"Me, too." She squeezed his hand, her grip weak. "He came through at the end, didn't he?"
"He loved you. He was a complete asshole, and I won't ever forgive him. But at least we know that he loved you."
A tear spilled from her eye. "I'm sad he's dead. Even after everything he did, I'm still sad." She glanced at her IV. "When can I leave?"
"Tomorrow morning. They want to make sure the drug she injected you with is completely out of your system. And let you rest."
"I'm good with the resting part. I'm so tired." She reached for his hand, then squeezed it. "But I'm ready to be home with you."
"I know, baby. Me, too."
"And Mom's doing okay?"
He looked away. Just a split second before his gaze returned to her face, but she noticed.
"What?" she demanded.
"It's not good. They didn't want to worry you when you were first admitted, but she's still unconscious."
She shifted in the bed, as if to rise. "I need to go see her."
"Jane, no. They want you to stay in bed. But I'll go. I'll tell her you're awake and that you say she has to recover. Okay?"
She nodded, her lips pressed tight together in an effort not to cry.
He bent over and kissed her forehead, trying not to cry himself. From worry about his mother. From relief about Jane. "I love you. I'll be back soon. Try to sleep some more."
She nodded, but didn't close her eyes. When he turned back at the door, though, he saw how heavy her lids were.
He blew her a kiss and slid out the door--and found himself face-to-face with Bill.
"Fuck," he said.
"Hello to you, too."
"I promised her I'd go see our mother," he said. "Will you at least give me an hour to do that before you haul me away?"
"I overheard you, and yes."
Dallas drew in a breath, Bill's words as bracing as ice-cold water. One hour of freedom. One hour before he had to tell Jane about the deal he'd cut. One hour before he was back in a cell. Hell, his cell would probably be adjacent to Adele's, who'd been taken away in the chaotic aftermath of the takedown.
"You can have an hour," Bill said, his voice bitter. "Apparently, you can even have forever."
Dallas froze. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I got a call from a director at MI6 an hour ago. From what he tells me, Deliverance has been working with that organization for years now."
"That's true," Dallas said, unsure where Bill was going with this and how much he knew. The fact was that Quince hadn't wanted to leave MI6. So he'd worked out a deal with his agency. Only one man there knew about that deal, though, so the fact that Bill was now in the loop was more than a little odd.
"Yeah, well, that director is your goddamn guardian angel, because now the State Department is prohibiting any move to arrest--or even publicly acknowledge--Deliverance or its members. The word is that such an action would be very bad for relations between the US and the UK."
"Really?" Dallas tried not to smile, but it was damn hard to stay stoic. "And you're not going to push the point?"
"I have a lot of friends on the Hill. A lot of powerful connections in the intelligence community and in various Senate oversight committees."
A hint of worry ate at Dallas's good mood. "And?"
"And I thought about it," Bill said. "Then I ruled it out."