Ten Thousand Words (54 page)

George moaned, regaining consciousness. Rex delivered a swift kick to his ribs.

Gently setting Beefcake down, Jaime rushed over to us. I held my love in my arms, having no clue if I should remove a knife from his stomach. Oliver’s skin was whiter than milk, his face cold and sweating against my chest, soaking through my T-shirt.

Jaime grabbed a dish towel from the counter and knelt next to Oliver. “Hold on, Ollie, okay?”

“Just get it out,” he replied.

“I will.”

Trembling, he reached his hand up to touch my face. Jaime grasped the hilt of the paring knife in her right hand and pulled it straight out, quickly covering the wound with the towel and applying pressure. Ricki came up from behind and plucked the knife from her hands before heading back toward the guys.

Jaime’s China-blue eyes met mine. “Should they end him?”

My hand cradling Oliver’s head to my chest moved to cover his ear, pressing his head even deeper into my breasts.

George was a sick man. He’d been used for his sickness by a manipulative bitch for her own gains. Gabriella had encouraged George to come into my home, and if he was unable to kidnap me, she’d told him to kill me. I had no doubt he’d have done it. Instead, he’d stabbed the only man who filled my life with love and happiness.

He very well could be Oliver’s murderer.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice harsh, strong.

“Love? I don’t feel too good.” Oliver was still trying to touch my face.

“He’s in shock,” Jaime whispered.

I took his hand with my free one and brought it to my lips. Tears were slipping from my eyes, splashing onto his cheeks.

“Is it bad?” he whispered.

“No,” replied Jaime loudly. “It’s just a shitty place to get poked. You’re going to be fine.”

“I love you, Xanthe,” he said, his grasp on my fingers weakening. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. More than I ever thought I could love anyone,” I told him. “It’s going to be okay.”

The sound of thrashing drew my attention to Ricki and the guys. George’s feet kicked at the floor while Rex and Ronen held down his arms. Mesmerized, I watched Ricki’s shoulders shift. There was a squelch and splatter, brilliant crimson spraying Rex’s and Ronen’s faces. A gurgle. A heavy copper scent filled the room.

A victorious wave crashed within my chest. Wonderfully gruesome, George had met his end. Insane and violent, death was the only help he’d receive. While I felt relief that his life had just ended, I did hope he’d find some peace himself in the hereafter.

In my arms, Oliver started quaking. When I glanced down, Oliver’s eyes met mine, full of terror and pain, the pupils swallowing up the whiskey irises.

“L-love…”

I held him tighter. I was with him the whole way until his eyes rolled back, until his breath left him with a strangled sigh, and then he went still. I was strong for my love.

“He passed out,” said Jaime. “Ricki, how long?”

“Two minutes, Doll Face,” he replied.

“Two minutes?” I asked.

“Ambulance,” Jaime replied.

I looked over at the guys. All three of them wore varying degrees of blood spatter. Rex held my gaze while Ricki’s body blocked my view. Ronen was sawing hard at something, his grunts of exertion accompanied by squashing, cracking wet sounds.

They could’ve done much, much worse to George.

“Let’s clean up and go,” said Ronen, standing up and whacking Rex on his shoulder. His hands and forearms were dripping red.

“Yeah,” grunted Rex.

They disappeared upstairs just as four men dressed in black from head to toe came in through the front door. Two of them had a gurney and medic bags. The other two carried trash bags and buckets.

Laying the gurney next to me, a huge bald man with tattoos covering his head gently pried my hands off Oliver. “It’s okay. We’re here to help him.”

The large strange men took my love out of my arms and placed him on the gurney. I stood up, fully intending to accompany them in the ambulance.

Ricki held up his hand at me and shook his head. “We’ll meet you back there,” Ricki called after them as they carried my love away.

“Sure thing,” said the man with the tattooed head.

“Back where?” I asked. “Why can’t I go with them?”

“You need to be with me to even get in the building.”

“Where are they taking him?” Panic rose inside me.

