Page 130 of Nothing to Fear

She stuck her head outside. “Is he dead?”

“Yes,” he said, winded.

“Are you sure? I want to go home to my kids, not get decapitated.”

“Hundred percent certain.” He bent over, bracing one hand on his knee and trying to slow the bleeding from his abdomen with the other. “Shut the jammer off. Please!”

“Okay.” She ducked inside.

Seconds later, a crackle resounded over the airwaves. “We’re a go. We’re a go,” he said into his throat mic, giving the team the signal.

“It’s so much more fun being a winner,” Alistair said over the earpiece.

“More of Daedalus’s men were headed back your way. They should’ve hit you guys by now.”

“Yeah. Ares took care of them. That show-off,” Alistair said. “Let’s finish this. On my count. Five seconds.”

“Hey, Allie, do me a favor?” Gideon’s voice was shaky, his limbs starting to tremble.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let me bleed out, and don’t tell Willow that I’m in the hospital.”

“I knew you guys were shagging. And that’d be two favors. Can’t you count? Speaking of which, three, two…”

Gideon stumbled away from the building, putting in his earplugs.

He was so tired, bone-weary from exhaustion and blood loss. Weakness threaded through his legs, and his knees buckled. The last thing he saw was Willow’s face in the sky before everything hazed white.

* * *

Saint Margaret’s Hospital, Vienna, Virginia

Monday, July 8, 9:20 p.m. EDT

Willow sat in a chair at her father’s bedside, singing the Frank Sinatra version of “That’s Life.”

She held his hand, crooning the brave lyrics, desperate to soak up a fraction of the courage and strength in the words.

The doctors had found a high concentration of methyl iodide in her dad’s bloodstream, which caused his coma. In order to treat him, they’d been forced to stop the medication for his Hodgkin’s and wait for it to leave his system.

His condition improved, and he’d been moved from the ICU that afternoon. According to the doctor, he was no longer in the worst stage of a coma and was in what they considered a minimally conscious state. An encouraging sign that he’d eventually wake up and might make a full recovery from the poisoning, but they wouldn’t know for certain until he opened his eyes.

Maddox had been great, bringing her coffee, convincing the nurses to let Willow stay past visiting hours, paying to have the television in his private room turned on so he could watch his favorite shows when he woke up, giving her uninterrupted time with her dad. Maddox was out in the hall like a vigilant sentinel alongside the police detail who were still assigned to watch Willow’s dad.

Willow pressed her forehead to the back of her dad’s hand. She was scraped bare, with nothing left. Not her wallet. None of her identification. Not even her mother’s pearls.

Or Gideon.

Everything inside her ached. She shut her eyes, fighting the pain hemorrhaging through her. “You’re going to be okay, Daddy. You have to be.”

The door opened.

She didn’t look over to square off with the nurse about having more time. “I know it’s past visiting hours and I have to go. Can I just have five more minutes please?”

“Willow?”

She swiveled in her chair, facing the door. It was Laurel. Her sister looked as if she’d been dragged through the streets by her hair.