Page 92 of At Her Will

“Karman Leone,” Vera said at the ER desk. “He goes by Rev.”

The admin typed in the name and reviewed the screen while Vera did her best not to yank it around and read it herself. “He’s out of surgery and in recovery,” she told them. “You can go up to the waiting room.”

As soon as the woman told her where it was located, Vera was headed for the elevator. Cyn’s long legs helped her keep pace. “They don’t have him in the ICU,” her friend pointed out. “That’s a good sign.”

Yes, it was.He’s alive.But it didn’t reassure her enough. She needed to see him.

Cyn stood close enough to her in the elevator that their shoulders brushed. Their relationship could be contentious, because even as close as they were, Cyn saw Vera as an authority figure, and her dysfunctional subconscious was predisposed to needle her, even without provocation. But right now, Cyn projected nothing but unconditional support, which included the willingness to go full-on pit bull. Whatever Vera needed was what she’d provide.

Vera expected nothing less from her, but she stomped the surge of emotion it caused, trying to break through her wall of control. She didn’t know what was ahead of them, but she would figure out what Rev needed before she’d indulge her own reactions. That was what Cyn and the others were used to from her, because that was the way Vera was. It wasn’t an act.

She thought of him in her home, stretched out under her touch, his eyes upon her as she painted his skin. They’d have seen the henna when they worked upon him. Did they know it had been put upon him by someone who wanted him marked as her possession, with her protection?

With her love. New though it was, she couldn’t deny its existence when it was pounding in time with her heart.

When they reached the waiting room, she saw Witford and Tisha sitting in two of the chairs. His cousin’s lips tightened, and Tisha’s expression went stony. Witford rose and turned to the hospital volunteer sitting at the desk.

“This woman isn’t welcome,” Witford said. “She can’t see my cousin.”

“That’s not your call.” Cyn’s posture was a sword halfway out of a scabbard.

“We’re his family,” Tisha said. “She’s not.”

A dangerous reaction gripped Vera, but before she could unleash it, she saw Mavis coming down the hallway. Which meant Rev was okay enough to receive visitors, though probably only one or two at a time, explaining why Tisha and Witford were out here.

“Thank goodness.” Mavis clasped Vera in a light embrace and whispered in her ear. “He’s all right. Take a breath.”

As Vera did, gripping Mavis’s forearms, the woman drew back and looked toward Witford. “I’m so glad you called her like he asked you to do.” She glanced back at Vera. “The nurse said he’s been asking for you since he woke from surgery.”

The volunteer at the desk, a retiree in a pink smock, looked like she routinely handled families in crisis. Or in this case, conflict. She’d been following the conversation, as her words now proved. “Sir,” she said briskly to Witford, “your cousin is awake and stable. He can choose who he wants to see. That said,” she looked toward Vera, “I should verify with the nurse he’s asked to see you. Name?”

“Veracity Morgan,” Vera said stiffly.

Witford curled a lip. Tisha’s gaze held hate and revulsion. Neither was bothering with a façade for their true feelings.

As Mavis drew Vera a few steps away for a private conversation, Cyn slid into the line of sight between her and Rev’s family. Whatever Witford saw in her expression had him returning to his chair beside Tisha, though with plenty of attitude. If there’d been a target painted on her, Vera couldn’t have felt the thrown knife of his gaze more keenly.

It told her how rattled they were, but it didn’t throttle back her urge to react in kind. She had enough anger to pull it out and use it on the bastard herself.

The nurse said he’s been asking for you since he woke from surgery.

“What happened?” Vera asked Mavis.

“A troubled boy, Craig, brought a gun into the school. He shot four students and Janice Cuddy.” Mavis suddenly looked so overcome that it was Vera’s turn to put a steadying hand on her shoulder. Mavis gripped it tight.

“They’re all mine, Vera. Rev is, too. They’re my responsibility.”

“And you take care of them,” Vera said. “You can’t be in every child’s mind, anticipating every problem they’re facing or how they’ll react to it.”

“I know. I know. God, Vera.” Her face crumpled. “Janice is dead. Two of the students are in critical condition.”

Oh, Goddess.“I’m so sorry, Mavis.”

Vera leaned in and pressed her forehead to her friend’s. “You breathe with me. We’ll handle all of it, but let’s take a moment.”

Mavis’s head moved in a slight nod. When she lifted it, they were both in a better place. Vera had better control of the urgent need to bolt down the hall and find Rev, refusing to let anyone stand in her way.

“I talked to one of the two students who was less injured,” Mavis said. “She was shot in the leg but will be fine, thank God. She was lying just inside the classroom door, and saw what happened after he shot Janice.”

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