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Trudy and Ann. Tannis and Emi. A tirade in French.
“Vaughn?” I try to ask. But my lips don’t move; the word is never formed.
“Rest,” Ann orders me with a pat on the shoulder.
So I do.
WHEN I NEXT come to my senses, Charlie is sitting in a chair beside my bed. I stare at him for a long time, trying to figure out if this whole scene is real or if I’ve reached a new level of delirium.
He breaks into a huge grin and shakes his riot of salt-and-pepper curls. Certainly seems real enough.
“There you are, Sleeping Beauty. We were beginning to think you were using a teeny-weeny gunshot wound as an excuse to go on extended vacation.”
I open my mouth, croak out a few sounds.
He takes the hint and fetches a plastic cup of water for me. A couple sips through the straw, and I feel better.
“Your head,” I manage.
“Right as rain. Takes a lickin’ as the saying goes.”
“Captain… Marilee.”
“Stable. Gonna need a bit more time before she tap dances out of here, but she’s growing stronger each day.”
I almost don’t want to ask the next question: “Vaughn?”
“Took a bullet to his ribs. Did some damage, especially to his tattoo. Not gonna lie, that’s definitely gonna need some touch-up. The rest of him is healing up nicely.”
I manage a faint smile, consciously attempt to wiggle my toes, and am grateful when both feet respond.
“You’re fine.” Charlie pats the side of my bed. “Run-down, the doctors said, though I’m thinking that was before our little misadventure. You had a pellet wound to your calf, shouldn’t have been that bad, but you spiked an infection. Apparently, one shouldn’t drag open wounds along mucky beaches and through bird guano. Note for next time.”
I grimace. Suck down more water.
“MacManus will live. Officially perky enough to be demanding his own plastic surgeon. But…”
“Leilani turned on him. All of this, it was her, trying to eliminate him. Apparently, before his business associates did away with them both.”
“About that—he’s agreed to turn federal witness. Testify against his crime boss cohorts about the money laundering in return for protective custody. He’s not going back to his old life and he knows it.”
“Your friend. The undercover agent whose remains we found?”
“We brought her home,” Charlie supplies quietly. “Gave her the funeral she deserved and her family the closure they needed.”
“Pomaikai? What will happen with the project? Aolani’s design?”
“Given that the federal government has officially frozen all of MacManus’s assets, nothing. Chances are he’ll forfeit all profits from his illicit dealings as part of his plea bargain. At which time, the atoll will become property of the US. Maybe we can turn it into a getaway resort for overworked FBI agents. I’d volunteer to return as head engineer for that.”
“Sorry I doubted you.”
“Sorry I lied to you. Cost of being undercover. Now, since I’m back to being the real deal, I need to know exactly what happened with Leilani and Keahi at the end. Tell me everything.”
I FIND VAUGHN’S room an hour later. It’s not my first time roaming hospital corridors in a johnny, and I guess, given my life choices, it won’t be my last. I’m still incredibly grateful to discover Vaughn appearing alive and semi-well, as he clicks through TV channels.
He lowers the remote immediately as I enter, then hits the off button. For a long moment, we simply look at each other, taking in all the new bumps and bruises on top of sights we know so well.
I walk closer to his bed. “Hey.”
