13
Emaline
Blond hair spread across the pillowstrikes my eye first, a golden hue that frames a face battered by a sinister cut on her forehead and her blue eyes swollen and black. She’s hooked up to a machine that I assume is keeping her alive, and grief stirs in my gut at how real this is.
The nurse places a chair next to her bed and sits down as I prepare internally what to say. This is so strange. I have a hundred and one questions and a hundred and one mysteries that need to be solved, yet I can’t think of a single thing to say.
“Bri,” I whisper because it’s so intimate and quiet here. The nurse”s station is only a few feet away, with three nurses having a quiet conversation while a family member is talking to the person in the bed beside Bri. Some questions need to be asked, but it’s not private enough to ask them for fear someone will overhear.
“The police are here to speak to you about…everything,” I speak quietly, paranoid about people overhearing. The skin around her eyes is so swollen and puffy that her eyes forcibly narrowed into sky-blue slits.
She groans, and I realize she may be unable to speak.
“Are you in pain?” I ask her, looking at the digital face on the machine she’s hooked up to. Painkillers and whatever else she needs.
She shakes her head and points to the plastic cup of ice water on the table next to me. I take it to her mouth and place the straw between her lips, and she sucks up a little.
“Gramps is just in the hall speaking to Grandma on the phone, so I’ll have to give him progress, so I’m unsure what to say. So, um, say between one and ten, where would you sit as far as how you feel? One for the worst day of your life or ten for feeling great. Obviously, you wouldn’t be a ten.”
She groans exhaustively again as I place the cup back on the table. “Six.”
“Six? Wow, that’s high,” I say, surprised, and a breathy chuckle exudes from that black and blue face.
“Drugs,” she rumbles.
“So, what,” I sigh again, finding this incredibly awkward, even for me. “What happened? We’ve been beyond worried and then you showed up at the gravesite at Demon Grove. Were you there the whole time?”
She shakes her head. “There were so many times when I wanted to contact you, but…I was terrified that they’d go after you.”
I lean in so my face is only a couple of inches from hers, “Who? Who are they?”
“Bad people,” her voice is husky, reminding me of something Harley said. “Evil people.”
“Can you give me more information on who they are?” I don’t mean to pressure her, but the sooner the police have an identity, the better.
She turns away, and I sense the fear rolling off her.
“Bri, a security guard is just outside, and as I already said, the police are here too. So, you’re in safe hands.” I place my hand over hers, and she flinches at how cold my hand is, so I pull it away. “The Leroux brothers were here too. Aaron and Xavier. You know they were the ones that found you and chased the van down. If it wasn’t for them…”
She nods and licks her cracked bottom lip. “I remember,” she says in a delicate voice. “I remember Xavier in the van, stroking my hair, and then the emergency crew arriving.”
“Did those men in the van kidnap you?” I ask as a nurse steps to Bri’s machine to check the vitals.
Bri turns to face me again but doesn’t speak until the nurse leaves. “They found where I was hiding.”
“How?” I ask, muddled because we’re jumping about on the timeline.
“They followed a friend, who inadvertently led them to my hideout,” she explains slowly. “She felt so bad about that.”
“The friend that helped you, was it Harley?” I ask carefully for fear I got the wrong end of the stick.
She nods, and I realize I owe Harley an apology. She was honest about their intentions and why they kept Rosie and me down in that awful tomb. It was still weird, though, but if I were being held captive down there, maybe one of the ‘bad men’ would’ve kidnapped me too.
“So…by any chance, does one of the ‘bad men’ wear a suit and shades inside?” I ask as the nurse returns and gently says, “That’s enough for today.” I’m unsure if Bri heard my question because the nurse spoke over me, so I’ll ask again next time, whenever that will be.
“When can we return because our grandparents are desperate to see her?” I ask the nurse as I stand, apprehensive about her future. If that man I saw earlier with the shades is one of the ‘bad men’, we must get her back into a secret location as soon as Bri is well enough. This time, she’ll have help from the family and the Leroux boys.
