by Ellen Butler
Karina glanced away. “The past twenty-four hours have been . . . hard. But I don’t know if I’m supposed to burden you with the details. We’ll talk more after the doctor visits. In the meantime, what would you like to watch?” She picked up the TV remote and turned up the volume. “I was watching Flip My House.”
“That’s fine.”
They hadn’t gotten through the commercial break when two men walked into the room. The first was a man of Vietnamese descent with a scar down his face so prominent that it looked like Dr. Frankenstein had sewed him up. Jillian recognized the face, but she couldn’t recall how or where she knew him. She searched her mind for a name. The other, a tall, handsome blond wearing a navy-blue T-shirt so tight it revealed a set of six-pack abs, followed the shorter man, carrying a posy of flowers. Jillian seemed to remember seeing him in her sister’s building a few months ago.
Karina rose stiffly from her recliner and limped over to give each man a quick hug. “Hey, guys, what are you doing here?”
“Checking on the patient.” The blond set the vase on the table in front of Jillian and winked. “How are you feeling?”
“Jillian, this is Jin,” Karina said, pointing to the Asian, “and that’s Joshua, also known as the J-squared team. They’re with Silverthorne Security, they helped locate you. And now that you’re all in the room together, I can call you J-cubed—Jin, Jillian, and Josh.” She grinned at the poor quip.
One side of Jin’s lip lifted while Josh ignored the pun and picked up Jillian’s chart to scan the material. Jillian’s mouth dropped at his hubris.
“Josh used to be a Navy corpsman,” Karina supplied, returning to her chair. “He put in your IV last—”
“What’s with the limp?” Jin interrupted.
“Oh, I banged up my knee yesterday when I threw that guy over my shoulder. Concrete is a lot harder than the mats we work on. I remember a sharp pain when I hit the pavement but didn’t really notice it last night. However, it’s a little stiff this morning.” Karina waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Jin. You’re probably right, I did something wrong when I threw him. I was working more on instinct and panic,” she said defensively.
“What guy? You threw a guy over your shoulder?” Jillian stared at her sister in shock.
“Let me look.” Josh went down on one knee in front of Karina and patted his leg.
“It’s no big deal.” Karina laid her left foot on Josh’s thigh and he pushed her jeans up. She sucked air through her teeth as he pushed the denim past her knee. “Just a little tender.”
Jillian leaned forward to get a gander. Her sister’s knee was purpled with an angry bruise and swollen to the size of a small grapefruit. Josh’s brows crunched together. He poked and prodded, asking if this or that hurt. Karina denied it all, but Jillian could tell the spots Josh touched that caused her sister pain by the flexing of her jaw and wincing of her eyes. From Josh’s expression, Jillian was fairly sure he could tell when Karina was lying as well. He straightened the leg, then rotated it. There was a clicking sound and Karina jerked involuntarily with a yelp.
The perky nurse returned, squeezing and shaking a blue and white instant ice pack. “Here you go, dear. And look, you’ve got company.” Destinee wrapped the pack in a pillowcase and showed Jillian how to hold it against her face. “Ten minutes ought to do it. No longer.”
Josh peered over the bed. “Can we get another one of those?”
“Another ice pack?” Destinee cocked her head, observing the tableau.
“She hurt her knee.” He indicated Karina.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Karina stammered as she tried to push her jeans past his hands.
Destinee came around the bed and gave a low whistle when she saw the injured knee. “Ouch, sugar. Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s not that bad,” Karina tried valiantly to assure the medical personnel, but no one listened to her.
“I’ll be back with another pack in a jiffy,” Destinee said, hustling out of the room.
“I don’t need it,” Karina said through gritted teeth.
Josh regarded Karina. “Are you a glutton for punishment?”
