by Shandi Boyes
This is as drastic as it gets for me. Even with my mother remaining in rehab for over a year, I cut her out of my life. I didn’t want my children to question why my relationship with their grandmother was estranged, so I took the cowards way out and buried the truth under a whole heap of dirt. It made it seem as if I were suffocating the past three years, but its grip around my throat isn’t close to the painful squeeze my heart is currently facing.
“It’s okay, mama,” Fien assures when she spots the wetness in my eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to him.” She snuggles in close to Matteo’s side like she’ll forever protect him as I’ll always protect her. “Girls can be brave too.”
My heart melts a little. “They sure can, Fien. You’ve shown me that more than once.” After kissing her head as I did Matteo, I tuck them in tight before exiting my mother’s room.
Although she was issued a full pardon from Dimitri, her life isn’t anything close to glamourous. Her apartment is two blocks over from the rat-infested pad Estelle and I shared years ago. Bills are piling up on her kitchen counter, and the last time I had Smith hack into her bank account, she only had a few dollars to her name, but in all honesty, her life is still better than it was. She doesn’t have to sell her body to fund her husband’s drug addiction, she’s not beaten when she fails to live up to his unachievable expectations, and her daughter is happy. At the end of the day, the latter is all any parent should ever strive for.
“Preacher will be stationed in the living room—”
“I won’t hurt them,” my mother promises, stepping closer to me. She looks healthy now. Gone is the gaunt, waif-like woman I saw walk out of rehab three years ago. Replaced with one who looks like she wants to get her life on track, but she doesn’t know how. “I never meant to hurt you either, Roxie.”
“Now is not the time to re-hatch decade-old conversations.”
She pats my arm in an understanding manner. “I understand. I’m sorry.”
The soar in my pulse Fien’s comment caused nosedives past my toes. I didn’t mean to snap at her like my father always did. It just truly isn’t the time for this conversation. Last update I was given, Dimitri was being transported to Ravenshoe Private Hospital. Theater is prepped and ready, and thanks to Isaac Holt, Dimitri’s name is at the very top of the list. It gives us a few hours to work my plan through the grinder to smooth out any hidden skeletons my panic has me overlooking, but time won’t get Dimitri out of the woods. The resilience of his team without its leader is all he has to count on.
I really fucking hope I don’t let him down.
9
Roxanne
“Are you ready?”
Strands of thick, dark hair fall into my eyes when I bob my head to Rocco’s question. I look nothing like me, but the warrior inside of me can’t be concealed by a wig, contacts, and an outfit that aged me by a decade without the need for makeup. “I was born ready.”
Rocco’s smile is the first one I’ve seen the past thirty-six hours. Dimitri’s team haven’t stopped since he was admitted to Ravenshoe Private Hospital under a guarded watch. The Bureau believes he is so dangerous, even his thirteen-hour long surgery was viewed by three agents.
In a way, I’m grateful for the Bureau’s panic. Their inability to trust means I didn’t have to watch proceedings unfold from the outside in. I was a part of Dimitri’s operation even with us being miles apart.
I didn’t watch him be operated on because I’m a weirdo who gets her kicks from blood and gore. I did it because he’d know I was watching. You don’t have to see someone directly in front of you to know they’re there. You can sense them. No one is ever truly alone. You just have to close your eyes, and everyone you’ve ever loved is right there in front of you.
Rocco thrusts a blueprint of Ravenshoe Private Hospital to my side of the van Smith is commanding. Its quality has improved from the vehicle he had when Dimitri arrived at the prison Claudia was incarcerated at, but its outer shell gives no indication to the value of the equipment hiding inside of it. “Do you want to do a final once over before you head in?”
I shake my head. “It’s all in here.” I tap my temple to get across my point.
“All right,” Rocco replies, a little uneased. “In and out as fast as you can. Henry’s men are waiting in the service elevator, so all you need to do is get him in the elevator.”
