34. Erik #2
Every trace of humor leaves me. I move my hand higher so I'm not putting pressure on her ribs. "What hurts?"
"My ribs. Maybe from the van."
I guide her toward the examination table. "Sit."
"I've been sitting or restrained for most of three days." She braces one hand on the edge instead of lowering herself.
"That isn't a medical argument."
Rowan gives me an annoyed look. "You're not a doctor."
"Serena is."
"Serena isn't here."
"She's on the helipad."
Rowan stops resisting long enough to blink at me. "You brought Serena into an armed rescue?"
"She refused to stay behind."
She gives that serious consideration before lowering herself carefully onto the table. "That sounds like Serena."
One restraint hangs cut from the side, while the other remains attached. A bent metal piece lies near the floor beside the rolling cart. I pick it up and turn it over.
Rowan follows my attention. "I had limited resources."
"You dismantled medical furniture." I look from the metal to the severed restraint.
"I also dismantled Rahil's face several times."
"I saw the ranger station."
Her amusement disappears. "You found the van?"
"We found everything." I crouch in front of her and set the metal piece on the nearby cart. "The van, the driver, and the blood at the ranger station."
"That wasn't mine." Rowan shifts one foot beneath her, testing her balance even though I've already made it clear she isn't going anywhere.
"I know. The driver told us you took his jacket and watch, and the blood type was male."
She considers that before leaning back on her palms. "He was very attached to that jacket."
I almost smile. "Was he?"
"He seemed upset when I took it." She lifts one shoulder, then grimaces when the movement pulls at the bruise.
I reach for her left hand and turn it over. Scrapes cross her palm, dried blood marks two fingers, and bruising circles the wrist where the restraint sat. The right one is worse.
Anger rises before I can stop it. Rowan watches my face, then closes her fingers lightly around mine.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to." She shifts her scraped hand into my palm instead of pulling it away.
I rub my thumb carefully over an uninjured patch of skin. "I'm learning restraint."
Her expression changes, and I know why a second later.
"That's what you told Makari."
I look at her. "How do you know that?"
"I don't." Rowan's mouth curves. "It sounds like something he'd criticize."
Despite everything, I laugh. The reaction surprises both of us, and something in her face gives way.
Rowan reaches for me.
I stand between her knees carefully and let her pull me closer. She presses her forehead against my chest, while I put both arms around her without squeezing the bruises I can see and the ones I can't.
The last three days hit all at once.
Her sweater is dirty beneath my hand. Her hair catches against my chin. One of her feet is still in a hospital sock, and the absurdity of that detail nearly finishes me.
She's here.
I can touch her.
My earpiece comes alive before I can decide whether I'm capable of speaking.
Peter's voice cuts through the room. "Grant is eight hundred yards north of the island. Coast Guard has the launch boxed in."
I close my eyes briefly.
Rowan hears him through the earpiece speaker and lifts her head from my chest. "Alive?"
Peter answers before I can repeat it. "She's surrendering."
Makari comes back over the channel while Rowan remains tucked against me. "Drive recovered. She had a portable solid-state drive with university records."
Rowan straightens enough to look toward my earpiece. "Of course she did."
I touch the control. "Rahil?"
"Alive. Restrained. Two operators with him."
I look toward the corridor where Serena will eventually come through. "Medical?"
"Requested."
Peter's voice returns. "Orell?"
I look toward the body beside the surgical table. One of Makari's operators has entered the room and is checking him now. He crouches, reaches to Orell's neck, then looks at me and shakes his head.
"Orell's dead."
The channel goes quiet for a second before Peter responds. "Understood."
Operational traffic resumes in my ear, but Rowan has turned to look at Orell. I expect relief after everything he did to her. Instead, she just looks tired.
"He built all of this, and he died beside a surgical table."
I step sideways until I block most of her view. "He died because he brought the gun back up."
"I know." Rowan touches my arm and pulls my attention back to her. "I'm not arguing with you. He was going to shoot me."
That should make me feel better. It doesn't.
I look at her face, her wrists, the dirt still ground into her clothing, and every bruise I can see. "I should've found you sooner."
Rowan frowns immediately. "Don't start."
"I'm not starting anything."
"You're absolutely starting something." She points toward the hallway, gathering momentum despite looking like she should be asleep for a week.
"I escaped a rehabilitation estate, stole a van, assaulted a driver, walked through a state forest, fought Rahil at a ranger station, escaped another restraint, and hit Evelyn with part of an examination table.
You arrived before Orell shot me. I'm calling that acceptable timing. "
I stare at her while she lowers her hand.
She lifts one shoulder and immediately regrets it. "Maybe slightly delayed."
I almost tell her she's impossible. Instead, I touch the side of her face carefully, keeping my fingers away from the darkest bruising. "You're pregnant."
Her eyes fill so quickly that my chest hurts. "Yes."
I leave my hand against her cheek. "With three babies."
"Yes." She laughs shakily through the tears and reaches up to cover my wrist. "This isn't how I planned to tell you."
"I assumed."
"I had an envelope."
"I know."
She stops crying long enough to stare at me. "You found it."
"I didn't open it." The relief in her face hits me harder than anything else tonight. "I found the vitamins and the ultrasound. Harper told me, and Serena confirmed because you authorized emergency disclosure."
Rowan wipes one cheek against her shoulder and looks down. "I should've told you."
"Yes."
She looks back at me.
I soften the answer before she can retreat from it. "You should have. I also should've answered the question you actually asked when you asked whether our life could ever be safe enough."
Her fingers bunch lightly in the sleeve of my shirt.
I cover them with mine. "This isn't the place for that conversation. Serena's going to examine you first."
"Bossy." Rowan looks past me toward the door as if she might locate an alternate medical authority.
"You've been kidnapped for three days. I've earned ten minutes of bossy."
"You were bossy before I was kidnapped." She eases her injured shoulder backward against the table and makes a face at the discomfort.
"That's irrelevant historical evidence."
Her mouth curves.
Footsteps approach from the hall, and Serena appears through the glass doors carrying her medical bag with one operator behind her. She stops when she sees Rowan.
For half a second, she looks like a friend instead of a doctor.
Then she crosses the room, puts her bag on the nearest table, and pulls out gloves. "Do you have bleeding?"
"No." Rowan sits straighter while Serena comes around to her side.
"Cramping?"
"Earlier. Not now."
Serena puts two fingers to Rowan's wrist and watches her while counting the pulse. "Any direct abdominal impact?"
"Not directly."
Serena finishes with the pulse, then looks over her shoulder at me. "Move."
I move far enough to give her room without leaving.
Rowan points after me while Serena pulls the blood-pressure cuff from her bag. "See? Someone finally figured out how to manage him."
"I've had years of practice." Serena wraps the cuff around Rowan's arm and starts the reading.
I stay close enough to hear everything while she works.
The examination develops its own physical rhythm.
Serena checks Rowan's blood pressure, then moves a penlight across her pupils before inspecting her neck and the bruising along her shoulder.
Rowan has to lift her sweater enough for Serena to examine her abdomen, and I turn away until Serena tells me she needs help keeping Rowan steady.