Page 50 of Resurrect Me

“Declan? Well…tied up in building F,” I reply. “I didn’t want him anywhere near Reggie in the back room. Don’t want them together so they can help each other escape or exchange information or whatever.”

“Reggie’s not talking,” Shawn says. “Thor’s tried and so has Clyde. He just keeps saying we’ve got the wrong fucking guy. Either way, we ripped that tracking device out of his neck and trashed it on the other side of town.”

“Good job on the tracker. But…is it possible we’ve got the wrong guy?”

Shawn shakes his head and throws another punch. “Seemed clear to me that he’s the fucking guy. A whole string of texts between him and a known Org member’s number. I mean…they were in code, but we were able to decode them easily enough. Reggie notified them of the drop. There’s no doubt about it.”

I kick the pad harder, visualizing that it’s Declan’s throat. I have to keep my shoulders still, ever since the slimy mother fuckerstabbed me in the bicep. Luckily, it wasn’t too deep, and my on-site doctor was able to stitch me up and treat it in-house.

“What are we going to do with Reggie? I can take care of him, if you want,” Shawn says and wipes the sweat from his face with an old towel. “Got a round ready to go.” He makes a gun with his fingers and points them at the door.

I pause and shake my head. “No. We’re not going to kill Reggie. If anything, we hold him until we complete the mission and turn him in same time as Declan. Yeah…I think that’s our best mode of action. Take down The Org, and we can turn in all these conniving bastards at the same fucking time.”

“Yeah, if the entire police force hasn’t been paid off already. We know Deputy Jackson has ties to Declan. Seen ‘em together downtown on more than one occasion.”

I take a slug of water. The injury on my arm smarts, and I wince slightly. “These dumb pieces of shit. They think we don’t see them have dinner together. Drinking fancy fucking wine and eating hors d'oeuvres and acting like everything is normal. Why would a deputy have dinner at Le Grande with the governor other than to do something shady? Don’t worry about the fucking cops. I’ll handle it. And don’t kill Reggie. Or Declan…as much as it pains me to say it, we need him alive. As collateral.”

Chapter 26

Tacy

I’m in the hospital. Again. I should just rent a room here. I’m laid up with broken ribs and a fractured cheekbone. My lip has three stitches, as does my forehead. Declan really did a number on me this time. I’m just glad Aris was there. I’m going to need some serious training after all of this. I’m also thankful my children haven’t been involved in the fucking mess that is my life.

I don’t know when we’re going to bring their father back around…and he claims this depends on when The Org is taken down. To me, it sounds like an impossible feat. Who knows how many people in power are part of The Org? How many minions they have in various industries and businesses throughout the city? The state? The country? What is Aris and The Rebellis going to do, blow up the capital? How far and wide is The Org’s reach?

I sigh, moan at the searing pain in my side, and adjust my position in bed. I hate hospital beds. Whenever I have patients who complain about the discomfort, I never disagree with them or chastise them. Because they’re right. Hospital beds fucking suck. You’d be more comfortable sleeping on a bed of rocks.

There’s a knock on the door and my nurse strolls in, sanitizing her hands and smiling at the wall.

“So, what happened to you, Tacy?” Kayden asks as she checks the IV pump settings. She’s purposely avoiding eye contact with me. We’ve never gotten along. Went through the same training class, graduated from the same nursing school, but could never hold a conversation without wanting to throw fists.

I sit up in bed, propping the flat pillow behind my lower back where there seems to be no cushion in the mattress whatsoever. “Fell down the steps.”

She logs onto the computer at the corner of the room and turns to look at me. Finally making eye contact. “Right. The old fallen down the stairs story.”

“What does that mean?”

“You and I both take the domestic violence class every year for our education credits, Tacy. We both know your injuries aren’t congruent to a staircase fall. Oh, pretty flowers. Who are they from?” She points to the tiger lilies on my bedside table. A bouquet sent by Aris with a note that says,wish I could be there by your side.I don’t know how much of this absent vigilante husband gig I can take.

I groan. I don’t know if it’s Kayden’s chipper demeanor or her punchable face that makes me hate her. Or the fact that she’s calling me out on my bullshit. “They’re from some guy I met on Tinder. Haveyouever fallen down the steps?”

“No, I haven’t. My balance and coordination are impeccable,” she answers as her fingers click clack on the computer keys at an alarming speed. “Ten hours of yoga a week ensures I don’t have stupid accidents. But you didn’t fall, Tacy. And if it was the stairs, they must’ve grown a fist and punched you in the face multiple times. From different angles.”

I exhale sharply and reach for the remote. Kayden checks the catheter bag hanging from the bed, double-checks the IV pump, and listens to my heart and lung sounds before waltzing out the door. Just before she leaves, she turns and says, “an older woman called earlier for you. You were asleep. I told her to call back this afternoon. She seemed very concerned.”

I force a smile. “Thanks. It’s my mother.”

She closes the door behind her, and the phone on the wall rings. Fuck. I have to get out of bed and shuffle to the wall, pressing the heel of my hand to my ribcage. I barely make it to the phone when my catheter reminds me, I can only go so far. A sudden pinching in my bladder makes me squeal. The phone keeps ringing, and I stretch out enough to finally grab it.

I hit the green button and answer, “What?”

“Tacy? Oh, I’m so glad you’re up,” mom says. Her voice is shaky and strained. Blanketed in bad news.

“Yeah, I’m up. How’s Cammy and Ben? Are they freaking out? I’m sure they’re so frightened.”

“No,” she clears her throat. “They’re fine. They’ll be just fine.”

“Okay, that’s good. What did you tell them?”

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