I swallow the lump in my throat before nodding again. “In and out. Got it.”
Before the nerves in my stomach have the chance to announce their arrival, I lock my eyes with Smith’s in the rearview mirror, wordlessly thank him for his assistance before leaning into Rocco’s side. Since our embrace has nothing to do with riling Dimitri, it’s quick. However, it is also filled with emotion. If I hadn’t bestowed Estelle with the title of being my best friend when we were teens, I would have granted it to Rocco years ago. He truly is one of my best friends, and I’d be lost without him.
“Go get our man, Roxie,” he whispers in my ear, doubling the courage surging through my veins. “Bring him home to his babies.”
Home. Such a simple word but oh-so-accurate to describe our unique pairing.
“Stop here,” I request to Smith. He’s far enough back the security guards on the front entrance of the hospital won’t see the head of surgery clambering out the back of a rusty old van. It would look mighty suspicious if Dr. Jae rocked up to work in a shit-box when Isaac Holt pays her millions per year to head his privately funded hospital.
When Smith does as requested, I return his stare in the rearview mirror. “I’ll meet you at the docks.”
He can’t guide my steps today. The Bureau left nothing to chance. If Dimitri’s team wants to break him out, they have to go against the full force of the Bureau without any radio equipment.
I’m willing.
Are you?
Confident a thirty-four-year-old medical prodigy would have confidence by the bucketloads, I walk straight for the front entrance of the hospital without the slightest wobble to my stride.
It’s hard to keep my expression stonewalled when I dash right past security without having my credentials scrutinized. Regretfully, the rookie agents manning the elevator that goes to the floor Dimitri is a patient at aren’t as eager to let me slide by. They stop me by gripping the arm I spent two hours rubbing self-tanning lotion into this morning. Dr. Jae ‘supposedly’ return from a holiday at the Caribbean early for an undisclosed patient. Since there’s no way my morning-sickness-primed pregnancy glow could compete with her beautiful sun-kissed skin, I got inventive. “This floor is off limits to anyone but the surgical team.”
“I’m well aware of that.” If Smith could hear me now, he’d be rolling his eyes. Dr. Jae’s accent is as unique as his, and I did a shit job reenacting it. “I’m the head of surgery, and late for my rounds.” I click my fingers at them like they’re bellboys and my Chanel bags were just dumped at their feet. “So be a good lad and hit the buzzer, will you.”
Knucklehead number two peers at me as if he thinks I’m cute. The man on his left response is nowhere near as friendly. “Identification card and license.”
While grumbling how I’ll have his badge if one of my patients dies because he delayed my arrival, I hand him the identification he requested. You didn’t really think we’d be so stupid not to consider all obstacles we could face before implementing our ruse, did you? Even my eyes have Dr. Jae’s beautiful oval shaping. It’s amazing how different someone can look when they learn how to contour.
“Have a pleasant day, Dr…”
I steal his words by snatching Dr. Jae’s stolen identification cards out of his hand. I act as if I’m pissed he wasted my time where, in reality, I’m doing everything in my power to stop him from seeing the relief darting through my eyes. Dr. Jae is a knockout. I am not. I was certain our ruse would fail the instant Rocco suggested for me to pretend I am her.
The drawbacks of being popular is showcased in the worst light when I make my way down the c
orridor of the surgical unit of Ravenshoe Private Hospital. Most people I pass greet me politely, but the instant I reply, their pleasantries switch to suspicion. Even though they don’t approach me, I’m confident rumors will circle the water cooler by the end of today that Dr. Jae’s Caribbean holiday was a guise for a facelift in Thailand.
“Chop, chop, get to work!” I snap out, preferring they think I’m a bitch than unmask me in front of two men standing guard at a door partway down.
Since the Feds are keeping Dimitri’s admission under wraps, I wasn’t aware which room was his until now. They may be plain-clothed, but I can sniff out an agent even better than Rocco.
