6. Mya
SINGAPORE
6
No IV for fluids. No heart monitor. Zero vitals being checked. Because Oliver kept removing them after the nurses reattached the cords and IV. He’d refused to be sedated as well. At least he’d let them properly treat his knife wound.
Helpless, I stood by his bedside, wishing he’d talk to me. At the very least, let me hold his hand.
His head was lolled to the side, eyes out the window on Marina Bay.
I was going a bit crazy with worry. Too concerned for him to think about what had actually happened, or the fact he’d killed someone to prevent a man from raping me.
In a rush to leave Thailand, we’d used Carter’s jet to fly to Singapore, where Carter had people he trusted on standby to assist getting us safely into the country without police notice. His people had arranged for a private hospital suite to treat Oliver’s wounds.
Thank God for the team, and for Carter’s resources and contacts all over the globe. I still couldn’t believe they’d found us so quickly without our trackers, but . . . they did, and that was all that mattered.
But what happened before they showed up would haunt the both of us for a long time, and I wasn’t quite sure how we’d move forward. We had to find a way, but . . .
“Mya.”
I looked over my shoulder to see Sydney in the doorway. She tipped her head, signaling for me to join her in the hall.
“I’ll be back,” I whispered, but Oliver remained motionless in the bed, no indication he’d heard me.
Outside the dimly lit room, I squinted from the harsh fluorescent lights. Sydney looped her arm with mine and walked us into my private room next door. A room I didn’t want to be in, and definitely didn’t need, because I was fine. A bit dehydrated. Some abrasions, and a few bruises. But aside from that, I was physically okay. My scars were internal, and I knew they’d take much longer to heal. If they ever do.
“He won’t say anything,” I muttered, taking shallow breaths, feeling a bit lightheaded. “I’m worried.” More than just worried. Terrified for him.
“He’s in shock.” Sydney guided me to the bed and sat next to me, never losing hold of my arm. “He needs time.”
Time? Could time ever erase what happened that morning? I doubted Oliver would see it that way.
No, those men wanted to break him, and I was pretty sure they’d officially done it. But I wouldn’t let them win. I’d never leave Oliver’s side. I’d be there to help him pick up the pieces, help him put himself back together.
Although, I’d need help myself, too. I was on the verge of collapsing, especially from guilt.
“This is my fault.” I’d repeated that same line on the jet. My new mantra. “If I had run when he’d told me to in the park, then maybe I would’ve never been caught, and he wouldn’t have been forced to . . .” I lifted my hand, fully expecting to see blood appear there.
How’d Hugo Soren find out about us? What tipped him off to even plant the listening device on us? He clearly had a plan set in motion before that moment in the park.
“The officers would’ve more than likely caught up with you regardless. There were police everywhere searching for you. If Oliver hadn’t fought back to distract them so you could make a run for it, it’s quite possible it would’ve taken us much longer to find you two.” She’d already told me this, but I’d probably need to hear it another hundred times. And even then, I doubted it’d help remove the heavy weight of guilt from my shoulders.
“You’re trying to make me feel better. To not blame myself. Appreciated, not deserved.” The tears were on the verge of breaking through the haze again, and I didn’t have enough water to even produce more, so where the heck were they coming from?
Sydney tugged at my arm, drawing me closer. “I will never let you blame yourself. What happened is not your fault.”
“I was stubborn and didn’t run when he told me to. A man is dead because of me. Because I didn’t listen.” That’s a fact.
“Dammit, Mya.” Her short nails bit into my skin where she held my arm. She was as determined to get through to me as I’d been with Oliver. I’d failed. She would more than likely fail as well. “You didn’t want to leave him behind. I’d have done the same.”
“No, you would’ve thought rationally, and you’d have?—”
“Stop, I won’t listen to this.” Her motherly voice sliced through the air in the room, compelling me to stop and listen to her. “I didn’t get into the details on the plane because you were shaken up, and rightly so, but I’m going to tell you this now.”
I’d barely been lucid on the jet. All I could pay attention to was the team handling Oliver’s bleeding so he didn’t die on the way to Singapore.
Oliver had collapsed shortly before the team had pulled us from that building, and he hadn’t regained consciousness until an hour ago in this hospital.
So yeah, Sydney had been right not to share any relevant mission details with me until Oliver was okay.
Okay? Ugh. Such a shit word. He was alive but far from okay.
“I’m not a fan of social media,” Sydney began steadily, “but that video of Oliver fighting back and getting stabbed going viral is how we found you so fast.”
My shoulders slumped. Guilt layering even thicker regardless of her words. And if I felt this way, I couldn’t begin to imagine what was going on in Oliver’s head in that bed.
“Gwen was able to hack into the CCTV footage from that area, find video of the police transferring Oliver to those assholes who took you guys, and then she was able to trace you to your location. I’m just sorry we weren’t there a few minutes earlier.”
Her last words had my attention. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
Meeting my eyes, she released a deep breath before sharing what I needed to hear. “Oliver is a fighter. He’ll be okay, I promise. He has to work through what happened. Not just killing that man, but what he almost had to witness before that. If he’d had to watch you be hurt . . .”
