by Evie Monroe
“The police didn’t find the shooters, though,” Hart put in. “Whoever it was, they timed it perfectly for when the hospital’s security systems were down. Cameras didn’t catch a thing.”
He rolled his eyes.
Cullen reached into his jacket for his phone, studied the display, and shook his head. “It’s more like the Fury has the security guards in their pockets. They got them to wipe any evidence that they were in the hospital. Guaranteed.”
No security camera footage? That would be good news for Nora. Maybe her job wouldn’t be on the line after all.
“Right,” Hart said. “We just rode past there, and now the hospital’s under heavy security. No one from any MC’s getting in or out of there.”
“Wonder if they’ve figured out where the hell I ran off to?” I mused.
“If they’re smart, they put two and two together and figured out that you were who the Fury were after, and when the hospital came under attack, you went running,” Cullen said.
“But the big question is, what the hell are we gonna do about it?” I asked. “We gotta hit them back, and soon.”
Nix held out a hand. “Hold it, bro. You ain’t going anywhere. You need to sit your ass down and rest. You should just hang out here, in the lap of luxury, with the girl you’re shacking up with for the foreseeable future. Let us tend to the hard stuff.”
That didn’t fucking sit well with me. Because I was the youngest, the men were always trying to put me off. Because I was Nix’s little brother, forever a kid in his eyes, he wanted me to stay as far away from the action as possible. The gunshot wound was just an excuse. “Fuck that. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Seriously. We’ll handle it.”
I started to complain, but Drake put a hand on my shoulder. “Jeez, dude. Take it easy.”
They were all looking at me like, there goes Jet again, going off half-cocked and ready to get himself killed.
I threw up my hands. “Fine. Then what the fuck are you guys gonna do? Sit around with your thumbs up your asses? Like always?”
Cullen frowned at me. “Cait said she knows where one of their other clubhouses is. We’re gonna check it out tonight, and if she’s right, we’ll strike.”
I looked over at Drake. Cait was Drake’s girl, and was Slade’s daughter—until he died. She had all sorts of inside information on the Fury and was our little ace in the hole.
Goddammit. We’d been going in circles for months, waiting for this kind of information, like the locations of their clubhouses, so we could make our move. And now that we had it and were about to come out with guns blazing, they wanted me to stay behind?
Fuck that. I clenched my fists. “I want to go. This is my battle too.”
Nix came up close to me and pushed me down with a firm hand to my shoulder. “Cool your jets, Jet.”
I snarled at him. “This fucking ain’t fair.”
“Yeah it is. You’re hurt.”
He said that. But I got the feeling he and the others just didn’t trust me to be out there with them. It burned me up from the inside. “Fine,” I barked out.
They told me to take care of myself, and I would’ve said the same to them as they left, since they were going into danger. But I was too pissed off.
They left me alone, feeling like the bratty little brother. The joke.
When they were gone, I tore the lid off the Gray Goose bottle and polished off the rest of the Vodka.
Chapter Eleven
Nora
I walked into the hospital that morning, feeling like I was trudging to my own funeral.
As I did, I replayed the phone message that Michael had left for me: “Nora, it’s Michael. I’ve tried getting in touch with you several times. I need to see you at my office at eight in the morning. Don’t be late. I have an appointment at nine.”
He didn’t sound angry, but he never did. All I could think was that if sneaking Jet out of the hospital wasn’t enough to make him angry, then I had about forty other things waiting in the wings. He wasn’t one to get worked up, but this news? It’d make anyone flip.
Funny thing was, I wasn’t disappointed in myself. It was like I’d been shown one way of life for so long, that I’d come to think that was the only way to live. But now my eyes had been opened. I didn’t regret what I’d done, not at all. But I knew I’d regret letting Michael down.
The security in the hospital had been beefed up. Police officers flanked the front revolving doors. They asked me for my ID, which I forked over, and they let me pass.
