39. Grace
Grace
“—and when the guys breached the cabin, they used pepperballs,” Isabella said over the phone. “Which was great for taking down the bad guys, but the cabin was tiny. By the time Tristan got me out of there, I couldn’t breathe, my eyes were swollen shut, and I was covered in snot.”
“Glamorous.”
“I was coughing so hard I almost threw up on him.”
I wanted to laugh. My mouth tried, but it died somewhere in my throat. I was curled in a plastic waiting room chair with my knees pulled up, phone wedged between my ear and shoulder. A news channel played on mute from a mounted television in the corner.
It was two in the morning. Garrett had been in surgery for over three hours.
“He’ll be okay, Grace.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I know those guys. They don’t quit.”
I pulled at a loose thread on the hem of my shirt, near the huge rust-colored stain I couldn’t stop looking at. Garrett’s blood. I’d scrubbed my hands raw in the bathroom, but I’d have to leave if I wanted clean clothes, and I wasn’t leaving.
“Have you called your parents?” Izzy asked.
“No.”
“Grace—”
“What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey Dad, I’m in a Czech hospital at two a.m., the man I’ve been sleeping with got shot by the guy I flew to London to meet, and I’m fine except for the blood on my shirt, so don’t worry’?” I pressed my forehead against my knees. “I haven’t told them I left London.”
“I know.” She didn’t push. Izzy and I hadn’t even known each other a year, but she understood me. It was like we’d been besties all our lives. “You didn’t tell me, either.”
Why I’d kept it from her, despite her living with one of the Round Table Security guys, was beyond me. No, it wasn’t. I didn’t want anyone to worry. “I’m glad Tristan filled you in.”
“Me, too. And for the record, Galahad will be fine.”
“Thanks. See you soon.” I hung up and stared at the double doors at the end of the waiting room. Behind those doors, a surgical team was trying to make Garrett whole again.
He’d wrapped himself around me without a second’s hesitation, driven me to the floor, and taken the bullet.
I’d found out afterward that Radek had given him a heads-up before he took the shot.
They were concerned that if Radek missed or didn’t take him down, Caulfield might shoot me as a reaction.
That was why Garrett was counting with his fingers, to time everything.
Radek had been successful, but with Caulfield’s finger on the trigger, his muscles simply reacted. That was the bullet that hit Garrett.
He’d risked his life. Now I was sitting in a plastic chair being completely useless, while strangers held his life in their hands.
There’d been so much blood. It had kept coming no matter how hard I pressed, welling up between my fingers like I wasn’t doing anything.
What if the bullet had hit something they couldn’t fix?
Stop it. He’s strong. He made it to the hospital. He’s going to make it through this.
But the blood had been so warm, and his eyes had gone so glassy, and?—
Stop.
Merlin sat across from me, two paper cups of cheap coffee on the small table beside him, both untouched.
Ale? had driven us behind the ambulance, and now the two men were waiting with me.
Merlin had dealt with the surgical staff, while Ale? had translated as required.
Arthur, Radek, and some of the other men had stayed behind to answer to the authorities, and we hadn’t received any updates since.
“Merlin?”
He looked up at me, and I didn’t have anything to say. Maybe I just needed to talk. Of course, I could have stayed on the phone with Izzy if that was what I needed.
Arthur appeared at the end of the corridor, and I was on my feet before I’d thought about it. He nodded to Merlin as he approached, but he came directly to me, as though Garrett were more mine than theirs. “How is he?”
“Still in surgery. We haven’t heard anything.”
He took the chair next to mine, and I sat back down.
“What happened with the police?” Merlin asked.
“Caulfield’s in surgery at another hospital. Critical, but it sounds like he’ll make it. He’ll be charged with attempted murder at the very least. Richter’s in a holding cell. Kessler is cooperating.”
“And you?” I asked.
“The firearms situation required some discussion.” Arthur frowned.
“Radek was the one who shot Caulfield. Given his Czech security status and that he was protecting the life of a principal, Pendragon has him covered. As for me, my father made a few calls. Apparently the fact that the police visited Kessler’s estate earlier this evening and failed to locate a kidnapped American woman was.
.. the leverage he needed to get me released with a fine and a strong suggestion that we leave the country within seventy-two hours. ”
“Can we do that?”
“It all depends on Galahad.” Arthur glanced at the double doors. “Did you get the egg on your way out?”
“It’s in my purse.” I nudged the bag with my foot.
I’d dropped it when Garrett tackled me and had almost forgotten about it in the chaos.
