It’s Monday. That means it’s call day to Harry.
Since the intruder, Sin is always certain to lock the door when he leaves, but I follow procedure and inspect it anyway. The last thing I need is him slipping in unnoticed while I’m retrieving my phone or using it to talk to my dad.
It’s clear, so I peel the tape away and free my burner phone from its hiding place beneath the bedside table. Although Harry understands, I hate calling at this time—it’s the middle of the night for him. He needs all the rest he can get but this is my safest time of the day to talk.
Things would’ve gone much differently if Harry weren’t sick. I would’ve gotten a couple more years of undercover experience beneath my belt but more importantly, he’d be here with me. That has always been the plan. Thane was always going to be my kill but Harry was coming to do this job with me. We were going to be a team.
Fuck cancer and the horse it rode in on.
Ellison answers Dad’s burner and my heart plunges. I immediately know something is wrong. He’d never give it to her unless his health had taken a turn for the worse. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t freak out. Everything’s fine.”
Bullshit. “Everything’s not fine if you’re answering this phone.” I’m imagining the worst so I take a cleansing breath and blow it out slowly. “How bad is he?” She doesn’t reply. “Elli! Answer me. Now.”
“Hold on to your horses.” I’m barely able to make out what she’s saying because she’s using her quiet voice. “I’m stepping into the hall so I can talk without waking him.”
I’m right. Harry is in the hospital. “When did he go in?”
“Two days ago. He was originally diagnosed with pneumonia but they ruled that out yesterday. It’s radiation pneumonitis.”
My sister sometimes forgets that she’s a nurse and I’m not. I don’t speak medical language so I have no clue what radiation pneumo-whatever is. “Explanation, please. Dumb it down in terms I’m able to comprehend.”
“It’s an infection of the lungs caused by his radiation treatments.”
But he hasn’t had radiation in weeks … unless he’s been lying to me. “When was his last treatment?”
“Six weeks ago.” Okay. I feel remotely better knowing he hasn’t been lying. “It’s normal for there to be a delay in the onset of the infection.”
I was afraid something like this would happen while I was away. “Is this serious? Do I need to come home?”
“He’ll be okay. They’re treating him with steroids to decrease the inflammation. I expect him to be released today or tomorrow, depending on what his white count looks like.” That’s a blood test indicating how infected he is. That much, I know.
“He’s stable. I don’t anticipate anything happening soon but we need a plan in case I’m the one who needs to reach out to you. I might not be able to wait on you to call home. Can you please give me your handler’s information?”
She’s aware of the risk that poses. “Ellison, you know that’s not a good idea.”
“But what if something emergent happens and I need you? You aren’t checking in with him often. And if he declines, he isn’t going to tell you. I don’t want something bad to happen and then have to wait on your weekly call to tell you.”
I already feel like shit without her reminding me what a terrible daughter I am.
“He says this assignment is the most important op of your career and we can’t jeopardize that, but I need to tell you something, Bleu. I’m here alone with him and it’s not fair. I’m scared.” Her voice cracks. “I don’t want to be by myself if things go wrong.” I remember how bad it was with Mom. We had each other to lean on and it isn’t fair for me to leave all this on her shoulders.
Now I’m crying. “I just need a little more time and then I can come home.”
“Please, hurry. Get your job done and get here as soon as you can.”
Elli doesn’t understand what’s going on; she’s in the dark. She’s unaware I no longer work for the Bureau or that I’ve gone freelance. “I’m going to give you a cell number, but no name. It’s a safety measure.” I call off the contact number for Debra. “A woman will answer. When she does, you’ll tell her you’re having a problem with your account: alpha three one four delta seven nine.”
“Hang on. I’ll never remember that if I don’t write it down.”
Amazing. She has all that medical shit floating around in her brain but she can’t remember a series of numbers without writing it down for the wrong person to find. “Fine. Write it down on a single piece of paper using your palm to bear down on. No notepad where the impression can be seen. Once you memorize it, destroy the paper. No storing the number anywhere.” She says nothing and it’s because I know what she’s planning. She’ll put this in her phone in her notes. “I mean it, Elli. This is serious. Your head is the only place these numbers can be stored.”
“I got it, Bleu.” Smart-ass.
“Tell Dad I called and that I love him,” I say. “I’ll call again as soon as I’m able.”
“Please try to as soon as possible. He’ll be nuts because he didn’t get to talk to you.” She groans. “I dread telling him you called; he’s going to be pissed I didn’t wake him.”
“Blame it on me. Tell him I told you not to because I want him to get his rest. I’ll try tomorrow if I’m able to get away.”
I end the call before I completely lose it. By saying that, I don’t mean I just cry. I go nuts—cussing at the top of my lungs, kicking the couch, throwing myself onto the sofa and screaming into the cushion.
I feel strong arms circle me from behind and I’m pressed into the couch. “Stop fighting me.” It’s Sinclair’s voice next to my ear. “It’s okay, Bonny. It’s me. I’m the only one here with you. No one else.” My body relaxes, as does his.
He presses his lips to the bare skin of my back above my nightgown. “It’s just us—only me and you.”
“I’m sorry,” I cry. “So sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He gets up and I twist around. He sits on the sofa and pulls me onto his lap, looping his arm around my waist. “Tell me about it.”