X-rays proved conclusively that her ankle had been fractured. They gave her a pill for the pain, along with instructions not to drive for twenty-four hours. Then the doctor put a boot on her foot and handed her crutches, urging her to see an orthopedic surgeon as soon as possible.
“I want to go check on Jake,” she told Holden, who only rolled his eyes, though he agreed to accompany her.
Jake had been admitted, she learned. Though they cited HIPAA laws and refused to release any information about his condition, she got his room number.
Moving awkwardly on the crutches, she and Holden rode the elevator to the third floor. She hobbled slowly down the seemingly endless hall, brushing off Holden’s repeated attempts to help. “There,” she said, relieved when she finally saw his room number.
Moving as quietly as crutches would allow, she went inside. Jake lay unconscious in the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and various machines. He seemed pale, she thought, hobbling over to stand at the edge of his bed. His head hadn’t been bandaged, so she took that as a good sign.
“You really care about this guy, don’t you?” Holden asked quietly.
She nodded. “It caught me by surprise, but yes. I do.”
“Does he feel the same way?”
“I think so.” She gave Holden a tiny smile. “I’m hoping to get a chance to find out.”
“Let’s get you back to the AAG center,” Holden said. “You need to rest, and I’ve got to get back to work. There’s a lot of evidence to process.”
With one last lingering look at Jake, Fiona turned to go.
* * *
The efficiency and competence with which the medical personnel checked him out made Jake’s head ache even more. While he drifted in and out, they took X-rays and blood, examined and cleaned his various wounds and abrasions, and hooked him up to an IV drip to provide him with fluids and who knew what else.
He couldn’t tell how much time had passed—it could have been minutes or hours or days. Though no one had any idea what kind of drug he might have been given, they told him they were monitoring him to make sure he would be all right until it left his system.
Comforting, those assurances. Now all he wanted was Fiona. He was dimly aware of hearing that various Colton family members had stopped by to check on him, and he remembered seeing Fiona’s face once or twice.
During one of his more lucid moments, he tried to locate his cell phone, intending to call her. But after a frantic search in his bed linens, he remembered the phone had been taken from him.
Surely, she’d come to see him as soon as she was able. Clinging to this certainty, he allowed himself to slide back into the darkness, even though he didn’t want to miss seeing her.
When he next opened his eyes, he felt more like himself. Surrounded by the steady beeping of medical machines, he sat up slowly, bracing himself for pain. Instead, he felt only a dull ache.
And the fog had left his brain, which meant the drugs had finally been flushed from his system. He stretched, tentative with his movement at first, then gradually allowing himself more confidence.
A doctor finally stopped by, letting Jake know he was actually in pretty good shape, all things considered. Aside from several messed-up ribs—bruised, not broken—he had a concussion and some nasty cuts and bruises. They’d been more concerned about the drug they’d injected into his bloodstream. Though the FBI had seized control of the entire AAG center, including the medical facility area, analyzing everything they’d found was going to take time. And since he clearly appeared to be recovering, that had removed any level of urgency in them getting rush results.
Once the doctor left, Jake sat back in bed, relieved. Now that all of this was finally over—Micheline had been arrested, the empire she’d built on lies and scams in the process of being dismantled—Jake had thought he’d feel more...satisfaction? Relief?
Instead, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for all the innocent lives Micheline had ruined, including his own. He’d bet a lot of her followers still refused to believe that they’d been duped. He’d seen it over and over growing up. Somehow, Micheline managed to make people believe in her.
Not anymore. Though he wouldn’t put it past her to try and start up some kind of cult following in prison once she got there.
Hell of a situation. And to think he almost hadn’t come back. Just that tiny, remote possibility that Micheline might have really been dying of cancer had been enough to lure him in. And as usual, everything she’d done had been calculated as to how it could benefit her.
Now, Micheline’s reign would finally be over. And a lot of the people whose lives she touched would never be the same.
For him, a few good things had come of it all. He’d not only learned his true identity, but he’d met Fiona, the woman he suspected he could love. And he’d finally gotten started getting to know the family he should have grown up with.
“Hey, there.” Ace Colton strolled into the hospital room, almost as if Jake’s thoughts had summoned him. “Glad to hear you’re going to live,” he said, smiling.
Jake found himself grinning back at the other man. “Me, too,” he said. “For a while there, I wondered.”
Ace pulled a chair up next to the hospital bed and took a seat. “At least it’s just a concussion, not a skull fracture. Fiona was really worried, you know.”
Simply hearing her name brought warmth to Jake’s heart. “How is she?” he asked.