My Sweet Isabella (The Ambassador Trilogy #3) (2 page)

“Is.” I barely eeked out a whisper. The pain in my leg was intense. Where the fuck was I?

I focused on a face in front of me. A woman. This woman was not my Isabella. She was much older with a white coat, short hair and a French accent. Where was Gustan? Was he dead?

“Ambassador. You are in the hospital. You are okay.” The hospital? Suddenly, I remembered. The coffee shop, the blood, screaming, the pain.

“Ambassador, do you remember what happened to you?” Things came into focus more as I noticed the sparse room, putrid green walls, and the smell. The smell of antiseptic and sickness.

I attempted to speak. My voice was barely a whisper.

“I want Is…..Isabella.”

“Isabella has been here with you the entire night, along with your parents. I sent her home to get some rest. Believe me, Ambassador, she didn’t want to go. You have an incredible fiancé.”

I closed my eyes again to think of her. I pictured her sleeping in our bed. covered in the white comforter, so warm and soft. Her hair spilling over the pillow. I tried to envision her next to me. I found the most comfort with her snuggled against me. I wanted to be with her, but I couldn’t move my body.

“Ambassador, please be still. You have to rest. Isabella will be right back. I will call her for you.” Another person in a white coat came over and stood next to the bed and tried to settle me down. I didn’t need to be talked to like a fucking idiot.

I tried to lift my head. I needed my phone. I needed to call her so she could get me out of there. I had to hear her voice. Oh God, the pain. I cried out. This time I recognized my voice.

“Ambassador, what’s wrong?” What the hell? She’s a doctor and knew what was wrong. I was shot, in pain, and I wanted my Isabella. Fuck, the pain was horrendous. Where was Gustan? Gustan had been with me. He needed to be here to get me out of this place.

“I have to go home.” I attempted to get the IV out of my arm, but my hands weren’t working. I didn’t need this shit. As more feeling was coming back to my body, I fought to stand up and get out of bed, I noticed an armed guard outside my door and my leg in a huge cast. My body hurt. I had to get up. Why couldn’t I get up?

“Ambassador, you need to settle down. You had major surgery. You were shot three days ago.” The doctor said something to the nurse and she nodded. Shot? Where was I shot? There was commotion around me. The nurse put something in my IV. Whatever she put in the IV, burned my arm then it felt warm and cozy.

I
was more alert this time when I woke up. This time something was better. I felt her warmth across my chest. The essence of her familiar sweet perfume was in the air. My sweet Isabella was with me.

My eyes struggled to open but, the struggle was worth the effort. She looked up at me and I gazed into the most beautiful face in the world. An angel. She made it worthwhile to breathe. Her eyes were fixed on my face.

“Fabrice.” I focused on her face better. The love in her eyes brought me relief. The pain eased as I focused on her and relaxed for the first time in that strange place. She came back to me.

“Isabella.” The words came out weak, but my whisper was enough for her to hear me.

“I love you. I love you so much,” she cried. I tried to lift my arm to stroke her head and comfort her. I didn’t have the strength and the pain instinctively made me leave my hand where it was.

She brought her mouth to mine. The taste of her lips told me I was still alive. Her sweet breath told me she was real and not a dream.

I kissed her back as best I could, barely able to open my parched lips, but needing the life she could breathe into me.

Thoughts of the first time I saw her came rushing back into my mind: her standing in my office, the first time I made love to her and how delicious her body tasted, the first time I let her see my scars and the night she promised to be my wife. I couldn’t let her go. I would never let her go. And now she’d flown back to me after she just left to go home.

The doctor walked over to us and smiled. She was the same woman from earlier.

“You are one lucky man, Ambassador Arbidoux. Isabella flew back to you as soon as she heard and she has been with you ever since.” She smiled at me and looked at Isabella. I didn’t feel lucky. I felt like shit and she was smiling at me. She had no idea what she was saying. I couldn’t move and she was telling me I was lucky.

“What happened?” I asked. Isabella sat softly down on the bed next to me and caressed my brow. Her hands were so warm and soft on my skin, soothing my pissed off mood.

“I will let Isabella tell you. It’s a long story and I’m going to do my rounds and come back later to go over some things. I’m very happy you are awake, Ambassador. You have been through two surgeries in the last three days. You are one tough man.”

I looked again at Isabella’s face. She smiled affectionately. My thoughts were spinning out of control and I was still confused. Two surgeries?

“I will be back to see you later. I want you to rest as much as possible this morning because we plan on getting you out of here tomorrow,” said the doctor.

“Tell me, is Gustan okay? That boy. There was a boy they were going to kill. Did they kill him?” The doctor walked out as I was still talking. Bits and pieces of that moment were coming back into my memory. I held that boys face in my mind. He was maybe six years old, holding his mother’s hand with a look of shock in his eyes. They had a gun pointed at his head. His mother begged for the coward not to shoot him, for the gunman to shoot her instead. Lunging towards the gunman was the last thing I remembered.

“Gustan is fine. He didn’t get shot. He saved your life. I don’t know about the boy. What boy?”

“There was a young boy. They were going to kill him. He was small and so afraid. He was whimpering, trying not to cry. He wasn’t saying a word just making noises.”

“I don’t know, Fabrice. I have no idea about a boy.” I needed to know. I had to find out he was fine.

