Eva had been a detective long enough to know when she wasn’t going to get answers from someone. She stepped out of the way, almost as eager to end the conversation as Lark was. “Sure. See ya.”
Lark took a few quick steps down the hallway, but came up short and drew a breath that moved her shoulders. Appearing calmer, she spun back. “I’m sorry for how I acted in Key West. I had no idea about your past with Preston. He never told me about you.”
“It’s fine.”
“No. It’s totally not. If I had known…” She shook her head. “But at least we both figured out the kind of man he was before we made any stupid mistakes, right?”
“Wait, what—”
“I have to go. You didn’t see me here.” Without waiting for a response, Lark bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, the heavy fire door slapping shut behind her.
Weird.
But not important. Eva filed the conversation away for later consideration and strode to Cam’s room. Right now, he was her only concern.
…
The lights had been dimmed in deference to the sleeping figure on the bed and Eva slowed her step, careful not to make any noise. Machines measured his heart beat with a steady beep beep beep, and all kinds of IV lines ran from bags hanging over his head into his body. He looked so thin, as if he’d dropped ten pounds overnight. His color was only a few pallid shades above the white blanket covering him—except for the bruises that discolored half of his swollen face with deep purple splotches and the burns mottling both of his arms with an angry red stain.
Oh, God. She could have lost him for good.
As she leaned over the bed rail, he opened eyes glassy with the pain meds in his system. “Hi.”
He was awake. And talking. She barely checked the urge to throw her arms around him. The only thing stopping her was the possibility of hurting him. “Hi. You’re okay?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice so full of gravel he didn’t sound like himself. “No biggie.”
Relief like she’d never felt before coursed through her veins and left her knees shaking. “Don’t pull that macho it’s-only-a-flesh-wound shit with me. You were blown up.”
He laughed softly, but the movement of his ribcage caused a spike in his heart rate.
“Hey, don’t do that.” Worried, she swept his sweat-damp hair from his face. “Are you hurting?”
He winced. “As you just got done pointing out, Detective, I was blown up. So make that a resounding yes.”
“Right. Stupid question. Can I do anything to help?”
“No.” He tried shifting around in the bed, muttering a curse under his breath when he didn’t move far. “What are you doing here anyway?”
Ouch.
But, yes, she completely deserved that after the way their last conversation ended. “I, um, have something to show you.”
He arched a brow. “Is it something that might get you arrested for indecent exposure?”
“No. Pervert.” She held up her right hand, wiggling her ring finger. “I made my decision.”
“Yeah?” He squinted at her finger, but gave no hint of recognition. “Nice ring. Suits you.”
Wait. What? He couldn’t have forgotten about giving it to her. Or about what her wearing it meant…
“Dammit, Vaughn!” She popped up from the bed and glowered down at him. If he wasn’t already injured, she’d shoot him on principle. “You jackass, I thought you were Cam. What are you doing here?”
“Vacationing,” Vaughn said, deadpan. “I always vacation at the hospital. This place is renowned for their gourmet cafeteria slop. You should try it. De-lish.”
“Delish?” she echoed. “Are you high?”
He groped around at his side, found the button that administered On Demand morphine, then pressed it. “As a kite. They make the best drug cocktails here, too.”
She shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around this staggering turn of events. “If you were driving that car, then Cam is—”
“In serious need of a shower,” Vaughn said and grinned—or tried to grin at someone over her shoulder, but it looked more like a grimace. She whirled to find Cam standing in the doorway, alive and whole, if not a little haggard. Two days’ worth of beard covered his jaw and his hair hadn’t seen a comb in as many days. At the moment, he looked more like Vaughn than Vaughn did, which was probably the point—they hadn’t corrected anyone on Vaughn’s identity so they must be intent on keeping the switch a secret for the time being.
Cam’s bloodshot eyes widened at the sight of her, but he otherwise ignored her presence and skirted the foot of the bed to stand on the other side. Worry etched lines into his expression as he stared down at his twin.
“Hey, bro. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been blown up.”
Cam winced. “You’re not funny.”
“I wish I was trying to be.”
“For future reference, I’m not cool with you playing the hero and taking bullets—or car bombs—for me.”
“For future reference, I’m not either.”
“Good. Glad we got that settled. ”