Chapter Twenty-Two
Return from the Shadows
Rowan
“She’s here!” a voice shouted. “Rowan? Hold on, sweetheart. Help is on the way.” I tried to open my eyes, but couldn’t. Someone cursed, and I tensed. “I’ve got you, Rowan,” the voice spoke near my ear, and I instantly relaxed. Whoever it was, it wasn’t Conor, because Conor would never call me Rowan. To him I was Gillian. I tried to thank the stranger, but I couldn’t make my mouth work. Someone jostled my arm, and I screamed out in pain before slipping back into darkness.
“Rowan,” a voice called out. This time I managed to get my one good eye open. Everything was blurry, but I could see movement. I felt a warm hand slip into mine. A soothing voice, said, “Sweetheart, my name is Garrett. I’m here with two of my buddies, Bobby and Adam. Nash hired us to find you. The EMT’s are in route, and you’re safe.”
Nash had found me.
I tried to let the man know I’d heard him, but it hurt too much to move. “We’re losing her. Rowan, stay with us, sweetheart,” I heard him say. I needed to warn them about Conor.
“C-Co,” I managed to get out.
“What’s that?” he asked as he leaned in, and I tried again.
“Co-nor,” I breathed.
“You don’t have to worry about him. You’re safe, now. I promise.” He stayed by my side comforting me as tears of relief trickled down my face.
“Ask her about Gillian,” a voice said. I tried to turn my head to see who it was, and cried out as wave after wave of pain seared through me.
“She may have a spinal injury. Rowan, honey, try not to move your head, okay? Squeeze my hand if you understand.” I tried to squeeze his hand, but wasn’t sure if I’d succeeded until he said, “Good girl. Now, can you tell us where Gillian is? Where’s Gillian, Rowan?” His question confused me.
“Here,” I rasped. I heard a commotion beside me, but didn’t dare turn my head for fear of the pain.
“Gillian is here in this house?” His voice sounded panicked.
“The medics are here!” someone called out.
“Rowan, is Gillian in the house?”
“I’m Gillian,” I answered before the darkness took me back under.
I woke to the sound of someone screaming. It took a moment for me to realize that it was me. Agony like I’d never known burned through my body as I gasped for air. I felt like I was underwater, drowning in a pool of blinding pain. Voices called out, hands touched, but all I felt was the pain.
The next time I came to I was still underwater, but now I felt as if I was floating.
“Miss Burns,” a voice called out. At first I thought it was the housekeeper, but then I remembered her walking out the door while I was calling… Nash. The maid. The phone call. Talking to Nash. Conor beating the hell out of me. The needle. It all came rushing back. I tried to open my eyes, but thanks to Conor’s fist, only one seemed to work. Using my good eye, I scanned the room. White walls instead of blue stared back at me, and I blinked several times to clear my vision. When I saw that the walls were indeed white and not blue, a tiny bubble of hope began to flower. “Miss Burns,” the voice called out again. I tried to turn my head, but it wouldn’t move. “We’ve got you in traction until we can better assess your injuries,” she explained, and the bubble of hope began to grow.
“Who are you?” I rasped through my shredded vocal cords.
A woman stepped into my line of vision. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was her name tag. “My name is Dr. Wheatley. You are at Mt. Sinai Hospital in New York.” The bubble of hope ballooned, and I closed my eyes and fought back tears of relief. I was in a hospital.
“How did I get here?” I rasped.
A door swung open and in walked three men. The first one I recognized, but couldn’t place where I’d seen him, the second I’d never set eyes on, and the third I knew. He was the man who’d saved me.
“You,” I whispered.
His face lit up with a huge smile as he stepped beside my bed. He gently clasped my hand in his, and said, “Welcome back.”
“Conor?” I asked.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe.”
His hesitant tone bothered me, but before I could ask him to explain, the doctor cut in, “You two will have plenty of time to catch up later. For now, I need to get her up to radiology for some scans.”
My savior released my hand, and I tried to get it back, but I couldn’t see anything except for what was right in front of my face. “What is your name?” I called out.
His face suddenly appeared above me. Warm, friendly eyes stared deep into mine. “My name is Garrett Lanier. The two men here with me are Bobby Preston and Adam Whitaker. We work at LASH.” Recognition hit, and he smiled. “Nash hired us to find you.”
