Her chipper chatter replied from around the corner. “I’ll see what we can do,” the nurse said from around the corner. “I’ll be back.”

Colby would appreciate a box of Dots when he woke up.

She was far past burnt out and exhausted to the point of debilitation. After shampooing her hair, she dumped the entire travel-sized bottle of conditioner into her hair and finger combed it. More progress than with the plastic comb but still a dismal mess. She didn’t care. She needed sleep. Bad.

She dried off, slipped on the scrubs, and found a cot piled high with blankets. She’d never seen something so enticing. A few steps later, and Mia was burrowed in. Soft pillows and blankets, all stinking like bleach, but it didn’t matter. Sleep beckoned, but her wandering mind kept it a finger’s distance away. Would she have nightmares filled with bombs reverberations, knives against her throat, and the evil, accented threats of a monster?

Yeah, she would.

But Colby would wake up and kiss away her fears. He’d love her until she relaxed. She knew he would. There was something special about him. And she loved him. That was enough to drive away the nightmares.

Warm shudders ripped through her. A sweet smile hung limp. It was her first smile in days. She loved him. The realization thawed fears of family and commitment. How could she possibly not want them—him and Clara—in her life?

Memories of the Colombian carnage would dissolve. She couldn’t wait until he woke up. She had to know what he’d say when she covered him in kisses, confessing how much he meant in her life.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Bright lights seared his retinas as Winters blinked awake. He blinked again. This wasn’t the same view as when he went to sleep. He closed his eyes and tried to remember. He felt starched sheets that itched. An antiseptic smell registered as hospital-like. He blinked again. Definitely in a hospital.

His tongue felt furry and dry. When he opened and closed his mouth, it made a spit-less sound. He surveyed the blankets tucked tight around the length of his body except where his left arm stuck out, an IV inserted and secured with tape. The dirt and blood that he remembered was gone. He stretched his hand, and worked his fist. Even his fingernails were clean.

Winters scanned the empty room. The private suite, vitals monitor, IV bag, and furniture were decidedly not Colombian. The television played the nighttime news in silence. Muted and American. A whiteboard on the wall said his doctor’s name was Tuska, his nurse’s name was Sandy, and his tech’s name was Jeremy. He had no idea how it happened, but he was back on US soil.

A white remote with blue buttons lay next to his blanket-covered mid-section. He grabbed it and gave it a once over. Basic and in English. Television controls. Bed controls. A nurse call button. He pushed a button and rose to a sit. His mouth was still disgustingly dry. He blinked several times more to clear the cobwebs and focused on the television.