Chapter 38
38
He dipped in and out of consciousness several times while Celeste carried him. At one point, Magnus remembered feeling the cool breeze of the night air. Another time, he remembered Beatrice slapping him awake. But the next time he woke up, Magnus found himself inside a bathtub, getting jabbed with a needle and thread.
“Ow, Goddammit,” he groused, opening his eyes to the bright lights and once-sterile tiles of a hotel bathroom. Thank God they were back at the Grand. When his eyes finally focused, they landed on the most beautiful sight: Celeste St. Pierre. Her disheveled wig tumbled over her forehead as her attention focused on the pain in his arm. Her face was red and puffy from crying, but she set her full lips in a thin grimace as she concentrated on stitching him up.
Beatrice sat on the edge of the tub near his feet, watching in horror as Celeste worked.
“Give me the gauze,” Celeste said in a soft voice. He sleepily watched Beatrice retrieve a metal box from the floor. She handed over a roll of white bandages before going back to biting her thumbnail. He said nothing as Celeste lifted his arm and wound gauze around it. When she tied it off, she finally looked him in the eyes.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
Her face crumpled into a sob, one that she was probably holding back as she worked. “You got hurt...”
Magnus sighed and closed his eyes. “A flesh wound,” he said with a heavy breath.
Celeste bent over the tub and cried harder. “He could have killed you.”
“He could have killed you ,” he countered. Why didn’t she understand that? It was his job to protect her...he thought she knew that by now. “I love you too much for you to get hurt again, Celeste.”
His blurry gaze fell on Beatrice, who was now crying at his feet.
“Why are you crying, Bea?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light. His dry chuckle quickly became a cough.
Beatrice reached into the tub and touched his leg. “I’m crying because you’re alive,” she hiccuped.
He closed his eyes again. “Why am I in a tub, wife?”
Celeste stroked his hair from his sweaty forehead. “Because we can’t have you bleeding all over this very expensive suite. I had to sneak you through a back entrance to avoid suspicion.”
“I’m sorry for bleeding,” he breathed.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said, cupping his cheek.
Her touch against his clammy, cold face was all he needed. Her warm fingers felt like the first mug of coffee before the start of a long teaching day. He needed her to keep touching him, petting him. When he thought her hand was leaving him, he reached up and clasped it against his chest. “Don’t leave,” he murmured.
“I won’t,” she whispered.
Beatrice looked between the two of them before standing. “I’m going to help pack up the comms station. I assume we leave in the morning?”
“Possibly tonight. Sebastian said he’d get us out of here after he collects Santi. Get ready to move.”
“Sounds good,” Beatrice said as she drifted from his view.
“Sebastian?” Magnus was half listening, but what little he’d heard sounded encouraging. “Has he come for his car bombing goons?”
Celeste scrubbed a hand over her brow and nodded. “And us. He’s getting Santiago out of jail now. We’ll try to leave as soon as possible.”
“So, we did it?” he asked, lifting his good arm to touch her. “We did what Doris asked?”
Her black-rimmed eyes met his with wariness as she stood up. Magnus watched as she pulled her skirt from the knees, past her ankles to her shins. Just above her left knee, a shiny flash of metal and diamond glittered beneath the fabric. When she revealed her entire leg, Magnus let out a startled laugh.
“We did. Five years later, but yeah,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
He understood the tremor in her voice. He felt the same mix of excitement and fear. There would be no post-job glow that evening. Instead, Magnus was just thankful that everyone was alive.
“Jesus Christ...” he murmured.
She slipped the tiara from her leg and laid it on top of his chest. “We did it, and frankly, I don’t think we should ever do it again.”
He ran his fingers along the diamonds and silver frame and shook his head. “You don’t mean that, CeCe. We’re alive and both of us are too stupid to quit. Just give it a few months.”
She sighed. “Fair... But if you don’t mind, I won’t return to Stockholm. I’m done with this city.”
Magnus was completely on board with that. “Fair. I should get changed if we’re leaving soon.”
“You’re not doing anything right now,” Celeste said. “Except maybe go to bed. Can you get out of the tub?”
“I think so,” he said as he pulled himself up. He winced at the pain shooting up his arm. “Is there anything you can give me for the pain?”
Celeste nibbled on her bottom lip. “I’ve got extra strength Tylenol.”
“Anything in the minibar?”
“I used all the vodka on your arm.”
Magnus grinned as he rested his head against the cold tile. “You’re so smart.”
“Can I lift you?”
“I don’t want to—” He stopped himself when he saw her smile.
“Oh, shut up, Mags. I love you too much to let you crawl to bed.”
She said it. She loves me.
He was probably still lightheaded from the loss of blood, but Magnus suddenly felt weightless. His heart was buoyant from her snarky admission.