Burn (45 page)

* * *

Zae and Chip stood together near the nurses’ station
in the Critical Care Unit of Missouri Medical Center.
Cinder was tempted to call out to them, but decided
against it. Not that she could move words past the hot l
ump of emotion plugging her throat as she passed the
glassed-in rooms of the hospital’s most imperiled
patients.

This is my fault,
she thought dismally.
Eve and Gian 
. . . they were targeted because of me.

No amount of guilt would force her from the ward,
not until she saw Gian with her own eyes. If Zae and
Chip ostracized her for bringing Sumchai into their lives,
they would just have to do it after—

“Baby girl,” Zae sobbed, rushing to Cinder with her
arms wide. Chip greeted her, too, throwing his arms
around her and Zae. “I had no idea what was going on
until I got here and talked to Karl. I would have gone
over to your place if—”

Cinder drew away from her. “Karl?”

Chip squeezed her shoulder. “He saved Gian’s life.”

“Honey, are you okay?” Zae cupped her face,
stooping a little so she could look into Cinder’s eyes.
“Sumchai didn’t get to you, did he?”

“Yes, he did,” Cinder answered absently. She peeled Zae’s hands from her face, and looked beyond her to the big man in blue scrubs sitting on a padded bench in the
wide hallway. “Excuse me, please.”

She went to the bench and sat down.

Karl, who had been staring at his hands, looked up at her.

“That was you who called me,” she said softly.

“Gian’s phone was the closest one,” Karl replied.
“You’re number one on his speed dial. Before he passed
out, he told me to warn you.”

T
hey sat in silence, the pariahs. She for bringing
Sumchai into Gian’s well-ordered life, he for being the
distraction that had thrown them off the scent of real
danger.

Karl broke the silence by clearing his throat. “I was at
Grogan’s, asking for my old job back. I saw the front
window of Sheng Li had been busted, then a brick came
flying through the door. Some guy ran out, and I went
over there.” He took a long, shuddering breath and ran his
hands over his thighs. Cinder took his left hand and held
it in hers. Blood darkened the crescents of his fingernails
and filled the cracks of his knuckles.
Gian’s blood . . .

At Karl’s feet sat a clear plastic bag filled with blood
stained clothing. Cinder stroked the back of Karl’s hand,
then closed it in hers, resting it on her lap.

“I called Gian’s mom and Chip and Zae once Gian
was in surgery. I owe you such a big apology, Cinder,”
Karl said softly. “Gian, too. I’ve been so angry and
unhappy since the auto plant closed, and I took it out on
everyone around me. I’m so sorry, Cinder. I—”

She cupped his face, turning it to hers, and she
pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. She gave him one more
kiss, and said, “I think we’re even. No more apologies.”

They sat hip to hip, awaiting news of Gian. Zae and
Chip joined them, Chip leaning against the wall with no
room on the bench. The minutes dragged by, their vigil
broken only when Zae stopped a nurse to ask for an
update on Gian’s surgery.

Gian’s mother, brother, and sister arrived, and a nurse
moved their larger group to a private waiting area. Mama
Piasanti stoically counted off her rosaries while Pio paced
before the window overlooking the parking lot. Lucia
wiggled in beside Cinder and put a comforting arm
around her shoulders.

Four hours after Gian went under the knife, the gray-
haired surgeon who took care of him walked into the
waiting area. “He’s being wheeled into recovery,” he said.
“Mr. Piasanti suffered three gunshot wounds. We recov
ered bullets from his upper arm and liver. The third was
a through-and-through. That bullet entered at the right
crest of Mr. Piasanti’s ilium and passed straight through,
exiting near his kidney without penetrating it. Thank
God for small blessings.”

“Will he be okay?” Pio asked.

“As long as he remains free of infection, I see no
reason he shouldn’t make a full recovery.”

Mama Piasanti slumped against Lucia in relief, mur
muring a prayer of thanks.

The surgeon turned to Karl. “Mr. Lange?”

“Yes,” Karl said.

“One of the bullets nicked Mr. Piasanti’s brachial
artery. I was told that you were the one who placed the
tourniquet on his arm.”

“Yeah, that was me. ”

The surgeon offered his hand. Karl shook it. “You
saved his life. He would have bled out in a matter of min
utes if you hadn’t been there.”

***

“Miss White?”

“Miss White, wake up.”

Cinder opened her eyes and sat up, careful not to dis
turb Karl. She hoped the nurse didn’t notice the wet spot
on his shirt, where she’d drooled.

The nurse crouched in front of her. “Mr. Piasanti is
awake,” the nurse whispered. She grabbed Cinder’s
knees, keeping her seated a moment longer. “He’s asked
for you. You should go in before everyone else wakes up.”

Cinder followed the nurse to Gian’s room. She impa
tiently allowed her to tie a disposable gown on her before
she slid open the glass door and approached Gian.

A thin sheet covered him to his waist. His chest was bare, the wounds in his upper arm and torso bandaged
around drainage tubes. Electrode pads stuck to his chest
and rib cage monitored his heart, and an oxygen reader was
clipped to his right forefinger. A pale green tube snaked
around his head and fed him oxygen through his nose.

The stiff curtains had been opened, and the sunrise
washed him in bright, clean light. His pale body
gleamed, his chest rising and falling evenly.

Cinder slipped in among the machines monitoring
his vital signs and medication to take his left hand,
careful not to move it since his IV line ran into the crook
of that arm.

“My head feels like it’s made of cement,” Gian said in
a raspy whisper, his throat raw from the removal of his
intubation tube. “I can’t see you.”

Cinder leaned farther over him.

“Baby,” he whispered. “I was so worried about you.”

“
I was worried about you, too.” She kissed his temple,
his cheek, his ear. The tears she fought to hold back
seeped out to wet his pillow.

“I couldn’t stop him,” Gian said. “I couldn’t protect
you.”

Cinder gazed into his eyes. His humble admission
seemed to cause him more pain than his injuries.

“I pissed my pants.” A tear pushed its way from the
corner of his eye.

“So did I,” Cinder admitted.

They chuckled sadly over the peculiar bond.

“I want two minutes with him,” Gian said. “Just two.”
Cinder held his hand a little tighter. “He won’t bother
us again. He won’t ever bother anyone again.”

Gian instantly understood her meaning. “You?”

“The Webster Groves police. It’s over, Gian. All of it. I
don’t ever want to look back. When you leave this hospital,
I’m leaving with you. When I came to Webster Groves, I told myself it was because I wanted a new start. What I
wanted was a place to hide. You gave me the one thing I needed to face my worst nightmare. You gave me knowl
edge. You taught me how to defend myself and you pushed me to stand, not surrender. You’re my hero, Gian. The fact that you’re here right now proves that Sumchai Wyatt was wrong about every damn thing he ever said.” She laughed.
“Even that you’re not bulletproof, ‘cause you’re still here.”

“I want to go home with you.” His eyes drowsed shut.

“Then you’re already there,” she whispered, bringing her lips to his. “My home is wherever you are.”