Where was I? What happened?
“Luc!” Addie squealed, her voice high and panicked. I glanced down to see her raise a blood-covered hand.
“Fuck. Put pressure on it.”
My eyelids fluttered, and I fought to keep them open. Dimly, I heard calls for an ambulance, sirens sounding distantly in the background. Luc shifted to my side and pressed against the wound.
“Solid. Like a fucking rock.” Luc looked down at me with a smile, but his warm blue eyes worried, a hint of ill-concealed panic swimming in their depth.
“You’re a pain in my side right now,” I panted, wanting to offer reassurance. I dimly registered moments of lucidity even as my brain fogged, pain overriding my ability to process events in a rational manner.
Luc huffed out a strained laugh. “This isn’t a time for puns, Emmie.”
I shifted slightly and gasped as my thigh immediately protested the movement. “Guess I should tell you that’s not the only bullet, right?” I felt everyone’s eyes on me.
“Da fuck!”
I was losing the battle to stay conscious.
“You have got to be shitting me.”
My lids closed as I slurred. “My leg got hit too. I think it’s my thigh.”
I felt a hand run over my leg and then heard Addie swear softly as she pressed against it.
Hands turned me, as someone pulled my right arm straight, administering an IV. The paramedics asked me questions I barely registered.
“What?” My voice heavy and muted. I felt woozy, my head spun uncontrollably.
“It’s okay, Emmie. You’re okay, baby. We’re gonna get you to a hospital,” Luc promised. “Stay awake for me and I promise, I’ll watch any of those cartoon things you like. I don’t care which one. Your choice,” Luc reassured me.
“Liar,” I muttered. My eyelids closed again. An unexpected movement caused my stomach to drop as they lifted me onto what I assumed was a stretcher. Someone kept pressure on my wounds while they moved me. I could hear people around us, sirens. Lights flashed on the fronts of my eyelids, but I couldn’t find the strength to open them. A door slammed followed quickly by the grumble and shake of the ambulance under me. The paramedic spoke, I could barely hear him through the rushing sound in my ears. One thought overrode my need for unconsciousness.
“Luc?”
“Yeah, baby?” His voice sounded far away.
“You’re…”
“What?”
I tried to answer, but darkness rushed in, pulling me under.
* * *
Emmie
Dreams interspersed with memories came like whispers of smoke, small scenes brushing across my mind before disappearing back into the black.
“Rise daughter of God.” A hand pressed to my head, heavy and warm. “You shall be set apart from your sisters. You are blessed.” The memory faded.
An eyeless doll chased me down a hallway, calling my name. I opened a door, stepping inside, plunging into darkness.
I sat in a chair, a computer screen in front of me. The text cursor blinked awaiting my input. I tried to lift my hands, but they were weighted down. I struggled against the heaviness pulling at my arms, my shoulders aching as I strained. A familiar voice spoke from behind me, taunting, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention. His breath brushed the shell of my ear, fear shivering down my spine.
“You killed him.”
“No.”
Black pulled me under.
* * *
Luc
True to form, Elliot Securities had turned out in full force. Colleagues and friends spilled out of the hospital waiting room, all anxious for news.
When Pax and I took over Elliot Securities, we wanted to create an environment where the people who worked for us were loyal because they felt valued and appreciated. Ross, Pax’s father, had started that legacy. This show of force for Emmie proved we were maintaining it.
I alternated between pacing, sitting, or leaning against the wall beside Jarrett.
“This is fucking hard,” Jarrett murmured, eyes on the clock.
I rubbed a hand over my face. “Waiting always is.”
“You did this with Paxton, yeah?”
I offered one quick nod of affirmation, ignoring the memories the question stirred up.
A doctor entered the room, distracting me from my morbid thoughts.
“Mr Falco?”
I stepped forward with a nod. “She okay?”
“If you could follow me?” The doctor gestured outside the room.
Fuck that.
I crossed my arms, planting my feet, head shaking. “We’re all here for Emmie. Is she okay?” The doctor hesitated. I rumbled out a growl. “Hurry the fuck up, man. Is she okay?”
“Yes.”
Thank Christ.
“But she’s still in a serious condition. She’s lost a lot of blood. There was extensive internal bleeding, but we’ve managed to stop that. I’m afraid both bullets tore roughly through her. It took us quite a while to repair the muscles and remove all the debris. The wound to her side fractured part of her ilium and resulted in a damage to her femoral shaft.”
“English?”
“Her hip bone has been injured quite severely. Our priority was wound treatment, minimising blood loss and stabilisation of the fracture. As a result, we’ve externally pinned the hip at this stage, but will need to move to an internal solution once Ms Franklin is stabilised. We’ve examined Ms Franklin, and she doesn’t appear to have suffered any bowel injuries, which”− the surgeon shook his head− “frankly is a miracle. She’ll be in ICU for another few hours, perhaps another day, before we move her to a ward for further recovery.” He looked around the room.
“I do warn you, it’s not pretty. Her wounds are extensive and will take a long time to heal. There is also the risk of lead toxicity from the bullet itself, as well as infections.”
“Can I see her?”
