Redemption (Enigma Black Trilogy Book #3) (3 page)

“I didn’t know that, tell me more,” I answered, baiting him. If I couldn’t be with him while I was awake, this was my next best option.

“And when we were together, my world did turn. It spun so fast, it made me dizzy, but I didn’t care because I loved the euphoric feeling. Our love was love the way it was meant to be. The love you read about in fiction.” Chase fell silent as he stared up at the dark, starless sky.

“You’re referring to our relationship in the past tense,” I said. This was a first. Every other dream had been in the present tense.

“We need to let each other go, Celaine.” Chase glanced over at me and smiled, defeated. “It’s the only way we’re ever going to heal and move on with our lives.”

I nodded at him with tears in my eyes. “I know.”

“Now wake up. They need you.”

Slowly and without taking his eyes away from mine, he faded away until there was nothing left around me but the starless night sky.

“Is she awake?” Ian’s voice blew through my head like a warm breeze, so close, yet so far away.

“Not yet. Soon, I think,” Kara’s voice answered him. Her voice was a footstep or two closer than Ian’s had been.

“Something’s not right. She should have regained consciousness by now. Maybe someone should check her vitals.”

“Simmer down, lover boy,” Kara interrupted him. “Celaine lost a lot of blood and has been kept pretty sedated. Five days really isn’t a long time considering the injury she sustained.” Even though she put on a calm and collected façade, there was a subtle nuance in her voice that betrayed her fear. Thankfully, Ian was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice it.

“Celaine, wake up, please.” His voice came through clearer as though he’d opened the door and entered the same room as me. Close. Oh, so very close. “Please,” he whispered, and for the first time in days, I could feel touch. His skin was touching my skin, my forehead. Was it his hand? His lips? I couldn’t tell yet, but I could feel my body slowly surfacing from the depths of unconsciousness.

“The color has returned to her cheeks. She’ll be back with us soon,” Kara reassured him. “She won’t stop fighting until she is.”

They were right next to me. Their voices came through normally now. Ian’s hand, yes, it was his hand, brushed against my cheek. Each individual finger felt distinct against my skin. The feeling was returning to my body and I no longer felt numb. I felt alive, I felt cold, I felt—“Ah,” I groaned. Pain. I felt burning, searing, insatiable pain.

“Celaine.” The excitement in Ian’s voice jolted me back into consciousness as though he’d single-handedly plucked me from its undertow.

My eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the light in the room and Kara and Ian’s beaming faces standing over me. I was in a hospital bed. Its protective rails appeared in my peripheral vision. An IV was attached to my arm. We were at The Epicenter, in the recovery room next to the operating room.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Kara greeted me, smiling. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been shot, for some reason,” I answered, trying to smirk, but finding even that too painful.

“And she’s back, ladies and gentlemen,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “How’s your pain level, smart ass? Do you need something more for your pain?”

“Yes, please. That would be fantastic,” I answered her, doing my best to stay as still as possible.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” she said, rubbing my hand before turning around to leave the room. “No hanky panky while I’m gone, you two,” she called back to us as the door closed shut behind her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, my face growing warmer by the second.

“I sort of,” Ian began, “I mean, well, you know, we had five days to talk, and—”

“Say no more,” I interceded. “Well, I’m sure it didn’t shock her, considering the fine assortment of lacy undergarments she packed away in my suitcase.” Ian’s eyes grew wide, telling me that Kara hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with her own dirty deeds.

“That sneaky—” Ian muttered. “I wondered what those condoms in my suitcase were for. I mean, I know what they’re
for
, but, oh god, I’m just going to stop talking now.”

“No, don’t,” I said, a smile crossing my lips for the first time since awakening. “Your voice; I didn’t realize until you started talking how much I really missed hearing it.”

“Celaine,” he whispered softly, kissing my forehead. “I thought I lost you. Actually, there were a few times when I actually did.”

“I’m still here,” I answered him. “It’s going to take a lot more than a bullet to do me in.”

