Page 15 of Savage Reckoning

I let myself into the ward and check for myself. Ethan’s scan results are back and indicate no hint of brain damage, but still, he remains unconscious. Cristina is ashen with the strain.

“What does it mean?” she asks me. “Is he injured or not?”

“The scans suggest not. We just have to wait…”

“How long?” She’s fighting back tears. “It’s been hours.”

“These things take time,” I assure her. “I wish we could be more… definite. A few days. Weeks…”

“Oh God.” She buries her head in her hands. “What if he never wakes up?”

It’s far too early to be speculating along those lines, but even so, I do wonder about the implications. As I understand it, baby Sebastien is Ethan’s heir, but he’s not even two years old yet. His uncle, Aaron, and of course Jack Morgan, could manage the organisation until he comes of age, but I’ve seen enough of this world to know the sharks will be circling once it gets out that the leader is down. The Savages have enemies, and they’ll all fancy their chances. Even trusted allies such as Cristina’s brother, Marius Bival, and Casey’s husband, Jed O’Neill, have been known to turn when an opportunity presented itself.

Oh yes, we’re moving into volatile, changeable times. And I can’t imagine the presence of my ex-lover is going to help matters at all. He’s the most treacherous of the lot.

I check on Aaron next. He’s conscious and coherent, and his dedicated nurse informs me he’s likely to be discharged to a general ward within a few hours. I’ll need to make arrangements to move both him and Magda to the Richmond, our preferred private clinic near Inverness. There, they can recuperate away from the glare of reporters, police, and just possibly murderous enemies set on finishing what they started.

I return to the family room to find it deserted. I assume Irina and Natalija will be with Rome, maybe grabbing a bite to eat. Perhaps I should join them. I drag my phone out of my pocket just as the door opens.

“What the fuck do you want?” I blurt.

Ed, or rather, Gabe Sawyer, has the gall to grin at me. And my stomach has the gall to do some sort of a ridiculous flip at the sight. He was always a handsome bastard, I’ll give him that, and the last couple of years have done nothing to dim his attractiveness. He was always a man to turn female heads, and didn’t he just know it.

“You,” is his simple response. “We need to talk.”

“So you said.” I’m tempted to just give him a one-finger salute, but that seems childish. Instead, I tip up my chin. “I have work to do, so if you’ll excuse me…”

He steps back to lean against the door to the corridor, barring my way out. “Just a few minutes.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Can’t do that. Not yet.”

“If you don’t let me pass, I’ll—”

“I got them to let you out.”

“I—” I gape at him. “What? What did you say?”

“You were sentenced to five years. I got them to reduce it to one and release you early. Thought I owed you that much, at least.”

“It was nothing to do with you. Don’t flatter yourself.” Am I really listening to such bullshit? “It was good behaviour. I got them to let me out.”

“You might have managed to shave a few months off your sentence that way, but not eighty percent of it. I struck a deal with the army, and you walked.”

I can only stare at him. He actually fucking believes this crap, the arrogant prick. It might be pathetic if I weren’t so fucking mad with him.

“You can’t do deals like that. No one can.”

“Ah, honey, you’d be amazed what deals can be done when you have something they want.”

“Who’s ‘they’? What do you have that they want? And how does any of that concern me?”

“Come for a coffee with me. We’ll talk, I’ll explain.”

“Any explaining you do needs to be directed at your wife, not me. Now if you’ll please excuse me?”

“I have no wife.”

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