As I walked into the lobby, one of the nurses said, “Dr. Benson! It’s good to see you! Are you all right?”
“Fine,” I said, a little discombobulated by the way things had changed overnight. Now everyone seemed on edge. The tension in the air was thick and oppressive. I walked to the elevators and saw another set of nurses smiling and waving at me.
By now, word of what was on those security tapes had to have come out. Someone had to have seen us. I couldn’t fight the feeling that as soon as I left the nurses’ sight, I’d become the subject of rumor and speculation. That wasn’t like me. I attracted attention for good reasons—not scandal.
I walked more quickly and jabbed the UP button for the elevator. When the doors whirred open, I saw Dr. Patel. I smiled at him weakly and could’ve sworn he looked at me like I’d done something wrong. An awkward silence marked the first few seconds of our rise in the elevator.
Then he said, “Some excitement last night, huh?”
I nodded, cringing.
“I missed it all. Were you on?”
I stared at him. Was it possible he hadn’t heard all the rumors about me?
“Did you review that patient file I left for you? Wilbur, in 412?” he asked.
My mouth dropped open. “Um, no,” I stammered. He didn’t know. Well, he was a busy man, an older man, probably not one who paid much mind to the gossip mill. “But I will. I’m on my way to my office.”
The elevator dinged, and he nodded a goodbye at me and stepped out.
I clutched at my chest as I rode the rest of the way up to the ninth floor, where Michael had his office. When I got there, his secretary wasn’t at her desk. I knocked, and a jovial voice said, “Come in!”
I opened the door, stepped in, and closed it tight behind me, holding my breath the whole time.
“Nora!” Michael said, so loud I jumped.
He pushed out from behind his desk and approached me. He was doing something I hadn’t expected.
Smiling.
He took my hand and kissed my cheek. “Gosh, your hands are freezing. You look a little peaked. You get enough sleep last night? Hear about the excitement?”
“Ye-es,” I managed, not entirely sure what was going on. He was looking down at me adoringly, rubbing warmth into my hands.
“Wait. What excitement?” I said.
He nodded and went back to his desk. “The shooting. You heard about it, right?”
“Oh. Yes. But—”
“Don’t worry. I promise you. This city is safe, as is this hospital. I don’t remember ever having something like that happen.” He wheeled himself under the desk and crossed his hands in front of him, resting them on his gleaming dark wood desk. “Come, sit.”
I scurried over and planted myself on the edge of the seat across from him. “D-do you know what happened?”
“A little.” He scratched at his salt-and-pepper fringe at his temple, opened his phone, and looked at the display absently. “But the picture’s becoming clearer. That abdominal GSW we brought in the other day disappeared. You remember, that tattooed guy that kept trying his luck with you? Nash, I believe it was.”
I feigned ignorance, though how could I forget? “Right.”
“He was a piece of work. I know that type. A real gang-banger, for sure. We think some rival gang might have been fishing around looking for him. They’re all a bunch of lowlife scum.” He laughed smugly. “Don’t know why they don’t all just kil
l each other off and leave us the hell out of it.”
Like my father? He’d have thought my father was lowlife scum, as well, which is why I never brought him up. I pressed my lips together, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wanted him just to say it. I wanted him to tell me that he saw the security tape footage and was disappointed in me for helping Jet escape.
“Chances are, they already caught up with him, and he’s got a few more bullet wounds in him in addition to the one you fixed. That’s the way these guys operate.” He shook his head. “What a waste.”
Well, he was wrong on that count.
I waited for him to say he knew I was connected to the disappearance. He didn’t. He had to know, right? It was all over the security cameras, of course. “Disappeared? Did you see him leave on the security cameras? Was he kidnapped?”
“That’s the funny part. Whatever nitwits were running security last night misplaced the surveillance recordings. So there is no data. For the entire night. Can you believe it? What nimrods. Needless to say, they’ve been let go, and hospital management is beside themselves.”
