Two nurses rush in with a rolling table. They ignore me and go to work on Gia’s vitals.
“What happened tonight?” the nurse from the front desk asks.
“Drug overdose, I think, but I’m not sure. I found her like this about an hour ago.”
“Her name?”
I swallow hard. “Georgia McIntyre.”
“Date of birth?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Age?”
“Twenty-two, maybe twenty-three.” She could’ve had a birthday while she was living with Hatch in that shithole. I kiss her head. Will she ever forgive me?
“BP’s low.” The nurse inspects her hand. “Cyanosis. We need to intubate.” She rips open a sterile pack. “Sir, you can stay close, but if we don’t start breathing for her she could die.”
I kiss her head and roll her from my arms. She flops to her back, her bare breasts exposed. My chest cramps at how pale she looks. I cover her nakedness, and tears blur my vision.
They feed the tube down her throat. “We need blood work, stat.” The other nurse pulls out a vial and needles, and I shift so that they can get better access to her arm.
“Will she be okay?” Please, say she’ll be okay.
“She’s not getting enough oxygen. We don’t know how long she’s been like this, so only time will tell.” Her sympathetic eyes meet mine. “She’s in a coma.”
“A coma? When will she come out?” My voice cracks at the thought of my life without Gia in it.
“That’s up to her. We’ll help her breathe, give her medication to neutralize the drug, but that’s all we can do. After that, she’s got to fight.” The nurse pulls a tube of blood and starts to fill another. “She’s lucky you brought her in when you did. A few more hours like this . . .” She shakes her head.
I bring her tiny hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. I’m so sorry, Gia. This is all my fault.
~*~
“You know we don’t want to leave you here, man.” Jonah’s leaning against the wall of the small hospital room, looking as if he needs a good night’s sleep.
“Yeah, I know.” It’s bad enough riding the guilt of finding Gia in a heroin-induced coma. I won’t be responsible for taking Blake from his pregnant girl or Jonah from his wife and baby. “It’s fine, really. You guys should go.”
“How long you staying?”
“They said they’re going to evac her to Denver.”
She’s asleep, her face the picture of peace except for the hollowed-out features. And even still, she looks beautiful.
“I assume you’re stickin’ around until she wakes up?”
“I have to be here when she wakes up.” I pull her tiny hand into mine. “She’s afraid of hospitals.”
A soft knock comes from behind me. I turn to see Blake standing a respectful distance away. “Cool if I come in?”
I nod and turn back to Gia.
“I talked to Hodgeson.” Blake walks around to the side of the bed to face me.
Lieutenant Dave Hodgeson helped Blake nail the guys who doped him earlier this year. He said he’d call and try to get some inside information on where the fuck Hatch is and what he’s running from.
I’m hoping he’s got some good information. Soon as Gia wakes up and gets settled, I’m going after the tubby piece of shit for what he did to her. The sooner we find him, the sooner I can kill him.
I swing my gaze to Blake. “And?”
“Dude’s on the run for homicide. Murder-for-hire type shit.”
Son of a bitch. My jaw locks down; anger and fear swirl in my gut. She’s been shacked up with a murderer. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stay calm, and force my mind to what’s important: her health. I need her to wake up, and yelling in her face for trusting a guy like Hatch won’t help. But what was she thinking?
“Who’d he kill?” Jonah’s question is laced with frustration.
“Dave couldn’t give me too many details. All I know is that it was a hit, apparently on a rival MC member.” He scratches his jaw and shrugs. “Guess those boys deliver their own brand of retribution. Cops would be doing Hatch a favor if they took him to prison. He’d be someone’s bitch, but I think that’d be a better alternative than having your eyeballs cut from your skull with a butter knife.”
My stomach twists with worry. These are the kinds of people she lived with, shared her life with? My God, anything could’ve happened.
“Dave mention where Hatch might be?” I’m thinking that tipping off the rival MC might do me a favor. It’d take care of Hatch and my hands stay clean.
