The Walls Of Troy Part 32

The door opened.

"Troy?" I murmured.

"Sorry, honey." A woman stepped into view. "I'm Jessica. I'm your nurse."

I swept my tongue across my dry lips. "Where's Troy?"

Her brow furrowed. "Troy?"

"He was...he was at the scene. I heard a gunshot, and-" Did I? Was that real?

"Take it easy, honey." She put a cool hand on my arm. "There were other people at the scene, but I don't have information on them yet."

"d.a.m.n it. How long have I been out?"

"You've been awake a few times." She smiled. "The morphine kept you pretty s.p.a.cey, though."

"Morphine?"

She nodded. "If it's worn off enough for us to have this conversation, I probably don't have to tell you why they gave it to you."

That was a fact. Holding my breath was only marginally less painful than breathing, so I kept breathing, if slowly.

"They can give me more, right?"

"That's up to the doctor. And to answer your question, it's only been a couple of hours."

"Thanks." A couple of hours. It felt like forever.

"Now that you're lucid," Jessica went on, "the doctor wants to keep you hooked up to the ECG for a little while to monitor your heart. Because of-"

"The Taser. I know. Been there, done that."

"This ain't your first rodeo?"

"Unfortunately, no." I moistened my lips. "How long do I have to be hooked to this thing? Since I've been on it for...however long."

The nurse shrugged and handed me a fresh icepack. "Until the doctor is certain the electrical current didn't do any damage to your heart."

"Okay. Could you do me a favor?"

"I can try."

"Find out about Troy. Troy Dalton. I just... I need to know he's alive."

"I'll do what I can."

"Thanks."

"You stay put. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She left, and I stayed put, the ECG monitor beeping and the cold icepack pressed against my throbbing head. Wasn't this dej vu all over again? f.u.c.k my life. At least I'd been drugged out of my skull when they'd attached the leads to my chest. And put me in this hospital gown, for that matter. I wondered if they'd let me wear it home, along with the ECG pads. I did not relish the idea of trying to put on a shirt.

Minutes later, she came back in.

"Did you find out about Troy?" I instantly regretted my own eagerness-I'd tried to sit up, and...yeah. Big mistake.

"Easy, sweetheart." She put a hand on my shoulder. "The less you move around right now, the better."

"I hadn't noticed." I slowly released a breath. "What about Troy?"

"I haven't heard anything, but the police want to talk to you about what happened. Are you ready to speak to them?"

"Sure. Why not?" Maybe they'd know about Troy. I'd answer any question they asked as long as they answered that one for me.

"I'll send them in," Jessica said and leaned out of the room. "He'll see you now."

Two uniformed officers stepped in. Jessica left, and the first officer extended his hand. "I'm Sergeant Sanchez, Virginia Beach PD. This is my partner, Sergeant Jackson."

I shook their hands, and they both pulled up chairs beside the bed.

"We just need to ask you-"

"Before you do," I said, "just tell me if Troy's all right. Please."

The officer tapped on his notebook. "Mr. Dalton is fine. He's answering some questions and being treated for some minor injuries from the collision, but he's all right."

I exhaled hard and didn't even give a d.a.m.n about the pain. It wasn't going anywhere any time soon. At least I had confirmation that Troy was okay, though.

"And the...the other guy?" I moistened my lips. "Ben?"

"Well, that's why I want to ask you some questions." He crossed one leg over the other and rested the notepad on his knee. "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?"

I closed my eyes and forced my mind to go back across the hazy void to the memories that were- "Iskander?"

"Troy."

-real. Piece by piece, it all came back into focus, and I rehashed it as best I could.

When I was finished, he asked, "So you heard the gunshot but didn't see anything?"

"No. The Taser put me down."

"Can you tell me where Mr. Dalton acquired a handgun?"

I furrowed my brow, staring up at the ceiling. I vaguely remembered Ben getting my weapon away from me. There was no way Troy could have disarmed him, could he? There hadn't been nearly enough time for that. A few seconds, no more. How the- A piece fell into place.

"Under the seat. Of my car." I gingerly rubbed a hand over my face, flinching when I brushed the tender spot on my cheekbone. "There's a lockbox under there. I...I left the keys in the ignition after the collision. He must've gotten my pistol out of the lockbox."

"And how did he know it was there?"

"He's seen me put it there a few times." When I've taken him shooting. G.o.d, Troy, we're both lucky as h.e.l.l you're a crack shot...

