Page 58 of Sin of Love
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I wakeup to searing pain in my shoulder and a small Mexican woman stitching a bloody line in my skin like I’m a fucking pillow. Groaning, I lift my head.
“Nosemueva, por favor.”
Liam drifts into view. “She said—”
“Don’t move, I got it. How long was I out?”
“An hour.”
“Where’s Deirdre?”
“Resting.”
The woman glares at Liam and mutters something in Spanish, too rapid and low for my limited translation skills.
“What’d she say?” I ask, then wince as the needle dives back into my flesh. Whatever topical anesthetic was used initially is wearing off fast.
Liam drags a hand through his unkempt hair. “I was trying to spare you some worry. Resting was a polite way of saying she seized again, so we gave her a heavy sedative.”
“What!” Before I can sit up, Liam plants his palms on my chest. With laughable ease, he holds me down.
“Listen, boyo. Deirdre is heavily addicted to morphine. Given the lack of track marks and the involvement of Marco Lazcano—”
“Es un maldito desquiciado,” interjects my nurse, making the universal sign for crazy over one ear.
“As I was saying,” Liam continues, shooting the woman an exasperated look, “she’s likely been on a steady diet of poppy tea—essentially a continual, high dose of morphine. At her level of addiction, detoxing can be physically dangerous. She’s already very weak.”
“Get to the point,” I snap.
“Either she needs a hospital, where she can be medically detoxed, or she needs to be tapered down slowly.”
“You mean…” I trail off, feeling sick from more than the sight of my sewn flesh.
“She needs the drug,” he confirms grimly, “and she needs someone to administer it in slowly decreasing doses over a period of weeks.”
At the sound of tearing tape, I look down to see a fresh bandage on my bicep. “Gracias,” I tell my nurse.
She nods and packs her implements away in a black purse, then pads silently from the small room.
Sitting up on the narrow bed, I rub my grimy eyes and search for a clear thought or dominant feeling. But everything inside me is muddled, obscured by physical and mental exhaustion.
Liam’s weight settles beside me.
“Ireland is beautiful this time of year, and mostly cool. In a month, the weather will freeze the balls off a brass monkey.” He pauses. “I can call in a few favors.”
I laugh hoarsely. “What do you want in return? Another million?”
“Fuck your money. Your eternal love and devotion will do just fine.”
A knot inside me unravels, releasing tension from my shoulders. My arm throbs, my stomach grumbles, and I have to pee.
But for the first time tonight, hope outweighs fear.
“Thank you, Liam. I mean it. I can never repay you for everything you’ve—”
“Ah, don’t get soft on me, you surly fuck.” He chuckles as he stands. “Bathroom is just outside the door, kitchen down the hall. Our charming host is making coffee and food as we speak, and we leave for the airport in twenty-five minutes. Let me take care of everything else. You’ll be on your way to a safe house in my motherland in no time.”
