by S. M. West
“Nick.” One hand cups his now-clammy face, and the other pushes the button I programmed with Kit’s number.
“Kit. Nick’s been shot. You’ve got to help him.” I vomit the words so fast, I fear I’m incoherent.
“Maggie. Where are you?” His voice is the picture of calm. As if starved, I feed off it, taking his placid tone and measured words and breathing them in.
“The Phoenix. He needs a doctor. There’s so much blood. Kit, we need you.”
“Maggie, I’m going to text you a number. It’s Caro, Nick’s sister. Tell her what happened, and she’ll come to you. Tell her I’m getting supplies. She’ll understand.”
“Okay. Hurry.”
A woman answers the phone on the third ring with a groggy hello. She was asleep. My mind is a whirlwind; it’s as if I’ve forgotten how to speak. I’m mute.
“Hello?” Her tone is more alert.
“Hello, I’m… Nick Prophet…”
“Nick? What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
“He needs your help. Kit gave me your number. Nick’s been shot.”
“Where are you?”
I give her the address, and she walks me through what to do until she gets there. She’s about fifteen minutes away, and she tells me to keep the line open.
“Go, do what I said. If you have a question, ask. I’m here.” A car engine can be heard in the background, and I sigh, hope filling my lungs even though Nick isn’t out of the woods. She’s coming.
I grab a blanket and keep pressure on the wound. In under ten minutes, an attractive woman with a riot of dark curls, even with her hair tied back, arrives. She has a runner’s body, lean and fit in her teal scrubs and glasses, medical bag in hand.
She doesn’t waste time with introductions, moving with precision. “I need that hot water now.”
“What? We can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous. The people who did this might come back. They might already be on their way back.” Panic creeps into my tone. “We need to get him out of here. Kit said he’s getting supplies and will meet us at your place.”
“Fine. Help me get him into my car.” She works quickly and efficiently, wrapping his chest with gauze.
Holding his head and shoulders, I lift, and she does the same with his legs. I’m not sure how we do it because Nick’s tall and solid muscle, but we get him to her SUV. I slide in the back with him and lay his head on my lap.
The ride to her place is torturous. Both slow like a sloth and fast like a hummingbird. During that time, I bargain with whatever higher power may exist for Nick’s life.
28
Friday 11:38 PM
Maggie
True to his word, Kit is at Caro’s townhouse when we arrive. He carries Nick effortlessly to a room on the ground floor.
Following behind, I’m stunned by the white, sterile space. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we were in an operating room. Machines and medical devices line the walls, and the ceiling is bright with almost-blinding white lights.
Caro rushes to an adjacent room with a window into the operating space where Nick lies on the bed. She lathers her hands and arms from fingertips to elbows in a large sink while shouting orders at Kit.
The two of them work together effortlessly, without saying much. They are in sync and I can tell they know each other really well.
They work on Nick and I try to focus, asking to help where I can. Neither look my way or take me up on my offer.
“He’s lucky.” Caro concentrates on her brother. “The bullet cut through the side of his chest, breaking a rib but not hitting any vital organs.” She grabs something from the stainless steel tray Kit holds beside her. “It isn’t a through and through. Need to find the bullet and get it out.”
The room sways and I squeeze my eyes shut. Nick has to live.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Caro’s fast, clipped words fire at me and she sounds muffled or far away, as if I’m encased in glass. I can’t make sense of what she says, but Kit moves like a marionette at her command.
He steadies me, dragging me carefully to a chair.
Thump. Thump. Thump. All I hear is the beat of my heart.
I don’t know how long the procedure is, but it’s Caro’s voice that pulls me from my terrified daze.
“Get out of that dress. I’ll get you something to wear.” She tosses her mask in a trash can and marches into the smaller room to wash up.
I glance down, confused, at my once-shimmering silver dress covered in caked-on blood, a ruddy brown, sticking to my chest. Nick’s blood.
The ruin of the designer gown rips at my fragile façade of calm as if I’m hit in the gut with a battering ram.
I jolt to standing and then bend over, sucking in a ragged breath, hiccupping, wheezing, trying to rip the expensive fabric from my body.
“Kit!” Caro’s voice sounds far away.
Kit’s arms circle me close to his chest. I think my heart will break at the crushing fear of Nick dying.
“Shhh,” Kit whispers. “He’s okay. He’s gonna make it.”
“Get her in the bathroom.” Caro’s strong, controlled voice pulls my gaze to her. “Maggie, Nick needs you.”
It’s an order, and exactly what I need. All unsettled thoughts vanish. Nick needs me.
I follow Kit to a bathroom, but not without glancing back one last time at Nick on the table. Pale and still.
“Get in.” Kit pulls back the shower curtain and turns the water on.
He doesn’t wait for me to obey, shutting the door behind him. On autopilot, I shower and find clean clothes on the counter.
I focus on getting dressed, refusing to go over the past few hours. Nick’s lifeless body, and the blood. I can’t be alone with my thoughts or they will eat me alive.
Once cleaned up, I search the ground floor and find the back door open. Shivering at the frigid breeze drifting through the screen door, I peer into the dark. The small, circular red glow of a burning cigarette catches my eye.