Fuck! What the hell is my problem? That makes me no better than him.
“They heard he was in Vegas. Obvious choice would be Mexico.” He sets his eyes on me. “They’ll find him.”
I take a deep breath and hold Gia’s hand tighter between mine. I’m never leaving her side again, and I’d never allow her to be anywhere near Tubby. The cops and a notorious biker gang are after him; it’s best I let whoever gets to him first take him out.
“Thanks, B. Appreciate you making the call.”
He gives me a chin lift. “Of course. I’ll keep you updated if I hear anything.” He dips his head, motioning toward Gia. “Need to keep this girl safe. Fucker better not come back for her.”
“Ha!” Jonah coughs up a laugh. “I don’t know, bro. I wish he would. I’d love to give that dude a welcome-home beating.”
Blake chuckles. “No shit. I’m down if you are.”
“Me first.” My two words hang heavy for a few silent seconds while I contemplate what it would feel like to punish Hatch for my mistake. Fuck.
Caleb walks into the small room, his phone to his ear. “Right. Thank you.” He pushes end and puts the phone in his pocket. “Flight’s in two hours. We better go.”
They all throw out their own versions of well-wishes. Caleb steps up to the bed and puts his hand on Gia’s shoulder for a second before turning to leave. Blake follows behind him.
“All right, bro.” Jonah claps me on the shoulder. “I’ll overnight you some clothes and shit. Call me if there’s anything else you need.”
I nod but don’t take my eyes off Gia.
“She’ll pull through. She’s a fighter.”
“Thanks, man.” I hope he’s right. If ever there’s a time to fight, it’s now.
The sound of Jonah’s retreating footsteps echoes and disappears down the hall. My thoughts turn to Hatch. There’s a good chance I’ll never see him again. He’ll end up dead in some Mexican motel room or gunned down in the streets, but I can’t help the surging need for revenge. I shake my head to free the thoughts and try to stay positive.
Focus on Gia.
“Just us, baby.” I squeeze her hand. “You feel like opening those pretty gray eyes? I’d love to see ’em.” I kiss the inside of her wrist and rest my forehead against it. “I miss you.”
The beeping of monitors and the soft sound of machines breathing for her are all I get. I close my eyes. “Come on, Gia. I need you to fight.”
My mind flashes back to the clear memories of my past. “When I was in the basement, after I had a visitor finish with me, get his fill, I’d be left alone in the dark.”
I lift my head but pull her hand to my lips to tell my story against her soft skin.
“I’d just sit there, disoriented, confused, aching on the inside more than my broken body hurt on the outside. I remember . . . I remember wishing that the black would just swallow me up. I would beg to be absorbed into it and disappear. It sounds so stupid now.” The wispy tendrils of the past crawl across my skin as I recall the feeling. “I wasn’t afraid of the black. I wanted to run into it, hide in it, live in it. And then I’d hear a voice so sweet I remember thinking if heaven had a sound it would be that voice.”
It’s amazing how long I went without remembering that, and now it’s so vivid. I can almost hear an eight-year-old Gia singing Christmas songs in my head. The warmth that would accompany her singing
surges in my chest. She was everything to me back then, the only light I had in the dark.
“Your voice alone pulled me from the void. Hearing it made me want more of it, made me want to fight for the peace it would bring. If it weren’t for you, baby, I’d never have gotten free. I would’ve let the black take me, surrendered to it.”
I want to be that for her. Show her that there’s hope beyond the black. Reach in and drag her back from wherever she is.
I crawl onto the bed. Maneuvering around all the IV tubes and monitor cords, I pull her limp body into my arms.
“I know you’re in the dark now. You’re hurting and letting that black soothe you. I get it, baby.” I curl into her so that my lips are at her ear. “But I’m here to drag you out. You hear me? Listen to my voice, Gia. Remember. Don’t let the dark pull you in. Remember me. Kick and thrash and fight for the light. I’ll be here. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here.” I place a slow kiss against her temple and rest her head on my chest.
