Eleven
“You’re lucky I speak Jory!” Sam fumed at me. “Fuck!”
When I had said earlier, in front of Eddie Liron, that I was going to go see my friend Joe, that had been code for Sam to meet me at St. Joseph’s Hospital.
And he had understood it, so I had no idea why he was mad.
It turned out that even though Eddie had volunteered to take Sam, Agent Calhoun had insisted on bringing him alone.
“But how did you guys ditch Eddie?”
“Everyone was chasing you,” Agent Calhoun told me. “By that time, no one was paying any attention to us.”
“So, I was a diversion.” I smiled happily. “Good.”
“Not good!” Sam yelled. “Come here so I can look at you!”
When I was close to the bed, he grabbed me and put his hands on my face.
“What the fuck did you think you were doing?”
“Stop yelling,” I soothed him, looking down at him, at the bruises on his face, at the eye that would be black and blue. “I’m fine. Tell me what the doctor said.”
“Did anybody hurt you?”
“Sam”—I hardened my voice—“talk to me.”
From the way he was looking at me, tilting my chin up, smoothing a hand down my throat, I knew he wasn’t going to spill.
But I didn’t have to wait for Sam to give me splotchy details, and that was excellent since he was terrible with them on a good day.
The doctor showed up, and once I showed him my ring and explained who I was—domestic partnership, the one who decided on his health care, and that I was the emergency contact on file with the Chicago Police Department—I got the rundown on Sam’s condition.
It wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. The ribs were bruised.
His kidneys, even though they had taken a few punches, were not, so he would not be peeing blood.
That had happened in the past, and it scared the hell out of me.
His concussion was mild, but he would still be staying overnight in the hospital since there was no one at home to look after him.
“Why aren’t you coming home?” I asked, hearing my voice rise, hating it but unable to stop it.
“I’m still undercover,” he told me.
“How?”
“My cover’s not blown. You were amazing.”
And only then did I realize that maybe I should have just come clean.
“You did the right thing,” he praised me. “And I appreciate it.”
But it didn’t feel right. I wanted to be at home, watching him sleep, checking to make sure he was fine. Just for a second, the feeling washed through me of how much I wanted my life back, and I felt faint.
“Gimme your hand,” Sam ordered.
My fingers laced in Sam’s, held against his heart, comforted me.
“Soon. It will all be back to normal very soon.”
But soon was taking forever.
“I’m gonna be fine,” he reiterated, same as what the doctor had said.
He needed to rest, have lots of fluids, and basically stay away from people who wanted to use him for a punching bag.
When the doctor returned fifteen minutes later, he, too, repeated his earlier diagnosis. “He’ll be fine,” Dr. Maruya promised me.
“Thank you.” I smiled at him.
“Jory!”
I turned, and there was Agent Calhoun and another man I didn’t know, but they were both wearing their badges on chains.
“Is this him?”
“Yes, sir.”
The man I didn’t know thrust his hand out to me. “Jory Harcourt, Crosby Holt, FBI. Pleasure to meet you.”
“And you, sir,” I lied, sounding like I was sulking, but taking the offered hand as another man joined us.
“Mr. Har—”
“It’s just Jory.”
“Jory.” He smiled at me, turning to present the man to me. “This is Lieutenant Ramon Diaz from the Federal Police in Mexico. We’re working this case with them.”
I lifted my head and was greeted with very warm, dark brown eyes. “Hello, sir,” I said, offering him my hand.
He took it in both of his, holding tight. “You have been a blessing, Mr. Harcourt, keeping this operation afloat, but now it is time for us to close this case on Senor Liron.”
I nodded. “So, you’re a federale, sir?”
“It’s not a term we use, Jory. It’s American slang from the movies.”
“Oh. Got it. I won’t use it again.”
He smiled, and the laugh lines in the corner of his eyes crinkled. “You look disappointed.”
“I am, just a little.”
“Hollywood creates many myths,” he told me, patting my shoulder.
“And now we need to speak to Detective Kage. I must tell you, Mr. Harcourt, that we could not account for his whereabouts last evening, and so when Cristo Liron took him today and we found out why he had been beaten, we were all very concerned with the choices he might have made in putting this investigation, as well as his own life, in jeopardy.”
My eyes flicked to Sam’s.
“To simply go and seek you out when he knew that Cristo Liron was watching you would have been a very foolish decision for a mere rendezvous.”
There had been nothing “mere” about it. Sam knew I was losing my mind.
Space and time away were no good for me.
I didn’t do it well. I gave all the people waiting for the return of soldiers so much credit.
I would have fallen apart. And it wasn’t even the time itself that was murder.
It was the uncertainty. If I knew where Sam was, what he was doing, I was fine.
But the whole he could be in mortal danger part, that was what got me.
“But as you selflessly gave so honest of an account of your activities the previous night, no one can doubt the validity, even Cristo Liron.”
I looked back at the lieutenant.
“Because of you, the cover of Detective Kage and Agent Calhoun, as well as many others, remains intact, and again, we thank you.”
