“You seem pretty calm right now considering what you went through,” Alex said, putting her arm around Samuels.
Samuels fought back tears and sighed. “He was your half brother, too. You would’ve loved him. He reminds me of Hawk.”
“Tough as nails?”
“A compassionate warrior. And the world is in short supply of those in this day and age.”
A doctor entered the room and studied a chart before speaking.
“Is a Mr. Hawk here?” he asked.
“I’ll go get him,” Alex said as she stood up. “He’s in the chapel.”
* * *
HAWK FINISHED HIS PRAYER and stared up at the crucifix attached to the wall behind the lectern. While Hawk proclaimed he wasn’t the religious type, he’d spent plenty of hours in church as a kid. The iconic image of Jesus reminded Hawk that even a man who lived a perfect life was tortured and mocked. Suffering was part of the journey, like anything else. But even as Hawk realized it was necessary, he loathed it.
The door to the chapel swung open and Alex strode in.
“The doctor’s here and out of surgery,” she announced.
Hawk nodded and stood up. “And Blunt?”
“The doc hasn’t said anything yet. I wanted to wait until you were done.”
“I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Hawk followed Alex while glancing at his right hand. It was trembling. Holding it steady by using his left hand, Hawk tried to keep pace with Alex. He put his shoulder into the door and pushed it open.
Alex stopped and turned around. “Are you all right back there?”
“I’ll be all right,” he said. “I’m just moving a little slow.”
Alex resumed her pace and turned sharply to the right before coming to a stop with Hawk just a few steps behind her. The doctor was seated in a chair against the hallway wall, studying a chart. When he realized he had company, he shut the chart and rose to meet them.
“Dr. Almeda,” he said, offering his hand to Hawk and Alex.
“We appreciate your help, doc,” Hawk said as he shook hands with the surgeon.
“Well, you’ll be pleased with the news,” Dr. Almeda said. “Mr. Blunt was incredibly lucky as the bullet went clean through him without nicking any major arteries. There was only some minor internal bleeding, but nothing that we couldn’t quickly get under control.”
Hawk sighed and cracked a faint smile. “So, he’s gonna be okay?”
“He just needs some rest, but he should be back to full strength in a couple of weeks.”
“You don’t know him like we do,” Alex said. “He’ll be fine within the next three days.”
Dr. Almeda lowered his chin and cast a quick glance at Alex over the top of his glasses.
“Even the fastest healers need plenty of rest. Discourage him from any strenuous activity for at least two weeks. His body needs time to repair itself.”
“Do you have a straightjacket we can borrow?” Alex deadpanned.
The doctor scowled and shook his head. “You can go in and see him now if you like.”
“Thanks again,” Hawk mumbled before sliding past Alex and beating her to Blunt’s room.
Hawk eased into the room and slowly peered around the corner. Propped up in bed, Blunt was hardly visible, his face covered by the large newspaper he held out in front of him.
“I told you I’m not hungry,” Blunt groused without moving the paper to see who’d entered his room.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not bringing you any food,” Hawk said.
At the sound of Hawk’s voice, Blunt dropped the paper and folded it up before tossing it onto the bedside table.
“You care about me,” Blunt said, a smile spreading across his face. “If you agents were worth a damn you’d have already caught the bastards who did this to me.”
Hawk came around to the side of Blunt’s bed and sat in a chair next to him. Alex occupied the other seat facing the foot of the bed before Samuels wandered in.
“The gang’s all here, I see,” Blunt said.
“But not for long,” Hawk said. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
Blunt laughed. “You think someone is still watching me? Because if they were, I’d likely already be dead by now. I’ve made you far too suspicious.”
“Suspicion is what keeps me alive on most missions—that and Alex being my eyes and ears everywhere,” Hawk said.
“It’s probably more to do with Alex,” Blunt said. “I know she’s saved your bacon more times than you care to admit.”
“We’re a team,” Alex said with a grin. She flashed a wink to Hawk.
“And seeing that we’re a team, we need to get you out of here because I’m not staying any longer in this petri dish of germs and diseases,” Samuels chimed in.
“Hear, hear,” Blunt said as he picked up a small paper cup with a couple of pills and raised it in the air. “So, what’s the plan?”
Before Hawk could spell it out, Blunt’s phone buzzed.
“Hold that thought,” Blunt said before answering.
Hawk leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. He clasped his hands and looked down at the tiled floor. It was scuffed and dirty, certainly not like any hospital he’d ever visited in the U.S. He halfway listened as Blunt responded with one-word answers and plenty of “yes sirs.” And within thirty seconds, the call was over. Blunt hung up and placed his phone back on the tray in front of him.
“That was President Michaels,” Blunt said, his face turning dour. “He wants us to stand down in our pursuit of Petrov.”
“Did he give you a reason?” Alex asked.
“Does he need to?” Samuels said. “He’s the President of the United States.”
Hawk stood up and sighed. “I don’t like this.”
“What?” Blunt said.
“Something just feels off to me. He knows where we are now.”
“So?” Alex said. “We’re back in his good graces.”
“We were,” Hawk said as he started to pace around the
