“What? I thought …” I cleared my throat. The words were starting to come more easily. “Last I remember, the guy was pointing a gun at my head.”
But that wasn’t actually the last thing I remembered …
… the desperation transformed Griffin’s face when I told him I loved him …
I’d told the man who was supposed to be no more than a friend—never more than that—that Ilovedhim. Sure, he could have interpreted my declaration as I had his: an expression of platonic love in a dire, terrible moment. Then again, maybe he now knew that I’d broken the most significant unspoken rule among us.
My crew was too important to me to risk it. I’d upset the balance between us all, even if I was the only one aware I’d done it.
I glanced up at him—at the man I loved and shouldn’t—searching his face for clues. Had I screwed things up between us? Between all of us?
Ignorant of the new reason for my sudden tension, Griffin answered, “He ended up shooting you in the chest.” Pain, as obvious as if its cause were physical, flared in his eyes. His lips twisted into a snarl. “I’m guessing ’cause they didn’t want to leave a scar that couldn’t be easily hidden behind clothing.”
“Shit,” I murmured, not sure which messed-up part out of all of them I was lamenting.
Griffin’s hands curled into fists. “Five shots for each of you. Brady too. Though Brade didn’t need to be defibrillated to be brought back this time.”
“Really?” I tried to tilt upward.
Griffin piled the pillows under my head and shoulders before sitting beside me again. “Really.” He frowned, though surely that was a good thing. “Seems the first time’s the only time we need the extra juice.”
“And now we’ve all … died … and come back,” I said, trying the fact on for size.
“Yup.”
“Damn.”
“Yep. That about sums it up.”
I scooted farther up on the pillows, hooked the neck of my pale cotton gown, and peeked under it. Bandages covered my entire torso. I needed to get a look at the skin beneath. Soon. I released the gown to pat my thigh, the one that had been wrapped in a cast and now wasn’t.
Griffin nodded as if answering the question I was struggling to form. “The fractures are healed. They x-rayed the leg to confirm.”
“Wow,” I eventually said. “This is all … a lot.”
“Yeah. It is.” His lips pursed.
“So … this doesn’t look like the same hospital you guys were in.”
“That’s ’cause it’s not. We’re in a private facility.”
I arched my brows.
“Funded by Magnum Chase.”
My eyes widened, dispelling any remnants of my earlier sluggishness. “Say what now?”
He scowled. “Trust me, I’m no happier about it. None of us are. But he forced my hand.”
“I’ll just bet he did.”
“They took away the defibrillators. Told me I could take my chances with Ridgemore’s EMTs. Convince them to attempt to revive the four of you even when you were so clearly dead. Hope they’d do it, then try to explain how the five of us are all now ‘miracle kids.’ How we recover from mortal wounds no one should be able to come back from.”
My thoughts were coming faster now, sharper. “And putting ourselves at risk for some black, unmarked van with government plates to show up and cart us away.”
“Exactly.” He rubbed his neck; worry and lack of sleep darkened the skin beneath his eyes. “They wheeled in four stretchers and told me they had surgeons on standby, waiting to help my friends.” He snorted.
“That asshole’s got some balls on him,” I muttered.