She has to come back. She just has to.
~*~
Ten days in a coma.
I’ve gone through every emotion available, from being scared as shit that I’ll never see those gray eyes again, to being over-fucking-joyed that at least she’s still breathing.
Now? Now, I’m angry.
I want to blame someone and everyone for what she’s going through. Blaming myself is the easy part. Hatch is next on my shit list, and many nights when I’m crunched in the hospital bed with her I put myself to sleep with thoughts of torturing the tubby fuck the next time I see him. I blame her parents for fucking her up however they did. But the hardest person to blame is her.
I can’t believe that the Mac I came to know, the Gia I knew as a kid, would intentionally do this to herself. She’s mentally the strongest person I know, and only mental weaklings get hooked on drugs.
I walk to the single window in her hospital room and look out at the setting sun over Denver. It looks as if it had been a nice day. I haven’t been outside since the helicopter dropped us here a week ago. A week.
The doctor says every day that passes lessens her chances of pulling out. Fuck.
A knock on the door gets my attention. “Yeah? Come in.”
One of the nurses who have been regulars for this last week pushes into the room with a cart. “Hey, Rex, how’s our girl doing today?” She walks over and begins her routine of checking monitors and vitals.
“Hey, Bridgette.” I move to the edge of the bed and stand close by as I do every time anyone—doctor or nurse—comes in to see her. “Same. Sometimes when I’m holding her hand I feel it twitch.”
“That’s great.” She puts a stethoscope against Gia’s chest. “You getting frisky with your man there, Gia? Maybe next time you could try opening your eyes for him?”
I smile at the easy girl-talk way she’s relating to her like she’s still a person. A lump forms in my throat.
“Everything looks stable.” She tucks Gia’s hand back under the blanket and arranges her hospital gown at her chest. “Maybe tomorrow we can wash your hair.” She smooths and tucks a strand behind Gia’s ear. “That sound good?”
My chest cramps at the thought of this being Gia’s reality. People talking to her deadened face, a tube coming out of her mouth so she can breathe.
Wake up, baby. Please.
~*~
Mac
I’m in the basement. The one from my childhood home, or at least I think it is. It’s hard to tell because it’s so dark. I’ve been stumbling around, feeling my way against the cold concrete walls. There’s nothing. No windows, doors, stairs. Empty.
I’m forgetting something important, but when I reach with my mind to figure it out, I get nothing. Anxiety makes me fidget. I’m nervous. But why?
Being stuck in this small dark space sends a flash of panic through my veins. My skin prickles with sweat. But just like turning around in a dark hall, when I try to pick apart the reasons for my unease, I come up with nothing: no memory of a past, no anticipation of the future.
I curl up in the corner, holding myself together. The only thing I have in here, the one thing that I associate with any feeling at all is the voice.
I wait, stretching my hearing to listen for the voice that calms my restlessness. These are the moments I live for, to hear his stories and whispered words of how much he misses me. Needs me.
He feels so much. I can hear it in the way he talks. If only I could figure out how to get to him. I’ve tried to talk, even yelled, but the walls in here are too thick. He can’t hear me.
A low rumble echoes from somewhere far away. I quiet my mind and concentrate. Please be him. I hear the faint sound of his voice.
No, wait. Voices.
His and another. He’s not talking to me, but to someone else. At least he’s close. That’s enough for now.
“Thanks for coming, Rave.”
Who’s he talking to?
“She looks so peaceful.”
My breath hitches at the familiarity of that voice.
“God, I’m so sorry.”
It’s a woman. She sounds so sad.
“It’s not your fault, Rave.”
Rave? I know her. But how?
“No, it’s not. It’s Dominick’s fault. All of this.”
Anger and the fire of revenge ignite my blood.
“I killed him, but he’ll never die.”
Her voice is mad and matches the feeling that surges in my chest.
“I just want her back.”
It’s him, my angel in this hell.
“I know, Rex. Me too.”
My head tingles and my hands feel numb.
Rex. Rex?
