Grant had prayed Avery wouldn’t be discovered as the plant she’d been. The syndicate had been known for its ruthless treatment of those who betrayed it or stood in the way of its illegal business ventures.
He wished they could have met in different lives where they both weren’t involved in dangerous missions, dedicated to the task at hand, not the connections forged outside the training, badge and credentials.
After he’d signed the divorce papers, Grant had resigned from his job as an FBI profiler, packed a single bag with a few clothes, a photograph of him and Avery on their honeymoon in Cancun and donated everything else he’d accumulated over the few years he’d lived with Avery. She hadn’t wanted to keep anything that reminded her of him. And going undercover, she hadn’t been able to take anything with her that could connect her to Avery Hart. The moment she’d walked out the door, she’d become Sofia Delgado, and Avery Hart had disappeared.
The call had come out of the blue the day before. When he’d answered the phone to a number he hadn’t recognized, he’d teetered on the verge of telling the caller to fuckoff. He wasn’t interested in getting siding for the depressing garage apartment he’d lived in for the past two years he’d spent in Montana.
When the nurse had identified herself and told him his wife had been in an accident, his heart had plummeted into the pit of his belly.
“It’s okay,” the nurse had said. “She’s alive and suffering the effects of a concussion. She asked me to call you.”
“Me?” he asked.
“You are Grant Hayes, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he’d responded, confused but thankful Avery had asked for him.
“Your wife is Sofia Delgado, correct?”
For a split second, the word “no” had formed on his lips. Then he’d remembered that was Avery’s alias for the undercover assignment. “Yes, ma’am. Where is she?”
“At the Baylor Scott & White Hillcrest Medical Center in Waco, Texas,” the nurse had informed him.
Texas?
The last he’d heard from his contacts in the FBI, Avery had been in Florida, wrapping up her undercover operation. He knew she’d be reassigned when that was done but hadn’t heard where.
“How long will she be there?” he asked.
“She’s been here for three days already and only regained consciousness today.”
His gut clenched. The accident must have been bad for her to be out for so long. “How is she?”
“She’s talking and can move all her limbs. The first responders said she was what? I imagine the doctor will want to observe her a little longer. He’ll fill you in when you get here. When might that be?”
“I’ll be there in the morning,” Grant said, without hesitation.
“Good. I’ll let her know when she wakes up again.” The nurse then ended the call.
Grant had immediately called his boss, Hank Patterson, the founder of the Brotherhood Protectors, the man who’d hired him when he’d left the FBI.
When Hank had heard about Avery’s accident, he’d arranged for a private plane to fly Grant from Bozeman directly to the regional airport in Waco. From there, he’d rented a car and gone straight to the hospital.
The door opened behind him. Grant turned to find a man dressed in a white lab coat. He approached Grant and held out his hand. “I’m Dr. Dutton. You must be Ms. Hart’s husband.”
Grant shook the doctor’s hand. “Yes, sir. Grant Hayes.” No need to correct the man and tell him that they were actually divorced. As long as the hospital staff thought they were still married, they’d share information about her status. If Avery didn’t want him to know, she’d set the record straight.
The doctor stepped around Grant and smiled down at Avery. “How are you feeling this morning, Ms. Hart?”
Avery sighed. “Ready to get out of the hospital.”
The doctor chuckled. “You must be feeling a lot better if you’re already thinking about leaving.” He spent the next few minutes listening to her heart and lungs and shining a light into her eyes. He had her move all her limbs and sit up in the bed, swinging her legs over the side. “So far, you appear to be recovering quickly. Your CT scan didn’t indicate any major cerebral edema—brain swelling, that is.”
“So, when can I leave?” Avery asked.
The doctor grinned. “I’d like to see you walk to the end of the hallway and back several times before I feel comfortable discharging you.”
Avery scooted to the edge of the bed and glanced toward Grant.
