Devil gives that lopsided grin. “Tse Williamson’s her fiancé.” He points me out.
I walk toward him, my heart in my mouth. “The bullet wasn’t easy to extract, and there is some nerve damage. She’s lost a lot of blood, but the transfusions and fluids she was given gave her a chance.”
I can barely make his words out. The one thing I want to know, he hasn’t answered. “Is she going to make a full recovery?”
“She’ll need to stay in for a few days. We’re pumping her full of antibiotics, and giving her more blood. I think it’s likely she’ll need to go to a rehab centre for the physical therapy she’s going to need.”
My brain says no. As soon as she can, she’s coming home. Not letting her out of my sight again, and anywhere she goes will run the risk of exposing her. Peg can help her with physical therapy, can’t he? But I don’t argue with him now. “Can I see her?”
“Give us a moment to move her to a room and then, yes.” With that the doctor leaves.
Drummer puts his arm around me, and gives me a brief hug. “She’s going to be fine.” I notice him glaring at Devil.
“Jane Smith?” Blade bursts out laughing, and his mirth causes the tension to dissipate. “Couldn’t you think of something more original, Devil?”
Devil shrugs as he stands. “Worked, didn’t it?” He walks to the door, then turns. “I’ll be in touch. Any problems? Drummer, Mouse, you know where to find me.” Then he disappears into the night.
My brothers stay until I’m called in to sit with Mariana.
I enter the room, seeing her lying so still on the bed, and my anguish of the last few hours comes back to me. I take her hand, bend my head over it, and let tears flow. A fucking man and I’m crying; I must still be suffering from my own blood loss. Tears of relief, of recrimination, wondering why we relaxed our guard and weren’t prepared for an ambush.She should never have been shot.
A nurse comes in to check her. She must notice my red-rimmed eyes. “She’s going to be fine,” she tells me comfortingly.
The monitor beeps reassuringly, telling me Mariana’s still alive. With my hand grasping hers, my head lying on my other arm, I close my eyes.
“Tse?”
A tentative voice wakes me.
“Where am I? Oh, God. I’m in the hospital…”
“Don’t worry,Jane,” I tell her quickly. When her eyes widen in confusion, I quickly add, “Jane Smith. That’s your name here. Devil worked everything out. You’re back in the US, in Arizona.”
“Did the drugs break?” she whispers.
I realise she doesn’t remember what happened. “Nah, sweetheart. Someone shot you just before you got on the plane home. Reckon it was something to do with your father.”
“Oh my God. Shot? Is anyone else hurt?” Trust her to think of other people when she’s been flirting with death.
Stroking my hand over her forehead, “Just you seriously. You were shot in the upper thigh, nicked your femoral artery.”
Her eyes open in confusion, but the next question she asks is again not about herself. “Are you alright?”
“Don’t worry about me, darlin’. Just concentrate on you. Doctor wants to keep you in for a few days, and then you’re coming home.” I don’t say we’ve got a battle on our hands to keep her out of rehab. It’s too dangerous for her to go.
“Shot.” The word seems to resonate with her. She takes away the hand I’ve been holding all night, and gingerly raises the sheet.
“In your upper thigh,” I tell her again, in case it didn’t register the first time. “You’ve got some nerve damage, but it will heal in time.” She’s got enough to deal with without talk of maybe being confined to a wheelchair. Guess we’re going to have to get Sophie’s out of storage again. “You’ll be sore for a while and have a nice little scar, but it shouldn’t cause long-term problems.”I hope.
She yawns, her eyes are drooping. The anaesthetic is probably still in her system, and she’ll take time to make up for the huge loss of blood. “Go back to sleep, darlin’. I’ll be here.”
“You don’t have to stay,” she mumbles. The expression on her face, and her tight grasp of my hand, tell me she’s lying.
I stay. Where else would I be? She sleeps, I feast my eyes on the woman I had doubts I’d see back in the US again. I can’t take my eyes off her as every emotion goes through me. The fear I’d felt when she was deported, that we wouldn’t be able to find her. My elation when we did, and the anxiety I’d tried to hold from her that her body wouldn’t rid itself of those fucking drugs without killing her. My joy when we saw the plane, knowing home was within reach. My terror when I saw her fall to theground having been shot, my utter panic when I saw how much blood she’d lost.
“Mr Williamson?”
A voice speaks quietly. Looking up, I see the doctor who’s been treating her. He’s beckoning me, I stand, take a last glance at Mariana, then step to the door.If he wants me to leave her he’ll have a fight on his hands.
