“Ah. So that’s why it’s so tough to breathe.”
“The tube they put down your throat probably didn’t help matters,” he says softly. “They took it out yesterday, when you started breathing on your own.”
I blink, startled by this information. “How long have I been here?”
He hesitates.
“Parker.”
“Three days.”
“What?” I exclaim, sitting upright — and instantly regretting it, as pain slices through my broken ribs. “Ow.”
“Shhh. Don’t move.” He looks worried. “Maybe I should call the doctor.”
“Please, don’t.” I sigh. “I’ll behave. I promise.”
He shoots me a doubtful look. “You don’t know how to behave.”
I smile. “Yeah, but that’s what you like about me.”
His eyes soften. “I like everything about you.”
“You’re corny.”
“Yeah, but that’s what you like about me.”
A weak laugh escapes my lips. “Tell me what happened.”
His expression gets somber. “You had a concussion and a brain bleed. They didn’t have to do surgery, thank god, but they weren’t sure how severe the damage was. Judging by your ability to insult me, I’m going to assume you’ll be making a full recovery.”
I roll my eyes.
He kisses my forehead. “But I really do need to call the doctors now, so they can make sure.”
“But…” I take a shallow breath.
“What, darling?”
“You’ll stay, right?” I ask in a small voice. “You won’t leave?”
“Zoe.” His hands cup my face again. “I’m never leaving you. Ever.”
“Good.” I press my eyes closed as relief floods my system. “I guess you can call the doctors, now.”
* * *
After a full examination by a team of doctors who, according to Parker, have been watching me like a hawk for the past few days, I’m lying in my bed eating a chocolate pudding cup, listening to his version of what happened that night.
“We knew something was wrong almost immediately after you left. You’d barely been gone a minute when the match started — as soon as Luca walked down into the arena, we knew. Nate, Chase, and I headed for the exits, trying to find you. You were just… gone. Vanished into thin air. Eventually, we got surveillance video from the gym. Saw that douchebag hit you.” His jaw clenches.
“Steve,” I murmur.
“Yeah, Steve. He’s a dead man.”
“Birkin threatened his family. He felt like he had no choice.” I shrug lightly. “I get it. I don’t like it, obviously, but I get it.”
Parker glowers. “Yeah, well, I don’t fucking get it. I don’t care what the stakes are. You don’t sacrifice the life of an innocent woman. You find another way.”
“It was a shitty situation. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Understatement.” Parker runs a hand through his hair. “We knew Steve had you, but we didn’t know where. We didn’t know why. We figured it might have something to do with the case, but Lancaster and Linus were both already in federal custody. We contacted Agent Gallagher anyway, asked him to check the logs to see if either of them had made any calls, arranged for someone to attack you.”
“And you realized it was Birkin,” I murmur.
“Not at first. We suspected, but we weren’t sure. He was the one piece of the LC puzzle unaccounted for. We assumed he’d fled the country with a shit-ton of money. Didn’t foresee that his drug problem had made him desperate for more.”
“He wanted me to hack into the FBI network in under an hour, using only an ancient MacBook and the weak WiFi hotspot from his iPhone.” I shake my head. “The man was not thinking logically.”
Parker sighs. “Clearly. But, anyway, we thought he might have you. We knew for sure when that text came through, though.” His hand squeezes mine. “That was brilliant.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d understand it.”
“My sister is Phoebe West. She owns four Birkin bags.” He grins ruefully. “There was no chance I would misunderstand that text.”
I smile.
“Anyway, once we had his phone number, the boys at Knox Investigations were able to track its signal to Birkin’s old offices. Luckily, Nate and I were already on our way there. As soon as we suspected he might have you, we started making our way down the list of his known addresses.”
“Smart.”
“Not smart enough,” he says, guilt swimming in his eyes. “If we’d gotten there two minutes sooner, we could’ve stopped him before he laid a hand on you.”
“It’s not your fault, honey.”
“Yeah, well, when we got inside and saw you lying there, that fucking scumbag standing over you…” Parker’s expression darkens dangerously. “I would’ve killed him. I almost did kill him.”
My eyes widen as they drop to his bloody, bruised knuckles. “Parker…”
“Don’t worry. Nate stopped me.” He sighs. “Barely.”
I squeeze his hand gently. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him. You know what I—” I almost say love but I chicken out at the last second. “—like about you?”
His eyebrows lift. “I wasn’t aware you liked anything about me.”