Jillian snorted, and Karina’s mouth flattened. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
Jin threw his head back and let out a shout of laughter. Jillian grinned, which made Karina’s face squeeze up even more as if she’d sucked on a lemon. It was in that moment of jocularity that another man walked in—someone Jillian had never seen before. His hair was short, cropped military style, brown with a bit of pepper mixed in, and his eyes were a mesmerizingly silvery blue-gray. In one hand he carried a brown bag, in the other a pair of aviator glasses and a cup of coffee. He walked with incredibly erect posture, reminding Jillian of the guards she’d seen at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington Cemetery.
“What’s Cardinal said now?” he asked without preamble, placing the brown bag next to the flowers.
“She said she doesn’t want to be a bother,” Jin provided.
The military guy came around the bed to see what was going on, concern written plainly across his handsome features. “Damn, when did that happen?”
During the guffaws, Karina seemed to have given up and placed a hand across her eyes, her face crimson with embarrassment. “When I threw Cortez over my shoulder.”
Destinee bustled back in with another ice pack. “Here you go. Place it on that knee for ten minutes. And you ought to have someone check it out. Get an X-ray.”
Karina popped the footrest up as Josh moved out of the way, and placed the pack on her knee. “Thanks, Destinee.”
“No problem. And the doctor should be here soon to see you.” She pointed at Jillian. “Your color’s looking better, sugar. Must be the attention of all these handsome men.” With a wink and a wave, Destinee’s curvy backside swished out with a sway to rival Betty Boop.
Stymied for conversation, nobody spoke and the only sound was a loud commercial promoting erectile dysfunction medication.
“What’s in the bag?” Jillian asked.
The new guy reached inside and pulled out a to-go container. “Ghetto soup.”
Jillian pushed back against the pillows, distaste written across her features. “I’m sorry, did you say ghetto soup?”
“Best soup in D.C.” He pulled out a plastic spoon, removed the lid, and placed it on the tray in front of her. “Comes from this dive in a questionable section of Southeast called Big Mama’s. Best chicken noodle soup in the area. I thought you might be hungry.”
Jillian had no idea when she’d eaten last and her stomach grumbled as she whiffed the delicious scent of the warm broth. Pulling it closer, she scooped up a spoonful of noodle and chicken, and tentatively slurped. “Yum, this is good, and the chicken tastes delicious. It’s not too salty. Sometimes restaurants make their soups too salty. You know what I mean?”
“Not Big Mama.” His features softened as he said her name.
“Thanks—uh . . .”
“That’s Rick,” Karina tossed over her shoulder. “A.k.a. Batman.”
“Ah, the elusive Batman. So we finally meet.” Jillian and Rick shook hands. “It sounds as though I have your team to thank for rescuing me last night.”
“No problem,” Rick replied.
“I wish I could remember something of what happened.”
Josh returned to Jillian’s chart. “You don’t remember?”
Jillian squinted in concentration. “Nothing since Wednesday or Thursday, I think.”
He grunted but said no more, and Jillian tucked into Big Mama’s soup.
“What’s the story with the money at the . . . uh, pharmaceutical house?” Karina asked Rick. “Did your DEA friend . . . uh . . . clean things up?”
Rick nodded and sipped his coffee. “DEA finished counting and cleaning out the stash around five o’clock this morning.”
“And Christoph? Did he get credit for the bust?”
“He did. He needed
a win. The undercover job he returned from last month went bad. He accidently led his team into an ambush. Four perished and Chris barely escaped with his own life.” Rick stared at his feet and gave a head shake.
“I didn’t realize. . . . Is that why you called him in?”
Another sip of coffee accompanied Rick’s nonchalant shrug. “I figured it couldn’t hurt.”
Karina stared at the TV with an ashamed expression. “Apologize to him for me. I was . . . distraught.”
Rick’s features softened as they rested on Karina. Jillian held a hand to her mouth to cover the gasp at the unexpected tenderness she read in his expression.
“Everyone understands. Don’t worry about it.” Josh patted her shoulder with brotherly fondness.
