Page 27 of Inez

"You are afraid of me?" I ask.

"Youseeme, Ren," she whispers, so quietly I must strain to hear. "You know my every secret. You…I feel almost naked around you. As if I have no armor. No walls. No protection. You, more than anyone, can hurt me, Ren. Rafael…he hurt my body. I can take that. I know pain. I am comfortable with pain. But you, Ren. You…you can hurt my soul."

"But Iwon't."

"I don't know who I am anymore." Her deep, dark eyes lift to mine, fraught and wet with emotion—shocking to see in the face of my indomitable, unshakeable warrior queen. "Sophia, Inez…neither fits anymore. Sophia Bruna Santos de Silva Sousa…that part of who I am died in the cell, and then again in childbirth and the horror that followed. Inez? She was all that was left. I chose a name at random when I left everything else behind. Now, my past as Sophia has been resurrected and is haunting me. Inez was a shell, and that shell has cracked open. What is left of me, Ren?” She lets out a shaky sigh. "What is left of me?”

I don't have an answer for that. "We don't need to have all the answers right this second, meu amor," I tell her. "Let's get cleaned up and go from there. You take the first shower while I check on the others."

She nods, eyes distant, tired. "A shower sounds good. I don't remember the last time I was clean."

I cup the side of her face. "Take the longest, hottest shower of your life. I'll be here when you get out."

I watch her head for the bathroom and then go next door. The women have settled in front of the TV, watching some old rom-com on cable. The room phone rings—I hear Toro answer it, murmur quietly, and then he appears from one of the bedrooms.

"The doctor is here," he says. "We must greet him in the lobby and escort him up."

"On it," I answer.

I take the elevator to the lobby; Bradley is waiting with an older man dressed in a sleek, bespoke suit, salt-and-pepper hair in a short, neat, classic side-part, a large rolling suitcase at his side. Nothing about him says doctor, which is a discretion I appreciate. I accompany him up and bring him to Fonz.

No introductions are made—the man kneels at Fonz's side, unwraps the makeshift bandage, examines the wound, and nods once.

"Deep, but I don't think it has done any significant damage. It is good you didn't remove it, however."

"None of us are rookies, Doc," Fonz says. "But I'd be happy if you could get the fuckin' thing outta me. And if you got any happy pills to take the edge off, I'd be grateful."

"Certainly. Give me a few minutes to get set up."

I watch him lay down and unzip his suitcase, revealing a precise, orderly array of medical supplies. He begins preparing what he'll need to remove the shrapnel and close the wound.

I feel a soft tap on my shoulder. "Mr. Lorenzo?" The voice is delicate, shy.

"Naomi," I say, smiling down at her. "Call me Lorenzo, or just Ren. We're all friends here."

"Is Inez alright?" Naomi asks, her eyes full of concern.

"I think so. Or, she will be. She's strong."

Naomi frowns. "She…I don't mean to speak out of turn, but she went through quite a breakdown, and then a gunfight and an explosion."

"She's taking a shower right now," I tell her. "I'm headed back over once I'm sure things are settled here." I lead her away a few feet and speak in low tones. "I am glad you ladies were there. She needed that breakdown—it was a very long time coming."

"It seemed that way to me. I just…I know from experience that such breakdowns can leave one feeling empty and exhausted. She will need support."

"And she will have it." I give her shoulder a gentle pat. "I appreciate your concern, and I know she does as well."

"Inez, she…the first time I ever spoke to her, I was being pursued by people who wished to kill me. She talked me through it. I wouldn't be here if not for her." Naomi's eyes are misty. "I've felt a connection to her ever since. She hides a beautiful soul behind all that toughness and coldness.”

"She does, doesn't she?" I smile at her again. "We just have to convince her it's safe to let the rest of the world see what we do."

"Only you can do that, I think," Naomi says.

"I guess we'll see, won't we?"

I watch the doctor for a few more minutes, assessing his work with the experienced eye of someone who has seen more than my fair share of battlefield triage. He works carefully, efficiently, and skillfully. Satisfied that the man is a qualified medical professional and not a secret assassin, I turn to leave. I leanclose to Taj, who leans a shoulder against the wall near the door, watching the room silently and attentively. "Watch him, yes? I trust no one, at this stage."

Taj searches my face, then returns his attention to the doctor. "Of course."