“Listen to me. You were shot with a high powered rifle. The bullet went through your leg and missed the femoral artery and major nerves. However, the bullet shattered the bone in your leg. They were afraid you may lose your leg. You’ve had two surgeries and have been in the hospital for a few days. I was so afraid. All I heard was that you may bleed to death or get an infection. These last three days have been hell.” Her voice changed as she cried.

I looked at her as I tried to take in what she said. I was shot? In all my years in Special Ops I had not been hit, despite many attempts.

“Who did this to me?”

“The men who have been threatening you over the past ten years. They had waited and watched you. They knew you went to the coffee shop every day while you were in Paris. The attack was revenge for the hostage rescue. Remember before I left, you said I was overreacting? You said the threats were fine and they were nothing. They were definitely something.”

“How many people died?”

“I don’t know exactly. I’ve been more worried about you.” She was lying to me. I could tell by the tone in her voice that she knew.

“Tell me, Isabella.” I was so weak and in so much pain, to speak was a struggle.

She closed her eyes and whispered. “Ten people were killed and eight injured in the coffee shop.” Oh my God. I shut my eyes and turned my head away from her. Those fucking cowards killed innocent people to get to me.

“I need to know if the boy was killed. I need to find out where he is.”

“I will ask Gustan and have him find out. Please rest, Fabrice. You have to rest.”

How could I rest knowing what happened because of me. “Are those bastards dead?”

“Yes, there were two of them and Gustan killed them both. Fabrice, I could have lost you. You could have been one of the ten. You could have died. You were supposed to have been killed. If it weren’t for Gustan, you wouldn’t be here.” She laid her head on my chest and cried. Her tears were warm as they trickled down onto my hospital gown. With determination, I was able to finally lift my arm and caress her head. I brought a few strands of her hair to my nose and breathed in the scent of her shampoo.

“You promised me you weren’t in danger. I believed you. You knew didn’t you?” She looked up at me, and her gaze bore in to me. In my fog, I couldn’t read her. I felt her body tense with anger towards me.

“I didn’t want to worry you, Isabella. You don’t need to worry about me.” She touched my face, and her gaze stayed on me.

“I do need to worry about you. I love you, Fabrice.”

“I need to get back to work. I want to get out of here.”

“You will. Everyone has been here to see you. You are the top news story on every news network here and in America. The press has been camped out for three days in front of the hospital. Jean and his wife, General Morou, and the President, called to make sure you were okay. Your Prime Minister stopped by last night, and the French President also called. Your mom and dad have not left the hospital. They are outside in the waiting room. Your mom has been a mess since this happened.”

“I love you,” I whispered. Fuck, even with mascara smudged and swollen eyes, she was so beautiful. Maybe even more beautiful then she had ever been before. Her familiar aura and sweet scent made me feel at home. She was my home.

Her eyes locked onto mine and she began to cry again. “I love you more than anything.”

“Don’t cry.” My fingers felt big and swollen, but I managed to stroke her face and brush the tears away.

“I’m so relieved you’re alive, Fabrice. I wouldn’t be able to make it, if you died.” I wish I shared in her happiness. I was still pissed off I had been shot and now in this damn hospital when I should be working trying to stop this type of shit from happening.

I noticed something in her hand.

“What’s this?” I nodded towards her hands.

“Your rosary. I didn’t have mine with me, so your mom gave me yours. I prayed so hard. I even prayed to St. Anthony for a miracle, and he always comes through for me.”

“He listened. Thank you. Kiss me,” I murmured.

She didn’t hesitate, and her lips touched mine ever so slightly. My lips were dry and cracked and hers so wet and warm. I wanted to melt into her. Nothing tasted better. She was all I needed to keep me alive. She was everything and so much more.

~~~~~~~~~~~

That afternoon I had more visitors then I cared about. My parents, Isabella, and Gustan were the few people I wanted to see. That wasn’t the case with the rest. When the team of physicians felt I was alert enough to answer questions, authorities came in to get more information on what happened. I wasn’t sure the exact details. As I tried to recall those few minutes, some of the faces flashed through my mind, the screams, and the splattering of blood on the walls. I looked towards the window as my stomach clenched at the thought of what happened in those few short minutes. I didn’t want them to see me get emotional so I turned my head away from them. After a few minutes I looked back and they continued with their questions. They wanted to know if I heard the gunmen say anything. I recalled one had screamed in broken English that the attack was revenge for killing their leader. The authorities took notes and promised to be back in touch.

The Paris prosecutor came in to ask more questions later in the day. He and I were friends from college. Pierre Bernard was a good man whom I respected. He was my primary contact during the hostage siege. We discussed this might happen ten years ago, and he was who I spoke to last month when the threats began to come in again. He told me to stay in the United States as much as possible. I didn’t listen to him of course, and he quickly reminded me.

“Fabrice, you stubborn man, we are so glad you were alive. When I heard what happened, I feared the worst.”

“You were right and I should have listened to you.” My eyes were heavy with exhaustion as I tried to speak to him with a strong authoritative voice.

“Yes, you should have. I have word the two men in the shop had ties to the extreme Islamic group in Syria, the group that followed Azhar Hakim.

“That fucking bastard has been dead now for ten years. They have a new piece of shit leading them. It’s his son, I think.

“They wanted revenge. They had been following you for months back and forth to Washington. They wanted to kill you on your home land and take innocent people along with you.”