"I see."

I swept my tongue across my parched lips. "What about Ben? How is he?"

Sanchez kept his gaze fixed on his notepad. Then he stood abruptly. "I think that's all I need for now. Thank you, Mr. Ayhan."

"Wait." When he turned around, I said, "I want to see Troy. Please."

"I'll see if the other officers are finished talking to him, and I'll send him in."

"Thank you."

He left, and I was alone again. The doctor came and went. The officer returned with a few more questions and a half-a.s.sed rea.s.surance that he'd send Troy in my direction. The nurse wandered in to check my ECG and not give me any morphine. More often than not, I was alone with my thoughts, and those thoughts insisted that as long as I hadn't seen Troy with my own eyes, then there was a possibility he wasn't okay. Until I could touch him, then I wasn't okay either.

And no one would tell me where Troy was.

Just let me touch him so I know he's alive. Please.

At the sound of more footsteps, I looked up to see who was coming in to f.u.c.k with me again, but it wasn't the medic or another cop this time.

I tried to sit up, which hurt like a motherf.u.c.ker and sent me right back against the hard mattress. "Troy. Are you..."

"I'm fine."

He slipped his hand into mine, and I d.a.m.n near cried. I probably would have if not for the excruciating pain.

"Thank G.o.d," I whispered, gripping his hand tight. "I thought you were..." No, he wasn't. No sense even thinking about that now. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"I'm fine. What about you?"

"I've...had better days." I blinked my watering eyes into focus. "I thought for a minute there I'd lost you."

He laughed, and that was when I realized his eyeliner was smudged. "Tell me about it. I thought I'd just watched you die."

"No." I squeezed his hand just like I had before I'd pa.s.sed out. "I thought I'd just heard you die."

"No. Not..." He flinched, avoiding my eyes. "Not me."

"Thank G.o.d."

He looked me up and down. "How bad are you hurt?"

"Nothing a few weeks of taking it easy won't fix. They still want to check me out. Because of..." I shifted a little, sending fresh pain through my side. "Anyway, just in case. But I'll be okay. What about you?"

He hugged himself. "I think I'm okay."

"Come here." I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, wincing but still holding on to him, and kissed the side of his head. "G.o.dd.a.m.n. I taught you to shoot to save your own life. Didn't have a clue you'd end up saving mine too."

He sniffed sharply. "I am so sorry, Iskander. This wouldn't have happened if-"

"Don't. He's a f.u.c.king lunatic. This is on him, not you."

"But you wouldn't be hurt like this if not for me."

"And I wouldn't have you." I tipped his chin up and lightly kissed his lips. "I'll take the busted head and ribs."

He sighed and lifted himself up, meeting my eyes, and his were definitely wet now. "I'm going to have to work my a.s.s off to live up to that tradeoff."

I laughed, but it quickly turned to a groan.

"What? Are you okay? What's-"

"Ribs." I grimaced and tried to get comfortable, even though I knew it was pointless. "It's gonna be like this for a few months, I think."

"s.h.i.t."

"I'll be all right." Once my vision had cleared, I looked up at him. "The cop told me you shot Ben."

Troy winced, and I thought for a moment he might be sick.

I clasped his hand in mine. "What happened? Did he..."

Troy took a deep breath. "He didn't make it. He, uh..." Running trembling fingers through his hair, he whispered, "He died in surgery."

"My G.o.d." I gripped his hand a little tighter. "Are you doing okay?"

"It...hasn't quite sunk in yet. I mean, I killed someone." He shuddered hard. "I f.u.c.king-"

"Shh." I squeezed his hand again. "You did what you had to do. He had my gun, and G.o.d knows what he might've done to you."

"Or you," he whispered.

Right then, the door opened.

Troy sat up. The beeping on the ECG monitor sped up.

"Oh, thank G.o.d." Dalton shut the door behind him and threw his arms around Troy. "The cops, they...they wouldn't tell me everything that happened. Are you..." He let Troy go and stood up, looking both of us up and down. "Are you both all right?"

"We're fine," I said. "Banged up and rattled, but we'll both be okay."

"Thank G.o.d." Dalton's gaze darted back and forth between us. "What exactly happened?"

I looked at Troy, eyebrows up. How much do you want to tell him?

"Dad." Troy gulped. "Listen, I..." He cringed, lowering his gaze. "I wasn't entirely honest with you about a few things."