I took a breath. “So, you guys let Sam get beat up, huh?”
“We could do nothing else, or the cover would have been blown. To save him from it would have been tipping our hand.”
I nodded and walked to the window. Yelling would serve no one, but I was mad.
“It would be best, Mr. Har— Jory, if you went out of town for a few days. This would give Cristo Liron time to calm and get back to business and—”
“Agent Holt.”
We all turned to the man who had just come through the door.
“Cristo Liron is in the ER, looking for Detective Kage—or for Jason Bradley—so everyone needs to clear out of here.”
I stayed where I was.
“Jory?” Agent Calhoun sounded worried.
“You’re gonna take care of Sam, right? I mean, like, really ’cause he’s hurt.”
“Yes,” the agent in charge, Crosby Holt, promised instead. “I’m quite pleased with how he’s handled himself, and he’s going to be a deputy US marshal, Jory, so, yes, we’ll take very good care of him. You have my word.”
I crossed the floor fast, bent, kissed Sam, and rubbed my nose along his. “Please be careful. Please.”
“I love you,” he said softly under his breath, clutching at my shirt. “I’m sorry for everything, but I’m not sorry for yesterday. It was stupid, but I’m not sorry.”
“Good.” My breath caught as I kissed him.
“Don’t come back.”
I nodded, and without looking, I ran out of the room. I did what I always did and took the stairs up two flights and then took the elevator all the way down. I went out the front and was on the street and in a cab minutes later.
I haunted my own house, and finally, after two in the morning, my phone rang.
“Hi,” I sighed deeply. “How do you feel?”
“I feel like I got run over by a truck, but I’m okay. I’ve taken worse beatings.”
“I’d rather you took none from now on.”
“Well, that’s never gonna happen since I’m an officer of the law and all, but I promise to work on it.”
“Try hard.”
“Yes, baby.”
I took a breath.
“I’m okay, J, really.”
It was so good just to listen to his voice.
“And I have no regrets, like I said. I was stupid. It was stupid but inevitable.”
He was talking in generalities just in case someone was listening, I was sure. Not, as I was always reminded, that he was good with details. He was completely horrible with them.
I would ask, “How was the wedding?” and be told that they, whoever, had gotten married. Big deal.
I would ask, “How was your day?” and get a shrug of broad shoulders before I was pinned down onto the couch or pulled into his lap.
“I want you to go out of town for a bit. Can you do that?”
“To where?”
“I called Dane, and he said he has a time-share in Waikiki.”
“You want me to go to Hawai’i without you?”
“Not really, but it’s as far away as you can go and still be in the United States.”
“No,” I told him. “I’d rather wait here for you.”
“J, I’m done in the field. I’m stuck at the hospital, and then I’ll be riding a desk for the rest of this investigation.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“You should. It’s the truth. When have I ever lied to you?”
He hadn’t. The man didn’t lie.
“What did Cristo want when he came to your room?”
“He apologized for letting things get so out of control and told me that we could still do business if I wanted.”
“What did Agent Calhoun say?”
“He put on a good show, told Cristo he was a psychopath and insulted him a little.”
“And then Cristo apologized some more.”
“Yep, he had to make it better, or he would have lost face with everybody.”
“So, after the groveling, you guys let bygones be bygones and shook hands.”
“It was nowhere near groveling, but, yeah, we patched things up.”
“Did he say anything about me?”
“Nothing flattering.”
“Lemme guess. I’m a whore and trash and all that good stuff.”
“Uh-huh,” he said tightly.
I cleared my throat because I knew that had been hard for him. Sam did not let anyone run me down, and so having to sit through Cristo Liron ranting about me had to have been difficult.
“It’s okay that you didn’t defend my honor. I get it, you know.”
“I fuckin’ hate this, and I’m thinking that me being away from all of it is fine. I don’t think I can look at Liron anymore without taking his fuckin’ head off.”
“And how do you get away with not seeing him?”
“Agent Calhoun told him that he’s sending me back to Colombia.”
“Colombia,” I said, chuckling. “Cool.”
“Shut up.”
I laughed at him.
“Jory.”
Uh-oh, serious voice.
“Yeah?”
“Please go to Hawai’i. This whole mess will wrap up in another week, week and a half, and then I’ll take the first flight out and join you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I swear.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’ll stay at least a week.”
“Two days.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Three,” I sighed heavily. “Deal. Three days alone with you on a tropical island—I’ll take it, Kage.”
He chuckled, and I heard the deep rumble that I loved.
“Was Dane pissed?”
“Not at me,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re the one who’s running around, saving the brothers of drug smugglers, and not listening to him.”
“He told you that, huh?”
“Yessir, he did.”
“Shit, you realize, of course, that he’s gonna be here at, like, the butt crack of dawn to throw me on an airplane.”
“Yep,” he said, cackling.
“Christ.”
“Hey,” he breathed out. “Pack some clothes for me, okay?”
Suddenly, there was no air in the room.
“Okay?” he prodded.
“Okay,” I managed to get out.
“I love you, baby. Breathe.”
And I did.