“He’s going to the Locals’ hospice. The doctors are there to make sure we live and heal fast. There’s no better place for him to be, okay? Please, trust me.”

Though I’d never been there myself, relief flooded me, knowing Oliver would be treated there. Only the best doctors in the world worked at the facility.

“I do. You know I do. But I have to be with him, Ricki. What if he…” I couldn’t finish. If Oliver died, then there would be no meaning left in my life.

“Ollie’s gonna be fine. That was a tiny fucking knife. No way it hit anything vital,” Jaime assured me.

“He passed out though. He could be bleeding internally or something—” I started to say.

“He passed out from the pain. That shit hurts like a motherfucker,” Ricki told me.

I glanced down where the other two men were wrapping up George and dumping some sort of astringent over the pools of blood.

Everything that made me who I was screamed at me to follow Oliver. Ricki could see it in me. He recognized it. He looked at Jaime, his jaw clenching, and I wondered if he’d be as rational if it had been his wife who’d been knifed.

Rex and Ronen came back downstairs, freshly scrubbed. Ronen had on clean clothes. He’d been staying here ever since he came back. Rex had changed his shirt.

“You guys ready?” asked Ricki.

“Fuck yeah,” said Ronen.

“Where are you guys going?” I asked.
How can they leave? Oliver’s been stabbed!

Ricki replied, “They’re going after Gabriella.”

Oh.
“Good,” I snapped, feeling my wrath rise. “Make that bitch pay.”

Jaime grunted in agreement. She took my hand and squeezed.

“We’re still gathering intel on her,” Ricki told us. “With everything I was doing to get Ronen back, Jones was supposed to be in better control of this situation. He should have realized who she was and why she was showing up with George.”

My attention zeroed in on one of the cleanup guys handing a black plastic bag to Rex. There was a substantial piece of George in it. By the shape, it was most definitely his head. Ronen had made quick work of that.

“All right,” said Ricki, eyeballing the bag. “Let’s go.”

Beefcake meowed pitifully in his carrier.

“We’ll take him back to Ellen’s,” said Rex, tossing the trash bag to Ronen and scooping Beefcake up. “We’ll be in touch when we’re done.”

“Sounds good,” said Ricki, herding his wife and me out the door.

Jaime and I piled into Chester while Ricki walked around and hopped into the driver’s seat. In silence, we headed out of Jordaan and drove to a warehouse district about twenty minutes away. Ricki pulled the van into a spot somewhere in the center of the nondescript village of warehouses, parking next to a heavy-looking wide steel door.

“Right,” grunted Ricki. “Listen up. You do not leave my sight unless you’re given permission. You don’t wander around anywhere for anything. Ever. If you have to take a piss, you need to be chaperoned. I’ve gotten clearance for the both of you to be here, but it’s tentative at best.”

Everything would be off the records. No one would know that Ollie was injured. If it got out that the darling photographer of Amsterdam had been stabbed, it would bring up questions better left unasked.

“So…we can’t let his parents know?” I asked.

Ollie was more than the darling photographer of Amsterdam. He was the darling of his family, too.

“No. Right now, he’s in surgery. The doctors have said there’s nothing to worry about. Part of his intestine was lacerated, but they’re fixing it up. He’ll probably walk out of here in a couple of days.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked, surprised.

He held up his phone. “They let me know as shit happens. He’s my responsibility.”

Jaime looked at her husband, “What if the situation wasn’t so cut and dry?”

“What do you mean?” asked Ricki.

“What if Ollie were in serious danger? If he were dying?”

“He’s not, so don’t worry about it.” On that statement, Ricki opened the door and hopped out.

Jaime and I did the same on the other side.

Giving him privacy to work the keypad next to the door and place his face over a device I could only assume took a retinal scan, Jaime and I hung back. There was a buzz and several clicks before the door opened with a heavily armed guard coming out.

“They have identification?” he asked.

