AJ's Salvation (30 page)

Aly became conscious with a start. She sat up, feeling something restrain her, and she started screaming. Her mind was fuzzy, shattered memories appearing and disappearing without a warning. She heard voices; screaming, sobbing, low discussions, hurried words. It all blended in a nerve-racking hum.

“Stay where you are, Miss Rhyme,” someone said, and she turned her aching head. A paramedic. Someone was injured or paramedics wouldn’t be there. 

“Jam!” She tried to sit up again, this time even managing to. Her eyes searched the room, finding Thea Karmison and Collene sitting on a sofa, both pale while Shannon sat in front of them, waving papers and making gestures. Then Aly’s gaze landed on the bloody floor and the body which two more paramedics crouched over, working hurriedly. A doctor gave instructions, his white gloves and clothes covered in more blood. How much blood could a single person lose before they’d never get up again?

“Jamison,” she called out, trying to get off the stretcher. Why the hell was she on a stretcher and Jam on the damn ground?

“Miss,” the paramedic pleaded, but she still stumbled away from him, strangely aware of the fact that all eyes were on her while silence descended over the room. Aly’s heart stopped. There was no movement from Jam; a mask covered his face, cuts and purple bruises covered his body where they had cut open his shirt. 

“He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead.” She repeated that sentence over and over again before breaking down next to his body. “No,” she sobbed, not even daring to touch him.

“He doesn’t feel pain,” the doctor offered gently next to her as if he could tell how badly she needed to feel Jam. 

“That makes it better, right?” she snapped and then still leaned over, covering him with her body while she held onto him, resting her forehead against his chest. She could feel the pads stuck to Jam’s chest to monitor his heart as they pressed coldly against her face, and it only made her cry more.

“We need to get you to the hospital,” the doctor told her. Her mind took the words in, yet her heart was oblivious to them. She didn’t feel anything but the cold of Jam’s skin under her hands and the way his heart was beating so weakly; she felt as if she should press her body against his just to make them both beat in one rhythm. 

“He tried to save your life. I’d even say he succeeded.” Someone stepped next to her, and in her daze, it took her a moment until she realized it was Greg. He was the one reaching out for her, pulling at her shoulders. God, why was she hurting so bad?

“At what cost?” She wanted to know and then looked up. Her brother looked as if he, too, had been in a fight with them, his eyes bloodshot meaning he had cried. 

“How long was I out?” She wanted to know, sitting back on her heels.

“Let those guys take Jam to a hospital, Aly. They are the only ones who can save him,” Greg whispered, and she tried to get to her feet, but it was nearly impossible. 

“She nearly killed you, too, Alessia Rhyme! What were you thinking coming here?” he asked as he had her in his arms, leading her away.

“She had them both. I couldn’t let her win. I couldn’t let her hurt them. And I failed Jam,” she cried, her chest hurting with more than physical pain. “Will he be okay?”

Greg didn’t look at her another second, his eyes finding someone across the room. He nodded after a second, his expression grim.

“Mr. Rhyme, I need to take your sister away. We need CT scans, MRT, and some blood work from her,” the doctor said, obviously having left Jam’s side. He was talking right over her, and Aly wouldn’t have it.

“I’m awake and listening. Talk to me if you need something,” she ordered.

“Mom!” The cry pulled her from her anger, and she knelt as her son came running but stopped a few steps away from her. He looked pale, but other than that fine. 

“You’re bleeding,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. 

“I’m fine,” she promised and then opened her arms for her son. He smelled of fabric softener she’d never use, clean air, and male perfume, most likely Greg’s, but that didn’t matter. Holding him felt like coming home.

“The emergency guy told me to take your hand and get you because we both need to go to the hospital. You’re hurt, and I’m hurt, and they want to make us stop feeling the pain,” he explained, and Aly nodded. 

“Then let’s go.” If her son were hurt, she would go anywhere with him to make it better. Plus, there was only one hospital around and Jam would be there as well.

She got up from the floor, insisting on carrying her son despite her body screaming out in pain. She needed him close.

“Miss Rhyme, this … I’m … so sorry.” Thea Karmison had the balls to step in Aly’s way. 

“You’re sorry? For what? Not knowing that your daughter would kill someone one day? For making sure you ruined three lives in one day just because you didn’t think to talk to me about visiting rights? I’m sure once your husband comes back, he’ll make you feel sorry.”

“My husband will never return,” Thea promised her with a certainty that would’ve scared Aly if she could feel anything but pain.

“The way the doctor looks at me, neither will Jam, and that goes on your conscience. Each and every day of your life you can get up with that thought. You’re the reason Jamison Loane might no longer be on this earth.”

With that, she walked away, sitting down in the ambulance until she got a dizzy spell then lying down next to her son, letting sleep take her over.
Just a few minutes
, she promised herself. She needed to escape the pain and the loneliness for just a little bit.

It was night by the time she regained consciousness. A noise had woken her, and when she looked up, it was a woman wearing a doctor’s coat.

“How is Jam?” she instantly asked. She knew Lesso would be okay and most likely asleep, so the guy she loved was Aly’s first priority.

“Still in surgery.” The curt answer told Aly more than the woman probably intended to.

“How likely is it that he can see his son again? And don’t lie to me. I’m most likely on my way to prison sometime soon,” she mumbled, her head much clearer again and her body burning less with pain than earlier.

