She nodded her head a small amount and relaxed back on the gurney. The ambulance pulled up to the emergency room doors, and they wheeled her straight into the operating room; two nurses and the driver had to hold me back as they pushed her through the double doors and out of view. I’ve been sitting in the brightly lit waiting room ever since.
The doors open, and I look over at an older gentleman in scrubs. The nurse points in my direction, and I stand and meet him halfway.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Greenwall. I performed the surgery on Miss Grier.” He reaches his hand out for mine and shakes it firmly.
“Is she okay?” I ask, pushing past the lump in my throat.
“She’s lucky the bullet didn’t do more damage. It nicked her spleen and fractured a rib, but we were able to fix both. She’s going to be in a lot of pain for a while, and she’s going to need at least a month of recovery time, so nothing too strenuous.”
I push my breath out.She’s going to be okay.I run my fingers through my locks and scrub them over my face, relief washing over me. “When can I see her?”
He turns and looks at the nurse sitting behind the counter. “She’s not awake yet, but he can go. Room one-thirty-one,” she tells him.
“Come on, I’ll walk you over.”
We pass a few rooms, and I watch the numbers climb as we near hers. My heart beats uncontrollably as we stop outside her doorway. She comes into view, and I rush to the side of her bed. Her eyelashes rest against her pale cheeks, and her breathing is even.
I look over at the nurse in the room. “How long until she wakes up?”
“She should be waking within the next twenty minutes or so. You’re welcome to wait with her. I’m sure she’d appreciate a familiar face when she comes to.” She puts her chart back and closes the door behind her as she exits, leaving the two of us alone.
I pull a chair up next to her side of the bed and grasp her hand in mine. It’s warm, but she looks so frail lying in the big hospital bed, the thin sheet and scratchy blanket covering her petite frame.
“You’re safe, Finley. No one’s going to hurt you now.” I bring her fingers up to my lips and plant a gentle kiss on them.Please, wake up.I want to wrap her in my arms and hold her tight. Her eyes shift under her closed lids, and her chest rises and falls with steady breaths.
There’s a gentle knock on the door, and I look toward it. Winston steps through with Amelia, and both offer me a small smile and wave as I stand to greet them.
“Found her wandering through the halls. Thought you two could chat,” Winston says.
I walk to the door so we can talk without being too loud, and Winston waits in the hallway, giving us space to have a private conversation.
“You have a lot of explaining to do, Grayson, and you’re going to be up to your eyeballs in paperwork. You managed to shut down a huge sex trafficking ring in Chicago, and someone anonymously dropped off evidence with information about each sale over the past two years. We have a starting point to find all these girls, and we can take the buyers into custody. Some of the names are huge, too. Never would have thought some of these men were scum.”
“That’s great, Shaw. Glad more information’s been uncovered.”
“Yeah, the FBI is taking over the investigation from here.”
I nod. “Good. Any chance you solved Nick’s murder, too?”
“We’re still looking into it, but I’ll keep you posted.” She looks past me to Finley, lying in the bed. “She’s lucky to have gotten out of this alive. It’s going to take her a long time to recover from everything.”
“I know, and I’ll be there for her every step of the way.”
She nods. “Call me if you need anything, I’ll leave you guys alone.” She leaves, and I sit back in the chair, waiting for Finley to wake up.
Finley
There’s an annoying beeping in the distance, and a sharp pain runs down my left side. I wince and flutter my eyes open.
Where the hell am I, and what the hell happened?
I blink to focus my eyes, and Grayson’s handsome, chiseled face comes into focus. He smiles at me and squeezes my hand. When I open my mouth to ask him what’s going on, it feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. I look at the cup on the table, and he picks it up, lifting the straw to my lips. Sucking down the cool water helps my parched throat.
“What happened?” I croak.
He takes the hard plastic cup from me and places it on the small bedside table. He then takes both my hands between his and twines his fingers around mine. When he looks me in the eyes, worry lines are evident on his forehead. I withdraw my hand from his grasp and run my thumb over the lines, and they seem to soften then disappear altogether under my touch.
“You were shot, and the bullet fractured a rib and grazed your spleen. I’ve been so worried, babe. The doctor said you’ll make a full recovery, but you need time to heal.”