Rick took another sip of coffee, and his countenance returned to its natural detachment. Shifting her gaze, Jillian connected with Jin’s dark, unreadable eyes. He pulled his ballcap lower and glanced away.
A woman with long, curly brown hair wearing a white lab coat over green scrubs arrived. “Good morning, I’m Dr. Balaban. My, you have quite a crowd this morning.” Josh passed the chart to the doctor. “I understand you’re having difficulty remembering what brought you here.”
Jillian nodded.
“It’s not unusual to experience short-term memory loss after trauma, but it’s more likely from the drugs that were pumped into your system. You were given a cocktail that is known on the street as Goodnight Cinderella. It’s a combination of GHB, Ketamine, and Flunitrazepam, also known as Rohypnol. Unfortunately, you were dosed with enough to knock out a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man and suffered some complications.” The doctor went on to explain the drugs they’d found in Jillian’s blood last night and how it depressed her system, especially her breathing, and the steps the ER doctors took to stabilize her condition. “You’re lucky the medical personnel found you when they did. The cheek is not broken, but bruised, and will be painful for a bit. Same with the ribs. It’ll hurt to take deep breaths and laugh for a few weeks. I’m going to send you home with a script for the pain, but there will only be enough for four days. When you run out, you can use over the counter pain relievers, Tylenol or Ibuprofen, and ice to alleviate the swelling, which will dissipate in the coming days.”
“When will I be able to leave?” Jillian asked, voicing her main concern. She hated hospitals and just wanted to recover in her own bed, surrounded by her fluffy pillows and down comforter.
“We’re going to run some more blood tests to make sure the drugs are out of your system.” She scribbled something on the chart. “If it looks clean, I can probably release you by the end of the day. Do you have someone who can keep an eye on you at home?”
“I can.” Karina waved from her chair. “And our mother is flying in today, she’ll be staying with Jilly for a while.”
“Is there anything else you need?’ Dr. Balaban asked.
Karina raised her hand, as if in elementary school. “Should we tell my sister what happened to— you know, jog her memory?”
The doctor frowned. “Let’s wait and see if it comes back to her.” She exited a few minutes later, passing Jillian’s boyfriend, Tony, on his way in.
“Babe, whoa, what happened?” His sneakers squeaked against the floor tiles as came to her side.
The Silverthorne guys backed up to give him space.
“Tony! How did you know I was here?” The tension in Jillian’s stomach relaxed as his warm, mahogany gaze rested on her. Tony came by his tanned skin through his Guatemalan ancestors and his athletic body from playing soccer. He worked as an EMT in Alexandria. He and Jillian had been dating since Christmas.
Jillian reached for him, and he cupped her uninjured cheek and gently kissed her forehead. “A strange number texted me and said I’d find you here.”
“That would have been me,” Josh said. “I found his number in your phone. It seemed like you had a—cough—personal relationship.” He reached into his back pocket and tossed Jillian’s phone on the bed.
Jillian could only imagine some of the sexy texts Joshua had culled through. Her face turned beet red, and she snatched up the cell. “Hey, the screen is cracked.”
“It was thrown from a moving vehicle,” Karina explained in a deadpan voice.
“A moving vehicle? What on earth happened?” Tony asked the crowd.
No one spoke. The guys suddenly found the HGTV channel fascinating, and Karina stared down at the ice pack on her knee and massaged her temple.
“Hello? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?” Tony glanced around the room, his gaze coming to a rest on her sister. “Karina!”
She started guiltily but glanced up with innocence written across her face.
“What happened?”
“Well—” She released a big sigh. “Jillian was kidnapped last night and drugged, and these guys” —she indicated the Silverthorne crew— “helped locate her. They’re with Silverthorne. The big blond here is Joshua, Jin’s the guy in the corner with the ballcap, and that’s Rick, their fearless leader. And—that’s all.”
“That’s all? Are you kidding me?” Tony’s tone turned belligerent. “Who kidnapped her? What the hell is a Silverthorne? Why is her face all beat up? What’s going on?”
