Nowhere Left to Run (The Nowhere Trilogy Book 2)
Page 5
Of course, I was never really alone since Sandor had become my constant companion, replacing Joe. No matter how much I’d argued, how much I’d tried to protest, he refused to budge. He said it had been Erik’s dying wish that he take care of me and that’s what he was going to do. Ironically, though, since his life was still in danger too, he’d undergone an amazing transformation. Joe hired him to work at the new security firm he was opening and was in the process of getting him a new identity. I didn’t know how that worked, and didn’t want to know, but Sandor looked like a new man. He’d shaved his head down to a buzz cut, had gotten one of his ears pierced and had started a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. It was odd to see him undergoing such a drastic change, but if it would keep him safe, I was all for it. God knows, I didn’t want to lose anyone else.
The pain of losing Erik never left me completely, but some days were better than others. On the days I couldn’t stand it, I would hide away, wallowing in grief and self-pity, usually when my parents or in-laws had Luke. Today was one of those days, when the grief got to me and I couldn’t breathe because it hurt so much. Luke was with my in-laws, Nick was at the gym, and I allowed myself to wallow in the despair that was always just below the surface. It was excruciating, and while I’d never considered myself a weak woman, this had me on the verge of breaking. How did anyone ever get over something like this? I sobbed until I couldn’t anymore, and then fell into a restless sleep.
I woke to a gentle hand on my shoulder and I blinked awake with a start.
Sandor.
I looked up at him wearily, knowing he was here to chastise, encourage, physically force me back to the land of the living, or some other thing I wasn’t ready for.
“What?” I asked, when he continued to stare at me.
“This won’t bring him back,” was all he said.
“Fuck you.”
He smiled. “Well, there’s the first sign of life I’ve seen from you in weeks.”
“Don’t!” I hissed, my eyes filling with tears even through my frustration and anger. “Don’t make light of what I feel or what I need to do to survive.”
“I’m not.” He squatted down so he was on his haunches, looking right into my eyes. “We’ve all had to adjust. I lost my cousin, my best friend—my brother. Do you think this has been easy on me? I left him there, dying, on the side of a mountain. I still have nightmares about it. Still hear his voice. Still remember the sound of that damn explosion. I will never forget that night as long as I live. But I’m still living. He would hate seeing you like this, knowing he was the cause. If you won’t live for yourself or the baby, live for him. That’s why he sacrificed himself. For you.”
It didn’t seem possible that I had any tears left, but I did. They came in a torrent of emotion so gut-wrenching I didn’t think it would ever stop. My tears always came from somewhere so deep inside of me it was like my soul was bleeding out and there would be nothing left by the time it was done. I’d always prided myself on being strong, but I wasn’t strong enough for this, not by a long shot.
I sniffled and finally staggered to my feet, so emotionally drained I was a little light-headed. Sandor got up with me, holding my arm until I steadied myself.
“I’m okay. Give me a minute.” I disappeared into the bathroom and washed my face. Damn, I was a wreck. Not only did I have bags under my eyes big enough to pack for a trip, now my whole face was red and puffy. I hadn’t worn makeup in months, my hair was straggly and unkempt, and maybe worse than everything else, I’d lost weight. I’d given birth just six weeks ago, and aside from a tiny bump in the middle of my abdomen, I looked emaciated. My collarbones were prominent and when I lifted my shirt, my rib cage stuck out. I hadn’t realized the extent of my suffering until just now.
Looking in the mirror, I was a shell of my old self, sad and sickly and without life. This wasn’t the woman I wanted raising my son, so I had to snap out of it, whether I wanted to or not. Sandor had been right that Erik would hate this.
I finally got myself together and came out to find Nick and Sandor in the living room talking in hushed voices.
“…worried,” Nick was saying.
“She’s not the same,” Sandor agreed.
“Do you think we should do something?”
“I think you shouldn’t talk about me like I’m not here,” I said, joining them. I looked from one to the other. “I’m grieving, not going deaf.”
They looked up guiltily.
“You had quite the breakdown,” Sandor said.
“So you called my husband?” I shook my head, giving his shoulder a light shove. “What’s the matter? A crying woman too much for you?”
Sandor grimaced. “Yeah, a bit.”
Nick got to his feet and gently pulled me close. “Are you okay?”
“No. But I will be.” I glanced at Sandor. “Thanks for being here today. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to stay.”
“I don’t have anything else to do,” he pointed out. “Making sure you and the baby are okay is what I do to get through each day.”
“I know.” I nodded. “And I’m working on it. I just need a little more time. I have to get through this in my own way, my own time. I’m grateful to both of you for being here for me, but I can’t rush whatever it is I’m going through. It has to happen naturally.”
“You’re not taking care of yourself,” Nick reminded me. “And we’re worried. Everyone is worried but no one wants to say anything to upset you. I’m not going to rush you, but you’re starting to look sick, and that’s the part that scares me.”
