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“The other team?”
“Two dead.” Durand and the bald guy. “The rest are incapacitated.”
Dimitri never took his eyes off the ambulance. Megan’s frame was so small, so delicate. She should never have been in the midst of a situation like this.
“This is going to be a helluva mess to sort out,” Callum said.
Dimitri glanced around—there were police everywhere. “Yeah,” he said.
The paramedic caught his eye and signalled it was time to go. Callum patted him on the back. “I’ll let Tessa know where you are. You’ll need to make a statement.”
“Thanks.” Dimitri climbed into the back of the ambulance and intertwined his fingers with the unconscious woman’s in front of him.
“She’s going to be fine,” the paramedic said.
“There’s no other option,” Dimitri vowed in reply.
When they reached the emergency department, Megan was whisked away and Dimitri was told to stay in the waiting room. Even though he knew the risk to her was over, it was hard to watch her go. It would be a very long time before he could believe she was fine, without actually having his hands on her to prove it. With strict instructions to call him at the slightest change in her condition, and especially when she woke, he left them to do their jobs. And he went in search of his sister.
He found Katrina in a private room on the third floor. For a moment, he stood in the corridor and stared at her through the glass. The sight hit him square in the gut. She was really here. Alive. He’d found her.
Then the Polaroid images from the house in Rabat assaulted him. He crumpled. Sliding down the wall to crouch at the bottom of it. He hung his head, rubbing his fists on his forehead.
Shoes appeared in front of him. “You going in there?” Ryan said.
Dimitri rubbed his eyes. “I just need a minute.”
A minute to make sure his face didn’t betray him, and his sister never guessed that he’d seen the evidence of what had been done to her.
“She’s strong.” Ryan crouched in front of him.
“You didn’t see what we found in Rabat.” Dimitri shook his head. “What she suffered.”
“Not suffered, survived.”
He lifted his head and looked at the man. Something shifted inside him. “Yeah. Survived.”
With a nod, Ryan stood and held out a hand to help Dimitri up. One he gratefully accepted. Together they strode to Katrina’s room. Ryan stopped outside the room, ready to stand sentry again. His arms folded and his jaw set as he stared at Katrina. Dimitri recognised the look in his eye. It was the one a man had when he wanted revenge for the damage that had been done. Dimitri nodded his thanks to Ryan, but then hesitated in the doorway.
His sister was so small. She lay in the middle of the bed, wearing a generic white hospital gown. There was an IV line in her arm and a bag of fluids on the stand beside it. Dehydrated, they’d said. Her white skin, too pale by far, was bruised. The purple marks peeked out from the neckline of her gown, a brutal reminder of everything she’d survived. Dark circles under her lashes. Cheekbones that were far too pronounced. Fragile. She looked fragile.
As if sensing he was there, her eyes fluttered open and she looked straight at him. A second of shock, followed by pure joy, and then her eyes welled up. By the time the first tear fell Dimitri had his sister wrapped in his arms. He sat on the edge of the bed beside her and rocked her while she sobbed, cooing nonsense to reassure her that he was really there. That she was really free. Telling her she would be okay and he would be there for her no matter how long it took. They were family. And she was home.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Every single inch of Megan’s body hurt. Her eyelashes hurt. Seriously. How was that even possible?
“I know you’re awake,” said the deep voice that made her insides melt like sugar over a flame.
She cracked open her eyes. “I told you I needed to learn how to use a machine gun.”
“Those are your first words to me?”
He sounded affronted so she shut her eyes again. “Go away. Come back when I feel better.”
“Nuh, uh.” She felt him gently squeeze her fingers and realised he was holding her hand. “You and I have things to talk about.”
“I need a drink.” She meant vodka. Instead the bed rose with a mechanical hum until she was sitting up and a glass of water hit her lips.
