66

I wake up on the floor. The carpet is prickly against my face, and the room seems to be moving, revolving. My vision’s blurred, but ahead of me, underneath the table, I can make out the golden colour and shape of the knight. It comes back to me then – Cabressa, the gunshot – and immediately a throbbing pain explodes in my side. It takes my breath away, and I gasp, try to turn over, to see where Cabressa is, whether he’s going to shoot me again.

‘It’s okay, Lori. I’ve got you.’ It’s JT’s voice, strong and gravelly and all kinds of soothing. I can’t see him but it feels good to know that he’s there.

‘Cabressa?’ I croak the name, the word scratchy in my throat. ‘Did he…?’

‘You got him.’ There’s pride in JT’s voice, but it’s mixed with something else I can’t place. ‘Monroe’s read him his rights. He’s going into custody.’

My mind feels mushy, like I’m on go-slow. I try to think on what happened, but my memory’s fragmented, like a movie that’s skipping scenes. I remember removing the vent, Cabressa taking the knight, and wrestling him for the gun, but nothing more. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ I feel JT’s hand on my shoulder. He slides his fingers upward until he’s caressing the back of my neck. ‘None of it matters.’

I try to turn towards him, wanting to see his face, but the pain kicks into my side harder, like a bucking horse on a last hurrah. I cry out. Can’t help it.

‘Medics are on the way,’ JT says, his voice more urgent. ‘They’re taking longer because of the chaos, but they’ll be here real soon.’

‘Then we can go home to Dakota.’

‘Yes we can.’ I hear it now, the fear laced into his voice.

That’s when I know I should be worried.

‘How’s she doing?’ It’s Monroe’s voice, more distant – seems like he’s a million miles away to me.

JT’s voice is hushed. Harder to make out, but I catch some of the words. ‘…lot of blood … where the hell … if I lose her you’ll never…’

My memory starts to return; the last twelve hours replaying on fast forward across my mind’s eye. Playing poker, the blackout, the electronic voice saying one of us in the penthouse was Herron, and the decontamination procedure – all the people who died. Then I remember the micro camera and the SWAT team that never came. All the chances I gave Monroe to find us, to help us; and the fact that no help arrived. Anger courses through my body. I want to know why he didn’t come. Why he abandoned us. ‘Monroe…’

‘He’s here too.’

I try to shake my head, but can’t get it to move.

‘It’s okay, just lie still,’ says JT.

I want to hold his hand, but again my body won’t obey me. My teeth start to chatter. Coldness spreads through me – my skin, my flesh, my bones – and I feel tired, so very tired. ‘JT?’ I say. My voice sounds weak, alien.

‘I’m right here.’

‘I feel … weird.’

‘You just need to rest,’ he says. His voice cracks. I feel his fingers leave my neck. Sense that he’s moving away. Then I hear his voice again, further from me now; a fast, angry whisper. ‘Monroe, get the medics here, now. She’s going into shock.’

‘They’re on their way.’ Monroe’s drawl seems laid back, relaxed, compared to JT’s. ‘Things are tricky out—’

‘You said that before. Get them here now. Use a chopper. Anything.’ JT’s tone is granite hard and laced with fury. There’s a bang, like a fist connecting with a wall. Then JT growls, ‘I won’t lose her.’

That’s when I know something’s wrong for sure. JT never panics. He never loses his cool.

‘JT?’ The word is hard to force out. My throat’s dry. My lips cracked. The weakness of my voice makes it sound as if it belongs to someone else.

Footsteps hurry towards me. I feel his hand on my shoulder again, and the warmth of his body next to mine. ‘I’m right here.’

I smile. Even that seems like an effort. ‘I’m tired.’

‘I know, baby.’ He takes my hand in his. Strokes my palm.

‘Tell me it’ll be okay.’

He squeezes my hand. Doesn’t hesitate. ‘It’s going to all be okay.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, my voice barely a whisper. And I mean it.

His words give me comfort, even though I know they can’t be true.