He exhaled a gust of breath. “Are you about to wake? Come back to me! You can do this!”
If I could move, maybe I could talk now. I struggled to grate out, “Máxim.”
His hands clenched mine as he snapped, “STAY AWAKE!” then he bellowed for a nurse. To me, he said, “Keep talking! Please, Lucía!”
I cracked open my eyes. Once I got used to the brightness and could focus, I gasped at his appearance. He hadn’t shaved in days, and his hair was a mess. His eyes were so red, the blue of his irises appeared indigo. His suit was rumpled, his shirt collar unbuttoned. I could see the edge of his bandage.
“You look like hell.” My voice was scratchy.
That made him smile. He raised my hand to his stubbled jaw. “Good of you to notice.” His eyes were glinting.
Damn, I loved this man. “What happened?”
“The blade missed everything major, but you lost too much blood. You went into shock. After surgery, you didn’t wake up.”
Surgery? I glanced down, saw the edge of my own bandage peeking out from a hospital gown. “Are you okay? When you were shot . . .”
“I’m fine now. It will take more than a bullet to keep me from you.”
My voice was weak and my throat felt like it was on fire, but I still teased, “Do you like me when I pull through?”
He laughed without humor. “I love you when you pull through. Everything’s going to be better now.”
“Edward’s dead?”
“You’re a widow. You’re free.” The door opened behind him. “They’ll need to check you, now that you’re awake.”
A doctor came in, also rumpled. Behind his glasses, his eyes were bloodshot too. He warily glanced at my Russian. The man swallowed, then told me, “I am very, very relieved that you’re better.” He sounded Australian.
Had Máxim been scaring people? He reluctantly let go of my hand.
The doc fussed over me, a nurse too, but my eyes only wanted to look at Máxim. He had his gaze locked on me, even as he called Aleks and Natalie.
I heard her squeal on the phone.
The doc said something about my vitals looking good, but I’d probably get sleepy and that was okay. “You’re fortunate,” he told me. “A hair’s width to the left and we would not be having this conversation.”
Once we were alone again, Máxim sat beside me on the bed.
“Did you scare that poor doctor, Ruso?”
“A bit. He didn’t want to travel here from Australia. At least not at first,” he added darkly.
“You brought in someone from across the world?”
“Of course. I wanted a second opinion on your surgery, and he is the best.” He hiked his shoulders, stifling a wince. “Aleks and Natalie are coming right over. They’d gone to the hotel to change. They’ve been here each day.”
“They don’t have to return. I can’t believe they left their honeymoon.”
“They want to make sure you’re okay. You have friends who care very much about you. Jess would be here as well, but we’ve kept your location secret for your protection. That one is chaos embodied, no?”
“They all know what happened?” So strange. My marriage to a murderer had been my burden. Now, out in the world. “I can’t believe Edward’s dead.”
“He was married six times.” In a grave tone, Máxim said, “Lucía, you are the only one to survive him.”
“S-six?” If my race hadn’t been canceled, would I have been his next victim? “Have the cops been here? When will I have to talk to someone?” I dreaded having to spill the entire story, to dredge up so many painful memories.
“Talk about what, love? Edward Hatcher was found shot in a public restroom in Atlantic City. A drug deal gone wrong.”
My lips formed an O. “No one heard the shots on campus?”
“Few people were there on New Year’s Eve, and the storm brought a lot of thunder. We left quickly afterward.”
“Why Atlantic City?”
“He lived there for a while, and I didn’t want him connected to Miami, in case you wish to stay here. I burned to punish him for hurting you, but if he were found tortured, there would be even more questions.” Máxim’s gaze grew even more intense. “He wouldn’t have been found at all, but . . . I wanted to make you a widow.”
I swallowed. So Máxim could marry me? “I’m Lucía Martinez again?” My eyes watered.
“Yes, love. Now you have nothing to worry about except getting better.”
“There’s a case, Máxim. It’s in a safety deposit box—”
“It’s already been collected.”
“How did you know?”
“Before Hatcher died, he confessed to things.”
They’d taken him alive. I thought back over that crazed car ride. Had something thumped in the trunk?
The trunk of the Russian mobster’s Bentley.
Máxim said, “He admitted to profiling you for months before he ever approached you. He knew everything about you.”
He had? “No wonder we had so much in common.”
“Hatcher also recently signed things. You own your home again, and we’ve recovered about half of your money, with more to follow. If you want to make his actions public in the future, you can, at your own pace. But nothing can hinder your recovery.”