18. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
E ven after scrubbing at the bathroom sink, Sky still had splotches of blood staining her cuticles. The sight of Rafael’s blood dried on her skin made her stomach lurch. She closed her eyes and willed away the burning tears threatening to spill down her face. She’d been crying for hours, and her eyes were puffy and sore.
“Here. Drink this.” Beto pressed a cup of coffee into her hands. “It’s not very good, but the caffeine will keep you awake.”
“Thank you,” she whispered before giving the lukewarm and too-bitter brew a taste.
Beto dropped heavily into the chair next to her. He exhaled loudly and stretched out his long legs. He still wore his blood-stained suit, and she wondered if he planned to burn his clothes just as she did. There was no way she could ever wear this dress again, not even if it was pristine after laundering. She would always remember Rafael’s pale face as he passed out on that dirty sidewalk.
Beto sighed and shifted on the hard chair. He retrieved his iPhone and tapped at the screen. “Lola,” he said, answering her unasked question. “She’s just letting us know Jasper has been asleep since his bath. Dina, Camila, and Mama are all asleep in the same room. Everyone is safe, and she’ll keep checking in every hour.”
“She needs to sleep,” Sky said, her voice raw and rough. “She can’t do anything from home.”
“She’s a worrier,” Beto said, pocketing his phone again. “Even if she wanted to sleep, she wouldn’t be able to after all this.”
All this . Such a benign way to describe the most terrifying experience of her life. One minute, she had been holding onto her husband, fantasizing about all the wicked things they were going to do together once they got home, and the next she was holding onto him hoping he wouldn’t die.
When the shooting started, she had been so confused. All the yelling and screaming and the popping shots. Then Jasper screamed, and she saw the blood and panicked. It wasn’t until she finished checking him over that she realized it wasn’t his blood at all.
It was Rafa’s.
“Se?or. Se?ora.” Two men in suits approached respectfully. They flashed official badges before the lead agent apologized. “We’re sorry to bother you.”
“We’ve already answered questions,” Beto said tiredly. “We talked to the police on the scene and again when the detectives met us at the emergency room.”
“We’re not local police.” The lead agent showed his badge again, and this time she was able to read the emblem clearly. Policía Federal Ministerial. PFM. Mexico’s version of the FBI. “We have information that you need to hear.”
Beto shot her a worried look and then slipped his arm around her shoulder in a comforting manner. “We’re listening.”
After the two agents introduced themselves, Agent Morales explained, “We were acting on a tip from our American counterparts. We were able to use their information to locate Beverly Van Cleef and her boyfriend at a hotel not far from the city center. They were waiting for the shooter—Emiliano Veracruz—to send word that he had completed his task.”
“His task?” Sky asked, awash in fresh terror. “You mean shooting Rafael?”
“No.” Agent Morales looked pained as he clarified, “The target was you, ma’am.”
“Me.” Of course. Beverly’s hatred really did have no bounds.
“From what the shooter revealed during questioning, we believe that the plan was to kill you and kidnap the baby in the chaos. A young man on a motorcycle was waiting nearby to snatch your nephew and take him to the rendezvous point.”
Beto’s arm tightened around her shoulders, consoling and supporting her. She glanced at him, noticing the way his jaw tightened. He was so like Rafael.
Rafael who was in surgery fighting for his life.
Because of me .
As if he could read her mind, Beto said, “It’s not your fault, Sky.”
“Isn’t it?” she asked, crying again.
Beto looked distraught and turned his attention back to the agents. “Where are they now?”
“They’re in custody. They won’t be getting out any time soon, no matter how much noise that woman makes,” the second agent promised. “Kidnapping. Attempted murder. Conspiracy.” He ticked off the charges. “They’re looking at serious time in prison.”
Sky zoned out as Beto discussed legal matters with the agents. Beverly really was a lunatic. There was no other explanation for her vile behavior. She could have walked away with all the money she wanted and access to Jasper. She could have lived a perfectly happy life—but she chose violence and hatred instead.
“Hey,” Beto said and gently shook her shoulders. “Sky.”
