Page 137 of Devil's Azalea

I just keep staring, completely speechless. He cried. Because of me. The great Rafael Moretti, the man who faces down enemies without blinking, who controls everything and everyone around him with ruthless efficiency—he cried forme.

“Anyways, to answer your question.” He changes the subject smoothly, clearly uncomfortable with this vulnerability. “Stacey and the others were arrested. Katie was declared wanted and…” He trails off.

“And what? Was she arrested? Did she get hurt?”

“She was hurt during the shootout and brought to this hospital just minutes after you were. She woke up after a few hours and was already doing well. The doctors were amazed at how quickly she bounced back. But two days ago, she disappeared.”

Disappeared?I gape at him. “What? What do you mean she disappeared? Did she get arrested? Kidnapped?” A person can’t just disappear from a hospital filled with doctors and patients and security. Was nobody protecting her ward?

“When her nurse came to check on her, Katie attacked the woman, asked about your condition, then took her clothes. She tied the nurse to her bed and walked out of the hospital pretending to be staff. So no, she wasn’t taken against her will or arrested. She left on her own.”

She left on her own. Why? Now that I think about it, I realize I don’t actually know much about the woman who’s been my close friend for years. I didn’t even know she had a sister that Stacey was using against her until a few days ago. What sort of horrible friend have I been?

What if someone else is threatening her? If there’s one thing Idoknow about Katie, it’s that she cares deeply, and she wouldn’t have left without making sure I was okay first. If she did leave—something serious must have happened.

Worry niggles at the back of my head. “We need to find her, Rafael.”

“I thought you might say that, and already have my men searching for her. Romero and the others are on her trail as well as we speak. We’ll find her. I promise.”

But something heavy lodges in my gut. Katie is a veryresourceful and smart woman. She was one of the agency’s best agents for a reason. If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.

My shoulders tense with worry, but then the door flies open and my family walks in. Romero, Michael and Gianna, Maximo and Elira. I sink back into the bed, a warm fuzzy feeling washing over me when I see they’re all holding some type of gift for me.

“You really are awake,” Maximo says dryly as he steps in with a bouquet of flowers.

“You sound disappointed about that,” I tease, and he rolls his eyes.

“Glad to see you still have your wits about you at least. What the hell were you thinking, exposing yourself to danger like that? You think you have nine lives or something.”

“Maximo,” Elira warns, giving me a sympathetic smile, but I just chuckle, waving away her concern. It feels good to be scolded by family again.

They crowd around my bed, making sure I’m really okay. Someone mentions my tattoo, and I realize this is their first time seeing it up close. Lifting my arm, I show it off proudly.

They stay for hours, talking and laughing until my lids start drooping despite my best efforts to stay awake.

“Okay, that’s it. Everyone out.” Rafael’s authoritative voice cuts through the chatter. “She needs to rest, and she can’t do that while you buffoons are here.”

“Did you know Rafael cried when you were wheeled into surgery?” Michael comments mildly, making absolutely no move to leave my ward.

“Wept like a baby,” Romero chuckles.

I laugh as I look at my husband, who looks ready to commit murder. “Hedidmention something about water oozing out of his eyes.”

“Out. Now,” he growls, physically pushing Romero towards the door.

“Bring the girls next time!” I call out to Gianna, who gives me a grin and a nod.

When they’re finally gone, Rafael crosses his arms and smiles at me. “Now, where were we?”

He looks so strong and composed, even though he still physically looks like hell. I can’t even imagine him crying. My heart clenches thinking about how hurt he must have been for that to happen.

“I’m sorry I made you cry, but it’s only fair. Do you know how many times I’ve cried because of you?”

“Neither of us is going to have any reason to cry again if I have anything to say about it,” he vows. “And I do.”

I chuckle sleepily. “Rafael?” I ask around a yawn. “Go home and change. You really do look like hell. Maybe take a nap while you’re at it.”

“I won’t take it personally, even though this is the second time you’ve said that,” he grumbles. “I’ll have Enzo bring me clean clothes. I can change here.”