Chapter 2
Grant stared down at Avery, lying against the sterile white hospital sheets, her long dark hair snarled and twisted, framing her pale cheeks, the blue and purple bruise on her forehead the only color besides her violet eyes when they were open.
She’d fallen asleep again, her long lashes making dark crescents against her cheeks.
His gut clenched, and his chest tightened. This was the woman he’d loved with all his heart. The only human who’d made him feel at home, at the same time as she’d made him crazy with worry.
When she’d told him she’d volunteered to go undercover in an effort to bring in a syndicate stealing artwork, laundering money, drugs and human trafficking, he’d called her an adrenaline junky more concerned with her next fix than their relationship.
He'd told her that if she went through with the undercover mission, not to expect him to wait around for the announcement of her death. He couldn’t stand by and do nothing when every day, she could be in danger.
His every instinct where Avery was concerned was to protect her—with his life if it came down to it.
Grant had prayed Avery wouldn’t be discovered as the plant she’d been. The syndicate had been known for its ruthless treatment of those who betrayed it or stood in the way of its illegal business ventures.
He wished they could have met in different lives where they both weren’t involved in dangerous missions, dedicated to the task at hand, not the connections forged outside the training, badge and credentials.
After he’d signed the divorce papers, Grant had resigned from his job as an FBI profiler, packed a single bag with a few clothes, a photograph of him and Avery on their honeymoon in Cancun and donated everything else he’d accumulated over the few years he’d lived with Avery.
She hadn’t wanted to keep anything that reminded her of him.
And going undercover, she hadn’t been able to take anything with her that could connect her to Avery Hart.
The moment she’d walked out the door, she’d become Sofia Delgado, and Avery Hart had disappeared.
The call had come out of the blue the day before.
When he’d answered the phone to a number he hadn’t recognized, he’d teetered on the verge of telling the caller to fuckoff.
He wasn’t interested in getting siding for the depressing garage apartment he’d lived in for the past two years he’d spent in Montana.
When the nurse had identified herself and told him his wife had been in an accident, his heart had plummeted into the pit of his belly.
“It’s okay,” the nurse had said. “She’s alive and suffering the effects of a concussion. She asked me to call you.”
“Me?” he asked.
“You are Grant Hayes, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he’d responded, confused but thankful Avery had asked for him.
“Your wife is Sofia Delgado, correct?”
For a split second, the word “no” had formed on his lips. Then he’d remembered that was Avery’s alias for the undercover assignment. “Yes, ma’am. Where is she?”
“At the Baylor Scott & White Hillcrest Medical Center in Waco, Texas,” the nurse had informed him.
Texas?
The last he’d heard from his contacts in the FBI, Avery had been in Florida, wrapping up her undercover operation. He knew she’d be reassigned when that was done but hadn’t heard where.
“How long will she be there?” he asked.
“She’s been here for three days already and only regained consciousness today.”
His gut clenched. The accident must have been bad for her to be out for so long. “How is she?”
“She’s talking and can move all her limbs. The first responders said she was what? I imagine the doctor will want to observe her a little longer. He’ll fill you in when you get here. When might that be?”
“I’ll be there in the morning,” Grant said, without hesitation.
“Good. I’ll let her know when she wakes up again.” The nurse then ended the call.
Grant had immediately called his boss, Hank Patterson, the founder of the Brotherhood Protectors, the man who’d hired him when he’d left the FBI.
When Hank had heard about Avery’s accident, he’d arranged for a private plane to fly Grant from Bozeman directly to the regional airport in Waco. From there, he’d rented a car and gone straight to the hospital.
The door opened behind him. Grant turned to find a man dressed in a white lab coat. He approached Grant and held out his hand. “I’m Dr. Dutton. You must be Ms. Hart’s husband.”
Grant shook the doctor’s hand. “Yes, sir. Grant Hayes.” No need to correct the man and tell him that they were actually divorced.
As long as the hospital staff thought they were still married, they’d share information about her status.
If Avery didn’t want him to know, she’d set the record straight.
The doctor stepped around Grant and smiled down at Avery. “How are you feeling this morning, Ms. Hart?”
Avery sighed. “Ready to get out of the hospital.”
