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Marisa
The first thing I noticed as I started to wake up was a humming and beeping sound. I tried to reach for my phone, figuring it was time to wake up. But try as I might, I couldn’t muster the strength to lift my arm. My head was in a fog, and my eyes were heavy.
As I willed my body to cooperate, my lashes fluttered a few times before I could finally pry them open. I squinted against the brightness of the room, trying to adjust to the contrast of darkness they had grown used to in sleep.
Synapses fired off as I took in my surroundings. A hospital bed. Machines beeping and whirring next to me. It wasn't the incandescent bulbs of the room but the sun illuminating the space that was the culprit. I didn’t know what time of day it was, morning or afternoon. The solitary window allowed me to see the blue of the sky, and I could imagine the sun hanging high while white puffy clouds floated overhead. The corners of my mouth turned up into a small smile when my eyes landed on Tyler. He was sitting in a chair, his head against the wall with his eyes closed. I watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically with his breathing.
Pain shot through my body as I tried to adjust myself in my bed. As if he could sense me watching him, Tyler’s eyes popped open. His body tensed, then relaxed as his ocean eyes met mine. He hopped up, his long stride only needing two steps to be right by my side. He leaned into me. “Hey, Siren,” he whispered. His voice was gravelly and rough from slumber.
The warmth of Tyler’s lips on my forehead brought a tear to my eyes. I tried to get it before it rolled down my cheek, but I was too weak to move. “Hey, hey,” he said as his thumb wiped it away for me. “I’m here. I got you.” His kiss was tender as his lips met mine. It was a chaste kiss, not what I was used to. I wanted more, but I couldn’t find the courage to ask. He gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m going to get the nurse. Let her know you’re awake. Your dad—”
“No,” I croaked out as quickly as I could against the dryness of my throat. My brows scrunched together in a furrow as I realized how much it hurt to speak. My eyes searched for water, and as if he could read my thoughts, Tyler took a step off to the side. When he returned, he had a small cup with a bendy straw. He brought it to my lips and held it steady as I took a few sips. It was a chore even to drink water. If I was this weak, I . . . I couldn’t even bring myself to think about worse case scenarios, worse possible outcomes.
His voice was gentle as he asked, “Do you want me to go get your dad?”
“Dad?” My eyes searched the space in search of my father.
Tyler’s blue eyes softened with his smile. “He just stepped away for a minute. I’ll go get him.”
“Not yet.” I tried reaching for him again, but the needles and tubes sticking out of me hindered my movements.
Noticing my struggle, he enfolded my hand in his, careful not to squeeze too hard. “You sure?”
I gave a pathetic nod.
He glanced at his watch. “He should be back any second,” he told me.
“Don’t go. Please.”
His smile barely reached his eyes this time. Without letting go of my hand, he pulled the chair over with his long leg and sat back down. “How you doing, baby? Do you remember what happened?”
“A little. Bits and pieces.” My eyes scanned the outline of my body in the hospital bed. My body hurt from my toes all the way up to the tip of my head. The pounding of it made the worst hangover of my life seem like a party. My wrists were wrapped, but I could see scratches and bruises on my forearms. “Tiny flashes every now and again,” I added right before a new twinge of pain sliced through my side as I took in a breath. I winced.
“Easy, easy,” Tyler warned. “You were shot. But you took out the guy who was holding you.” Trust him to not sugarcoat anything and get straight to the facts. His eyes met mine, and there were depths and depths of emotions in them. The one I noticed the most, though, was thankfulness. “You’re going to be fine. But, don’t push yourself too fast.” His voice was soothing, his thumb stroking the top of my hand comforting.
“Lupe? López?”
His gaze fell, and I knew it wasn’t going to be good news. “We don’t have any word on Lupe. López”—his sigh was heavy—“got away.”
Another tear slipped down my cheek.
“We’ll get him. Davis and everybody else are still working on tracking him down. They haven’t given up.”
I nodded once, twice, three times. I wasn’t as upset about López as I was Guadalupe. There was no way I’d get any news until I spoke to Chad or Detective Mitchell. It wasn’t a good sign that Tyler didn’t have any verification of her whereabouts or status.
My dad came through the door, and all talk about the case came to an abrupt halt. An immediate sense of unwavering protection filled every blank space. Having my dad here seemed to make everything better. As much as Tyler made me feel safe, there was just something about having my dad here that solidified the feeling of protection and security.
Our conversation ran its usual gamut after Dad made sure that I was absolutely, positively okay. Being in the hospital wasn’t helping sell the fact that I was just thankful to be alive. Dad’s experience and expertise in these kinds of situations didn’t bode well for me. If anything, my father, Tyler, and I all knew it would take more than a few utterances out of my mouth to convince them that I was okay.
When my eyes started closing, fighting as hard as I could to stay awake and enjoy their company, my dad announced that he would be back. “You need to rest. Your friends have been here around the clock checking in on you. Don’t wear yourself out.” He patted my cheek and smiled a grateful smile. “When you get back on your feet, we’re going to talk.” His words were gruff.
His concern startled me back awake. “Dad, I promise, everything was on the up and up. I didn’t take any—”
“You were abducted.”
I scoffed. “I wasn’t abducted. I was protecting my CI.”
Dad held up his hand, stopping me at once. “Youweretaken. To another country. Outside our jurisdiction. You took . . .” His words trailed off, but he recovered quick enough that I didn’t have a chance to rebut. “You were shot, Mari.”