“I’ll never let that happen again.” His fingers trailed down my cheek until they reached my chin, his eyes growing serious. “As long as I have life left in me, I won’t let anything happen to you.” His lips met mine, warm and gentle; and at that moment, a part of me believed that everything I could ever need was contained within their smooth exterior. He pulled his mouth away from mine slowly, resting his forehead on my own. “I love you,” he said softly without so much as batting an eyelash.

In shock, I lay still against my pillow, unable to do anything but try to absorb the words that had just come from his mouth. He loves me? Ian Grant loves me? How? When? I struggled to remember the events of the last week, our time at the Park View, our dance, our kiss on the balcony. All great moments, but when did they culminate into ‘I love you?’

“Ian, I—” I began, but before I could finish my thought, the door opened and Kara entered the room, accompanied by Victor.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed silently as she stood next to me.

“Ms. Stevens.” Victor acknowledged me. His voice instantaneously made my blood run cold, as though ice water had replaced it. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” He paused at the foot of the bed, forcing us to look at each other face-to-face.

“Victor,” I said directly, doing my best to sound as strong as possible in the hope of counteracting the pain that flooded my body. “Don’t look so sullen. There will be a day when my heart stops beating.” Next to me, Ian’s expression hardened as he gently squeezed my arm. He was giving me a warning, like when he used to kick my leg from underneath the table.

“Now, now, Ms. Stevens,” Victor continued, unfazed. “It hurts me that you would insinuate such things, seeing as how you have turned out to be quite the star. In fact, you’ve single-handedly turned into our greatest asset. Your recovery was both necessary to our cause and a blessing for the people of our beloved country.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, incredulously. “How in the world am I an asset to you? If anything, I should be taken away in shackles to await my punishment for insubordination.”

“On the contrary, you and Mr. Grant here were quite the victims.” Victor laughed softly as though remembering a joke only he had been privy to. “You didn’t actually believe we would let the address be televised live without a delay, did you?”

From the depths of my being, I could feel every cell simultaneously ignite. “What did you do?” The strength I’d been trying to project disappeared, making way for the rage that was burning me alive.

“It’s not what I did, Ms. Stevens, it’s what you and Mr. Grant did that got the whole country talking.” I looked over at Ian, who remained next to me, stone-faced. “After all, you were just doing your job, jumping into the crowd to find the sniper the rebels had sent, only to be shot by their leader as you and Mr. Grant fought alongside our country’s soldiers to protect all of those innocent bystanders from the massacre the rebels were planning.”

“That’s not what happened at all. You
know
that’s not what happened. You know Brooks planted the sniper in that crowd. How, Victor? How could you have possibly changed history?” And then it dawned on me. The delay; what had been broadcast “live” across the country versus the reality of what had actually happened must have been filtered somehow, or edited. “Cameron,” I said, clenching my jaw to suppress a scream.

“He’s a rather remarkable boy.” Victor confirmed my suspicions. He walked around the bed closer to where I lay helpless, as if to taunt me. “In fact, I would go as far as to say that you owe him one. Your actions at the address not only nearly got you killed, but were not appreciated by President Brooks. Cameron’s interference, in a way, saved your life a second time. Now, get your rest, Ms. Stevens. You have an address of your own to give to your adoring fans. They’re just dying to hear how you’re fairing, after all.”

“No,” I all but screamed. Pain tore through my body, further enraging me as Ian held me back from lunging at Victor. “I won’t do it.” Ian’s grip tightened around my arm, but I ignored his silent plea.

“Oh, but you will,” Victor answered, remarkably even-tempered. “And you will say exactly what I tell you to say in exactly the manner I tell you to say it.”

“Or what? What will you do? What can you possibly do to me that hasn’t already been done?”

“Don’t tempt me, Ms. Stevens. Trust me, you wouldn’t like any of the answers to those questions. Now, rest up,” he sneered, patting my leg, “you’ve got quite an impression to make with your fan club.”

Without even so much as another glance in my direction, he turned around and walked out of the room, leaving us to sift through his wreckage, like a village in the aftermath of a cyclone.

“Come on, Elizabeth, we haven’t got much time,” Roger said, stuffing what belongings of theirs he could into two duffel bags.