I don’t want to leave Nick, but I’ve got so many questions. His sister wouldn’t have left him if he was in danger. She’s the doctor, and she’s out here.
I walk outside at the same time Kit’s giant frame stalks from the side of the house.
“Seriously, Caro?” he clips. “Your brother almost died, and you’re out here trying to kill yourself. Put that out.”
I’m surprised by his admonishing tone. He’s never said a terse word to me, but even still, it’s clear he cares deeply for this woman.
“Exactly. My brother almost died. Give me a break.” She ignores him, inhaling a long drag.
A chaotic mass of dark curls crowns her head. Despite the regal quality, everything else about her is deflated, from the sag of her shoulders to the melancholy in her downturned mouth.
She drops the cigarette, grinding it out with her shoe.
“Satisfied?” She’s snippy with a tone of familiarity.
He squeezes her shoulder, pulling her to him, and heat rises to my cheeks. I awkwardly shift from one foot to the other.
I’m a voyeur to their private moment. I should leave them although they don’t seem to care that I am here.
My self-consciousness intensifies when her voice cracks on his name. “Kit.”
Before she crumbles, he lifts Caro off the ground, holding her tight to him and whispers soothing words of reassurance. His large hand rubs her back.
She accepts his solace but not for long. As soon as he kisses her cheek, she wriggles free, stepping several feet back, and busies herself with straightening her clothes.
“I’m fine.” She wipes at her eyes.
Knowing Caro needs to move past their moment, Kit’s gaze flicks to me. “How you holdin’ up?”
My hands tremble subtly, and my insides twist into knots. I should feel better. He’s alive and made it through surgery.
“I’m scared.”
“He’s a strong bastard.” Kit squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll check on him before g
etting a shower.”
He heads to the house, and I wrap my arms around my middle, both to stay warm and stop the shaking.
“It’ll take a while for your nerves to settle.” She glances toward the vast body of water just beyond the horizon.
Her house backs onto a cliff overlooking Lake Ontario.
“Let me get you something for that.” She points to my trembling hands.
“I don’t want drugs.”
“Not drugs. Just a drink to help settle your mind, or I can make chamomile tea.”
“No, thanks.”
With her back to me, she stares at the choppy water and dark-gray sky. “Suit yourself.”
“Will he make it?”
“Yes. As long as he doesn’t get an infection, things should be fine. He’s resting and will be out for hours. He was lucky.”
She already said that, and while her tone is calm and monotone—if I had to guess, it’s her doctor voice—it’s as if she has to remind herself that he’s going to make it. She’s worried too although she hides her concern well.
Caro glances sideways at me, her round face and full lips shadowed in the night.
“So, you’re Maggie.” Her deep brown eyes bore into me.
She’s obviously heard about me, and I wonder from whom. Kit or Nick? Then I remember she seemed to know who I was when we first met. I nod, wishing I knew more about her.
“Thank you for calling,” she says, quietly.
“What? You don’t need to thank me. Nick saved my life. He took a bullet meant for me.” My lips purse, holding back the growing tears.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” She spins to face me. “How’d you meet my brother?”
“Through mutual friends.” My voice is shaky, and I’m surprised at my response.
I didn’t lie—Logan and Phoebe were the reason we met, but it’s not exactly the whole truth. I won’t be the one to tell her all the gory details of how we met and what we’ve been through.
I won’t tarnish any image she has of her brother. Partly because I don’t want her questions, but also because I realize, I’ve forgiven Nick. I trust him. He took a bullet for me. If that doesn’t say I can trust him, I don’t know what will.
“How well do you know Nick?”
“Not very well.”
This is true although we’ve been through a lot in a short period of time and I feel like I’ve known him forever.
“He likes to keep his emotions buried deep and act like he doesn’t give a fuck.” She laughs, as do I, knowing all too well she’s described Nick perfectly. “But he cares deeply, particularly for those he loves. He’d do anything for the people he cares about.”
She pauses, and we stand in silence, both shivering from the chilly air, but I’m also cold on the inside. Frozen with fear, hoping Nick makes it. Needing him to.
“He must care about you. A lot,” she says matter-of-factly, despite not knowing anything about our relationship or lack thereof.
I don’t know what to do with what she’s said. I want to believe it. I forgive Nick, and it’s not just because of what he did tonight.
When I think back over our time together, even apart, there are so many moments.
Nick covering my body with his in the elevator. Nick wanting to clean my cut-up hands. Nick massaging my aching arms. Nick taking me with him that night in the forest when he could have left me for dead.
Nick saving me with his kiss when the Russians were only feet away. Nick protecting and sheltering me in the sugar shack. Nick tending to my ankle and other wounds.
And I could go on. Those were the things he did when we were nothing to each other.
“Why doesn’t he admit he cares?” I shift the attention from me.
She doesn’t balk or miss a beat. “Because he thinks he’s a failure when it comes to family, to loving someone, and even after all he’s done for me and our sister, Léa, he still believes it. Even his goddamn line of work…”
“He says he’s retiring,” I say, wanting to know what she thinks of that.