The surgeon nodded. “She’s sleeping now, but you can come in and sit with her. You’ll have to wear some scrubs. I can get a nurse to show you to her.” He paused and glanced at the other people in the room.
“You can peek through the ICU windows if you want. I’d prefer to keep visitors to an absolute minimum at the moment. Ms Franklin needs her rest.”
I followed him out, brain racing. “You said more surgery?”
“We’ve put external pins in place to brace the fracture while we worked on the bleeding. We’ll reassess in the next two days. Recovery will be four to twelve weeks. She’ll be able to walk but will need to keep weight off her hips while the ilium repairs. The ilium will be fine, it’s the femur that we’ll need to keep an eye on”
He opened a set of double doors, leading me down another hallway.
“That’s your thigh bone?”
“Yes. The bullet went up, tearing muscles. It hit the bone fracturing the shaft. It’s why the surgery took so long. There was haemorrhaging into the abdomen.”
I blew out a breath. He stopped in front a door, turning to look at me. “It’s only a hairline fracture and the damage should take about the same time to heal, but we’ll need to keep an eye on her to ensure the wound remains stabilised.”
He pulled the door open. “My nurses are inside. They’ll show you what you need to do.”
I held out a hand. “Thanks, doctor.”
He shook it, nodding. “I’ll refer her to a specialist tomorrow. They’ll take over.”
“Appreciate it.”
I walked through the door, changing into the scrubs the nurses handed me. They led me through a room, settling me in a chair beside Emmie’s bed. The nurse patted me on the shoulder. “She’ll be asleep for quite a while. We keep them sedated. Don’t worry. It’s just to keep her as pain-free and comfortable as possible.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Gotcha.”
She checked Emmie’s vitals, then drifted away.
I watched Emmie’s chest rise and fall with each brea
th, falling into rhythm with her. Her cheeks were pale, her body limp on the bed. I ran through what I knew of this woman and came to a decision.
“Just FYI,” I whispered, leaning close to her, my pinkie grazing the top of her hand. “You’re in big trouble, missy.” I watched her chest rise again.
“Don’t worry. I got your back. But when you wake up?” I shook my head. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
Chapter Four
Luc
Hospitals always felt like death. Cold, sterile, and entirely devoid of comforting smells like grass, sunshine, or decent food. I’d been in too many hospitals in the last ten years to not immediately think of death when I walked through those doors.
The emergency doctors had taken one look at her injuries and immediately taken her to surgery. A nurse directed me to the bathroom to clean while I waited for a change of clothes. Blood soaked my shirt and jeans, drying on my hands.
I washed, gritting my teeth as I struggled against the adrenaline coursing through my veins. The muscles in my body were tense, readying for another attack.
Breathe. Calm. Find your centre.
Years of training, therapy, and discipline kicked in. I prioritised what I needed to know.
I drew my phone, hitting speed dial. Jarrett answered.
“Who’s Emmie’s next of kin?” I didn’t bother with pleasantries, knowing Jarrett would have already called this in to the office.
“You and Addie.”
Fuck. I knew it.
“Her family?”
A pause, the sound of a phone being passed, then Kel’s voice.
“We don’t know.”
“She never told you?”
“She barely speaks about her day, let alone her past.”
I ran wet hands through my hair, sucking in a breath between clenched teeth.
“Luc?”
“Allergies?” I asked, knowing it would be in her personnel file.
“Nothing. Her file said she had a broken arm in ’96 and that’s it.”
I dropped my arm. “Okay. Got it.”
A nurse hovered by the toilet as I exited. “Mr Falco? I need you to fill out the admittance form. Is there anything I need to let the surgeons know about Ms Franklin? Allergies, illnesses?”
“No. Emmie’s in perfect health.”
She nodded. “I know this is hard, but is there anyone we should notify?”
“No. Emmie’s–” I choked on the words. I didn’t know if she was an orphan, estranged from her family. I didn’t know jackshit about the woman I worked with.
“No,” I finally said. “It’s just me.”
She nodded again, stepping close to place a comforting hand on my arm. “I need to get in and let the surgeons know. There’s a waiting room just down the hall. You’re probably in shock. I’d really recommend calling someone.”
“They’re on their way.”
“Do you need–”
“No,” I interrupted her. “Sorry. Just, go look after my girl.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be back with news as soon as I can.”
I walked to the waiting room, taking a seat on the hard plastic.
“Fuck.” I blew out a breath. “Who the fuck are you, Emmie Franklin?”
Chapter Five
Emmie
Black. Black with little pinpricks of swirling light.
I wanted to stay here. Here in the dark with the pretty dancing specks. Here where it was warm and safe, and there was no pain.
“Emmie?”
My eyelids fluttered, valiantly struggling against the rough edge of unconsciousness. I felt groggy, sore, disconnected from my body. My head spun, nausea overwhelming.
My eyelids, I decided, were much too heavy to lift.
“Mr Falco? She’s resting. It’s doubtful she’ll wake until tomorrow.”
Luc’s here?
I struggled and won the battle to open my eyes, immediately shutting them tight against the dim lights of the room. I huffed out a pain-filled breath.
