Page 36 of Steinbeck (The Minnesota Kingstons #5)

TWELVE

Maybe she was dead.

At least, that was the crazy thought that punched through the darkness as Emberly forced her way up, out of the soft layers of darkness, cotton, the sense of something carrying her as she drifted...

And surfaced to light.

So much light. It streamed in through the windows of... Oh, a hospital. She lay in a bed, an IV line strapped to her arm, blankets warming her, the room big and bright and?—

She spotted a uniformed officer through the strip of glass in the door. But no Steinbeck. Not that she’d expected him to stay—oh, who was she kidding?

He’d said things. She remembered them landing sweetly in her heart. Something about holding on, or begging her not to leave. She scrolled back through her most recent recollection. Oh yeah. Tomas had shot her. From about ten feet away.

Maybe she was dead...

Except, she wore an oxygen cannula under her nose, giving off the slightest hiss, and with the presence of a heart monitor beeping...

Alive, yes. But alone.

She blinked, her eyes burning. Sheesh, what was her problem? She’d been alone most of her life.

Besides—Black Swans worked...

She closed her eyes. No. Not anymore. And maybe never, because a memory eased in, words recently remembered.

“You’re not alone. You never have been.”

Right. She opened her eyes. Stared out the window. The New York skyline, buildings, blue sky. Thank You, God, for not letting me die . The prayer rose, took hold.

And right behind it, words tremored through her.

“Come with me if you want to live.”

Her breath caught. What?

Outside the room, laughter drifted down the hallway. She leaned back, closed her eyes. The door opened.

“Oh good. She’s still sleeping.”

Really?

Footsteps, and then a warm grip slipped into hers.

She opened her eyes.

Stein froze, blue eyes wide.

“You were going to pretend you were here the entire time?” she said.

Behind him stood— wait —“Nim?”

Her sister came over, leaned past Steinbeck, and kissed her forehead. She wore a pair of baggy floral pants and a tank. “For the record, he has been here the whole time. Look at him. He’s a disaster.”

Emberly gave Steinbeck a hard look. Bloodshot eyes, wearing a pair of scrubs, a delicious growth of dark-blond and copper whiskers on his face, and maybe he seemed a little underslept.

Steinbeck shrugged. “I only scooted out because I was on an important foraging mission.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Snickers bar.

She reached for it. “You’re my favorite.”

“Yeah, it’s for me. Nothing but soft pudding and broth for you there, Miss Two Broken Ribs and You Scared Us All to Death by Nearly Dying.”

She cocked her head at him. “I’m starved.”

“I’ll split it with you.” He smiled.

“You are so annoying.”

“But helpful. I mean, someone had to give you mouth-to-mouth.”

“That’s so unnecessary,” Nim said. “And a little gross. Listen. He’s right—soup for you. But I do have people wanting to see you.”

“People?”

“Well, aside from a grateful nation, and perhaps the president?—”

“The president? Of the United States?”

“No, of Argentina. Yes, of the United States. You did save his daughter’s life. And not to mention Princess Madeline of Montelena.”

“Are they okay?”

“Other than needing therapy and maybe some Krav Maga lessons, yes. I think Britta said she wants to be just like you when she grows up.”

“Maybe she and I need a little chat about that.”

“I think probably you need to talk with”—and her voice fell—“Mystique first.”

“Mystique is here?”

“Yes,” Nimue said. She made a face. “She’s a little intense.”

Emberly laughed. “Okay.”

Nimue walked to the door, motioned outside, then came back. “Let’s be clear. I don’t like you going off-grid and scaring me like that.”

“Me either.” The stern voice came from Mystique, who walked into the room, her hair pulled back, a grim look on her face.

Shep came in behind her, nodded at Stein before turning back to Mystique. “You should talk. I was really worried.”

“Long story.” She wove her fingers into Shep’s and looked at Emberly. “Let’s just say that it’s a good thing Shep has my back. Luis had set a trap for us with the Bratva. We had to go dark for a hot minute... Anyway, I want to know how you ended up in that room with Britta White.”

“It was impulse. I just kept thinking about the Bratva and how whatever they did with Declan’s AI program wasn’t.

.. it wasn’t something that could drag the US into a war.

So I thought... what could do something like that?

And then I remembered Princess Imani telling me how excited she was to meet the president’s daughter, and it just.

.. clicked. The death of someone that important. .. It could rock a nation.”

“Smart.”

“I mean, it was either that or they’d figure out how to take over all the AI-controlled drones and attack the capital.”

Stein stilled. “That could happen?”

“I don’t know—I mean, what happened in the exhibit?”

“The dogs turned on us. Just like before.”

