8. the red line

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Brock was getting the hang of sighing inside the tight dressing around his chest

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Brock was getting the hang of sighing inside the tight dressing around his chest. So he did it when Gillian walked back into his room. Whatever happened to Balken, she was safe. That was all that mattered.

Gillian noticed he was awake and approached his bed, still fighting to get more air into her burning lungs. She locked her holster with shaky hands and stopped a step away from Brock.

"Balken's down, sir," she said, her voice a dry echo of her energetic tone.

Brock closed his eyes, felling a relief he'd never expected. Balken down was definitely good news.

Gillian saw his lips tremble and took the step left to reach his side. He looked up at her and his lips moved again. Was he trying to speak? He shouldn't! It would hurt like hell! Something in his eyes made her lean toward him, to bring her ear close to his numb mouth.

"Thanks..." she heard him mumble.

And that simple word felt like a hard blow to her belly. She stepped back and away from him, spun on her heels and strode out of the room.

Balken's body had been removed and a real janitor washed his blood off the white tiles. Gillian checked on Russell and Aldana, and stayed there until the nurse was back from Brock's room.

"What news from the streets?" asked Aldana.

"Nothing. I turned off my radio. The nurses are still watching the news, so they should know."

She guessed what Aldana was about to say next. She didn't want to hear it. Not again. Lucky her, Ron and Fred came down the hall, so she walked out to meet them.

"Go get some rest, lads," she said. "We're at the Inn at St. John. Tanya can text you the address, it's just a couple of streets a... Where's Hank?"

Ron arched his eyebrows. "He went downtown to meet Cassidy, in case there's any fun left."

"What? Now he's Rambo?"

"I think he wants to make somebody pay for a week of rain in the woods," said Fred, a thoughtful look on her.

"Well, payback's more like him."

"Enjoy your night on a chair," said Ron. "We'll be here after breakfast, so you girls can get some rest."

Gillian forced a tight smile, ignoring how Fred observed her. On her way back to Brock's room, she stopped to ask the nurses if they'd been able to put him to sleep.

"He shouldn't wake up for the next four to six hours. But you know him."

Yeah. All the nurses were already aware of Brock's resistance to sedatives. Anyway, she had at least two or three hours. That would have to do. She needed a shower. She needed a decent meal. She needed at least some coffee. But most of all, she needed to be left alone. And Brock's room while he was asleep was the perfect hideaway.

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