It didn’t even have a crack. The little enamel egg had survived everything, but Garrett…
I blinked at the lights overhead, trying to hold back another wave of tears.
“He’d better get out of the hospital fast if I’m going to get the egg back to Henri on time. ”
Arthur patted my arm. “He’s too stubborn not to.”
The minutes crawled by. I stared at the double doors and tried to breathe normally. Tried not to replay the moment he’d rolled off me and I’d seen the blood or the way his fingers had loosened around my hand right before his eyes closed. Tried, and failed, and tried again.
Until the doors opened, and a woman in blue scrubs came through them. I was out of my chair before she’d taken three steps. She said something that must have been in Czech.
“Um, English?” I asked, hoping we wouldn’t need Ale? to translate.
She smiled and spoke in a thick accent. “Family of Mr. Cruz?”
“I’m— Yes. Me.”
“I’m Dr. Novotny.” She looked at me with the steadiness of someone who delivered bad news for a living.
Don’t be bad news. Don’t be bad news. “The surgery was successful. We removed some bullet fragments and repaired the tissue damage. There was vascular involvement which complicated the procedure. He came dangerously close to cardiac arrest twice. His blood pressure collapsed, and his heart rate became unstable. We intervened in time, though.”
My knees buckled. Arthur’s hand caught my elbow.
Twice. His heart had nearly stopped twice.
“He’s stable now,” she said. “His vitals have normalized, and he’s waking up. We expect a full recovery with proper rehabilitation.”
“Can I see him?”
“Yes, one visitor, but no more than ten minutes. He needs rest.”
Arthur let go of my arm. I followed the doctor through the double doors, down a corridor, to a room at the end.
Garrett was propped up slightly in the bed.
His eyes were closed, and he was pale, with IV lines snaking from the back of his hand.
Bandages covered his forehead and his shoulder.
He seemed smaller than he should have—a man who filled every doorway he walked through, reduced to a hospital bed and a heart monitor.
“Is he awake?” I asked the doctor.
His eyes fluttered open, and his head turned slowly to find me. “Grace.”
I hurried to his side, tears already pricking at my eyes again. Again! I’d rehearsed a thousand things to say to him while I was in the waiting room, but all I could manage was, “Hi.”
“Hi.” His voice was rough, as if every word hurt.
I took his hand, and his fingers closed around mine. My whole body shuddered. I’d been holding myself together for four hours, and the feel of his skin sent the tears spilling down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them, and I didn’t care enough to try. I choked out, “You scared me.”
“Scared myself a little.” His gaze dropped to my shirt. To the blood. His thumb traced across my knuckles. “What are you still doing here?”
“Are you kidding?”
“You should have gone back to the hotel. Arthur and the Pendragon?—”
“Garrett.” I tightened my grip. “There is no way I am leaving this hospital without you.”
He went quiet, his gaze staying on our joined hands, where he continued stroking my knuckles.
I leaned a hip against the bed, and he inched over enough for me to sit on the edge.
“Grace.” He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “This may be the drugs talking, but I think I figured something out. I’ve had shitty luck with love.”
A tiny laugh bubbled up from my chest. He’d had shitty luck with more than just love.
“I thought you’d be the same. I thought caring about you would get me hurt.”
“It did,” I whispered.
“Only my body.” He shook his head and closed his eyes for a long moment. “That part heals faster.”
I leaned down to kiss his knuckles. Hopefully he was right about that part.
“When Richter took you?—”
“You’re supposed to rest, not spend all night talking.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my free hand.
“You’re rubbing off on me.” He squeezed my hand. “What I mean to say is… I’m not so sure anymore that it’s just brain chemistry.”
Me neither.
I pressed a kiss to his lips. Carefully, gently, because he had a hole in his shoulder, his heart had nearly stopped twice, and I would not be the reason it happened a third time.
But instead of letting me get away with a gentle peck, he put a hand on the back of my head and held me in place, while the monitor began beeping faster.
When I pulled back, his eyes were heavy. The exhaustion and the drugs were dragging him under. “I was going to say before Caulfield showed up… I’m thinking about staying.”
My breath caught. “In Prague?”
He smiled. A real one—slow, drowsy, and beautiful. “Taking the job Arthur’s harassing me about.”
For real? Or was it the drugs talking? Was he going to stay in Brenton?
There were too many questions, and he wasn’t in any condition to answer all of them. So I tucked them away and pressed my forehead against his. “Go to sleep, Garrett. I’ll be here when you wake up.”