After snatching up a random patient chart from a door halfway down, I increase the length of my strides. Henry Gottle runs his entity like a captain. If I’m one second late, his ship will sail without Dimitri, our children, and me aboard. I can’t let that happen. This is my chance to prove to Dimitri he chose right when he spared my life all those years ago.
Our children own his heart, but only I have the key to unlock it.
I thrust Dr. Jae’s identification card under the guard’s nose when he attempts to stop my entrance into Dimitri’s room. “This patient’s file shows he had an integral dissection of the bowel during surgery. If we don’t immediately operate, he will die.”
I have no idea what I just said, and neither do the guards.
Although they’re confused, they stand their ground. “We’ve been instructed not to let the patient out of our sight.”
“Who said he was leaving your sight?” I immediately fire back. “You’re going to help me get him to theater.”
“Don’t you have orderlies for that?”
Ignoring nincompoop number one’s question, I step between the men whose shoulders sit higher than my head before pushing through Dimitri’s door.
I don’t know whether I should laugh or cheer for joy when Dimitri’s heavily accented voice booms into my ears a nanosecond later. “If you’re here to offer me another sponge bath, I’m going to tell you what I told the nurse before you. I’m. Not. Fucking. Interested.”
He’s such a surly bastard. I love that about him.
“Perhaps you should tell them what your wife will do to them if they’re caught even suggesting such atrocious things.”
Since I’m still in role, I almost burn at the stake when Dimitri’s eyes lift from his handcuffed hand to my face. He looks set to siphon the blood from my veins. He isn’t angry about my suggestion. It’s acknowledging that he has a wife that sees his anger boiling over.
His eyes don’t even make it to my face before it dawns on him who I am. He knows my body as intimately as I do his. He’d never mistake it.
After darting his eyes left to right, he barks out, “What do you want?”
“They’re here to assist in your transfer to surgery,” I answer on behalf of the agents flanking me. “It’s a matter of utmost importance. Dr Fien and Matteo are waiting.”
While acting as if my last sentence didn’t well my eyes with tears, I snatch up the wheelchair at the side of Dimitri’s room before nudging my head to the guards. “Quickly. Do you have any idea how much surgical residence make per year? Your delay is bleeding this operation of money. Pens will be scratched to paper when the board members are advised of your tardiness. I don’t think the director of the Bureau will appreciate being nagged during election month.”
Like two kids being promised a treat for cleaning their room, the agents jump into action. While one moves to unlock Dimitri’s handcuffs so we can transfer him from his bed to the wheelchair, the other agents takes command of Dimitri’s mode of transport.
He’s the one I jab in the leg with a tranquilizer I hid in the pocket of my white doctor’s coat. The other is taken care of by Dimitri. He doesn’t kill him. He just chokes him until he passes out like Rocco has been teaching Matteo the past four months.
“We need to move now,” I say to Dimitri when the removal of his second cuff sees his hands moving to my face instead of the doorknob. “Henry has men waiting in the service elevator.”
With nothing but admiration in his eyes, the last thing I anticipate for Dimitri to say is, “I should kill Rocco for letting you do this.”
“You should, but you won’t.” I arch my brow at him. “You handed the reins to me. This ruse was my idea, so if you’re going to punish anyone for insolence it will be me.”
“Spoken like a true monarch.” His last word comes out in a half moan half groan when I shove him into the wheelchair. It’s clear he’s in pain, but just like Rocco would never give up the chance to rile him, he’d never let a day go by without assuring me he is the alpha macho male I crave. “I can walk.”
“No, you can’t. You were shot three times.”
“In my stomach,” Dimitri argues back. “My legs are fucking fine.”
This is so very much like us.
We can argue about anything.
It’s our thing.
“If your backside so much as moves an inch out of that wheelchair, mister, I’m going to tell Fien what really happened to her goldfish.”
Dimitri scoffs. “I overfed it. That isn’t criminal.”
“It could be in the eyes of our daughter who adored it.”