She nodded. “I thought so. But how? Didn’t you shut down the Internet?”

He nodded.

“But not the cell phones,” Nim said.

He glanced at her. “Declan’s AI is too big of a program to be controlled by a cell-phone signal.”

“But not a satellite signal,” Mystique said. She glanced at Nim. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of that. G5. It connects to satellites. And then the signal is sent from the low-orbit satellite to the computer. Or dog, as it were.”

“Someone was sending the inputs via cell phone,” Emberly said.

“They wouldn’t even have needed to be on-site,” Mystique.

“Except Luis was on-site. I saw him. Or at least I thought so.” Stein scrubbed his hands down his face. He did look tired.

“Okay, well, in other good news,” Nim said, “I found the back door to Axiom and gave Declan the information. He’s tidying it up.”

“And,” Mystique added, “the virus worked. We downloaded it and deployed it successfully. What we need to do is add it as a component to every AI program. A simple command could self-destruct the system.”

“The other good news is that we have Tomas,” Shep said. “And Logan is developing a task force to hunt for Alan Martin. It’s time he was caught.”

“And Luis?”

Mystique made a wry face.

“Luis is in the wind,” said Shep.

“We’ll find him,” Nimue added. “I’m looking.”

“Don’t worry about Luis.” Mystique set a hand on Emberly’s arm, squeezed. “Now, will you please take some serious time off? This was too close.”

Oh.

“Okay then.” Mystique looked at Steinbeck. “You need some sleep.”

Stein nodded. “I can’t wait to get out of here and get home.”

Shep shook his hand as he and Mystique headed out.

Emberly swallowed. Looked at Nim. “Any news on your house?”

“Other than that the insurance is completely ripping me off? No.”

Emberly sighed. “So I guess it’s back to Lisbon?—”

“Are you kidding me?”

She looked at Stein, who’d leaned forward, anger on his face. Oh no. She’d seen this before. “What?”

“You’re not going back to Lisbon.”

“I live in Lisbon.”

“You haven’t lived in Lisbon for the better part of a year.”

“I like Lisbon.”

“I don’t care if Lisbon is your favorite place on the entire planet, you’re not going there.” His mouth made a tight line.

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“Really? I think maybe I am, there, partner.”

“We’re not...” But she closed her mouth.

And he smiled.

“Fine. Then where am I supposed to?—”

“With me, Miss Please Pay Attention. You’re injured. And I’m not letting you out of my sight. And besides, my mom makes amazing cinnamon rolls.”

She stilled.

“He’s not lying,” Nim said. “They are amazing cinnamon rolls.”

“You’re coming back with me to the King’s Inn.”

She gaped at him. “Oh, Stein. I don’t... I can’t...”

“You can. And you will. Declan is flying us back as soon as you’re discharged.”

She looked away and then heard the door close, and when she turned back, Stein stood alone.

“Where’d Nim go?”

“She probably doesn’t want to hear what I’m going to say to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s... sappy. And she’s protecting my man card.”

“Please. She cares nothing about?—”

“I love you, Emberly.” He stepped up to the bed, sighed, took her hand. “And Nim saw me... Let’s just say I was tired?—”

“Did you cry ?”

He looked away, toward the ceiling.

“Steinbeck Kingston, you are many different people—arrogant and annoying, and tough and bossy, and?—”

“Incredibly hot, irresistible?—”

“And sweet.”

He gave a wry grin.

“Let’s go back to the I-love-you part.”

His impossibly blue eyes met hers. Oh, he was handsome. The kind of rugged, interesting, intoxicating handsome that made a girl want more of him every day.

“I love you. I love the person who is Phoenix, girl who always rises from the ashes, who isn’t afraid of... anything.”

“That’s not true. I’m afraid I’ll never get half of that Snickers bar.”

He sat down on her bed. “And I love Emberly, with her feisty, hot exterior but is soft and beautiful and fits in my arms.”

“And Ashley?”

“Oh, she has all the moves. But truth is, I love all the versions of you, and anyone else you want to be. I love your creativity and your smarts and the fact that when I’m with you, I know I’m on mission.”

“What mission is that?”

“To love the girl that Jesus loves.”

Then he leaned down and lifted the oxygen cannula off her nose.

“I might suffocate.”

“I’ll bring you back to life. I know mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

And then he proved it. Slowly, perfectly, and exactly, and indeed, she was very, very much alive.

* * *

And he was back to chopping wood.

Steinbeck brought the axe down on the perched log, and it splintered down the middle. He set down the axe and ripped the rest of the log in half with his gloved hands.

The sun baked his skin, splinters on his ratty flannel shirt, but somehow the action, the focus, had settled him.

They were safe. She was safe.

“We have a splitter.”