Gusty winds slapped rain against the window of Kit’s hospital room, almost drowning out the beeps of various medical devices in the unit, carts rolling past, and voices from the hallway.

Maybe it was a bit noisy, but to her, all the sounds spelled out safety.

Kit rubbed her face and winced when her fingers ran into the coarse stitches down one cheek. They hurt. Oh, admit it, everything hurt. Her broken arm they’d had to set again. Her belly where they’d had to deal with stuff a broken rib had punctured. And, more than anything, her side with the cracked and broken ribs. The surgeon said she was lucky the fractured bones hadn’t pierced a lung.

She didn’t feel particularly lucky. More like stupid.

Her idiocy had almost gotten Frankie—and lots of other people—killed trying to rescue her from her mistakes. If she’d been smarter, maybe—

“Hey.” Bringing in the scent of rain and forest, Frankie limped into the hospital room and rolled her eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking about, you should stop.”

Kit tried to smile, felt the stitches pull, and sighed. “I’m a mess.”

Tilting her head to one side, Frankie tugged on her chin in an imitation of their elderly, persnickety, college history professor. “Ms. Traeger, I believe you might have a point.”

Kit giggled, then clutched her side. “Oh, blessings, don’t make me laugh. Please.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Frankie held up her hands. “I solemnly swear to be tedious and boring.”

Trying not to laugh almost hurt worse. Ouch, ouch, ouch. “You’re so mean.”

“That’s me.” Arm pressed to her side in a way Kit recognized, Frankie gingerly settled on the bedside chair.

Because she’d been hurt, too. Frankie’d made light of it, but the FBI agents told Kit that everyone who’d come into the compound had been injured in some way.

Nevertheless, Frankie hadn’t let it stop her from visiting. She wouldn’t, because Kit was all alone here. And scared. Dear God, she was scared sometimes. Having Frankie close was like a lifeline…and one she shouldn’t cling to.

Instead, concentrate on gratitude. “The Feds said a lot of people were involved in the rescue. Since I’m stuck here, could you tell them” —a lump in her throat choked off the words for a moment—“h-how very thankful I am for their help? How sorry I am they were hurt?”

When she was out of the hospital, she’d find a way to repay those amazing rescuers who’d risked their lives for strangers.

“Sure. You don’t need to feel guilty. On the transport team, the injuries were mostly scrapes and a few turned ankles.” Frankie’s eyes lit with laughter. “The diversion team, however, had such bad hangovers the next day that the whining never stopped.”

“They were drunk when they faked the crash at the gate?”