Page 23 of Rami

Moisture misted her eyes, and she tried to wiggle out of his grasp. “I want it out.” Panic made her voice shrill.

“What’s goin’ on?” asked a man entering from an adjoining room. He yawned and looked at her. “Oh, shit. You’re up.” He approached the bed. His face immediately matched the one in her mind. He’d been one of the other angels who’d rescued her.

Or so they’d told her.

He patted his chest. “It’s me, August. Remember? I know your sister.”

The explanation he’d given earlier came rushing back. She nodded, and the tears that had collected in her eyes leaked out. “She hired you?”

He nodded. “Us. This is my friend Rami. The other guy you might’ve seen is Taschen. We’re in the U.S. now. You were in Mexico—did you know that?”

She shook her head. “How long have I been gone?”

His face tensed. “Sixteen days.”

God. Sixteen days of hell. Emotion pressed together the sides of her throat. She wiped her eyes, but the damn things wouldn’t stop crying, as if the IV were feeding her tear ducts a direct stream of fluid.

Rami’s hand moved to her arm. “It’s all right. Go ahead and cry. Lord knows I’ve seen enough tears from August over the years.”

August snorted and shot him a withering look. “Ignore him. But you’re going to be okay. What do you need? Water?”

She shook her head. “Bathroom.”

“Oh. Yeah, come on. I’ll take the tubing out. I’d like to put it back in when you’re done, though, if that’s okay? You need all the hydration you can get.”

“No more needles.”

He picked up her fingers and removed the tube, leaving the catheter in her hand. Then he grabbed a piece of medical tape and secured it. “No more needles as long as you’re careful with that. You can get it wet, though. It’s covered.”

Rami swept an arm under her shoulders and helped her into a sitting position. The bed whirled like a merry-go-round, and she clapped her hand over her mouth as nausea struck her. She wavered and closed her eyes. Saliva rushed to her mouth. She expected the men to back away, but instead, Rami held her shoulders firmly.

“Deep breath. Take your time.” She focused on his baritone voice. “Come on. In through your nose.”

Following his instructions, she took one slow breath, then another. After a minute, she opened her eyes. Rami was kneeled on the floor beside her legs and August stood leaning forward as if waiting for her to make a nosedive.

“All good?” August asked.

“Hardly,” she said dryly.

Rami smiled and helped her to her feet. Her knees trembled, and the shivering that had plagued her moments before turned violent. She moved out of his reach as he bent to pick her up but kept her arm braced on his.

“I can walk.” The declaration was almost funny considering she wobbled like a baby deer. She scanned the room until her gaze landed on a partially open door. A vanity was just visible beyond it. Only about a dozen paces. She could do it.

She took one step after another, urging her feet to move. Rami carried most of her weight, and in half a painstaking minute, she reached the bathroom. He flicked on the light and she winced.

“I got it from here,” she said.

He guided her closer to the vanity, and she gripped the counter for support. August showed up at the door with three grocery bags in hand. “Here are some clothes and toiletries. Try not to do too much and, uh, don’t lock the door. In case you fall.”

She forced a sound of agreement and Rami left, closing the door. Exhaling a heavy sigh, she sank to the toilet seat to do her business. Her legs shook just sitting there, so she kept holding on to the vanity.

A glance down at her body made a small cry catch in her throat. She wasn’t just filthy—she was disgusting. She brought her free hand to her hair and her fingers got caught in dirty, sticky tangles. Her skin was tinged brown, and several bruises marred her body from the beatings she’d gotten from Marty and Wayne.

She turned over her arm. The sight of scabbed track marks made fresh tears rush down her cheeks. Reality sunk in. She’d survived, but there was no telling what effects she’d suffer from all the drugs they’d given her. No way of knowing if the needles had been tainted with disease.

No going back from here.

She wasn’t Ivy anymore. An anguished cry escaped her lips, and she sucked in pitiful, ragged sobs.

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