“I know. I’m going to do better. I promise. Really.” What else could I say? As hard as life was trying to drag me down, I was doing my best to keep my head above water. For my son if not for myself. It wasn’t easy, but it was my reality and something I had to get used to. No matter how miserable I was.
7
Erik
Pain. That’s all I was conscious of. So much pain I may have screamed. But then there was that soft voice, a cool hand on my face, and blissful nothingness. Each time I woke it was the same. Until today. Today the pain was more of an annoyance and it was my scratchy throat and groggy head that brought me out of what felt like a drugged slumber.
“Erik? Can you hear me?” There was that voice again.
I struggled against the darkness, my body trying to take me back to a place of pain-free bliss, but the voice was more insistent now.
“Erik, try. Come on, you need to wake up. Erik, it’s important!”
The sharpness of her voice forced me to fight harder, to push away the blackness and blink open my eyes. Everything was blurry, but the figure looming before me was smiling.
“You’re awake. Come on, Erik, just a little more.”
“Fuck.” My voice was a whispered croak, like a frog with laryngitis. “Where am I?”
“Private nursing home in France. Do you know who I am?”
I blinked a few times, trying to focus. Yes, I knew her. Pretty blonde. Casey. No. Not Casey. Fuck.
“No. Who are you?”
“Liz. Kingsley.”
“Kingsley.” I licked my parched lips. “I… Water?”
She put a straw to my lips, and I took a few sips.
I lay back, exhausted. “Thank you.” I finally looked at her, really looked, and everything came back. The accident. The explosion. Jesus Christ, what was going on? I tried to sit up but she put a firm hand on my shoulder.
“You punctured a lung and broke two vertebrae in your spine. Please don’t try to get up yet.”
Fuck.
“Am I paralyzed?”
“No. You were lucky, but you have to heal.”
“How long has it been? What happened? How did I get here?”
“Relax. One thing at a time.” She picked up something from a nearby table and spread it on my lips.
I was about to protest but the balm she’d applied was soothing on my dry skin and I managed a nod. “Thank you.”
“Wait… I’m dead?” I was thoroughly confused.
“It’s been a long six weeks, Erik.”
“Six weeks?” I looked at her in shock. “Jesus fucking Christ, what’s going on?”
“I don’t want to overwhelm you and—”
“Liz, we need to move.” Daniil came into the room looking decidedly frazzled.
“Have we been spotted?”
“I think one of the nurses has her suspicions. There’s paparazzi camped outside.”
“Shit.” She immediately made a phone call and Daniil came to stand beside me.
“Good to see you awake, cuz.” He was smiling but he was definitely on high alert.
“Daniil, get a wheelchair.” Liz pulled some clothes out of a bag and immediately came over to the bed. “It’s going to hurt, but I need you to sit up.”
I didn’t know what was going on and my head was spinning, but there was no mistaking the urgency in her voice so I moved. And it hurt like hell. A growl escaped me as I sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the sheets for dear life.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, yanking off the hospital gown and putting a T-shirt over my head. “Can you raise your arms?”
I gritted my teeth and did it, completely oblivious to the fact that I was naked from the waist down, but Daniil was putting my feet in sweatpants and they worked like a well-oiled machine as I struggled not to heave all over both of them. A sweat had broken out on my brow and waves of nausea danced through my stomach, but they had me dressed and in a wheelchair in less than a minute.
“I need…” I gasped through pain and the revolt of my stomach. “Something to…puke in.”
Daniil ran to the closet and pulled out a garbage bag of some kind just as two men I didn’t recognize came in.
“Joe Westfield,” one of them said. “Ben sent me.”
“Password?” Liz asked him.
“Pink dragon.”
“Okay, I’m glad you’re here. We have to move him. Now.”
“I’ve got an SUV waiting downstairs. This is a man I trust with my life so let’s go.” He nodded at the large man beside him.
“Name’s Chains.” The man nodded before doing a cursory peek out the door. In a clipped British accent, he said, “Coast is clear. Let’s move.”
I didn’t know what the fuck was happening, but I held on to that damn garbage bag like a lifeline.
By the time I was rolled out of a maintenance elevator and into the SUV, I was shocked I hadn’t puked. The SUV took off like a bat out of hell and I leaned back in exhaustion.
“I’m sorry,” Liz said again. “We had to get you out of there. People were getting suspicious and I’ve worked too hard to keep you alive while the world thinks you’re dead.”
“Fuck, tell me what’s going on,” I groaned, though my eyes were already getting heavy.
“Just rest. We’ll talk once we get to the Charleston.”
Were we in Las Vegas? I needed to see Casey, but my eyes had already closed and sleep came without giving me a choice.
The next time I woke up I was in a soft, comfortable bed. The lights were low, and Liz was dozing beside me, fully dressed with one leg hanging off the edge of the bed, as though poised for flight. Joe was in a chair across the room, watching us, and he met my eyes with a friendly smile.
