw no evidence of sexual assault. If she had been forced to work the brothels, I would have been able to tell.”
Relief prickles over my skin, a feeling so strong and all-encompassing, I’m not sure I can stand for a solid minute. I was never a praying man, but I’ve said more than my fair share over the past three years.
Dr. Reyes pushes to his feet. “Come with me. I will take you to the atrium. Please let me speak with Grace before she sees you. I believe she trusts me. Well, as much as she trusts anyone at this moment. It may help if I explain how I found you. But do not be surprised if she is scared of you at first.”
“Ain’t nothin’ I can do about her reaction to me, Doc. But I won’t push her for anything she ain’t ready for. If I have to camp out in one of the SUVs every night for a week—or a month—before she trusts me, I’ll do it.”
“I live behind the clinic,” he says with a sad smile. “If it comes to that, you can stay with me. It is not much to look at, but the couch is comfortable. The others who came with you…we will find couches for them as well.”
This guy’s the real deal. Kind. Strong moral compass. Dedicated to his job and the people he helps. All the things I used to be before Grace went missing. Since then, I ain’t done much worth spit.
“Thank you.” I offer him my hand. “I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay.”
“You owe me nothing,” he says, then leads me back into the hall and around another corner. An archway painted a bright yellow leads to a large atrium filled with orchids in almost every color.
“Wait here until I call for you.” Reyes steps into the room, and my heart stops beating.
Grace sits in a wheelchair facing a large window. Just beyond, roses bloom in large pots, their colors so vibrant, it’s like they’re willing winter away.
Her blond hair is so long now. It cascades down the high back of the chair, halfway to the floor. A thick, white bandage winds around her head, but the rest of her is hidden by the blanket draped over her shoulders.
I ache to go to her. To pull her into my arms and tell her no one will ever hurt her again. But I can’t make that promise. Not until I find out who took her.
This—waiting, hovering just out of sight—is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“My dear, I need to ask you a question.” Reyes crouches down next to her chair. If he weren’t so completely focused on Grace, he could probably see me out of the corner of his eye. “Does the name AJ Stone mean anything to you?”
“No.” Her weak whisper shatters my heart into dust. I’ve longed to hear her voice again, and while it’s definitely hers, it’s also not. Too hoarse. Too hesitant. Too…scared.
“Do you remember the promise I made to you? That I would find out who you are?”
She nods her head slowly.
“Your name is Grace. Grace Stone.”