The doctor chuckled. “You must be feeling a lot better if you’re already thinking about leaving.
” He spent the next few minutes listening to her heart and lungs and shining a light into her eyes.
He had her move all her limbs and sit up in the bed, swinging her legs over the side.
“So far, you appear to be recovering quickly. Your CT scan didn’t indicate any major cerebral edema—brain swelling, that is. ”
“So, when can I leave?” Avery asked.
The doctor grinned. “I’d like to see you walk to the end of the hallway and back several times before I feel comfortable discharging you.”
Avery scooted to the edge of the bed and glanced toward Grant.
He moved forward, a frown pulling his brow low. “Are you sure she’ll be okay this soon after being in a coma for three days?”
“All her vital signs are strong and normal. If she’s steady on her feet and has support at home, I see no reason to keep her here.” His lips twisted. “The food isn’t bad, but it’s not as good as I’m sure you can get at home.”
Grant would have felt better if they’d kept her at least another day longer. “When can she return to work?”
Avery’s lips pressed together. When the doctor wasn’t looking at her, she glared at Grant.
“She needs to rest and watch for any signs of worsening conditions. The nurse will give you a list of symptoms to look out for. I wouldn’t return to work for at least forty-eight hours.
Avoid strenuous activities. But first, conquer the hallway, or it’s another night in the hospital. ” The doctor winked at Avery.
“Give me five minutes, ten tops, and I’ll have the hallway laps complete,” Avery said, reaching for Grant’s arm.
He took both of her hands and helped her slide off the bed and onto her feet. “Nice socks,” he observed with a grin.
Avery stared down at the bright red hospital socks with the dots of white rubber patches to keep the patient from slipping. “They’ll do.”
Grant let her hold onto his arm as she took several tentative steps.
She leaned heavily on him as she shuffled toward the door.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Uh, you might want to tie the back of your gown before you leave the room.”
Avery’s pale cheeks flushed a pretty pink as she reached behind her with her free hand in an attempt to find the strings.
“Let me,” Grant said and circled his arms around her, his fingers feeling for the strings.
Avery rested her hands and forehead against his chest, so close he could feel the warmth of her breath through his shirt.
He’d missed holding her and would have loved to prolong the contact, but she was on a mission to prove she could walk so she could be released from the hospital.
He found the strings and quickly tied them together. “You’re covered.”
“Thanks,” she said and leaned back, hooking her hand through the crook of his elbow.
As they passed through the door, the doctor called out, “I’ll have the nurse draw up the papers for your discharge.”
“Thank you,” Avery replied and started the first lap down the hallway, moving faster with each step.
“It’s not a race,” Grant murmured.
“Shadow Valley,” she blurted.
“What does that have to do with racing?” he asked, helping her turn at the end of the hallway.
“It’s the name of the town I was supposed to be in four days ago.” She stepped forward, leaning less and less on his arm. “I need to get there.”
“What kind of assignment was it? Why did they send you there?” Grant asked. “Do you remember?”
Avery stopped in the middle of the hall, her brow furrowing.
“Murder,” she said and looked up into his eyes.
“Two. They asked the FBI for help. They think it might be a serial killer and don’t want to wait for a third victim before asking for help.
” She started walking with purpose toward her room.
“I need to get there. I was supposed to meet another FBI agent there from our office.” She pushed through the swinging door into her room, releasing her hold on Grant’s arm.
“Can’t the other agent handle the investigation for another couple of days until you’re fully recovered?”
Avery stood in the middle of the room. “Where are my clothes?”
Grant crossed the small locker-like closet and opened the door. He retrieved a plastic bag and handed it to her.
She pulled out her black pants, her black polo shirt and the matching sneakers and held them to her nose.
The nurse chose that moment to enter. “Oh, sweetie, they’re clean.
When you came in, you were soaked from the rain and covered in mud.
” She held up a brush and a toothbrush. “Thought you might want these. There’s a small travel-size bottle of shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom if you’d like to shower before you’re discharged. ”
“That sounds amazing,” Avery said. “Thank you. For everything.”
“I know how I’d feel if I hadn’t showered in a day, much less four.” She gave her a gentle smile. “Do you need assistance?”
Avery shook her head. “No. I’m getting around on my own. Almost as good as new.”