At his request, Julia called Brielle to explain why they were on their way to Laguna Beach. “Miguel is in bad shape, Brielle. He caught Covid and?—”
“Bring him straight to my house,” Brielle cut her off.
“What about the kids? We don’t want them to get sick.”
“The kids are on a weekend camping trip with their grandparents in the redwoods.”
“Even the baby?”
Brielle chuckled. “The girls wouldn’t go without their little brother. Don’t worry, Julia. I have plenty of room for you and Miguel. We’ll take good care of him, won’t we?”
Julia glanced at Miguel’s pallor above his mask. As a coughing spasm hit him, he held his wounded side and let out a small groan. “Yes, we will.”
“Finnigan will meet you at the John Wayne Airport. Don’t worry,” Brielle said again. “Miguel will be okay.”
Julia gripped Miguel’s hot hand. “We’ll be home soon, baby.” The endearment slipped out, and she blushed beneath her mask.
He didn’t reply but squeezed her hand. Words weren’t necessary. The expression in his gold-flecked eyes communicated far more eloquently.
Miguel slept for the duration of the flight to California. By the time they landed at John Wayne Airport, he’d grown so weak and feverish that Julia had to support him with her arm around his waist. He leaned heavily upon her.
When Marcus Finnigan, an LA SWAT officer who was married to Tawny and worked with Brielle, saw Miguel’s condition, he jumped out of his car to help him into the passenger’s seat. “Jesus Christ, Miguel! I should drive you straight to the hospital.”
“No!” Miguel gasped. “I’ll be all right. Please, Finn. Just take me to Brielle’s house.”
Finnigan broke the speed limit and wove in between cars to get to Brielle’s house. Though they sped past Laguna Beach cops, none stopped them. Julia assumed they recognized Finnigan and Miguel.
When they pulled into the driveway of a huge multi-level glass and cement structure built into the cliffs above the Pacific Ocean, Brielle came out to meet them. She greeted Julia and turned to gaze at Miguel, who still sat in the car, unable to move.
“Oh, my God, River,” she said in a soft voice, using his nickname. “Finnigan, help him.”
“On it.” He practically lifted Miguel out of the car as if he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes and set him on his feet.Finnigan looped one of Miguel’s arms around his brawny neck and held him steady as they shuffled toward the open front door.
“Take him to the guest bedroom upstairs,” Brielle directed.
Miguel collapsed on the queen-sized bed. His teeth chattered as he shook from chills. Julia removed his shoes and arranged the bed sheet and comforter around him. Brielle went into the bathroom to retrieve a digital thermometer. She aimed it at Miguel’s forehead.
“It’s one hundred and two. I’ll get some Tylenol. Julia, it might be a good idea to apply cold compresses to help bring down his fever.”
“His antibiotics are in my backpack. He missed taking them today.”
Miguel managed a wan smile. “Be careful. She’s carrying grenades and smoke canisters, and God knows what else in her backpack. Although, I have no idea where she got them.”
Finnigan let out a laugh. “She’s my type of woman.”
Miguel’s smile faded into a scowl. “You’re a married man, Finn. Back off. Julia ismywoman.”
Brielle reappeared with the Tylenol and a cup of water. She’d heard the banter between Finnigan and Miguel and shot Julia an amused expression as he swallowed the tablets.
“He’s delirious from the fever and doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Julia explained.
Finnigan and Brielle shared a knowing glance and burst into laughter.
“Yeah, right,” Finnigan drawled. He patted Miguel’s shoulder. “You’re in good hands, buddy. I’ll check on you tomorrow. Bri, is there anything else I can do before I head home?”
“No. Thanks, Finnigan. I’ll see you at the command center in the morning.”
“Julia, nice to meet you.”