“How ya feelin’? You need some water or anything?”
“No, thank you. I’m okay.” I tentatively stretched and though I was sore as hell, I was grateful the urge to puke was no longer imminent.
“Gave you some morphine for the pain earlier,” he said. “You should be feeling better.”
“I am. Thanks.”
“Hey.” Liz sat up abruptly and looked around. “What time is it?”
“Six fifteen.”
“In the morning?” I asked.
Joe nodded. “You slept about twelve hours. Which is what you needed to do.”
“I’m a bit light-headed and need to take a piss.”
“I can bring you a bedpan or you can try to get up,” Liz said.
“I’d like to try.” I sat up slowly and Joe came to my side, holding out his arm. I took hold of it and stood up, grimacing.
“You’re going to be stiff and sore,” Liz said. “But the doctors said you’re healing perfectly. There shouldn’t be any permanent damage. They were getting ready to start rehab, but we had to get out of there.”
I nodded as we got to the bathroom. “I think I’m okay for this part.” I shut the door behind me and did my business, pausing to lean on the counter when I was done. I washed my hands and then stared at myself. I looked scary as hell. There was a new scar on my forehead that appeared to be healing and I had a beard for the first time in my life. My eyes were bloodshot and there were faint bruises all over my torso as if they’d been healing for a while. Jesus, what the hell had happened to me?
I stepped into the bedroom and Liz got me settled in bed.
“Now I need to know everything,” I told her.
“Soup first,” she said, holding a bowl as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“You can talk while I eat,” I told her, taking a bite.
She smiled. “Stubborn.”
“I’m going to check in with Chains and I’ll be back,” Joe said.
“Well, Sandor didn’t leave you on the side of that mountain,” she said softly. “He’s loyal to the bitter end.”
“I’m going to kick his ass,” I mumbled.
“He staged both of your deaths on that mountain so don’t be too hard on him.”
“Where is he?”
“Right where you told him to go—to Casey and Luke. He’s settled in there as her personal bodyguard and Joe came here. Your dad arranged everything.”
“Does my father know I’m alive?”
“Yes. I don’t know if he told your mother, but this is it. You, me, Daniil, Sandor, Joe and his two men—he said they’re MI6—are the only ones who know.”
“Casey thinks I’m dead?” I froze, staring at her.
She swallowed. “Yes. We think that’s going to be the only way to protect her and Luke.”
“We?”
“Your father. Joe. Sandor. The CIA.”
I couldn’t process information like that just yet.
“Who, exactly, is Joe?”
“He’s a retired Marine and former CIA. Just started doing freelance security work and is starting his own firm. I don’t know how your father knows him, but he’s good people and I trust him.”
“Okay.” I paused. “So Aziz betrayed me?”
“Actually, he didn’t. We don’t know why he took the truck that morning—probably to get supplies before you were up—but apparently, they caught him. We can assume that when he wouldn’t talk, they tortured and killed him and had him in the back of one of the vehicles that ran you off the road. After Sandor left you, he used two grenades to take out most of them in one fell swoop. He shot the remaining men and then took one of their trucks. When he found Aziz inside, he covered him with your blood and his own, and then put his body in the truck wreckage before setting off another grenade underneath him. His hope was that with the state the country is in now, they wouldn’t do a full DNA scan if they did an autopsy at all, and once they found traces of your blood, they’d announce it was you.”
“So Sandor and I are both dead.”
“Yes.”
I swallowed the last of the soup. “And you think we have to keep Casey in the dark? Why?”
“Because if anyone ever suspected anything, they would use her to draw you out. Even if they believe the story we’ve led the public to believe about her and Nick, you can’t ever go back to her, so what’s the point
of letting her know you’re alive and she simply can’t be with you because it’s too dangerous? She’ll never agree to that and then all three of you will be in danger.”
I stared at her. “You say this like everything is lost. There’s still a rebellion, there’s still time for me to—”
“There is no rebellion. The anti-rebellion died with you and Sandor. Anwar has spies everywhere. Aziz didn’t betray you, but someone did.”
Dammit. She was right.
“I don’t know what to do with all this information. What am I supposed to do? How will I live?”
“Your father has provided a secret account for you, set up through my family. I’ve already got you set up as head of security at the hotel in Monte Carlo and the CIA is willing to give you a whole new identity in exchange for anything you know about Anwar.”
“I can’t just…become someone else,” I sputtered.
“You kind of already have.” She got up and gathered up the bowl, spoon and napkin. “Why don’t you think on things for a while? I’ll be back after I work for a few hours.”
“Yes, okay.” I watched her go and then lay back in frustration. This wasn’t part of the plan. I wasn’t supposed to be dead, not for real and not as a cover. I was supposed to be with Casey. And my son. I had to talk to my father as soon as it could be arranged. Until then, I had to sleep.
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