“Time to go,” the doctor said.
“Nash,” I wheezed.
“He’s on his way right now. In fact, he should be here when you get back from radiology.” He squeezed my hand one last time. Tears of happiness spilled from my eyes as a technician wheeled my bed away.
On the way to radiology, we detoured into a private room. A nurse stepped forward and wiped my face as I was wheeled inside. I politely thanked her. Two nurses and a second doctor were waiting, all with grim expressions on their faces.
“Where are we?” I asked.
Doctor Wheatley’s face popped into my line of sight. “Before I leave you with radiology, I wanted to ask you some personal questions. Since Mr. Lanier and his colleagues refused to leave your room, I felt it was best to bring you here for some privacy.”
The second doctor leaned in so I could see her. “Hi, Rowan, I’m Dr. Shelton. I’m head of obstetrics here at the hospital. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to ask you a few questions.” Suddenly it clicked. They thought I’d been raped.
“I wasn’t raped,” I told them. Dr. Wheatley cut her eyes to Dr. Shelton, and I could tell they didn’t believe me.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Dr. Shelton consoled.
“I wasn’t raped,” I repeated, before adding with a dry humorless laugh, “Trust me. He wanted to break me, not rape me.” The room got quiet, and one of the nurses let out a hiss of anger. I could tell by their concerned expressions that they thought I was about three seconds away from coming unglued, which wasn’t far from the truth. I could feel a major meltdown in my near future, but in order to get the hell out of this room without having my privates probed and a psyche evaluation, I had to hold it together. So I played my trump card and explained that I was a part of the pack, one of the gang. I was a fellow nurse. The second I said it, shoulders relaxed and smiles appeared.
Learning that I was one of their own had the intended effect. After only a few more questions, we were off to radiology. The pain meds were beginning to wear off. My thoughts were clearer, but the overall discomfort was more pronounced. The last thing I wanted was to take more meds, so when asked, I said my pain was still manageable. I clung tightly to two things. Conor was gone and Nash was on his way.
For the next few hours I was scanned, probed and prodded. My spine was bruised, but otherwise fine, so I was taken out of traction. My broken arm was set and my cracked ribs bound. Nothing else was broken, but everything from the inside out was bruised. By the time the technician was wheeling me back to my room the pain meds had officially worn off, and I was regretting my decision to boycott. I literally hurt from the roots of my hair down to my toenails. What remained of my voice had finally given out. I was down to my bones exhausted, and was barely hanging on by a thread. All I could think about was seeing Nash.
“We’re heeeeere,” the technician called out as we entered my room. I saw Garrett first. Next to him stood Adam, or maybe it was Bobby, I couldn’t remember which was which. I searched the room for Nash. When I came up empty, my heart didn’t just drop, it crashed to the floor. Nash didn’t come. I turned my head away from the guys as my eyes filled with tears, and there he was, standing beside my bed. Nash. I had no idea where he’d come from, and I really didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was here. I’d dreamt of this for days. In my darkest hours it was memories of his face, his voice, his touch that had kept me going.
“You’re here,” I whispered. Gorgeous blue eyes that I never thought I’d see again swam with uncertainty as he stared down at me. He clenched and unclenched his jaw as his eyes raked over my body and he got an up close look at the damage that Conor had inflicted. My emotions were all over the place. I was embarrassed, proud, angry, exhausted, but most of all, I was sorry…so damn sorry for everything – My lies, Maeve’s death, Nash’s loss – every last bit of it.
“Ro,” he whispered, and the pain…the pain wrapped around that one word was more than I could bear.
“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed.
His hands slid around the back of my neck as he dropped his forehead to mine. “I want to touch you, but I don’t want to hurt you, so for now this will have to do,” he rasped. Then he touched his lips to mine for a gentle kiss, before lowering his mouth to my ear, and whispering, “I’m so sorry I left you. Please forgive me.” With his head against mine and his warm hands cupping the back of my head, he held me while I cried. At his insistence, I finally allowed the nurse to administer pain meds.
“Don’t leave me,” I whispered as I started to drift away.
“Never,” he growled.
And for the first time in days, I smiled.