“I have it.” In the chaos at the safe house after the first responders had arrived, Julia had stuffed Miguel’s gun in the waistband of her jeans.
“Good. Leave it in the nightstand. I’ll explain to the nursing staff why it’s necessary.”
Julia removed the Glock from Miguel’s duffel bag, checked to make sure the safety was on, and placed it in the nightstand drawer. “I’ll be back later.”
“’kay.” Miguel was already falling asleep.
Noisesin the hallway outside his room woke Miguel. His first instinct was to reach for his gun, but a food service staff member entered his room with a tray for him. He greeted Miguel and set the tray on the mobile stand. Miguel raised his bed to an upward position, and the staff member adjusted the mobile stand to the correct height before he left.
Miguel examined his lunch. Chicken broth, unsweetened iced tea, a small bottle of water, lemon Jello, and an orange popsicle. He frowned at the meager fare but supposed it was better than nothing because he was starving.
He was starving for more than food.
Memories of that hot kiss he’d shared with Julia flooded his mind, and his body flooded with long pent-up desire. How long had it been since he’d been with a woman? He’d lost track. From the moment he’d met Julia only a few days ago, she’d awakened something in him he’d never thought he’d feel again—alive. Alive with sexual appetite and alive with an even more powerful emotion—hope. The kind of hope that made this mission riskier. He’d already lost one woman he loved to an Anderson, and he did not want to lose another possible love to the vengeance of a pair of psychopaths, who happened to be Julia’s half-siblings.
Miguel finished eating and pushed aside the mobile tray. He used his cell phone to check in with Trey. “Hey, McAdams.”
“Miguel! Jesus, I’m relieved to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”
“Better. Stronger, I think. Any updates you can share?”
“The Andersons have disappeared. According to the authorities I’ve been in contact with, there haven’t been any sightings of them. No one fitting their description has beentreated at the hospitals, no break-ins at clinics of any kind. That doesn’t rule out terrorizing private citizens, however. Tex, and Beth Turner, down in Texas, are keeping track of reports of stolen vehicles.”
“Yeah. I knew when they escaped from us at the safe house that they’d get spooked and go deeper off the grid.” Miguel paused and drank some water. “Trey, I need you to work out a strategy to get us into Mexico. Julia knows border guards and I have relatives, but it’s not going to be enough. I don’t think we can get to General Escobar before the Andersons do.”
“I’m working on it with my father and uncle. You just concentrate on your recovery.”
“Speaking of, a physical therapist is here. Keep in touch, Trey.”
“Will do.”
The physical therapist, an Asian man in in his thirties, Miguel guessed, introduced himself and asked him to verify his birthdate. “Very good, Agent Rivera. Ready to get out of this bed?”
“Yes,” Miguel declared and threw back the light blanket and sheet. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat up.
“Any dizziness?”
“A little,” he confessed. Though he wanted to lie and reply that he felt fine, he also didn’t want to do or say anything that could jeopardize his recovery. He needed to be stable and on his feet in three days.
“Take a moment to acclimate yourself.”
The dizziness passed within a few moments, and Miguel nodded. “I’m good now.”
“All right. Inhale deeply, exhale, and stand up.”
Miguel wobbled, but the physical therapist steadied him. “Your IV pole will have to come with us.”
Miguel wrapped his hand around it and took a couple of tentative steps. He grimaced in pain. “God, it feels like I’ve torn my stitches.”
“Trust me, you haven’t. We’ll stroll down to the nurses’ station and back.”
By the time Miguel returned to his room and emptied his bladder, sweat ran down his face and pain made him nauseous. The physical therapist helped Miguel back into bed.
“I’ll tell your nurse to bring you something for the pain.”
“Thanks.” Miguel’s chest heaved from his exertion.
His nurse must have known he needed pain medication because she entered the room as the physical therapist left. “Here you go, Agent Rivera.”