“Tomorrow late morning will be fine,” the nurse says. “For now, Brielle must rest.”
With a heavy heart, I leave the ICU to find Gramps leaning against the wall opposite the swing doors, wearing a concerned expression, so I force a smile so he doesn’t worry.
“How is she?” he asks as someone walking toward us in my peripheral vision urges me to turn my head nervously, only to find Officer Davis walking back with a coffee and a greasy paper bag.
“She’s groggy but doing well. She spoke a little but didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. She’ll be fine, Gramps,” I assure him. “The nurse says we can come back tomorrow morning.”
His shoulders relax as he exhales, but I know he won’t be at peace until Bri leaves the hospital and returns to everyday life. Her life will unlikely return to normal unless something drastic happens with the men pursuing her.
Someone catches Gramps’ tired eyes walking toward us – a handsome 6ft4 jock wearing a look of concern. Xavier is wary of my Gramps out of respect but not so wary that he’d refuse to be near him.
“Sir,” Xavier greets Gramps warmly but cautiously as he’s unsure how Gramps will react to him.
Gramps nods in return and clears his throat to address me, “I’m going home to catch up on sleep.”
I gaze up at the beautiful man before me, furrowed lines on his face, messy hazelnut hair, and tanned skin, like he’s been somewhere exotic. “You go home, Gramps, while I’ll hang with Xavier,” I tell him, and Xavier smiles as those green eyes fixed onto my face, twinkling like a thousand stars.
“Fine,” Gramps hesitates, lunging forward to bear hug me. I whisper to assure him that everything will be okay, but the truth is that I don’t know that. I don’t know if we’re going to be alright at all. We tell loved ones what they want to hear at vulnerable moments, like these. The comment seems empty because even when Bri has fully recovered, we still have other problems, such as increasing debt, a business that no one wants to buy, and the ‘bad men’ that Bri mentioned.
“Ah,” Gramps addresses Xavier and tenses, worried that Gramps will be rude. Emaline’s grandmother says thank you again for the flowers.”
Confusion washes over Xavier’s face. “Okay,” he nods, unsure what he’s talking about, but is going along with it anyway.
Gramps picks up on his bemusement. “Wait. Which brother are you?”
“Xavier,” he answers. I feel like adding ‘the good twin’ but refrain from doing so.
“Oh, the wrong brother,” Gramps says, patting me on the shoulder. “I’ll see you when you get home.”
Puzzlement is still set on Xavier’s face as Gramps walks away. “What’s he talking about?”
I chuckle as my fatigue lifts just from his lovely presence. “I have no idea.”
“He said the other brother. Is he talking about Austin? Nah, Austin wouldn’t give flowers to anyone. Anyway, how are you?” he steps in and scoops me up. My feet rise off the ground, and joy dances through every cell in my body as I breathe in his soapy scent. But when my feet touch the ground again, a brick of guilt lands in my chest. It seems wrong to be happy when Bri is lying in that bed hooked to machines keeping her alive.
“I’m holding up okay, but my eyes are close to dropping out of my skull from lack of sleep,” I explain as his large hand brushes my hair back from my eyes.
“Yeah, we’ve had some weird crap go down with us, too,” he speaks softly as those eyes examine the security guard and police officer having a chat by the ICU doors. “Good to see that they’re doing their job.”
“What weird crap?” I ask in fear, thinking the worst.
He exhales and combs his hazelnut hair with his fingers. “Do you want to get a meal? You’ll need a break from here.”
“Sure,” I answer, noticing he’s ignoring my question, and maybe he’ll fill me in over tacos. Tacos? “I’m suddenly craving Tacos with a ton of cheese.”
“I know a great Mexican restaurant I can take you to, Em. So much has happened in a short space of time, so we need plenty of time to catch up.” There’s something in his voice that bothers me, stirring anxiety. Or maybe I’m so tired that my instincts are functioning on an overly sensitive level. I guess I’ll find out soon.