“Silverthorne is a security firm. I’m not sure I’m allowed to divulge further information,” Karina told him as her phone dinged twice. “Well, that’s it for my ice pack.” She tossed it aside. “I could use a cup of coffee. Boys, why don’t we give Jillian and Tony some time alone?”
Jin helped Karina out of the recliner and slung her arm over his shoulder. “We can take you down to the ER to get X-rays.”
“Good idea,” Joshua said, backing him up.
“The ER? What’s wrong with you?” Tony asked.
Karina grimaced as she put weight on her injured knee. Nobody bothered to answer Tony.
Jillian snorted. “You’d better escort her, or she’ll slip away and let it fester. She’s terrible about seeing doctors when she’s sick.”
Karina limped past the bed and mumbled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Remember the walking pneumonia? And the infection from your braces bracket? How long before you told Mom about it?” Jillian needled her sister.
Karina grunted. “You better be nice to me, or I’ll call Dad and Tyler and invite them to descend upon you too.”
“Don’t you dare,” Jillian called to her sister’s retreating back.
Rick slid his aviators on. “I’ll make sure she’s taken care of.”
“I’m sure you will,” Jillian said beneath her breath.
Once Karina and her escort were out of earshot, Tony said, “That was a loaded comment. Who are all those people?”
Jillian scooted as far to the right as the bed would allow and patted the blankets. “Climb up here with me, and I’ll tell you what I know, and what I think I know. Some of it might be coming back to me. I’m fairly sure it has to do with Sadira.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I hobbled down the hall, leaning on Jin and trying to loosen up my knee. It was strange, although it kind of hurt last night, the pain was nothing compared to today. And the swelling—I didn’t remember it looking like that when I fell into bed.
As our crew approached the elevator, the doors slid open and Detective Perez stepped out, carrying Starbucks cups in each hand. “Ms. Cardinal, I see you’re still wandering around with your protection detail. I’m not sure if anyone told you, but the hit was called off.”
“Yes, I had heard that. We just left my sister’s room. Are you here to see her?” I asked as our group moved to the side to allow others passage through the hallway.
“I did plan to stop in. We need to get a statement from her if she’s awake.”
“That’s going to be tough,” Josh said. “She has memory loss from the drugs they fed her.”
Disappointment spread across Perez’s features. “Nothing?”
We shook our heads.
Josh continued, “The doc said her memory may return, but they don’t know when.”
The detective gave a troubled squint. “Well, Trudea remembers. She can provide us information. If I can convince her to testify.”
“Is she here?” I asked, feeling guilty that once we’d found my sister, I’d barely given poor little Trudea a second thought. I knew Josh had taken care of her before she was carted off in an ambulance, but I’d been so focused on Jillian and her health, inquiring after Trudea’s condition slipped my mind. “Is she going to be okay?”
He nodded. “She’s in room 507. MS-13’s been trafficking her as part of a larger prostitution ring.”
The news wasn’t surprising, but hearing Perez confirm my suspicions still packed a punch. “I was afraid of that. Why didn’t she tell the police?”
The detective shook his head. “She’s grown up in a life where she doesn’t trust the police. Her mom is an illegal. They threatened to have her deported and kill some little boy she babysat in the building.”
I thought of the kid who gave Jillian the skinny on Trudea’s recent changes.
“That house you took down last night—” Perez tilted his chin toward Rick “—they’d just moved all the money from the warehouse two days ago.”
“Into that neighborhood?” I said, astonished. “But it seemed so—”
“Middle-class? Unassuming?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“Officially, it’s not in MS-13 territory. That’s why it wasn’t on anyone’s radar. It’s off the grid, so to speak,” the detective explained. “The home is owned by Ahmed Akbar. Guy lives in California. He works for a tech company. Apparently, he’s got nothing to do with the gang, just an unsuspecting landlord. Leon rented it three months ago. Paid for the first year’s rent in cash.”