I just stared at him, my eyes widening. So . . . nobody knew that I’d facilitated Jet’s escape? No one knew he was currently hanging out in my house? “But I . . .” This made my confessing everything that I’d been doing with Jet last night impossible. If I did, Michael would know where Jet was, and he’d tell the police. I bit my tongue.
Michael smiled kindly at me. “Please. Don’t worry. I promise you. You’re perfectly safe in the hospital.”
“I’m not worried,” I said. And I wasn’t, about that, anyway. “Did they catch the people involved in the shooting?”
“No. But they will. The police have leads. And they’re going to stake officers in the lobby for added protection, just in case.” He shrugged. “Seems like a stupid idea, though. I told them it’s obvious the guy those gangbangers were looking for has flown the coop. But I’m sure that added layer of security will make you feel safer, won’t it?”
“Oh. Um, yes.”
“But that brings me to why I called you up here.”
I took a breath. Right. The reason. The reason Michael had dragged me up here. Of course, it wasn’t just to see my smiling face.
“Andy said he wanted to bring you in to discuss this, but he’s a busy man, so I told him I’d take care of it. You’re in trouble, young lady.”
Andy was chief of staff. I braced myself. Here it came. The whole lecture on me screwing up and my pink slip.
“You need to sign out, love.” He smiled. “Didn’t they show you how to clock in and out during orientation?”
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t bring myself to speak. “I . . . oh. Yes. Um, of course. I just must have forgotten.”
Forgotten, while I was wheeling a gangbanger willy-nilly up and down the corridors of the hospital, escaping bad guys with guns.
He laughed. “Well, you didn’t clock out last night. Personnel checks the timesheets, and it looks like you didn’t have a clock-out time. So . . .” He shrugged. “Slap on the wrist, this time. Don’t let it happen again.”
“So that’s it? Really?” I fastened my hands on my knees and willed myself to relax. I was free. They weren’t going to fire me. At least, not yet.
Michael stood up, came around the desk, and leaned on it. “Hey. It’s okay. Happens to all of us. You going to be okay?”
He reached down to touch me, but I pulled my hand away. I couldn’t have him touching me, not now. Not after what I did. “Michael. There’s something I have to tell you.”
He checked his watch. “And you know I’d love to hear it, Nora, but I have an appointment.”
“Oh.” I stood up. “But I really think—”
He held up a hand. “Not now, Nora. I promise you. Tonight, I’ll be all—”
I blurted it out. “I want to break up with you.”
He stopped. Looked at me, his eyes narrowing. Within the room, the only sound was that of his watch ticking. My eyes lowered to the ground, but I could feel him assessing me. “You don’t mean that.”
I swallowed. “I do.”
He did something totally unexpected. He laughed. As I averted my eyes, he managed to grab my hand. He patted in gently. “You’re just overtired. Please. Let’s discuss this tonight.”
“I don’t want to. I want to—”
“Trust me, Nora. You’ve had a scare, and you’re out of sorts. But I promise you, what happened last night isn’t indicative of Aveline Bay as a whole. If you’d just let me—”
“This isn’t about Aveline Bay. It’s about you and me,” I said, my voice rising.
He looked at his watch. “I really do have to go.”
He leaned in to kiss me, but I pulled away.
“We’ll talk about this tonight,” he called after me as he disappeared into the hallway, leaving me seething.
How dare he? But as I thought about it, that was how he’d always been. My thoughts and feelings never really mattered. They were something to laugh about. He always thought I was the cute, immature little child who needed his guidance. He thought he could just sway me to his point of view. . . and yes, so far he’d always succeeded. But not now. I didn’t need his guidance anymore. And I didn’t need him.
I was done.
I stepped outside and took the elevator down to check on my patients in the ICU. As I did, I saw two police officers at the nurse’s station. One of them called me over. “Dr. Benson. These officers are asking about the men from last night. You know, the ones who wanted to see Mr. Nash?”
