Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian novel Chapter 226

“Wake up, baby,” I whisper. “I need you.”

“Good morning, Mr. Grey.”

What? Again I’m startled from my doze as the nurse opens the curtains, letting the golden fall light invade the room. It’s the older nurse—I can’t remember her name. “I’m going to check your wife’s IV fluids.”

“Sure,” I mumble. “Do I need to leave?”

“It’s up to you.”

“I’ll stretch my legs.” Feeling like shit, I get up, and with a last glance at my wife, I stagger out into the corridor. Maybe I can find some coffee.

Taylor arrives around 8:30 with my phone charger and some breakfast (courtesy of Mrs. Jones). I wonder if it’s a peace offering from her. One peek into the brown paper bag confirms that it is: two ham-and-cheese croissants. They smell divine. And I have a thermos of proper coffee. “Please thank Gail for me.”

“Will do. How is Mrs. Grey?” He looks toward Ana, his concern obvious in the tight line of his jaw.

“All signs are good. We’re just waiting for her to wake up. I can’t believe we spent last weekend at OHSU, and this weekend we’re at Northwest.”

Taylor nods sympathetically.

“You may as well stay and update me here. I don’t want to leave her side.” I offer him the seat beside me. While I eat my breakfast, he recounts all that happened after the ambulances left the crime scene.

“…and the police have recovered Mrs. Grey’s cell phone.”

“Oh.”

“She placed it in one of the duffel bags with the cash.”

“Really?” I glance at my sleeping wife. That’s genius. “We were following the money?”

“Indeed,” Taylor responds, and it’s obvious he’s impressed with Ana’s ingenuity. “The police have the cash.”

It’s the first time I’ve thought about the five million dollars.

“Will we get it back?”

“Eventually, sir.”

I roll my eyes. It’s the least of my problems. “I’ll get Welch onto the police and let him liaise with them for the return of the money.”

“Hyde is here, being patched up. He’s under police guard,” Taylor says.

“I wish she’d finished him off.”

Taylor holds his counsel, and I remember him wrestling me off Hyde while I was beating that fucker to a pulp. I can’t decide if Taylor’s actions were a good thing or not.

Hell. If he hadn’t, I’d be in a police cell now.

“Detective Clark would like a word with you at some point.” Taylor wisely changes the subject as I take a bite of the second croissant.

“Now is not the time.”

“Ryan has collected Mrs. Grey’s car. Apart from a parking ticket, it’s all good.” His smile is wry. “Sawyer’s mad he let her get away.”

“I’m sure.”

“There are photographers camped outside the hospital.”

Hell.

My phone buzzes. It’s Ray. Shit.

“Ray. Good morning.”

“I need to see Annie.”

Ray has heard about Ana’s heroics, courtesy of the media, and now insists on seeing her. As he’s the only man in the world who intimidates me, I cannot say no.

I dispatch Taylor, and thirty minutes later Ray’s sitting at the end of her bed in his wheelchair.

“Annie,” he whispers as I wheel him in closer to her bed. “What was she thinking?” he says, his voice hoarse. He’s shaved and is wearing loose shorts and a shirt, so in spite of the broken leg and bruising, he looks more like himself.

“I don’t know, Ray. We’ll have to wait for her to wake up before we can ask her.”

“If you don’t take her across your knee, I sure as hell will. What the hell was she thinking?” He’s more adamant this time.

“Trust me, Ray, I just might do that.” If she’ll let me. I clutch her hand while Ray shakes his head.

“She shot him, you know.”

His mouth drops open. “The kidnapper?”