“You were stabbed?” I gasped as the words came out.

“I was stabbed fourteen times. Shoulder, back, side, and my lower arm.”

“Tucker!” I hissed his name out as I moved in closer to look at the arm, the one on the other side of the bed from where I sat. “But you’re up and talking to me right now. How is that possible?”

“It all happened so quickly,” he all but whispered to me. “One minute I was standing there, outside the office, and the next this white-hot flash of pain ripped into my back, then again, and as I turned to see what the hell was behind me, I got hit a few times in the arm. I don’t honestly remember it all that well. I see it all in little disjointed clips. I remember flashes of being transported to the hospital there. I guess, from what they tell me, I was in and out of consciousness.”

“How on Earth did you get back home? Surely, it wasn’t prudent to fly you home after all that.”

“I demanded it be done. One, because no one could get ahold of you and I was worried. Two, because my safety couldn’t properly be looked after in a hospital there. The hit on my father had been hired out. I became a loose end.”

“Did they catch the person?”

He shook his head. “Not yet, or at least not that anyone has told me. They do know that Venla’s family was behind it and they are either in custody or being investigated, including Venla.”

“What a disaster. What about your mom?”

“She is with my grandparents for now. I’m sure that they finally had to tell her all the details, since it will no doubt become public knowledge soon.”

“I’m so sorry this happened to you and I wasn’t around.”

“Don’t. I told you already, I understood why you went off the grid, and I don’t blame you. Honestly, I am sort of glad that you did. We still can’t be sure if they sent someone to the States to target anyone else who had a hope of inheriting the money. Being my wife would have made you a prime target.”

“What a disaster,” I hissed as the hospital room door opened and Wes ambled in.

“Brought some coffee for everyone,” he announced as he set a tray down on the little table beside the bed. “How are you holding up?” He asked Tucker.

“Better now,” Tucker admitted as he squeezed my hand. I honestly hadn’t even realized he’d been holding onto me the whole time until then. I squeezed his hand back and then leaned my head over, laying it near his uninjured shoulder on the bed. My mind went in a thousand different directions, not the least of which was still feeling guilty over thinking he was up to no good while he was being assaulted and nearly killed.

“I have a good therapist and a lovely trauma group you can join,” I teased. Though, in all honesty, I was also being serious. I raised my head to look him in the eye, so he knew that too. “Better to work on what happened sooner, rather than after too much damage has worked it’s way into your brain and you have to put up even more effort to undo all of it.”