She blinked several times and realized she had missed the federal agents leaving. Now, two surgeons were standing in front of them.
Desperate for any news about Rafael, she jumped to her feet. “Is he okay? Is the surgery finished?”
The female surgeon smiled encouragingly. “The surgery went well. There were no complications. The bullet did some damage, but we were able to control all bleeding and remove the round.”
“He’ll recover?” Beto said, sounding afraid to hope.
“Yes. Barring any infection or unforeseen complications, we expect Rafael to make a full recovery,” the surgeon assured them.
Relieved, she sagged against Beto who braced her with his arm. “When can we see him?”
“Soon,” the surgeon replied. “Once he’s settled into an ICU room, we’ll have a nurse bring you back.”
Soon took too long. She expected it to be only a few minutes, but it was over an hour before a nurse came to the waiting room and fetched them. The nurse walked so slowly, and it took every ounce of Sky’s self-control not to shout at the nurse to move faster. She wanted to see Rafael. She needed to see him. She needed to confirm with her own eyes that he was alive and recovering.
When they finally reached the ICU room, another nurse introduced herself as overseeing Rafael’s care. She explained the rules of the ward and then talked through the procedures Rafael had endured during his surgery.
“You can both visit for a short while, but only one of you can stay in the room with him tonight,” the nurse explained. “I’ll return when it’s time for one of you to leave.”
Finally permitted to see her husband, Sky practically ran into the room. Beto was hot on her heels, and they each took up a spot on either side of his bed. She had expected him to have a tube in his throat to help him breathe, but the nurse had explained that they extubated him as soon as he was stable after surgery.
Sky tried to make sense of the tangle of IV lines and all the machines and flashing screens. She didn’t know anything about healthcare and could only assume that his heart rate, respirations and blood pressure were okay.
For a long while, neither said anything. They simply held Rafael’s hands and watched him breathe. The slow and steady rise and fall of Rafael’s bandaged chest soothed their fears. She reached over and carefully moved locks of damp hair from his forehead. She caressed his jaw and wished she could climb into bed with him. She wanted to hold him, to hear his heartbeat thudding beneath her ear.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse apologized, “but it’s time for one of you to go.”
“I’ll go,” Beto said immediately. When she started to argue, he shook his head. “You’re his wife, and he would want you here.”
She hoped that was true.
“Rafael,” Beto lowered his head and held his brother’s hand. “I’m here. I’m taking care of everything. You rest and get better.”
Sky’s heart ached for Beto. He had always been the wildest of the siblings, the one who was carefree and without commitment. He never seemed to want to be in charge of anything, but he had taken up the role as family patriarch without complaint.
Before leaving the ICU, Beto gave her a lingering embrace and promised to be right outside in the waiting room if she needed anything. Selfishly, she didn’t tell him to go home to sleep. She wanted him close, just in case.
Alone with her husband, she quietly moved a small chair close to the bed and out of the way of most of the machines keeping Rafael stable. She leaned forward and held his hand, stroking her thumb along his knuckles. She tried to relax, but it was so hard with all the beeping and hissing sounds.
Eventually, exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she placed her cheek against the bed, right by his hand. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, bent over the bed at that angle, but she couldn’t bear to be anywhere else. Still holding his hand, she fell into a fitful sleep, plagued by dreams of gunfire and blood and anguish.
“Sky.”
Jolted awake by Rafael’s raspy voice, she jerked upright and blinked her bleary eyes. She focused on his tired face and nearly wept for joy when his dark eyes locked with hers. “Rafael?”
“ Mi amor .” He squeezed her hand with all the strength he could muster. “Jasper?”
“He’s fine.” She dotted kisses all over his hand. “He’s with your mother and sisters and Camila at the house.”
“Beto?”
“He’s here in the waiting room.” She started to stand. “I can get him.”
“No. You. Stay.” Weakly, he smiled at her. “Just stay with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed his forehead and then his temple and cheek. “I love you, Rafael Farias. I’m not going anywhere unless you’re right next to me.”