Visions explode behind my eyes: blue eyes, hands clasped beneath a door, tattoo-covered arms and chest, and his smile.
Oh my God. Rex!
I rush to the walls of the basement. I’m here. He needs to know. I smack my palms against the unforgiving wall. Rex, help me! I scurry down the wall and hit a corner. My hands search for a fissure, an imperfection that might lead to freedom, something I’ve done before, and still, no escape.
I drop to my knees. Memories wash over me in debilitating waves: the bear, this basement, Dominick, and Hatch. Oh, no. I was dead. I died, and yet Rex is here.
I don’t want to say goodbye. I’m not ready to let go. He’s been telling me this entire time to fight, to break free from the dark, but his words were like gibberish. I get it now. He wants me to come back to him.
Fight for him. Fight for us.
Pushing up with renewed strength, I throw my weight against the walls. My fists pound harder to no avail. I scream and kick the solid mass. A growl of frustration explodes from my throat.
“Gia, baby, I’m here.”
Rex! I fight harder, throwing my body against the darkness that separates us. I kick the solid wall. Once, twice. I punch it, shove against it, cry, scream, and thrash for release.
“Yes, that’s it. Fight for it. Don’t you give up, baby.”
A fierce war cry bursts from my lips. I run from one end to the other, hurling my body against the walls.
“You’re there; now push through. Follow my voice, Gia.”
I listen, close my eyes, and focus on his voice.
“Remember me. Remember.”
I remember.
“Now fight!”
My muscles tense. A tremor starts in my gut and coils with power. I crouch.
I remember you, Rex.
A final thrust from deep within and a guttural roar, and I burst free into bright light. My throat burns. Arms close in tight around me.
“Yes, baby. Fuck yeah, you did it.” His face is buried in my neck; all I can see is his dark hair and feel his breath against my ear. “God, yes! You did it.”
I’m weak and can’t move. I try to talk, but something blocks my words. I try to rip it out. Women dressed in blue scrubs rush into the room. Rex pulls back, tears spilling from his tired eyes. They take something
from my mouth. I cringe at the release and gasp for air.
Exhausted, I push two words from my throat. The only two words that matter.
“I remember.”
Twenty-six
Lived locked in a void,
a death with no tomb.
But your light guided me
And brought me home to you.
--Ataxia
Mac
A few nurses busy themselves in a flurry around my hospital bed. Anxiety picks at my nerves. I tuck my feet in close and curl around my clasped hands. I’m burrowed into Rex’s side; the only thing keeping me together is the strength of his arms wrapped tightly around me.
Why am I here? Disoriented, I want to close my eyes and pray this away, wake up in Rex’s bed, wrapped in his embrace.
A nurse reaches for my arm.
I jerk away. “Don’t let them tie me down.” My throat is raw, and I can barely hear myself over the commotion in the room.
But Rex hears me. His arms convulse around my shoulders, and he tucks me tighter into his side.
“Listen to me closely.” He speaks into my temple, allowing me to feel his words against my skin. “I won’t let anyone do a damn thing you’re not one-hundred-percent comfortable with.” He nuzzles my hair. “Nod if you understand me.”
I nod and squeeze in tight to bury my face in his chest.
He’s right. I can tell by the layout of the room I’m at a hospital meant to care for people, not the kind that locks people up, binds them with restraints, and drugs them all in the name of their best interests.
“They need to take out your IV.” He pulls my arm away from my body for the nurse but keeps his grasp firmly around my bicep, reminding me that he’s here and in control.
I’m shaking so badly that even my insides feel as if they’re quivering. My gaze darts around the room, leery of every uniform. Getting the hell out of the dark was all I wanted, but waking up in a hospital makes me long for the safety of my concrete prison.
Rex leans in and presses his lips to my head. “Talk to me, baby.”
A young nurse fumbles at my arm. Her eyes slide to mine, and she smiles like she knows me. I blink and bury my face back into Rex’s chest as she removes tape and slides the tube from my vein.
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