Page 122 of The Diamond in the Rough

I told her a very edited version, made easier by the fact that Ward hadn’t included the details about me being thrown in a well, although he had mentioned the broken arm.

Maybe someday I’d give her more details—but telling her I’d been kidnapped by people linked to the case I’d been working on seemed to be enough to satisfy her, especially because I did include the part about Raj, Hart, and Agent Shao coming to save me.

“Violette, where are you?” I asked her when I was done and she’d expressed her dissatisfaction with the men who’d kidnapped me. She was only slightly less irritated with Raj and Hart for dragging me into the case to begin with, and then only because they’d come to rescue me.

“Oh, Paris,” she replied blithely. “It’sgorgeous!”

I’d talkedto Violette for almost an hour before she said that she had to save the rest of her international minutes in case of another emergency, although she’d followed that upwith the statement that she really didn’t want me to be the cause of that emergency.

I didn’t want to be, either.

I’d asked Hart what had happened with Garraway, but he’d made a face and said they were looking for him.

I knew it was unlikely that anyone would come after me in the hospital—too many security guards, nurses, and so on—but I didn’t like the idea that Garraway and his cronies were still out there. That they were still potentially stealing magic from others. That they might try again to steal mine from me.

I still didn’t much like the fact that they hadn’t been arrested.

There wasn’t much I could do about it, though. Other than sit in my hospital bed and worry while watching the game shows that played between late afternoon and prime time. And worry about what they were going to feed me for dinner that pretended to be food.

It was at least better than what they’d fed us at Tranquil Brook.

My stomach growled as I flicked listlessly through television shows and commercials that meant little to nothing to me.

A knock sounded at the door, and I looked over, sucking in a sharp breath when I saw Raj leaning through the doorway, one hand resting on a cane. I wondered what had happened, and whether or not it was my fault. “Hey,” he said softly. “Can I come in? I brought dinner.” He held up a brown paper bag with thin handles and a geometric logo printed on the brown paper.

I nodded, feeling suddenly shy.

I still felt guilty about having invaded his dreams—andthen I’d done it again when my neck was on the line. I’d broken my promise in order to save myself.

And he’d come to save me. Had lain beside me, keeping me warm and safe until more help could arrive. And possibly injured himself in the process, if the cane was any indication.

I would never be able to repay him—or to make amends for what I’d done.

So I had no idea what to say to him.

Raj limped into the room, using the cane to support some of his weight, and I saw a heavy boot on his foot.

“Are you okay?” I asked, softly.

He huffed out a laugh. “I should be the one asking you that question,” he said, lifting up the bag and setting it on the rolling table they used to put my food in front of me. “I’m fine, just tweaked my ankle. Are you?”

I nodded, keeping the movement small so I didn’t set off a headache. It was much better than it had been, but it wasn’t great.

“I thought you might like some actual food for a change. The nurses said I could,” he added, leaning the cane against the side of the bed so he could use both hands to unpack the bag.

Up close, I could read the logo: Secret Sandwich Society. And I could smell the loaded pimento cheese fries.

“I got you a Lafayette,” he said, his eyes downcast. “Since that’s what you got there when we went.” He shifted, winced, then shifted back. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. I’d liked that sandwich.

“If you’d rather have a burger?—”

“No, the Lafayette is great,” I interrupted. I liked fried chicken.

He gave me a flickering smile, then set the box in front ofme and took out another for himself. Then he pulled out a third. “Loaded fries,” he said, setting the box in the middle before putting the bag on the floor.

He lifted the strap of his messenger bag over his head, set it down, then began to sit, but stopped himself. “Is it… okay if I sit?” he asked, weirdly hesitant.