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“What?”
I sat up on the bed, clutching the sheet to my chest. I felt very naked all of a sudden.
“He disappeared. The hotel staff took him to the hospital when he was having respiratory distress…it was inevitable for him to have a little trouble. He probably overdosed. He disappeared from his hospital bed.”
“He could be fine,” I soothed. “He might have just wandered off. Maybe he didn’t like being in the hospital.”
“Naelle,” Emilio said very quietly, “there was a lot of blood on his bed.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“A lot of blood?”
“They think that he’s dead and the Omegas stole his body.”
“Oh, Emilio,” I said, holding my arms out for a hug.
He sat on the edge of the bed. He put his head on my shoulder. I stroked his back and made soothing noises.
He wasn’t crying, but I had the feeling that if things were slightly different, he would be.
“I should’ve been there,” he said, his voice raspy and low from unshed tears.
“You were in America getting me back.” I kissed his hair. “You can’t do anything now. Wait until we get back to Ecuador, okay?”
I could feel the tension in his body.
“I hate being helpless and not knowing whether Alejandro is alive or not,” he confessed.
I stroked his back a little more. I didn’t have anything to say.
I sat in that bed, holding him for a little while.
Then he pulled away from me. When he turned to me, I saw a calm mask.
“We’ll be fine as soon as we get to the Canada. Our first stop in Ecuador will be to pick up Sofia.”
“Who’s that?”
“My niece.”
Then I remembered that Alejandro had a daughter.
“Didn’t he say that a nanny was taking care of her?”
“I’d feel more comfortable keeping her with me. They already took her father. Why do you think that they’d stop at Alejandro?”
“They wouldn’t hurt a baby,” I protested.
He twisted and gave me a look.
“I wouldn’t stop. In the past, I haven’t.”
I felt my blood run cold.
“If you cross me, your family won’t be safe. They’re just repaying it in kind. The Omegas have hit me where it hurts the most. I shouldn’t have cut Alejandro off from our own supply of cocaine. All of this is my fault.”
“You couldn’t know that he’d end up dead when you tried to clean him up. It’s not your fault. You’re not psychic.”
