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Adrian looked up from the sandwich Layla had put in front of him. He had barely touched it. I didn’t know him very well—or at all, to be honest—but I don’t think he’d relaxed since finding Elias in the middle of a spasm. “Good,” he said. “That’s good.”
I hummed. “I just hope it has something useful on it for you,” I said, and all of their eyes turned to me. “I mean, I don’t think my brother encrypted a porn stash or anything so stupid, but…what if whatever he has isn’t enough? What will you do then?”
“That’s my problem to figure out,” Adrian said. “You and Elias don’t have to worry about it.”
“You’ll still take us to see Dr. Mayfield?”
Adrian’s mouth pressed into a line for a moment, like he was irritated I even asked, but then he nodded. “Of course. As soon as he recovers, like I said.”
I blinked, surprised. Our deal had been that I’d help him and then he’d help me. In RoW, our definition of an honest man was someone who wouldn’t sell you out after they’d gotten your bribe. We didn’t really have a word for someone who would help you without getting something in return.
“When he has an attack like that,” Layla said, cradling Spencer to her chest. His twin was sleeping in a Pack-N-Play a few feet away. “How long does it take him to feel better?”
I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. Any time I was asked questions about Elias’s disease, I found it easier to keep it together if I spoke more…clinically. “An attack that bad only happens once or twice a month, for now. Recovery can take a day or two.”
Layla patted Spencer’s back softly. “Can I ask?—?”
I hummed. “What’s his prognosis?” I filled in for her. She nodded, looking a little guilty as if she knew it was a question I didn’t like answering. But I didn’t blame her for asking. She was hardly the first. “For now, Elias is doing well on his medication. He doesn’t have any major side effects, and they keep his muscular spasms to a minimum.”
“For now?” she asked.
I tried not to wince. “I’m hoping that’s something Dr. Mayfield can help with. Her research for a cure, not just a treatment, shows promise.” I wanted to wrap my arms around myself but didn’t. “I’m holding onto that.” The alternative is unthinkable, I added in my head.
The silence that followed was deafening…and then a warm hand touched my arm. Layla smiled at me, warm and encouraging. “I’ll hope too,” she said.
I smiled back, grateful she didn’t offer me cheap platitudes—she didn’t tell me he was going to be okay. “Thank you.” I stood, picked up all of our plates, and took them to the sink. Grabbing one of the apples from the basket on the counter, I quickly cored and cut it and put it on a clean plate. “I’ll go check on Elias,” I said.
I found him sitting up in bed, book in his lap. “Hungry, sakharok?”
Elias looked up. “Do I have to be?” he asked.
I smiled and nodded. “Yes,” I told him. “You have to be.” I sank onto the bed beside him and watched him struggle through a piece of apple. Eating was always hard after a bad spasm. Thankfully, it didn’t make him nauseous—he could usually keep down what he ate—but food held little to no appeal for him.
When he’d choked down two of the apple slices, he looked at me. “Was that enough?”
“One more,” I coaxed, “and you can stop.”
Elias’s face scrunched, but he dutifully reached for another one. When it was gone, he looked completely rung out. “Tired, Mama,” he mumbled.
I kissed his hair. “I know, sakharok. Why don’t you get some sleep? We’ll try getting up in a little while.”
Elias nodded, and he snuggled back into his pillows. Once he was settled, I took the plate back to the kitchen. “He wasn’t hungry?” Adrian asked.
I shook my head. “He never is, really, but he doesn’t normally fight with me about it.” I looked around. Drake, Layla, and the twins were gone.
“They took the twins on a walk,” Adrian supplied.
I hummed and went to check how the software was running. It was finished. Anton had labeled everything with a date; I clicked to open the earliest file, and my breath caught in my throat. “Adrian.”
He was by my side in a blink. “It worked?”
I scooted over so he could look at the screen with me. The first file was a screenshot of an email about a drug shipment. It was moved into the United States by a group of Hayes’s mercenaries coming back from a mission abroad. Nothing in the email indicated that Ian Hayes was the one who ordered the shipment, but it was solid evidence against the organization itself.
I opened the next file, and then the next, and they were all similar. Evidence, good evidence, that the Hayes Group was involved in illegal smuggling, but nothing that would indict the CEO specifically. The forwarding address on the emails would be omitted, or there wouldn’t be a signature, etc. It was somehow more frustrating to have evidence so close to what we needed, but not quite there. “Damn it,” Adrian muttered next to me. He ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “This is everything and?—”
“Nothing,” I finished for him. “I mean, this could launch an official investigation into the organization and get them shut down, maybe even get some people convicted and facing jail time, but since specific names aren’t mentioned, all of the higher ups at the company could blame each other, with everyone claiming that they had no knowledge of any of this.”
Adrian swore again. “We need more.”