“Em?”
I grunted, my throat bone dry.
“Emmie? Come on, beautiful,” he coaxed.
I opened my eyes again and rapidly blinked as everything slowly came into focus. I squinted, absently taking in the space.
White walls and roof. Tubes, switches, and cords decorated my bedding. I shivered uncontrollably, distantly registering that everything hurt.
Cold. Why am I so cold? Why do I hurt so much?
“Hey.” Luc reached out a hand and brushed my hair off my cheek. “It’s good to see those green eyes.” He smiled.
I croaked out a word. “Water.”
He looked to the nurse standing on the other side of my bed. She’d placed a pressure cuff on my bicep, watching as it tracked my blood pressure. “Can she have some water?”
The nurse made a note on my chart before removing the cuff. “I’ll ask her doctor after I finish checking Ms Franklin.”
She looked down at me, pulling a small pen light from her tool belt and using it to shine in my eyes. “Emmie, my name is Sylvia. Do you remember what happened?”
I grimaced. “Some bastard shot me.”
Luc barked out a laugh.
“Do you know what day it is?”
I answered questions finding myself both lucid and confused in equal measures.
The nurse made a final note on my chart before sliding it back into the pigeon hole at the end of my bed. “I’ll just check with the doctor and be right back.”
“Are you staying?” I clung to Luc’s hand, my grip weak and clammy.
He nodded, his eyes warm. “Of course.”
I closed my eyes. “Good.”
As I drifted back to unconsciousness, I heard him mutter, “What are boyfriends for?”
Chapter Six
Emmie
I woke throughout the day, pain overruling my body’s need to sleep. I had external screws stabilising my leg to prevent further stress. They alternately elevated or lowered my leg depending on the hour and level of swelling. Stitches criss-crossed my thigh. It felt as if daggers were grinding into the bone. Morphine became my saviour.
Luc stayed. Anytime I woke crying in pain, he was there, stroking my hair, wiping away my tears.
The doctor came later that day. Words like internal bleeding, operation, infection, and fractures were uttered as I struggled against the seductive pull of sleep. I was too drugged and in too much pain to comprehend much of what was agreed. Still, Luc stayed.
Pax and Jetta arrived mid-morning, their visit over before I could properly wake.
And so, the day went, sleep, pain meds, nurses and doctors and bandages. And always there was Luc.
Early evening Jarrett arrived. He took one look at me, burst into tears, then spent ten minutes convincing Luc to go home and rest.
Luc finally gave in. He’d bent, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Two hours. I’ll just grab a shower and some clothes.”
“Go sleep,” I whispered, blinking slowly my eyelids heavy.
As soon as he’d walked out the door Jarrett turned, sending me a look.
“Em.” Raised eyebrows punctuated his statement.
“What?” I mumbled, lifting a hand to rub my nose. The tubes for my IV caught on the bed frame. Jarrett tutted, reaching over to untangle them.
“This is a simple question, baby girl. Where’s your family?”
I lifted one shoulder in a shrug, groaning as my side protested. My face screwed up as I fought for breath, focussing on breathing through the pain.
His hand brushed across my forehead, stroking my hair as he murmured comfortingly. The pain subsiding, I looked up meeting his warm, brown gaze.
“Okay?”
I nodded.
“Do you have family?”
“Yes.”
“Where are they?”
I squeezed his hand. “You’re right here.”
He blinked rapidly, his eyes watery. He sniffed twice, abruptly standi
ng and shifting around the bed. He fussed with my blankets, pulling them about to tuck me in tighter.
“That’s right, baby girl. We’re right here.” He finished with the blanket, returning to the seat by the bed. He reached over, pulling my hand into his, a thumb gently stroking my palm. “We’ll be right here while you get better.”
Something inside me loosened. A little part of me warmed.
“I love you, Jarrett.”
“Love you too. Sleep now. We’ve got you.”
The nightmares closed in.
“Time to prove your worth, daughter of God.”
* * *
Luc
“She has an infection.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. Emmie had spent the last three hours vomiting. Her cheeks were flushed with fever, and her blood pressure had dropped. I felt like a useless prick as I held her vomit bag and rubbed her back while she retched painfully.
Three days. Three fucking days and she’d been through two surgeries, had pins holding her bones together, and now this?
Emmie slumped back, eyes closed, swallowing rapidly as she tried breathing through her nose.
“The last surgery was a success, but we did warn infection was a risk.” I didn’t trust this doctor. For one, he looked like a hipster. He should be serving lattes down at the café, not looking after a human being.
“What are our options?” I asked, handing the used vomit bag to a nurse. She handed me a new one, whisking it off to God knew where.
“We’ve already removed all the debris. This is just one of those pump the antibiotics, then wait and see moments.”
“Is it dangerous?” I asked, brushing a hand over Emmie’s clammy face, tucking loose hair behind her ears. She didn’t move, just lay there, eyes closed, breathing shallow pants.
“The infection doesn’t present an unreasonable risk at this time.”
“Then why the fuck is she so sick?” I couldn’t keep the frustration from my voice.
Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) Page 3
