Memories exploded in his brain. Vile memories of seeing Isleen with that man, of knowing that he intended to deal the same fate to her as he had to her grandmother. “Isleen!” He shot straight up in bed. An invisible fist punched him repeatedly in the temple, his vision pulsed, and yet he scanned the room for her. “Where is Isleen? Tell me!” He bellowed the words and saw white for a moment.
He heard footsteps—three people—running toward his room. Just let a nurse, a doctor, or a rent-a-cop try to calm him down.
“Don’t you use that tone with me, boy.” Row jammed a knobby finger at him, the expression on her face fierce enough to make him feel ten years old again.
His room door burst open. Dad, Matt, and Kent crammed into the opening like some bizarrely modern version of the Three Stooges until his dad broke free, unclogging the dam, and they all practically tumbled into the room.
Hooollly fuuuck. He’s alive.
Holy shit.
I knew it. I knew they were connected.
Xander’s ears jammed with the thoughts from all three men. His already maxed-out brain went into the red zone, threatening a nuclear meltdown. He pushed his fingers into his ears, though that wouldn’t do much good. Another reason on the list of reasons to get her back: she made him normal.
Dad stepped up to him, bending down to peer into Xander’s eyes. “What’s my name? When’s my birthday? Do you know—”
“Quit with the fifty questions. I’m not brain damaged.” Though he wasn’t so sure if that was accurate. He unplugged his ears and tried for a calmer tone, not because he felt calmer, but because his brain might blow to bits if he yelled again. “Where’s Isleen?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the hospital smock riding high on his thighs. “Somebody better tell me where Isleen is, or somebody—probably all of you—is going to get hurt. And I need some goddamned clothes.”
Row jumped to action, but the three guys just stood there.
He’s going to go apeshit, batshit, and shit storm when he finds out. Matt’s thoughts were loud inside Xander’s head.
“When I find out what?”
Row handed him a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
Kent cleared his throat. “She’s gone. No trace. We brought in scent hounds. They led us a few miles away, but then the trail died. We brought in a chopper to get the eagle’s-eye view, but nothing. Yesterday, we brought in Lathan, that local consultant the FBI keeps under wraps. Nothing. He said the trail was too old. She just vanished. No one saw anything—except you, and you weren’t talking. The only thing we had was a weird gold cross found at the scene. Prints not in the system.”
“She didn’t vanish. He took her.” Xander stuffed a leg into the jeans.
“Who?” Everyone asked the question at the same time.
“The man who killed Gale. He’s some Jesus freak or something. I heard him reciting verses when I found them.” He jammed his other leg in the pants and stood to pull them up. The world wavered and wobbled. Row—tiny Row—grabbed him by the waist to steady him and pushed him gently back to sit on the bed.
“I can have a sketch artist here in thirty minutes.” Kent pulled his phone from his pocket.
“No time for that. I found her once. I’ll be able to find her again.” At least he hoped he would.
Oh shit. He doesn’t know. Kent looked at Alex, then at Matt with a someone-help-me-here expression, but Xander’s family was famous for not lending assistance. “I never should’ve taken her from the house. She was safe there. I should’ve just put more guards on her, instead of letting my hatred of your ass cloud my judgment.” Kent’s face went stop-sign red with anger, shame, and self-loathing. “Xander, it’s been…too long.”
“Too long?” He shoved his arms through the shirtsleeves. His body was weak and his head felt atomic, but needing to find Isleen put things in perspective. He could deal with feeling weak and being in pain, but he couldn’t live without her.
“It’s been a week.” Kent’s tone was flat and full of regret.
Xander’s stomach fell until it was lodged somewhere near his ankles. Icy hands of dread choked off his air supply. His arms, stuffed into the sleeves, dropped to his chest. His head fell forward, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “A week? Are you sure?”
“Xan—” His father moved up next to him. “You were shot in the head. In a coma. We thought you were gone.” He swallowed, reached out, and touched the bandage on Xander’s head. “We pulled the plug on you yesterday.”
Xander’s head shot up, his gaze locking with his father’s.
“But you didn’t die. You just kept on…” Dad’s eyes went wet. “I’m so glad I get this second chance with you.” Dad hugged him, a fierce man hug that nearly made Xander feel like a kid again. Row stepped up to them, and Xander wrapped an arm around her too. She reached out to Matt, dragging him into their hug fest. Matt grabbed Kent and shoved him into the mix, until they all surrounded Xander in one big, sissy ball of emotion that actually felt kinda damned nice. “Now finish getting dressed. If you’re still alive, that means she’s still alive, and we’re all going to help you find her.”
His estrogen level had to be weirdly high because tears burned in his eyes. He blinked them back, swallowed, and then still couldn’t speak, so he nodded.