“Frankie is picking you up now,” came from the doorway. “Hi, agents.”
The two men smiled at Frankie—as most men did.
Curvy, with thick dark hair and big brown eyes, the New Yorker just plain liked people—and everyone liked her back.
“I’m glad you’re looking better,” Acosta said to Kit and laid a card on the table. “Call us if you think of anything we should know or if you have any concerns.”
“Thank you. I will.”
As the two men strode out of the small garden, Frankie walked over. “I heard the Feds say they found Obadiah’s body. Are you okay?” She bent to give Kit an abbreviated, ever-so-gentle hug that comforted without hurting any broken ribs.
There were days Kit felt like a sack of brittle twigs. One that a draft horse had stood on. Twice.
But she was healing.
“I already knew Obadiah was dead.” Even before Rescue’s Chief of Police had told her. Because she’d seen Hawk’s face after. Seen his haunted eyes. Killing Obadiah had wounded his soul.
Lifting her chin, Kit smiled to ease Frankie’s worry. “I’m packed and ready for you to break me out of this place.” Aric would be waiting. “Is this rescuing stuff turning into a habit?”
“Oh, no, amica mia. I’m keeping track and figuring on lots of return favors.” Frankie chuckled and motioned toward the door. “Next time, you can save me.”
The uncomfortable itch of feeling like she’d gotten charity faded. “Absolutely. I get to be the rescuer next time.”
On the way out, the staff of the facility hugged her and wished her a good recovery.
Barely one step outside the facility, Kit’s muscles tensed as she quickly checked the area for men. No men, no PZs. Just a parking lot with Frankie’s new SUV parked near the door.
Right. It was starting to feel as if her body might heal before her mind did.
Frankie opened the passenger door for her, then stowed the suitcase in the back.
Trying not to groan, Kit eased in. Ow, ow, ow. The physical therapist had warned that there was no way to get into a vehicle without twisting the torso at least a little.
Once in the seat, she focused on breathing as the pain in her ribs eased from I’ve-been-stabbed to merely a painful throbbing.
“Poor baby.” With a sympathetic look, Frankie buckled Kit’s seatbelt for her before driving out of the lot. Once out of Anchorage, they were on the road to Rescue, a small town on the Kenai Peninsula.
Kit felt the uneasy quiver in her stomach grow with each mile. Frankie’s man had three brothers, and their houses were together on an isolated bunch of acres. “So why is the place called the Hermitage?”
“Mako—the guy who raised Bull and his bros—was basically a hermit. He did his twenty years in the military, but when he retired, sounds like his PTSD and paranoia caught up with him. He was a total survivalist.” Frankie grinned. “The Hermitage will make your gardener heart happy. We have a huge vegetable garden and a greenhouse, and everything’s growing like crazy.”
Kit smiled. Gardens were the best pain medication. “I can’t think of anything nicer. Aric’s told me so many stories about the lake and the gardens. And the chickens.” And Hawk.
She’d asked Hawk to care for her son—and he was. How could a mother repay the gift of keeping her boy safe? Every few days, he’d brought Aric to Anchorage to see her, and she’d have been lost without those visits.
“Aric loves the Hermitage—although he sure misses you.” Frankie glanced over. “You’re stewing about something though.”
“It’s just… It’s not my house, and no one knows me, and it feels wrong to simply move in.”
“I guess it’d bother me too.” Frankie shook her head. “But really, it’s fine. Bull’s more of a people person than I am; he’s the one who suggested that you and Aric stay with us. And hey, your room is downstairs, and our bedroom is upstairs, so you won’t be hearing our sexy times.”
Startled, Kit laughed and grabbed her side with the stab of pain. “Okay then.” After a minute, she laughed again.
“What was the second laugh for?”
“Just feeling grateful for the busted bones.”
Frankie’s jaw dropped. “What? Why?”
“Being hurt so badly meant I was stuck in the hospital and rehab and pretty much got pushed into counseling. A lot of counseling.” Her grin faded. “I never thought my behavior with men wasn’t normal, but…I learned a lot about myself in the last three weeks. Like why my choices in men, even before Obadiah, were so lousy.”
“Huh. In that case, I’m glad too. Your counseling will continue, by the way.” Frankie glanced over. “Caz—the nurse practitioner who runs the health clinic—talked to the rehab discharge planner, and you’re booked for physical therapy and counseling at the clinic.”
“That can’t be right. I told the discharge planner I couldn’t afford any outpatient therapies.” Kit frowned. “Frankie, I don’t have insurance or money. I can’t—”
“Um…”
Kit narrowed her eyes. “You look as guilty as you did after you ate all my Death by Chocolate ice cream—right before my period and finals, no less. What did you do this time?”
“Che palle, it wasn’t me.” Frankie heaved a very Italian sigh. “I told you a psychologist friend of the guys talked to Aric, right?”
“Mmmhmm. He said it was okay for Aric to stay with Hawk—and you all.” Leaving her son to be cared for by others had been the worst part of being in the hospital. She stiffened. “Did he change his mind? Is there a problem with Hawk or—”
“No, no, relax. I said that wrong.” Frankie smacked her forehead twice with the palm of her hand. “Aric’s fine. When Doc Grayson tried to see you, you were still unconscious, so he talked with the guys and the hospital staff. He’s kind of like a godfather to the brothers, only maybe he’s not that much older than they are. I don’t think he’s more than mid-forties.”
Suppressing a snicker, Kit tipped her head back to stare at the roof of the car. Frankie had words; she had all the words, far too many words. “Are you planning to get to the point anytime soon?”
“Cazzo, I missed you.” Frankie snickered. “The point is, Zachary Grayson is rich and wanted to help, and since he couldn’t do it in person, he did it with money. He paid your medical expenses, including outpatient therapies for the rest of the summer. After that, you’re on your own.”
Paid…everything? She’d been figuring on huge bills that would require repayment for the rest of her life. “No way. The hospital bill and rehab and surgery and—”
“Pfft.” Frankie waved one hand in the air. “All gone.”
Frankie smiled softly. “I think the doc fell for Aric. He knew the guys were worried about you.”
Kit stared at her in shock.
“Some rich guys are good people. So, yes, you’re booked for PT and counseling, and you will be going.”
The relief was huge. But still… “I’ll pay him back.”
“He already said you will not, and he’s not one you can argue with.” Frankie snorted. “Like Hawk in a way. The shrink wins with words; Hawk wins by walking away.”