Page 91 of Tempting Fate
“Harper would like to see her,” Drew said. “Emily’s with her now, but as soon as Raylene can have visitors, would it be okay?”
“Sure.” Gabe had appointed himself Raylene’s point person, going as far as to tell the medical staff he was her fiancé. Otherwise, they wouldn’t give him any information. “As long as the MRI is okay, they’re planning to release her today.” Which was insane, in his opinion.
“That’s great.”
“You could bring her by the farmhouse.” But Gabe wondered if that was such a good idea for a kid. Raylene was in pretty rough shape.
“Thank you,” Drew said. “I think she needs to see for herself that Raylene’s okay.”
“You may want to give it a few days, for her face to heal,” he said, and saw Drew flinch. Apparently, word that Raylene had taken a bad beating hadn’t spread through the mighty Nugget grapevine yet.
Shortly after Gabe had come to the rescue, Rhys, Jake, and two other Nugget PD officers had responded. They’d arrested Raylene’s attackers and called for two ambulances. The gunman hadn’t gone totally unscathed—Gabe shot him in the arm just before he tried to pull the trigger on Raylene. He’d cried like a little bitch, and was somewhere in the hospital under guard, getting treated.
Everything after that was a blur. At the time, Gabe’s only focus had been on getting Raylene the hell out of there. She’d been barely conscious on the ride over, incoherently muttering about love and kindness and how Gabe was the best man she knew. He’d been too shaken to pay attention, and he was pretty sure the paramedics had put a painkiller in her IV, making her goofy.
“We’re staying a few more nights, just to be here if Harper needs us,” Drew said. “I know Emily is making Raylene a big pot of soup, but if you need anything else, like Kristy said, don’t hesitate to call us.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet and scribbled a phone number on the back.
Clay walked them to the bank of elevators and an older guy in a white coat came out of a pair of double doors.
“Are you Gabe Moretti?”
Gabe got to his feet. “I am. Is Raylene out?”
“She is, and she’s asking for you. Come on back.”
“Did the tests come out okay?”
“They did, and we’re cutting Miss Rosser loose. I wrote her a prescription for a painkiller, and she should see her primary physician in a week if the swelling doesn’t start going down. She should avoid taking ibuprofen for forty-eight hours, ice the ribs, and get plenty of rest.”
Gabe wanted to say, “That’s it?” In the teams, Raylene’s injuries would’ve been nothing. A few broken ribs and a busted-up face came with the territory, and was nothing compared to getting a limb blown off by an IED, or worse. But Raylene had never been in the military, had never been trained in SERE or how to withstand torture. And make no mistake about it: what those people had done to her was torture.
“Counseling?” Gabe asked.
“I would say as soon as possible. In the meantime, respect her boundaries. If she doesn’t want to talk about it, don’t push it.”
Gabe nodded, feeling sick to his stomach. And pissed. All for some goddamn gold that didn’t exist. Rhys had warned him to stay away, but right now Gabe wanted to find out what floor the piece-of-shit gunman was on and wring his damned neck.
He followed the doctor to Raylene’s room. She was sitting on the hospital table in green scrubs. Her own clothes were covered in blood. Other than the chips of blue that shone through her swollen eyelids, her face was so bruised it was hardly recognizable. All Gabe wanted to do was hold her, but he forced himself to give her space. After the ordeal she’d been through, she might not want to be touched.
“You ready to go home, Ray?”
She slowly nodded, and, despite his best efforts to give her breathing room, he gathered her up in his arms. “I’ve never been so scared in my life, Ray.”
“I knew you would come. I knew you’d save me,” she whispered.
“No, baby, you saved yourself. I’m so freaking proud of you.”
She rested her face against his chest. “I thought I was going to die, that I’d never see you again.”
“I’m right here, sweetheart.” He grazed the top of her head with his lips, never wanting to let her go. “You’re safe now. Harper’s safe. All because of you. You done good, Ray. You gave me a heart attack, but you done good.”
“They had our pickax, Gabe. I stabbed them with it. I think I went a little crazy.”
He laughed, even though none of it was funny. The idea of her having to defend herself against three hardened criminals made him want to slam his fist through the walls. But she needed levity and comfort now, not his fury. “Let’s go home, Ray.”
When a nurse came with a wheelchair, he had a difficult time releasing Raylene, but he held her hand the whole way down the elevator. According to the ward clerk, Clay had gone home. As soon as they got to the lobby, he dashed across the parking lot to pull his SUV up to the circular driveway and helped Raylene get into the front seat.
She fell asleep on the drive home. Gabe carried her inside when they got to Logan and Annie’s farmhouse and fixed her a bed on the sofa, afraid she’d wake up if he climbed the stairs. He sat in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace so he could watch over her and send a few texts while she rested, including one to Logan to let him know they were home. Next, he built a fire, wanting her to feel warm and safe.
