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“Get some rest,” the woman said. “I’ll stay on top of things here. As soon as I can get you in to see Gregorio, I will.”
“I…”
Inamorata raised one of her very carefully sculpted eyebrows. No matter the time of day or night, she was impeccably put together.
Sasha settled for, “Thank you.”
“You might not say that when you see our invoice.”
She winced. Since she’d dragged Gregorio into this, the bill was definitely hers.
“I’ll have accounting hold it until you’re out of the hospital.”
“Generous.”
At the door, Inamorata paused and looked back. “Per Stryker, we sent a team to Ashley Lakin’s house.”
She braced herself.
“There’s no sign of her or a struggle.”
Sasha frowned.
“We’ll keep checking.” She shrugged. “And so will the feds.”
Finally, she was alone, and the beeping and emptiness overwhelmed her.
Dropping her head onto the pillow, she allowed the tears to come, until she was exhausted.
She closed her eyes, willing all of this to go away.
A nurse came in to check on her, and Sasha asked how quickly she could leave.
“Right now, it would be against doctor’s orders. I wouldn’t try it until you can stand on your own, unless you want to get around in a wheelchair.”
And she wouldn’t get far without actual clothes.
Which brought her back to her parents and calls she didn’t want to make.
Knowing she couldn’t stall forever, she picked up her phone.
* * * *
Sasha heard her parents arrive before she saw them—less than forty-five minutes after she’d told them what hospital she was in.
There was a sharp click of hurried footsteps on the floor and a murmur of voices just beyond the door.
Then the door swung open, and her mother was the first one through, a blur of familiar warmth and frantic hands, arms already reaching for her before words even formed.
“Oh, Sasha! Honey—thank God!”
Rosa DiLuce’s words were wrapped in emotion that she couldn’t hide.
Her mother gathered her close, her hug warm and desperate at the same time.
Then she pulled back, but kept hold of Sasha’s shoulders, as if she needed to reassure herself that Sasha was really okay. As Rosa swept her gaze over her daughter, tears swam in her eyes.
“I’m okay, Mom,” she promised, but that didn’t matter.