I can already see the street—just a few more steps.
And then the floor vanishes beneath me.
One Month Later
Somewhere in Louisiana
I blink several times before I can fully open my eyes, and the moment I see Beau, I know something went terribly wrong on my last mission.
“You stubborn bastard. I knew you’d come back to us,” he says.
I try to open my mouth, but it feels like it’s been sealed shut with superglue.
Beau snaps his fingers, and a nurse appears along with a doctor. That’s when I realize I’m not in a regular hospital. I know this man.
Doctor[7].
The physician no one knows much about, but who’s worked for Beau for years.
“We’ll talk in a minute,” Beau says, responding to my silent question when I look at him. His flat tone fools most people into thinking he’s calm, when in reality, he could blow up and kill you at any second.
I know getting hurt pissed him off. Beau’s protective of the few friends he has.
I nod, and he leaves the room.
They run a series of tests on me, andDoctordoesn’t say a word about why I’m here. I know why he’s not explaining anything. He’s loyal to Beau and wouldn’t give me any information without being sure our mutual friend wants me to have it.
When they finally leave me alone, after injecting something for the headache, several hours have passed. As if on cue, Beau returns.
“I’m gonna live,” I say as he walks in, though I’m sure he’s already gotten the full rundown on my condition. “Now tell me what happened.”
“You walked into a trap. At least, that’s what I think.”
“Youthink?”
“Yes. For the past month, I’ve been trying to—”
“What? I’ve been out for a month?”
“Yes. In a coma.”
I try to sit up too fast, and my body doesn’t respond the way I want. It’s like my muscles forgot how to work, probably from lack of use.
“Jackie?” I ask, alarmed.
A month is way too long to leave her unprotected. I’ve never been away that long, and even though I have capable men watching her, I don’t trust anyone but myself to keep her safe.
“I’ve been taking care of her like she was mine. I dismissed all your men. Until we’re sure it wasn’t an inside job, we can’t trust anyone.”
“Who’s watching her?”
“Seymour. Roman’s right-hand man. She’s safe, Lucifer.”
“Thank you.”
“You know I’d never leave her on her own if you’d died,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion.
I nod.