Page 69 of Hard Game

“Ah, you’re awake. Good. How are you feeling?” Her voice booms over me, and I cringe, wishing she’d lower the volume a tad.

“Like shit,” I mutter, reaching for the glass of water beside my bed. “How long have I been asleep?”

The nurse slips a fabric cuff over my hand and pulls it up my arm before twisting my wrist in her hand. “Blood pressure,” she tells me before pressing a button that tightens the cuff around my arm. “Four hours.”

“I was sedated; there wasn’t anything else wrong with me,” I say flatly, remembering why I was sedated. Then, my mind goes to Elijah, and panic rises. “Shit, how’s Elijah?”

“Just a second.” The nurse frowns before scribbling something on a clipboard. “Mr Jonewood? He’s stable. You can see him once we finish your observations if you wish.”

I sink back to the pillow in relief, tears stinging my eyes. He made it. He’s stable, which isn’t the best news, but I’d feared the worst. He was so pale…

The nurse finishes my observations and waves at the chair beside my bed, where my clothes sit in a plastic bag. “You can get dressed. I need the doctor to discharge you, but you seem perfectly fine.”

I nod as she leaves the room to get the doctor, and I dress quickly. I hate hospitals at the best of times, but exchanging the hospital gown for my stained clothes is even worse. I need to go home and shower ASAP. But first, I need to see Elijah.

The doctor takes her sweet time in coming to see me, and I’m pacing the room when she finally pops her head in, her big brown eyes assessing me before she smiles. “You look well enough to go home,” she says with a chuckle, lifting the clipboard from the bottom of my bed. “Your stats are good; how do you feel?”

“Agitated. Can I go?” I don’t waste time with pleasantries. “I need to see my friend.”

The doctor raises an eyebrow but nods. “The nurse did say. Mr Jonewood, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I say, shifting anxiously. “Which room is he in?”

The doctor tells me to check with reception on my way out, and I practically run there. My head throbs, and my stomach churns, probably the side effects of the fucking sedative they gave me. I still can’t believe Carmen, of all people, is part of the trafficking ring. No wonder the case went cold last time.

I find Elijah’s room and stop outside, bracing myself for what I might see. The fact he’s in a stable condition means nothing. He could look like he’s dying, or worse, dead. I don’t want to lose him, I realize, pushing the door open with a deep exhale.

Elijah’s bed is in the middle of the room, surrounded by beeping machines and endless wires. A lump forms in my throat when I near the bed, and his yellow complexion greets me, but he’s fast asleep. That or he is in an induced coma, but I seek reassurance in the rising and falling of his chest, confirming he’s alive.

“Hey, Eli,” I whisper, moving slowly to the bed, my fingers wrapping around the cold bed rail near his feet. “I’m so sorry.” It doesn’t matter that I wasn’t there to save him; I should’ve been. Elijah had been stabbed and left for dead, and where was I? Chasing bad guys, putting myself at risk without thinking of anyone else. I close my eyes and inhale, trying to stop my body from trembling. I’d been so determined to find my sister, to bring justice for her, that everything and everyone took a back seat.

Even me.

I open my eyes and focus on my unconscious partner, vowing that whoever did this would pay. “There’s too much sickness in the world, Elijah,” I tell him, biting my bottom lip hard. “I’m trying to fight them all, but I can’t do it without you. Wake up. Please.”

The door beside me opens, and a nurse hovers, checking her watch before giving me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I need to check on him.”

I nod and step back, watching the pretty nurse fuss over Elijah, talking to him like they were conversing. Tears sting my eyes when she asks him what he plans on doing when he gets out of the hospital, and I can’t stop myself from crying.

A hand rests on my arm, and I see the nurse smiling at me. “He’s a fighter. He’s improving every day; he just needs to get stronger.”

“He lost too much blood,” I say, wiping furiously at my cheeks. “It took too long to find him.”

The nurse frowns and shakes her head, glancing back at Elijah. “For someone who lost so much blood, he’s doing incredibly well. Stay positive.”

I nod numbly as I back away, saying a silent goodbye to Elijah. I hate how vulnerable he is, and more than that, I hate that there is no security for him. But if Carmen orchestrated Elijah’s attack, she wouldn’t want him protected. I stiffen at the realization that I may be the only chance Elijah has at being protected while he’s out of it, and my body sags. Would Carmen do this to one of her own? I scoff internally and shake my head.

Of course, she fucking would. She’s corrupt.

I sink into a plastic blue chair by Elijah’s door and rub my tired eyes. I need some painkillers for my head, and where the hell is my gun? I pat my pockets and frown when I feel they’re empty.

Where are my things? My badge and phone?

An uneasy feeling slips into my stomach, and I look around me, suddenly hyper-aware that I don’t have a weapon to protect me or Elijah, should I need one.

The nurse leaves Elijah’s room, and I call out. “Has Elijah had many visitors?”

The nurse cocks her head and then shakes it, her eyes meeting mine. “His parents have come by, but other than you, no.”

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