“You don’t play fucking fair,” Dimitri grumbles under his breath.
I get up in his face before whispering, “Because I was taught by the best.” After kissing the tip of his nose, lessening the redness on his face by a couple of shades, I say, “Put these on.” I hand him a pair of gloves and a hoodie. Although it’s summer, his tattoos are as recognizable as his eyes. I’ll never get him down this corridor unnoticed if I don’t hide him.
While he does as asked—for once—I do a quick scan of the corridor. It isn’t as empty as I would like, but as Dimitri likes to say, everything seems empty when your eyes are only seeking one person.
After taking back up my station behind his wheelchair, I ask, “Ready?”
My mouth mimics the movements his does when he answers, “I was born ready.”
With the timer on my watch beeping in warning that I’m cutting it close to Henry’s deadline, I wheel Dimitri through the door of his room before jackknifing to the right.
“Close the door.” When I peer down at Dimitri, lost as to why he’s impeding our escape, he mutters, “Do you really think we’ll make it two feet away from here with two corpses splayed on the floor?”
“They’re not dead. We just stunned them a little. Right?” My stomach gurgles during my last word. There’s a gleam in his eyes I know all too well. It’s only ever there when his itch to kill has been scratched.
While closing his door with more force than needed, I grumble under my breath how I’m going to shove my boot up Rocco’s ass. He told me the syringe was filled with a sedative. I would have never jabbed the agent in the leg if I had known it was going to kill him… My inner monologue drowns out when the voice inside my head screams louder than my lie. I would have gassed the entire hospital if it was the only viable option to free Dimitri.
“There she is,” Dimitri growls in a gravelly tone. “My mama bear has her claws at the ready.”
Needing to continue with our ploy before I kiss the smugness off his face, I return to his side before wheeling him toward the service elevator. Just as predicted, his large burly frame gains many eyes, but for the most part, they’re happy to admire him from a distance. Only the occasional nincompoop has the audacity to wiggle their fingers at him as if he’s a celebrity.
I mentally jot down their names for future reference. No one is aware Dimitri has a wife and family, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let their stupidity slide. The tension between Dimitri and me even while bickering if enough to light the entire east coast, so they can’t act like he’s single and ready to mingle.
“You scared me,” I say partway down, incapable of ignoring the real reason my stomach is a twisted mess of confusion. “I thought I had lost you.”
&
nbsp; “I know.” He doesn’t peer at me. He keeps his head low and his eyes at his feet. “But you could never be so lucky to get rid of me that easy.” When he lifts his head, his infamous half-smirk has me forgetting I’m in the process of committing a felony. “And if you were, I would have taken you to hell right along with me, because I’d rather save you from Satan’s urchins than never see you again.”
A normal person would construe his comment as a threat.
Lucky I’m nothing close to ordinary.
Threatening me is the equivalent of him telling me that he loves me.
“What is it?” I ask Dimitri when his smirk is pushed aside for a snarl.
When I stray my eyes in the direction his narrowed gaze is facing, I spot the cause of is annoyance. Detective Ryan Carter is making his way down the corridor. He too has the eye of many admiring watchers, but just like Dimitri, he isn’t interested. He has a wife and kids too. He just doesn’t need to hide them from his enemies to keep them safe. Although it didn’t stop him from getting shot. His unhindered walk has me hopeful Dimitri’s recovery will be just as effortless.
Upon spotting my prolonged gawk, Ryan dips his chin in greeting before he passes by me. I don’t need to crank my neck to know he’s giving me a second look. I can feel it in my bones—as can Dimitri.
He leaps out of his wheelchair like he wasn’t shot two nights ago, curls his arm around my chest, then draws me back until my back is flattened against his torso. He doesn’t pierce the pointy end of the syringe into my neck like I did the agent only minutes ago, but his threatening growl that he’ll poison me with cyanide sounds authentic. It has Ryan’s hands raising into the air long before they reach for his gun.
