Page 22 of Rami

August looked down at her. “I’ll see if I can find an extra blanket. She needs to rest.” He went to the room’s only closet and pulled down a heavy fleece blanket.

Rami took it from him and spread it over Ivy’s body. Then he gingerly lifted her hand with the IV and placed it on the bed.

“I slept most recently,” August said quietly. “Why don’t you get some sleep and I’ll keep an eye on her for the next few hours? We’ll take shifts.”

Rami took in her beaten and dirty form. Once again, an ensnaring sensation inside him refused the idea of leaving her side. “I’ll stay. You sleep.” He sank down in the chair and ignored August’s interested stare. A beat later August went to the adjoining room, leaving the door open.

Rami knew he should be exhausted. Knew he should sleep regardless of the adrenaline that still fired through his veins. But he couldn’t. He needed to see her pretty hazel eyes again. The way the yellow hue pushed out the olive green, and her dark eyelashes surrounded the orbs that took his breath every time he looked at them.

But more than anything, he needed confirmation she hadn’t died on his watch. That he hadn’t in some way fucked things up.

Gigi had begged him to call day or night with any news. And while he didn’t have the energy for that, she deserved to know Ivy was out of the hands of the traffickers. A text wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.

Hey, sorry to wake you. We found Ivy.

She’s safe right now but in rough shape.

I will call first thing in the morning with an update.

We’re still in the danger zone and need to be cautious.

—Rami

He made sure his ringer was off so any calls or messages wouldn’t disturb Ivy then he set his phone down on the nightstand and watched the steady rise and fall of her chest.

***

Ivy pulled her arms to her sides for warmth as a shiver racked her body. If she had enough strength she’d curl into a ball, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t risk them knowing she was awake.

Wait a second.

She hadn’t been cold in as long as she could remember. Normally she withered in sweat. She moved her tongue around the arid tissue of her mouth. She had to wake up and get water. She forced her eyes open and the room jackknifed.

These walls were different. The scent was musty but didn’t burn her nostrils, and she was lying on a bed with a fleece comforter tucked around her.

The events of the last time she’d woken rushed through her mind with the force of a slingshot.

Hot angels. Water. Sister.

“Ivy?” The gruff rumble was quickly followed by a hand on her wrist.

She snapped her attention to the thick dark fingers clamped around her forearm, and then her gaze traveled up to a bristly jaw.

One of the hot angels. She swallowed as his thumb rubbed her skin. “Glad you’re awake. Do you remember me?”

She wanted to say yes, but her body had other priorities. “I have to pee,” she said.

He blinked, his dark eyelashes erasing the concerned question in his crystalline orbs. “Uh. Sure.” He scratched his head. “Think you can stand?”

Standing was the second-last thing she wanted to do. The last thing she wanted to do was pee the bed. “Yes,” she said weakly.

“I’ll help you sit up.” He reached for her hand and her gaze fell on the tube poking out of her wrist.

She gasped.

No. No more drugs. She reached for the tube, but the guy grabbed her fingers before she could rip it out.

“Hey, you gotta leave that. It’s just fluids.”

---