Page 85 of Rami

A chill washed over Ivy’s skin as she was taken back to her worst moments. Even Rami’s hand didn’t warm her. “I—I don’t know. It’s possible.”

“Okay. Give me a few moments to find out how to move forward.” She left the room, and Ivy collapsed into Rami’s arms.

“A tracking device? I’m so stupid. How could I not know they implanted something in me?”

“Hey.” Rami’s no-nonsense tone shook her out of her despair. “There’s no way you could’ve known if they did it when you were unconscious. Can I look you over?”

She nodded. His fingers moved along her skin—neck, shoulders, arms. Next, his hands went to her hair, and he searched her scalp. Moments later he froze. “I can feel something,” he said, kneading the nape of her neck.

Ivy quickly moved her hand to the spot. Sure enough, there was something hard beneath the skin. The doctor returned, and Rami pointed out the area.

After an X-ray confirmed the tracker, the doctor administered some local anesthetic then removed a small cylinder-shaped device from Ivy’s skin.

Ivy shook as she stared at the blasted device that had marked her. Tracked her every movement and reported it back to the very people she was running from. Tremors took hold of her muscles. The room tilted, and Rami tightened his grip on her.

She burrowed her face into his chest.

“Ms. Hastings?” the doctor asked softly. “I’d like to check you for a concussion. Are you up for that?”

“I suppose there’s not much else that could shock me now.”

The doctor gave a sympathetic smile and shined a flashlight into her eyes. After Ivy made a few eye movements, the doctor clicked it off. Ivy blinked at the sudden lack of light. “You’ve got a concussion. It wouldn’t hurt for you to stay a few hours, but I bet you want to get home—”

“More than anything,” Ivy interjected.

Rami’s thumb smoothed over her knuckles, but he didn’t say anything to contradict her wishes.

“Well,” the doctor said, swinging her gaze to Rami and back. “I see you won’t be alone. Just make sure someone is with you for the next forty-eight hours. And get lots of rest.”

Again, Rami brushed her hand.

Ivy wanted nothing more than to be swallowed up by a bed and surrounded by darkness—and Rami’s body. None of which would happen at the hospital. The beeping machines and alarms sounding down the hallway were enough to give her a migraine from hell. She’d taken ibuprofen and hoped to god it would kick in soon.

“Thank you,” Ivy said, as she shuffled forward on the bed, ready to hightail it out of the building before her traitorous body did something stupid to keep her there longer.

A nurse approached with a wheelchair and steered her out of the room. Rami brought his truck around to the front entrance and helped her inside. Warm air pumped from the vents and the seat warmer was on. He got into the driver’s seat and slid a pitying glance her way. “How’s your head?”

“Splitting.”

He buckled his seatbelt and steered out of the parking lot. The clock on the dash read 5:01a.m., and pink daylight was beginning to streak the edge of the sky. Although the roads were quieter than usual, there was still some traffic. Cars whizzed by her window, and the oncoming headlights made her wince and rest her head on the back of the seat.

Rami drove in silence. After twenty minutes or so, he pulled into a long driveway. The jostling of the vehicle prompted her to open her eyes, and she took in the wide bungalow spread out on what appeared to be a double lot. Trees planted around the property created privacy from his neighbors.

“Is this your house?” The words moved like sandpaper over her throat.

“Yup.”

She looked at it with new interest. The steel-gray siding had brick accents, and black shutters accentuated the large windows. He pulled into the double detached garage then got out and moved around to her side to open the door. She hooked her arm in his and waited while he grabbed her bag.

Walking up to the front porch, Ivy took in the cedar porch and railing. “This is beautiful,” she said, as Rami unlocked the large front door made of oak and wrought iron.

He lifted his lips in half a smile. “Thanks. Been here a few years and still tinkering away at renos. I did the exterior this spring.”

“Why am I not surprised you’re good with your hands?”

He swung open the door and flicked on the light. “If you hadn’t taken a hit to the head, we’d test out that theory.”

A thrill stirred in her belly, but the dull ache at the back of her head stopped the thought in its tracks.

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