“Just a minute,” she shouted back from the garage. A loud bang, like the sound of a gunshot going off, accompanied her reply.

“Good God, woman, what’s going on out there?” Roger ran from the living room of their two-bedroom ranch to the adjoining garage. “What the—”

“I’m not sure whether this is going to help,” she said, swinging a sledgehammer down on a laptop that was on the verge of being broken in two. “But if it prevents them from getting any information, or at least gives them a hard time retrieving it, then it will have been worth it.” Another loud bang echoed throughout the garage as the laptop split in half.

“Good thinking,” Roger acknowledged. He ran over to his workbench at the opposite end of the garage and grabbed a hammer. “I’ll get your leftovers.”

“In the name of the Brooks’ Administration, come out with your hands in the air,” a voice commanded them from outside their home.

Roger held up his hand to stop Elizabeth from swinging the sledgehammer and silently directed her to pick up the shattered pieces.

“I’ll give you to the count of ten to turn yourselves in. I suggest you make things easier on yourselves and turn yourselves in willingly. Please don’t make us do this the hard way.”

Elizabeth and Roger quietly walked over to their garbage toter and threw the pieces of the laptop in it, closing the lid carefully.

“One,” the voice commanded.

“How did they find us?” Elizabeth whispered.

“I don’t know. The same way they’ve been tracking down and imprisoning all us so-called rebels, I guess. Brooks has started a witch hunt. Everyone’s turning on everyone else to survive.”

“Two.”

“What are we going to do, Roger?” she asked, visibly shaken.

“Three.”

“Go and hide under the tarps under that workbench over there,” he ordered her.

“Four.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“Five.”

“Roger, no.”

“Just do what I tell you to, Elizabeth. Now.” He kissed her forehead. “Everything will be okay, I promise.”

“Six.”

She scrambled across the garage, crawled under the workbench and struggled to cover herself up with the tarp, trying to ignore the spiders and insects that would normally have sent her screaming into another room.

“Seven.”

She heard Roger’s footsteps grow farther and farther away as they left the concrete floor of the garage and entered back into their home. “Oh, God. No, Roger, please don’t,” she whispered, wincing as her hand brushed a spider web.

“Eight.”

The footsteps walked across the house toward the front door, where they paused as though he was reconsidering what he was about to do.

“Nine.”

“I’m coming. I’m coming. Hold your horses,” Roger called out, loud enough so anyone on the other side of the door could hear him. Elizabeth heard the familiar squeal of the front door opening. “Gentlemen,” he greeted the soldiers on the other side of the door sarcastically. “What can I do for you?”

“Roger Norland, you are under arrest for treason and other crimes against our president and country,” the voice of the commanding soldier snapped.

“Fellas, I hardly believe that my attending an address, a public event, no less, is grounds for arrest.”

“We have reason to believe that you crashed the president’s address, along with other members of your rebellion, with a clear plan to assassinate the president and disrupt an otherwise peaceful gathering.”

“Assassination? Really? I highly suggest you go back and check that video out one more time to see where that shot came from. Oh, wait, even if you did, it wouldn’t matter because your president had it manipulated to look like it came from us.”

“That’s enough of your insolence.” The commanding solider raised his voice. A loud crack pierced the air, followed by an unmistakable thump against the floor.

“Roger,” Elizabeth whined, doing her best to keep her voice down.

“Mr. Norland,” the commander spoke again. “Where is Mrs. Norland? We have a warrant for her arrest, too.”

“She’s not here,” Roger’s voice sounded muffled, even strained. “She left me shortly after I returned home from the address, and I haven’t seen her since. Could you get me something for the blood? We replaced this carpet just six months ago.”

“Your injury is the least of your worries. Now, Mr. Norland, call me a pessimist, but I do think you’re lying to me about your wife.”

“She’s not here. She’s—”

“Enough!” Another thump elicited a grunt from Roger. “You grossly underestimate the depth of our information, Mr. Norland. Tell me, should we add a charge of hindering an investigation on top of lying to an officer to your rapidly-growing list of transgressions?”