Page 72 of The Delivery

He puts his fingertips to my lips to shush me. Then pulls me to him for another sweet and lazy kiss.

“No negotiations on this one, Finch. Sorry. It’s already done and you’ll have to live with it. You could open up your own place like Pathways. Make a difference with those kids.”

“If you even start to die in that surgery, Mo, I’ll run in there and kill you myself. Don’t even think about it. You better fucking pull through it and with strength because I’m expecting a night full of hot sex—sometime really soon. I’ve waited years to get some of this,” I say, grabbing him between the legs and feeling his dick.

Mozey kisses me back a little more forcefully, slipping his tongue between my eager lips. We might be the only couple to make out like teenagers on the drive to the hospital for surgery.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, boss,” he murmurs through our desperate kiss. There are so many things I want to say to him, let him know I regretted every time I turned him away.

We’ve arrived at the entrance to the hospital, and the thugs have stepped out and are opening the doors for us. Mozey removes my hand from the crotch of his pants.

“Doc, believe me, I don’t want you to stop, but I can’t walk in there with a boner like this.”

I laugh in spite of myself. Then I look at his beautiful smile and my own face dissolves into an expression filled with fear. I search his face frantically unable to convey all that I feel for him with words or kisses or any recourse I possess.

“I’ve loved you every minute, Mo. Since your damn case file was placed on my desk. I never got to tell you how grateful I was, am, because I was too busy being angry and—”

“Lana,” Mo says, again taking my shoulders and looking deeply into my face. “It’s a routine surgery and pretty low-risk. I’ll be up and running by tomorrow morning. We’ve got a whole lifetime together. We’re in this together. Me and you, right?”

I nod at him with the terror-induced words still sitting on my lips. He takes my hand and looks down at my ring finger, rubbing his thumb over the band once and then twice. He sighs and then looks at me sincerely.

“Let me talk and don’t say anything else until you’ve heard me through. It’s something I gotta do. I know you understand—you’d do the same for Alexei. And he would for you. I know I’ll come through this without a scratch because I can already see my future and it’s filled up with nothing except a whole lot of you. Thank you for coming after me, Lana. God knows I’ve behaved like an ass at times, but I like who I am when I’m with you.”

I choke out a sob and hold back from throwing my arms around him. I don’t want to make a scene. My instincts are telling me to drag him away from this place and all of these people no matter how much he protests. I don’t trust the security let alone the Miramontes. I don’t even trust the doctors performing the surgery. Though I’m loathe to admit it, I don’t trust Brisa because she’s a part of it.

One last kiss, a tight hug, and I let go of his hand. I stand in the entryway to the hospital, staring down at my empty hand. I don’t want to let go of Moisés. I don’t ever want to know what it feels like to lose him for good.

CHAPTER 34

Ipace the hallway for two hours before I agree to let the security guards take me back to the hotel for lunch. Mrs. Miramontes left for the news station to appear on a morning talk show. Mr. Miramontes isn’t even around. I agree to go back because I’m anxious, and I think maybe booking our tickets to Detroit would make me feel useful. I could use some distraction and something other than hospital coffee.

As soon as I’m in our room, I breathe a sigh of relief. This feels like our space, somehow protected and separate from everything. I shed my clothes and grab his t-shirt, yanking it down over my head. I hunt down a pair of his boxers and put those on too. I welcome the sensory immersion in his musky scent. I crawl under the covers and roll myself into a ball, shutting out the world and its lousy complicated mess.

I awaken to an old fashioned, shrill telephone ring. For one second I’m sleepy, fuzzy-headed Lana, and the next my heart is on fire, adrenaline flooding through my veins. I snatch the receiver off of the night table and smash it to my head.

“Hello?” I say on the verge of tears.

“Hey, it’s Lex.”

“Oh God!” I exclaim, and now, I am crying. Warm tears of release roll

down my face. “I thought maybe, never mind—” I say, trying to get a grip. I glance at the clock and see I passed out for a few hours. I stretch Mo’s tshirt, slipping my knees inside and pulling them up to my chest.

“How’s it going? Is he out yet?”

“He should be in recovery now if everything went okay. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Did you call the hospital to check?”

“No, I was sleeping. It’s supposed to be routine, non-invasive. Don’t make me more nervous than I already am, Lex.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m anxious too. Do you know if his sister’s immune system was compromised, say from cancer, aids, hepatitis C or an autoimmune disease, perhaps?”

“What? I don’t think so. I mean—I haven’t even met her yet. I know she was right on the edge waiting for a donor.”

“Do you know why it had to be Mo?”

I stand up and run my fingers through my wavy hair trying to finger comb away the curls.

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