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“How do you feel?” she asks me her voice laced with sympathy and a trace of irritation, which I suspect is for Christian’s benefit.
“Sore and thirsty. Very thirsty,” I whisper.
“I’ll fetch you some water once I’ve checked your vitals and Dr. Bartley has examined you.”
She reaches for a blood pressure cuff and wraps it around my upper arm. I glance anxiously up at Christian. He looks dreadful—haunted, even—as if he hasn’t slept for days. His hair is a mess, he hasn’t shaved for a long time, and his shirt is badly wrinkled. I frown.
“How are you feeling?” Ignoring the nurse, he sits down on the bed out of arm’s reach.
“Confused. Achy. Hungry.”
“Hungry?” He blinks in surprise.
I nod.
“What do you want to eat?”
“Anything. Soup.”
“Mr. Grey, you’ll need the doctor’s approval before Mrs. Grey can eat.” He gazes at her impassively for a moment then takes his BlackBerry out of his pants pocket and presses a number.
“Ana wants chicken soup . . . Good . . . Thank you.” He hangs up.
I glance at Nora whose eyes narrow at Christian.
“Taylor?” I ask quickly.
Christian nods.
“Your blood pressure is normal, Mrs. Grey. I’ll fetch the doctor.” She removes the cuff and, without so much as another word, stalks out of the room, radiating disapproval.
“I think you made Nurse Nora mad.”
“I have that effect on women.” He smirks.
I laugh, then stop suddenly as pain radiates through my chest. “Yes, you do.”
“Oh, Ana, I love to hear you laugh.”
Nora returns with a pitcher of water. We both fall silent, gazing at each other as she pours out a glass and hands it to me.
“Small sips now,” she warns.
“Yes, ma’am,” I mutter and take a welcome sip of cool water. Oh my. It tastes perfect. I take another, and Christian watches me intently.
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“Mia?” I ask.
“She’s safe. Thanks to you.”
“They did have her?”
“Yes.”
All the madness was for a reason. Relief spirals through my body . Thank God, thank God, thank God she’s okay. I frown.
“How did they get her?”
“Elizabeth Morgan,” he says simply.
“No!”
He nods. “She picked her up at Mia’s gym.”
I frown, still not understanding.
“Ana, I’ll fill you in on the details later. Mia is fine, all things considered.
She was drugged. She’s groggy now and shaken up, but by some miracle she wasn’t harmed.” Christian’s jaw clenches. “What you did”—he runs his hand through his hair—“was incredibly brave and incredibly stupid. You could have been killed.” His eyes blaze a bleak, chilling gray, and I know he’s restraining his anger.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” I whisper.
“You could have told me!” he says vehemently, fisting his hands in his lap.
“He said he’d kill her if I told anyone. I couldn’t take that risk.” Christian closes his eyes, dread etched in his face.
“I have died a thousand deaths since Thursday.” Thursday?
“What day is it?”
“It’s almost Saturday,” he says, checking his watch. “You’ve been unconscious for over twenty-four hours.”
Oh.
“And Jack and Elizabeth?”
“In police custody. Although Hyde is here under guard. They had to remove the bullet you left in him,” Christian says bitterly. “I don’t know where in this hospital he is, fortunately, or I’d probably kill him myself.” His face darkens.
Oh shit. Jack is here?
“That’s for SIP you fucking bitch!” I pale. My empty stomach convulses, tears prick my eyes, and a deep shudder runs through me.
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