I sighed. She was the stupid nurse from yesterday who’d told them Jet was a patient in the hospital. I opened my mouth and inspected the officers, who were looking at me expectantly. “Did you tell them Jetson Nash couldn’t have visitors?”
“Yes. I did. Is that a problem?” I said it quickly, hoping they’d realize I was busy, and they wouldn’t keep me long.
The shorter officer shook his head. “Why did you do that?”
“Mr. Nash had a severe gunshot wound. He wasn’t in any condition to socialize.”
The large officer with the russet red hair said, “And yet some other visitors were admitted to his room earlier in the evening?”
“Possibly. However, a steady stream of visitors isn’t a good thing. And I found the men to be a bit suspicious,” I said, looking at the nurse. “I’d asked our nurse to call the police because of those concerns.”
She nodded. “That’s right. They did look suspicious. That’s when I placed the first call, and the police said they were sending someone over.”
The large officer murmured, “But when the officer arrived at the scene, he didn’t see anyone. Can you describe these men?”
I shook my head and looked at my watch. “Not very much. One was rather obese, the other . . . kind of scrawny. They were wearing vests . . . I’m sorry. I can’t be of much help. I’m expected somewhere—”
“We understand,” the officer said, as if he could care less. “But if you’ll just help us out by answering one more question. We understand that Jetson Nash, a patient under your care, disappeared last night. We’d like to question him. Do you have any idea where he may have gone.?”
I’d been anticipating this question all along. “No,” I said firmly.
But the two of them kept staring at me, and I found myself crumbling under their scrutiny.
“I have no idea,” I added. “After all, I’m Mr. Nash’s surgeon, not his baby sitter. I couldn’t tell you a thing. Naturally, I’m very worried about my patient, but I have no information for you. Am I free to go?”
They stared at me a little longer, not speaking. Why did I get the feeling they didn’t believe me? Maybe because I had no experience lying? I’d committed a felony. I was an accessory, wasn’t I? All these thoughts swarmed over me, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
“Officers,” the nurse said suddenly, pointing to a small, freckle-faced nurse with a pixie cut. She still had her ke
ys in her hand and her purse slung over her shoulder like she’d just come in from outside. “Wanda has something to say.”
We all swung our heads to her, and I let out a sigh of relief.
Wanda pointed to the front of the building and said with a squeaky voice, “I saw them. Just outside, when I got out of the train station. They were smoking and looking in the direction of the hospital. They had tattoos and flame patches. I thought they were casing the place. Then they got on motorcycles and rode away.”
The officers approached her, ignoring me. Thank God. I took that as my cue to leave, and I heard one of them say, “Where and when was this?”
Wanda continued to fill their ears with info as I skirted off to see what cases had been assigned to me. I walked to the board to see the name of the surgeon on call, and I couldn’t help reaching for my phone. I wanted to text Jet and let him know what was happening. But there was a reason I hadn’t taken down his number. It was too dangerous for me to be communicating with him.
I took a deep breath and went to meet with the surgeon, Dr. Vail, who filled me in on the cases that had come in during the night. I went on my rounds, still hardly able to believe that I still had a job here, that nothing had changed from last night.
Despite everything at the hospital looking exactly like the day before, deep inside I knew everything had changed.
I couldn’t believe it. I’d gotten away with all of my deceptions.
But part of me didn’t want to. Part of me wanted to have been found out. No, I didn’t want to go to jail, but I wouldn’t have minded Michael taking me seriously for once. I’d spent last night accepting that I would no longer be a surgeon, that I’d be guilty of malpractice, that I wouldn’t be Michael’s wife.
And I’d found I was okay with that.
More than okay.
I wanted it.
I’d spent so much of my life thinking that being a surgeon and marrying a successful, white-collar man who was safe and secure and dull was what I wanted.
But then I met Jet.