“Yeah, he told me.”
“You don’t sound like you believe him.”
“I want to, but he worries about how he’ll cover the costs when he’s no longer doing what he does.”
She doesn’t say what costs, but I can guess. Léa’s care must be a fortune, and from the sounds of it, Nick went into this line of work to pay the bills. To fill the gap his parents left glaringly vacant.
“I want to,” she repeats. “He’s taken on this burden of caring for Léa and me all on his own. Even now, when I have a good job and can take on some of the bills, he insists. Much like when he put me through medical school. I wanted to take out student loans so he could stop doing what he did and find a better job…” She trails off, starting to walk toward the house. “Let’s go in. It’s freezing.”
We walk in silence back inside. “I’m going to check on him, and then I have to sleep. My shift starts at noon.”
“Caro, thank you,” I call after her. “I know he’s your brother and I don’t have to say this but thank you for saving him.”
Her smile wobbles, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, then she steps into his room.
“Caro.” I sound desperate, almost as if I’m afraid to be alone.
“Yes?” She peers around the doorway at me.
“When will he wake up?” I hate sounding wrecked, like I’ve been on a crying jag for days.
“It’s hard to say. The body needs to repair itself, and sleep is the best thing for him.”
I nod, she leaves, and silent tears build into full-on sobs. I’m not even sure what I’m crying about. I’m as scared as I was crammed in the dark ceiling staring down at my mother’s dead body.
Nick’s not dead, and there’s hope. This time isn’t like my parents. He’s going to pull through.
It’s what comes after that scares me. What if he can’t walk away from his life? I’m not sure I can walk away from him, and I don’t know how this works.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s just get through tonight.
I join Caro in the room, and Kit’s there too. Nick lies peacefully, hooked up to an IV and a few machines. Some of his color is back, and save for the oxygen mask, he looks like he’s sleeping.
I run my fingers through his thick hair, brushing his dark locks off his forehead.
Staring into his handsome face, my gut spasms with the raw, frenetic memories of the past few weeks. I could leave now. That would be the sane thing to do. He’s more than made up for his mistakes, but my heart won’t let me walk away.
Nick has my heart. Somehow, someway, he captured it, and if I’m being honest with myself, I can’t say I want it back.
“I’m going to get some sleep.” Kit cocks his head to the side. “I’ll relieve you in a few hours.”
He’s barely out the door when Caro says, “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but you care a great deal for Nick. I can see that.”
“Pardon?” I choke. My heart rate kicks up a notch. Am I that transparent?
“Nick’s easy to love,” she says, and I snort, now trying to hold back a laugh.
“Nothing about Nick is easy.”
“Ahh, you didn’t fall for his charm?” She quirks her brows, smirking.
“Definitely not. When we met, Nick made a lasting impression, but it wasn’t his charm. Not by a long shot.”
“Yeah, I can only imagine. Despite his hard exterior, he gets under your skin.” We both glance to his resting body. “Maggie.”
Her pause is loaded, and my head snaps in her direction, my mind racing with what she may say.
“It’s dangerous to have a man like Nick love you. It could get you killed.”
29
Sunday 8:57AM
Nick
Granules of sand stick to my eyeballs, and what’s that weighty throbbing radiating from my chest?
Long fingers rest on my forearm, soft and warm, and I dip my chin to take in a mass of bl
ack hair fanning out on the bed.
Maggie.
She’s sleeping. Her body is hunched over the bed, most of her in a chair.
Reaching for her, the left side of my chest burns, but I push through the pain, needing to touch her. Make sure she’s alive. The last thing I remember is Yegor’s gun on her.
My fingertips slide over her silky head, and she stirs, shifting and turning. Her haunting eyes greet me. Arresting my breath. Stealing my soul.
“You’re…” My tongue is weighted in molasses, and forming the words is difficult. “You’re here.”
She leans into my touch, and my hand slides from her hair to cup the side of her face, then down her elegant neck.
The racing sensation of her pulse pulls at the corners of my mouth, teasing and tempting a smile unlike any before. She’s alive.
“Where else would I be?” Her voice is soft and sleepy.
“Are you all right?”
“That’s my line.” Her teasing tone matches her mischievous smile.
“Maggie.” Low in my belly, a whoosh of joy or relief or I don’t know what spreads through me.
She’s fine. Fuck, more than fine. Fucking fantastic, but I need her words.
Sensing what I’m after, she smiles softly. “I’m okay. I promise.” Her fingers slide over my jaw. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Nick, give me more than that or else.” Again with the teasing, and I return the favor.
“I recall you threatening to kill me.”
She laughs, leaning into my touch. “And still will if you don’t get better.”
I start to laugh but end up groaning at the unbelievable pain in my chest.
“Let me get Caro.”
She stands, my hand falls from her body, and I want her back, to stay, but I don’t have the energy to protest.
My eyes drift closed and vaguely register Maggie calling my name. What’s wrong? She sounds frantic and scared. I want to reassure her that I’m fine. I’m just tired and need sleep.
I force my eyes to open and sky-blue irises are the last thing I see before everything fades around me.