Two Weeks Later
“You have got to go back. You’re wasting your time out here, Marie,” he said, and then started coughing again. The hacking racked his body and shook his chair—and set her worry meter into the red zone.
“I’ll decide what’s a waste of my time,” she said firmly, slamming her book down on the side table and getting up off the couch. “I like it here—”
“Liar. You’re bored out of your gourd.”
She bit back a laugh. “What the fuck does that mean, anyway?”
“You’re thinking about him again. You say the F-word when you are.”
Scoffing, she shook her head. “So what?”
“Have you read his letter yet?”
She hadn’t, and he knew it.
Every time she tried, she chickened out.
Malcolm called a couple times a week. He would let her know how things were going at Hawk Elite. She would talk about how peaceful it was on the coast.
“I miss him.”
Uncle Bert rolled his eyes and walked out into the kitchen, muttering something about stupid young people.
Marie tapped the back pocket of her jeans. She was never without it. And today, she pulled it out and opened it with her eyes shut. What did she think? He would write a dear John letter to her?
“Don’t be such a wuss!” she whispered, and forced her eyes to the paper, which had gotten far more wrinkled as she’d moved it from one outfit to the next. She straightened the edges and finally focused on the small, almost illegible handwriting.
My Little Thief,
She scowled, but it twitched into a smile.
I’m working on an idea. It’s still in the planning stages (but it could possibly end with us in bed together, so I’ve made it a top priority). You exploded into my life, like that landmine from 2004, which almost took my fucking foot. I’ve spent most of the past year trying to fit you into the perfect little box. But I never could.
She got nervous and started to fold the paper back up. She could always finish it later. Coward. Growling, she opened it again.
Then you saved my life in Qatar. And you nudged your way into my thoughts, even when you weren’t around. And I began to wonder what you were doing on the weekends. How could I find out?
Hawk noticed first—
The sound of shattering glass cut her off, sending her heart rate pumping. “Uncle Bert?” she called out as she ran to the kitchen.
Marie skidded to a stop inside the door. Her uncle was on the floor, a million pieces of glass surrounding him. Her boots crunched against the sharp edges. She couldn’t even roll him or she’d cut his flesh.
The pulse in his neck was there, but weak. “Wake up, Uncle Bert,” she said, touching his face and his shoulder. Had he been getting worse and not told her? Had he been in pain?
Was she so selfish that she wouldn’t see what was right in front of her face?
Crouching, she curled her hands under his shoulders and lifted his torso. She shoved his weight on to her shoulder and got a foot under her. He’d lost so much body mass she was able to leverage him up and onto her back. Out the back door, and down the three steps, she opened the door to the old station wagon, set his feet on the ground, and rolled him into the back seat.
She ran around to the other side, opened the door, and pulled him in farther, careful to keep his head free of the closing door. Then back to the other side, and she tucked his feet up.
Driving like a madwoman, she raced up the coast to Providence Hospital. She pulled up to the emergency entrance and turned off her car, but immediately, someone stopped her.
“You can’t park here, ma’am.”
“Please, I need—”
“I’m sorry, but this is where the vans pull in. I need you to move your vehicle.”
“Sir! I have my uncle and he needs care, right now.”
The man’s eyes widened and he reached for his side.
She stepped back, her heart in her throat. But her brain registered the radio at his waist, and he was calling for help as she opened the back door to get her uncle.
A young male nurse took him, laid him out on a gurney, and began a triage examination. They started rolling him away, and Marie followed.
“Park your car, miss. I’ll tell you where to go when you get back,” the nice security guard said to her.
She did what she was told, her heart in her throat.
The next hour went by in a blur. They admitted him, and when she was finally able to see him, it was as if everyone knew him.
“What’s going on? Is he going to be okay?”
The nurse turned to her. “We’re going to get Mr. Bălan stabilized.”
“You know my uncle?”
The nurse’s eyes widened a little and then she smiled. “You must be Marie Feur. Come with me.” She strode confidently back out to the main area and led Marie to the desk. “Sarah, this is Marie Feur. She brought Bert in today. She needs to fill out some paperwork so she can go back and be with him.”
Sarah smiled. “Got it,” she said. And then the first nurse was gone. The second nurse, this one a pretty blonde thirty-something, clicked through several screens on the computer before the printer behind her started whirring and spitting out paper.
“Here we go—”
“I’m sorry.” Marie finally gained some semblance of a brain, and she stopped. “How do you know my uncle?”
“He’s been a regular in here for some time. Comes in for the pain, usually—you know.” She leaned forward. “He talks about you all the time. Says you’re a secret agent for the government. Is it true?”
Marie’s frown deepened. “Not exactly.”
Sarah laughed. “He said you’d say that, too. Now, don’t worry. We’re taking very good care of Bert. Some of us are happy to see him here. It had been so long since his last visit…” Her voice faded and a blush rose on her face. Marie knew what she wasn’t saying, though. They’d wondered if he was dead. “But he has you home. He must be so happy.”
Marie’s uncle was a regular at the hospital for pain. “How often does he come in here?” He’d told her he was fine and wasn’t getting treatment. The cancer was bad enough; he wasn’t going to add chemo and radiation to a lost cause. He’d never said anything about pain.
“I guess we see him about once a week. Sometimes I wonder if it’s his only good night of a sleep he gets. We make him take stuff home, but you know these old guys. They don’t always do what they’re told. He’s known the end was coming, though. And he never doubted you would come home first. It was like he was waiting for you.”
Shock. Panic. Fear scrambled her brains. And then anger sharpened it. Why hadn’t he told her it was so bad? He’d let her believe he had months left. She blinked back tears and blindly looked at the papers in her hand. “Where do I sign?”
The hand on her shoulder offered comfort as she signed the papers to admit her uncle to the hospital, maybe for the last time.
***
“She hasn’t answered her phone in a week. Bert hasn’t answered the landline in a week. Something is fucking wrong out there, and I need to go.” Malcolm stood in front of Hawk’s desk at headquarters. He didn’t admit the tracking device in the armband was at the hospital. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t go down Creeper Lane, but last night had been the last straw, and he’d finally given in. “The meeting with West Coast Security isn’t for another week, and I have a realtor looking at office space for us. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to go out there. I can contact West Coast Security. Lay some groundwork.”
And see what the fuck was wrong that Marie couldn’t answer her fucking phone since Saturday. “I’m worried. Maybe her uncle took a turn for the worse.”
“You’ve always been free to go,” Hawk said.
“I know, but I—” Malcolm stopped. “I’m a stubborn ass who wanted her to call me, wanted her to make a decision about us. No pressure. You know?”
Hawk lifted a brow. “Are you going to force her to do something she doesn’t want to do if you go out there?”
“Fuck no, sir.”
“Well then, I don’t know what you’re worried about. Go.” Hawk picked up his phone and stood. “I’ll see you when I see you.”
“He’s still standing in front of your desk, sir,” Craig said behind Malcolm, knocking loose the shock. Hawk made it so simple.
“No. No. I’m out of here,” Malcolm said, before anyone could change their mind or he could change his. Down the hall to the foyer, he found Josie waiting for him with an envelope.
“Tickets,” she said. “I printed off the boarding pass so you don’t even have to wait in line.”
“I could kiss you, Josie.”
“Save it,” she said, sliding her glasses up on her nose as she went back to her seat. “And safe travels.”
Fuck safe.
He just needed fast.