“Do you realize that Jamison’s and your story actually is the thing people talk about behind closed doors? The story is made of epic,” the doctor replied instead of reacting to her question.

“Head injuries?” Aly inquired, not ready to give up.

“Extensive. They had to drain the swelling.”

“Broken bones?” 

“Multiple.”

“Internal injuries?”

“Yes. A torn lung, some bleeding. A lot of pain. And a coma.” 

“Thank you for not lying or trying to ease my pain,” Aly mumbled, meaning it.

“If he ever wakes up again, we can’t be sure he’ll be the same man you fell in love with. There’s a high chance he’ll be forever changed and in need of assistance. Miss Rhyme –” 

“There’s a higher chance he’s dying right there, right?” she asked, and it took a few seconds before the doctor nodded, sitting down on her bed.

“I looked at him. This wasn’t the first beating he had gotten, right?” 

She was a young doctor, probably about their age, but Aly didn’t know her. Clearly, she was someone from out of town.

“How in the world did you come to be a doctor in hell?” Aly wanted to know, and the woman shrugged.

“I didn’t know, but I learned pretty quickly who rules the town. Look how far it has come. We have a man dying because them now.”

“He was dead inside long before that. Jam was a broken man when he showed up on my doorstep some weeks ago, but I thought we could make it all better. I knew he needed professional help, but I figured we could get him there with a little coaxing. I wanted him to overcome his past. Instead, his past won.” She felt a tear slip down her cheek and then took a deep breath.

“Where is Alessandro?” she asked and the doctor leaned back enough so Aly could see the bed at the end of the room. Her son was sound asleep.

“Is he okay?” She then wanted to know and the doctor looked up. Aly couldn’t believe that she hadn’t even cared enough to wait for a name or ask for one.

“He’s bruised and battered, but I think all that matters to him is you,” the doctor admitted, and Aly ached to touch him.

“What’s going to happen now?” she asked quietly, and the woman got up from her bed.

“I think it all depends. A few people want to see you in the morning. Try to get some sleep.”

“Doctor …?”

“Johnson. I’m Lucy Johnson.” She smiled, and Alessia nodded thankfully.

“Can you free me from the machines? I need to touch Lesso, and then …” She shrugged, guessing that the doctor knew pretty well what she was trying to say.

“He’s not out of surgery, Miss Rhyme,” the doctor reminded her.

“Call me Alessia. And I know, but I wanna be prepared and not cause a riot if I get up.”

“Well, then I’m Lucy. It’ll be bad. I’m not sure you want to see that,” the woman mused, and Aly met her eyes.

“He gave his life to save mine. I think I can handle anything for that guy,” she assured her, and Lucy nodded. 

“Very well then. I’ll send a nurse to unplug you and if I have news, I’ll let you know.” 

Aly gave her a smile and then watched as the doctor left, basically being replaced by a nurse. The moment she could, she got up and walked over to Alessandro’s bed, lying down next to him. She cuddled him, and he instantly turned into her embrace, coming closer.

“Love you, Mom,” he mumbled sleepily, and Aly kissed his hair.

“Love you, too, son,” she replied and then hummed until she was sure he fell back asleep. No matter how hard she tried to keep her eyes open, waiting for Doctor Johnson to return with news about Jam, she couldn’t stay awake for anything in the world.

Jam wasn’t alive. He was in a world of pain. Groaning, he tried to open his eyes. There was no way for him to take inventory of all his injuries because there wasn’t one part of his body that didn’t hurt.

“Jamison, are you awake?”

“You need to leave right now!”

“I need to make sure that his son will not go into the system if he dies. Otherwise, Jam’s sacrifice was for nothing.”

“You need to leave. He is not in a frame of mind to make a decision like that and any judge would fight that!”

“Doctor Johnson, excuse me, but you aren’t from here. You don’t understand what –” 

“Oh hell, I understand well.”

“Stop.” Jam’s head was hurting with the low discussion at his bedside. His throat ached and bringing the words out was torture. He did recognize one woman, though, and that was Shannon.

“Jam!” He felt someone touch his left, and he turned toward the woman. 

“I got the Karmisons to sign over custody. It’s all done and well now. But you might die.” At least she had the decency to cry while saying that. Not that the mentioning was needed. The pain was subsiding, and Jam had a hard time keeping the threatening blackness at bay.

“Papers. Pen,” he ordered, using what little control he had left.

“Mr. Loane, I’m …” He groaned and the male voice trailed off. Time was limited. “You are right. Screw this. Here.”

Something long and slender was pushed into his right hand, something cold placed under it. “Just one signature, Jam. Write your last name,” Shannon urged, and he took everything together that he had. For Aly. For Lesso.

“That’s it,” the guy coaxed, and after the last ‘e,’ Jam dropped the pen, all strength having left his body.

“Alessandro is now officially Alessia Rhyme’s son, as well as yours,” the guy stated, and as much as Jam wished he could smile in triumph, he couldn’t.

“Tell my son I love him. Tell Aly to marry Spencer. He’s a decent guy. Tell her to be happy.”

“Hell, no, Jamison Loane, you marry that girl. Don’t you dare die after everything we reached,” Shannon fussed, her voice filled with despair.

“You all need to leave finally,” Jam heard, but then the voices already got further away.

“But …”

Unconsciousness claimed him, owned him, and Jam guessed, never would let him go again.