Page 6 of Dead Drift

Luke nodded. That was one way to put it.

“We’ll give our statements and then head to the hospital for Avery,” Declan said.

Luke had forgotten what it was like to have a group of friends be there for him. Of course they’d go to the hospital and he’d go with them. Whether the bullets were intended for him or Declan, he was not letting Kate out of his sight.

Luke drove alone to the hospital, keeping a close eye on Kate’s car. He hadn’t been to the University of Maryland Medical Center since his sophomore year in college, when he’d broken his leg playing rugby, but entering the sterile-smelling building brought a rush of memories flooding back.

A nurse directed them to a small peach room off the larger waiting area, and they found Parker pacing. The furniture was covered in a green-and-peach tropical print, the palms and winding vines reminding him of the jungles of Thailand. He blinked back the awful memory of that place, of his mission there. Dark eyes haunting him. A bullet wound to his thigh, nearly hitting his femoral artery . . .

“Any word?” Tanner asked, a frantic look in her deep brown eyes.

Parker raked a hand through his hair. “Not yet. She’s in surgery.” He turned to Luke, his eyes bloodshot and his countenance fierce. “You had to bring whatever world you’ve been living in to our doorstep.”

“Hey.” Declan quickly stepped between them. “I know you’re upset. We all are, but that assault could have just as easily been aimed at me for my role in stopping Ebeid’s Bay Bridge attack.” He swallowed, the stark reality of that possibility washing over his face.

Parker looked at Luke and then Declan, and then took a step back. “If anything happens to her . . .”

“I know.” Declan clamped his hand on Parker’s shoulder. “Let’s pray.”

They all circled up, and Tanner pulled Luke into the group.

“Father, we lift Avery up to you. Please bring her through surgery with no lasting harm. She’s a fighter. Help her to be strong, and be with Park too. Let Ebeid pay for what he’s done and guide us to finally stop him,” Declan said.

A chorus of “amen” rounded the room.

Luke swallowed. How often had he taken time to pray—really pray—for guidance? He’d called out in anger and frustration, begged God to spare his life, but true, heartfelt, intentional prayer outside of a crisis? It’d been far too long.

An hour and a half passed before the surgeon finally appeared at the door, a nurse at his side. “Mr. Mitchell?”

Parker lurched to his feet. “Yes?”

“Miss Tate did beautifully.”

Relief washed over Parker, the tension in his jaw and shoulders loosening with his exhale. “She’s okay?”

“She’ll need some recuperation time and possibly some physical therapy to regain her range of motion, but that just depends on how she heals. But yes, she’ll be fine.”

“Can I see her?”

“She’s still out from the anesthesia, but as soon as she’s awake and they’ve had a chance to check her over, they’ll call you back.”

“Thank you.” Parker shook the surgeon’s hand.

“You’re welcome. I’d tell you to get some rest, but I have a feeling you’re not that type of man.”

“No, sir.”

“I didn’t think so.” The surgeon smiled as he and the nurse left the room.

“I hate to leave,” Griffin said. “But now that we know Avery is okay, Finley and I better get some sleep. We have to be up for our flight to Texas in a few hours.”

Griffin is a husband. A guy he’d known since they were four. It was surreal.

“Arriving two hours before the flight is the stated suggestion for BWI,” Finley said, rolling her eyes as Griffin shifted her toward the door. “For a flight at six, that means four in the morning. It’s not natural.”

Griffin wrapped his arm around her. “I know you hate mornings, but you can sleep on the plane.”

She looked less than pleased but followed him to the door.