The her he’s referring to is Faith. Faith is the attorney he’s now madly in love with who had gotten close to Lana while she was dealing with her own problems. I know he wants to be there for Faith, and I hate that he’s forced to be here.
I know both situations are important. I know that there’s never a good time for either tragedy to strike, but I also can’t help the tiny sliver of anger that begins to seep inside of me.
Feeling guilty about that anger doesn’t make the facts any less relevant. Lana is gone, and as horrible as that is, there’s nothing that can change that now. I know Legend wants to be there for his woman, but Faith is safe, surrounded by more than a dozen men who would give their lives to protect her.
Grace is no telling where, enduring no telling what, and that’s where our focus needs to be. We worked up until this funeral started, and we’ll start the second it’s over. I’m not bitter about taking a break. We all need it, but that doesn’t stop that urge in my bones to move and do something productive.
I keep my eyes locked on the screen as a song plays, the guilt swimming and mingling with the heartache and grief I feel over what I’m witnessing. My nerves are on edge, and I want to curse the universe for it even being possible for such horrific things to happen.
The little faith I managed to cling to, even after witnessing so many heinous things since I started working for Cerberus, has nearly faded out of existence. How can I believe in a higher power that allows such things to happen on the earth he created? I find it utterly disgusting, and my anger starts to more than simmer. I’m boiling within minutes.
A text rings out, coming from Kid’s phone, and I know there’s news when his back stiffens. It’s confirmed a second later when he turns to face me.
I shake my head, not wanting to hear the news I’m already suspecting.
“She’s safe,” he whispers, despite the live feed only allowing sound to us and not the other direction. “She’s at the hospital in Ogallala, Nebraska. She’s safe, Grinch. As soon as we’re finished here, you can go.”
He’s not giving me a choice to leave right now, and as much as the news thrills me that my worst fears aren’t a reality, I know I won’t fully believe his words until I see her for myself.
But I do know the man wouldn’t lie to me, and that’s the only thing that keeps me in my seat as the funeral continues.
I blame the sadness I’m watching for the tear that tries to leak down my face, but I know that it too is a mix of grief and relief.
Legend turns to me, eyes red and fists clenched when the gallery stands up and begins to filter past the coffin, each one pausing to touch the top and whisper words. I know he just saw Faith up there, her shoulders shaking with sobs. He wants to get home to her, and the sooner we resolve the problem with Grace, the quicker that will happen.
Everyone here stands as well.
“The helicopter is on standby,” Kid says as he faces me. “I want you and Rivet to take that. Ogallala is two-and-a-half hours from here. The rest of us will be there shortly.”
Rivet and I move as one toward the front of the hotel to jump into the SUV. The helipad isn’t far from here, but walking would waste more time than driving.
Rivet doesn’t placate me on the drive by telling me that she’s going to be fine. We’ve seen lots of cases where the body heals and the mind doesn’t. There’s a good chance that Grace will never be fine again.
Chapter 10
Grace
I can think of a million other places to be that would be more comfortable, but I know I’m safe in the hospital. According to the last nurse that was in here, it took several hours for me to regain consciousness. When I woke, I refused the pain meds they were putting in my IV, but I can still feel the lingering sedation from when they were initially administered.
Thankfully, my ribs are just bruised badly rather than being broken, and despite the numerous kicks to my midsection, I have no internal organ damage.
“Are you sure you don’t want stronger pain meds?” the nurse asks as she hands me a tiny plastic cup with two white pills in it. “Tylenol really isn’t going to help much.”
“I’m sure,” I tell her as I take the cup.
The pills seem to get stuck in my throat even with taking a huge sip of water. My throat is killing me as well, and I know it’s from all the screaming I did before I was found. I know it will heal in time, but that doesn’t keep me from feeling sorry for myself.