Dirty Deeds(5)

I wanted to find her.





CHAPTER TWO


Alana





“Alana.” I heard a voice cut through the darkness. A firm hand shook my shoulder as the screams and cries started to fade away and only the fear, that deep, desperate fear, was a film left behind.

I blinked slowly, the white light filtering in through my eyelashes. The nightmare was hanging around in the back of my pounding head, and the living nightmare was before me.

Fuck my fucking life. I couldn’t believe I got hit by a goddamn car.

“Alana,” the voice said again, and I knew it was the nurse, Salma. “Are you all right, dear? You were crying in your sleep.”

I brought my eyes over to her without moving my head. I’d gotten pretty good at that over the last few days. If I moved my head at all, I’d be hit with a wave of nausea. The doctors assured me that I probably wouldn’t have a concussion, but I didn’t believe them. I felt like my brain had been demolished.

The nurse had a kindly face, full-cheeked like a chipmunk. So far she was the only one in the hospital who had been doting on me. The doctors and surgeons were so brusque and professional. I was used to that being with the airlines and all, but it was nice to have someone that acted as if they really cared.

“Sometimes I do that,” I said carefully. “I … have nightmares.”

She gave me a sympathetic smile. “I can tell.” Luckily she didn’t press it any further. My childhood wasn’t something I liked to talk about.

“How are you feeling, otherwise?” she asked, trying to adjust my pillow. I winced at the movement but was relieved that it didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.

“I still get dizzy when I move my head,” I told her. “But it’s getting better now. Thank god. My arm is really itchy.” I looked down to the cast around my wrist, going from palm to mid-forearm.

“It will get better as your skin gets used to it,” Salma said. “You were incredibly lucky, Alana. Not many people walk away from a hit-and-run accident with only a fractured ankle and a broken wrist.”

“And the bruising and the pain and the head that feels like it is going to explode,” I filled in.

“That, too, will go away,” she said. “All you need to do is rest.”

I swallowed hard. It felt like I had a lump of coal in my throat. “Have they caught the guy yet, the guy who did this to me?”

A funny look passed over her eyes, and I knew she knew something.

“Tell me, please,” I told her. “I hate being kept in the dark.”

She sighed and cast a quick glance over to the open door leading out into the rest of the hospital. The bed next to me in the semi-private room was thankfully unoccupied the whole time I had been there.

“I haven’t talked to the police,” she said in a low voice. “It’s just what I’ve been hearing. But the guy who hit you, he’s dead.”

My eyes widened. “Dead?”

“Someone killed him … he was murdered. Not too far from where you were hit.”

“What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I am sure the police will talk to you about it as soon as they can.”

My thoughts automatically went to my brother. Javier was protective over me, even more so lately, and this seemed like something he would do.

“How was he killed?” I asked with trepidation.

“He was shot. In the head.”

“That’s it?”

She shot me a funny look.

I quickly fumbled for my next words. “I mean, that’s terrible.”

That meant it wasn’t Javier. Javier wouldn’t just shoot whoever did this to me, he would take them and make them suffer for a very, very long time. My brother might be twisted – as all drug cartel lords are – but family always came first.

“I’m not sure how terrible it is,” the nurse said. “This man hit you with his car and took off. Some might say it’s his comeuppance.”

Some might say all of this was too weird. “I guess I don’t have to worry anymore.”

She shook her head. “You don’t. But there is still a police officer stationed on this floor, for at least tonight. They can’t tell whether the hit and run was intentional or not.”

“I’d seen that car before,” I told her, just as I had told the police. “I got glimpses of the man from time to time. I think he was a mechanic for the airlines.”

“That’s what they say. No record of criminal history either, but then again it’s Mexico, so that doesn’t mean much, does it?”

I wanted to shake my head but didn’t risk it. “No, it doesn’t.” I closed my eyes. “When do I get out of here again?”