“I doubt it,” replied Ricki. “The tall one is my wife, Jaime Conklin. The other one is Xanthe Malcolm. I got clearance for them already.”

“Yeah, I know. They need to be processed in the system first.”

Ricki jerked his head for us to follow him and led us into a lobby of sorts. We filled out some paperwork, stating our name, age, date of birth, and country of origin. Our photos were taken as well as our fingerprints. Fifteen minutes later, we were handed badges to wear around our necks.

“This is so weird,” I muttered.

“Not really,” replied Ricki, giving me a tired smile.

We followed Ricki through a maze of corridors and ended up in a waiting room. The furniture was quite comfortable, and there was a coffee station, too, with pods of coffee in all flavors. Ricki made me a mocha latte, and while I sipped it, all I could think of was Ollie the Asshole knocking one out of my hands and changing my life forever.

It was eerie. We were the only people in here. There were no clocks, and I had left my phone on the kitchen counter, so I had no idea how long we had been sitting there. Jaime found a stack of magazines on the side of the couch and tossed a couple my way. I read them front to back, even the adverts.

Finally, when the silence was borderline intolerable, a man in blue scrubs decorated in what I suspected was my boyfriend’s blood came in.

Ricki stood up.

“He’s in recovery,” said the doctor. “It was an easy fix. Very little damage.”

My brain took in this information and overwhelmed me. A harsh sob choked over my vocal cords, and before I knew it, I was sobbing into Jaime’s neck. My best friend held and rocked me, rubbing a hand over my back.

“He’s okay,” she murmured.

“I know.” I sniffled.

“He’s still under sedation. He will be for at least another eight hours, just to make sure he’s kept still,” the doctor said.

“Is it okay if she stays with him while I take my wife home?” asked Ricki.

The doctor seemed to be weighing the consequences for a few seconds. “I suppose that will be fine.”

He motioned to us, and we followed him down the corridor, through twists and turns I would never be able to remember, eventually ending up outside a small room. The doctor opened the door and ushered us inside.

Oliver was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors and IVs, an oxygen hose secured to his nose. Pale and unkempt, I wondered what Trey would say if he saw Ollie so scruffy, and a hysterical giggle burst out of me. Horrified, I clapped my hand over my mouth just as more tears flowed from my eyes.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s just gone through some shite,” said Ricki.

“No doubt,” replied the doctor. “I’ll have an extra cot brought in. She can sleep here. You’re coming right back?”

“Yes,” Ricki replied. “Have two cots brought in.”

“All right. There are two nurses here, so if you need me at all, have them find me.”

“Will do.”

Ollie was breathing. He was alive, and I had never felt so grateful in my whole life.

It was all my fault that he was in this situation. I had assured him that Jaime was on her way, that I wouldn’t be alone for long. My heart ached with guilt. I wished I’d had his foresight. All this time, he had rarely left my side for fear of George coming around, and I hadn’t taken it seriously.

I hated myself for that.

I made my way over to the bed. His elegant large hand was so cold as I took it in mine.

Ricki and Jaime waited until the cots were brought in and set up before leaving. Jaime pulled me in for a hug, and then Ricki did the same.

“Get some sleep, Xanthe. I’ll be back soon.”

Pulling my cot beside Oliver’s bed, I lay down and pulled a blanket over me. Sneaking my hand through a slot in the guardrail, I grasped his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” I quietly told him.

Ollie

Opening my eyes to blazing white sunlight, with a breathless happiness, I thought,
Our room
.

It felt cool, which was strange, but I smelled Xanthe and was comforted. A weird pressure squeezed my left hand, but I dismissed it, looking down and seeing nothing there. The light was crazy bright.

“You’re awake!” I heard her voice to the left of me, from Xanthe’s side of the bed. “Oliver, I’m so sorry!”

Turning my head, I expected to see my love. Ripples of long blonde hair cascaded over my arm. Gabriella’s blue eyes looked into mine, shining with adoration and triumph, as though she’d known that she’d always end up right here, in the place that belonged to Xanthe.