His hand finds mine as the warmth from his skin quivers up my forearm, and a sigh escapes from my lips when my panties moisten, ruined by the pang gnawing in my lower abdomen. Even if he initiates something physical, there’s no way I can go through with it, no matter how horny I am.
As we walk hand in hand to the elevators, I search for the disturbing man in shades, but I suspect he’s gone back to finish his coffee in the café. It crosses my mind to inform Xavier of the incident, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if I was exaggerating. He’s possibly your average garden variety dubious creep, but it pays to be vigilant anyway.
The elevator door slides open, and I cover my mouth when I’m succumbed by a yawn. Xavier gives me a cuddle and a kiss on the lips since we’re in this box alone.
When the elevator stops at the fourth floor to let someone on, Xavier releases me from his grip, and we press our backs against the walls.
“Afternoon,” a male voice croons to Xavier as the scent of cigarettes and body odor infiltrates the small space, making my stomach curdle.
The men from the café, the shady creeps, squeeze between myself and Xavier, separating us, and every inch of me longs to scream for him. I can’t see Xavier’s face since he’s hidden from view behind the men, so I can’t signal to him that these men are trouble. Instead, I squish hard into the corner due to the man next to me standing far too close, grazing my arm with his. A slimy smile is set on his face as if he knows how he makes me feel. It’s like a game to these horrible men.
A cry for help is on the tip of my tongue, but all I have to do is wait until we’re on the ground floor to escape. Yet the elevator is taking so long, and the lump in my throat is growing larger.
“Emaline,” Xavier’s voice is a welcome reprieve.
“Yes,” I breathe, leaning forward to see his face, but the men block my way. I’m dangerously close to telling him that these men are dangerous and we should call the police when we get out.
“When we get to the ground floor, I want you to do something,” Xavier’s hardened tone concerns me, and nerves shiver down my spine.
“What?” I ask, wondering why we’re having this conversation now in this intimate space with two stinky men.
“I want you to step out and not look back,” he states evenly.
I’m perplexed. “Why?”
“I need to have a private chat with these two men, and I’d rather that you weren’t here to see it,” Xavier says calmly. The shaded guy looks down at me, and that smile vanishes from his face.
The elevator finally grounds, and the door slides open. My feet lurch me forward to leave, and I turn to glance at Xavier, steeped in confusion; a hand firmly grips my arm and drags me back.
I yelp as a mighty fist plows into the guy’s face, knocking his shades off. Chaos follows as angry fists fly under a chorus of grunts and swear words in such a tight space.
Somehow, in the calamity, I’m pushed out of the elevator and fall to my knees on the vinyl in the hospital”s main foyer.
When I glance behind me, the elevator door is sliding shut as Xavier is in the throes of beating the crap out of two men. Honestly, I’ve never seen Xavier so incredibly violent. I’d expect that from his brothers, but Xavier is supposed to be the gentle one. But I can’t deny how incredible the strength of his punches and the aggression and determination on his beautiful face.
Is he doing that for me?
Wait. How could he possibly know who they were?
With shaky hands, I call Officer Davis up on the floor of the ICU and explain to him, under gasping breaths, what’s going on.
“What floor are they going to?” he asks as I watch the numbers on the lantern move upwards, imagining the worst. There are two of them and one of him. Even though they’re twice his age and nowhere near as fit as Xavier, it’s still two against one in one tiny room held up by cables.
“Sixth,” I finally say after several minutes of waiting for the elevator to stop. “Sixth floor.”
“Okay, I’ll run up there and see if I can catch them.”
Next, I swipe for Aaron’s number and call him. After two ringtones, he answers with an “Emaline?”
“Aaron, please. Something is happening with your brother,” I pant, trying desperately to keep my voice calm enough to convey my message clearly.
“Where are you?” he says urgently, addressing my distress.
“At the hospital-”
“We’re coming now,” he promises and cuts the call.