Telling the team about that so they could understand how and why a man had died in that room had been . . . well, not easy, to say the least.
“They forced Oliver to make a choice. Let a man rape me or take a life with his own hands,” I’d blurted in a daze after our rescue.
“I want to bring that fucker back to life just to put an arrow through his heart myself,” she went on when I didn’t respond. “Well, after I put one through his dick.” She closed her eyes, then angled her head to rest against mine. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“Oliver stopped it from happening,” I said between stuttery breaths. “He’s got such a big heart. He killed that man to save me.” My fault. This is all my fault.
“Anyone on our team would’ve done the same thing, and they’re not in love with you like he is.”
You know he loves me?
“The guys will convince him he’s not a murderer. Just like I’ll spend as long as it takes to remind you none of this was your fault. You bear no guilt in what happened.”
She stood and locked her arms over her chest, staring at me with the stern look she usually saved for her teenage son, Levi, whenever he got into trouble. “Not. Your. Fault. Do you hear me? And you know Carter is going to set that man’s family up so they never want for anything a day in their life.”
I frowned, tears slipping down my cheeks. My nose was raw from crying and blowing it so much. “Money isn’t a replacement for a father. For a husband.”
“Of course not, but at least his wife and kids will be taken care of. And that’s the best we can do.” Waiting for me to meet her eyes again, she added, “We’re going to find these assholes and take them down once and for all.”
The Collective. Sure. They’re always one step ahead. And I . . . keep failing.
I’d thought my confidence was unshakeable, but recent events proved I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. “Does the guy you kept alive for questioning know anything?”
“He hasn’t said anything yet, but we were more focused on getting Oliver to a hospital outside Thailand than getting him to spill his guts. If he knows anything?—”
“They never know anything.” Pessimism took hold of me again. “I suppose this confirms the Sorens are in bed with The Collective.” I shook my head. “And you know what they do to their own if they’re exposed. They’ll have the Sorens wiped out. This whole mission was a failure. Back to no leads.”
Sydney opened her mouth, but before she could offer the words of encouragement I knew would come from her, Mason appeared in the doorway. His eyes were red, and his body rigid. I’d known Mason most of my life, and when he’d heard what almost happened to me in that room, he’d snapped. Griffin and Carter had to physically hold him back from killing the one man they’d kept alive for questioning, even though that guy hadn’t been the one to touch me.
His voice was barely controlled as he gritted out, “We have a problem.”
“What is it?” Sydney asked, beating me to it.
Mason walked into the room and turned on the TV, switching from a soap opera to an international news station. “We expected something like this would happen, but it’s much worse than we thought,” were the last words I needed to hear from him.
Sydney sat once again, hooking her arm behind my back to brace me for the sight on the screen.
The viral video of Oliver fighting the police in the park before being stabbed was being aired, his photo next to mine displayed on the screen as well. My name was beneath my picture, and his alias was listed. I was never more grateful for Sydney’s support as my breathing became shallow and I felt lightheaded, close to passing out.
But the photo that popped up next had bile rising into my throat. The man’s face, the one who’d “offered” Oliver the option of rape or murder, was now being broadcast.
“Interpol?” I gasped. “He was an Interpol agent? And we’re being accused of murdering him and other Interpol agents?” Fully hyperventilating, Sydney urged me forward. Hands to my knees, I tried to get a handle on my breathing.
I barely heard anything the reporter was saying. Something about the Thai police having handed us over to Interpol for questioning, but we’d escaped during interrogation and were now wanted fugitives.
“We have to leave.” Mason sat on the other side of me and gently rubbed my back, but I shuddered at his touch. “Sorry, you okay?”
No. Not even a little bit. “I just don’t want any man to, um, put their hands on me.” It was a realization that hit me hard and fast. Shit.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Mason stood, tearing his hands through his hair, clearly angry all over again at what nearly happened to me.
He then collected himself, zeroing in on the problem at hand. “It’ll take time for anyone to figure out Oliver’s true identity. Gwen altered his digital footprint before the mission, and she’s one of the best.” Frustration and compassion warred in his expression and in his voice. “But you used your real name. So, even if Oliver’s not medically ready, we need to leave now. We have to get you two into hiding.”
Hide? No, how can I get my revenge in hiding?
“The Sorens are spinning this to their advantage to smoke you out.” Sydney stood, offering her hand, but I didn’t budge. “Where’s the rest of the team?” she asked Mason, still waiting for me to get a grip.
No grips of any kind to be had while The Collective was still out there, a threat to all of us.
“Preparing to leave. Carter sent me here to get you.” Mason tossed his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll, uh, go tell Oliver and have him get dressed. Give me a minute.”
“How are we getting out unnoticed?” I asked him.
“Carter,” he answered with a small shrug. Enough said. Then he shot me one last concerned look and left.
Before I had a chance to stand and test out my legs, he was already back. His next two words were as heart-stopping as a shotgun blast.
“Oliver’s gone.”