Chapter 3
LAKE
The smooth hum of my car was the only thing comforting about this fucking ride to the hospital.
"Mercy's?" I asked Atlas, turning the AC on. I was sweating like a whore in church from the restlessness racing through my body. I practically shivered with it.
"That's what Joaquin said," Atlas murmured, quieter than usual as he tapped on his screen, presumably messaging with Joaquin. He was our shit-stirrer and he lived to make Joaquin's life a living hell. It was his love language. Practically an aphrodisiac for him.
Except now, in the wake of Beasty and Kim being attacked, his energetic personality was just gone. I gripped the steering wheel, rotating my hands until it creaked. Fuck. I can't believe that happened on my watch.
I slammed a fist on the dashboard as I bellowed out my rage.
"I did tell you th—" Parker cut off with a grunt. "What? I—"
"Shut the hell up." Andre's voice was low and irritated.
Parker sighed.
When I glanced in the rearview mirror, he was checking his phone. “Just what the fuck are you two doing going with us anyway?”
We weren’t his problem anymore, not with his forfeiture in Snatched. So what, was he waiting to screw us over?
One of Parker’s eyes twitched as he met my stare with a droll one of his own. “You act like I’m heartless”—I scoffed—“and besides, we’re allies now, right? Why wouldn’t I want to make sure the favor I called in to help your family is doing everything they can to ensure their health and safety.”
I wished I had a snappy retort to put him in his place. But he had gotten an ambulance to the club in record time. A grumble of irritation built in my chest as I clamped my lips shut.
Beasty and Kim were too important. If that meant I had to play nice with this fucker to make sure they were taken care of, so be it.
Mercy's was a short drive away, thank fuck. I don't think I could have made it far and I didn't trust anyone else to drive us. We'd have had to figure out how to teleport ourselves there.
Impossible. Irrational. Ridiculous. That was how I felt.
We turned onto the drive with signs pointing to emergency, cardiovascular, and pediatrics exits.
"Take the pediatrics road," Parker piped in from the back.
I flicked my gaze to his in the mirror. He wasn't smiling. There was no sign of the Parker I'd gotten to know over the last couple years. He was somber as he waited for me to respond.
"Why?" I asked even as I switched on my turn signal and exited for the pediatrics section.
"The Network operates a small part of their medical services out of the pediatrics side. People are more compassionate toward children and you're less likely to encounter any paps or trackers on this side."
That made sense.
I wanted to pull right up on the curb but I refrained. Atlas said Beasty and Kim were being treated and there was no immediate danger. They were stable, even if they were still paralyzed.
A rumble of frustration vibrated through my chest. Gio had better run. When I caught up with him and his bitch, Adrian, they were dead. No, they were going to be strung up and tortured for days—years, then I'd let them die in a cell with starved rats.
And the Pescis? They would be right there next to them.
I didn't know who the man was that Atlas pummeled into unconsciousness, but he had to be tied to them somehow. Otherwise, he wouldn't have fucking executed Storm.
Unless there was some other unknown player I didn't know about.
Just that very dangerous thought had my molars cracking from the pressure in my jaw. If that was the case...
Hell no. I'd done my research and then some. There were no other players. The Pescis, Gio and his clowns, and the Bastard Brothers in my backseat were the only ones who could be even remotely against us. Everyone else was an ally or a non-issue.
I pulled into a parking spot close to the front, slamming on my brakes.
"Ugh. For having such a nice car, you're a shit driver, Lake," Parker grumbled from the backseat.
I ignored him and climbed out. As a two-door, Atlas and I had to flip the seats up for them to climb out. How they fit back there with any comfort was beyond me, but they'd insisted on riding with us.
We slammed our doors shut, and the car beeped as we moved toward the front doors. A nurse walking by glanced at us, eyes widening, and hustled out of view. We probably looked like death heading to their front step.
"Where are they?" I didn't glance at Atlas as we stepped through the double doors. A few attendants were behind the reception counter eyeing us warily as a few parents with crying toddlers waited in the seating area. The place stunk of sickness and disinfectant.
The locked double doors at the end of the hallway opened and a smiling man in green scrubs emerged. "I'm glad you could make it. I came down to take you up." He grinned as he sauntered closer.
Was he talking to us?
He winked at the attendants. "They're with me on the ICU wing. No need to check them in."
"We should get their IDs registered!" one of the women called.
But the nurse nodded toward the door and I wasted no time following him.
"I've already taken care of it! You'll see them in the system under the Miller file," he called over his shoulder.
That was the last he spoke as he took us down a long hallway to an elevator, and then up to another floor. The whole way, the pungent smell of disinfectant followed us with the sounds of patterned beeping and the soft murmurs of children’s shows.
I'd never been in this type of hospital before. That I was here now freaked me the fuck out.
Taking a deep breath, I pictured Beasty's face. How my heart would finally stop fighting to break my ribs as soon as I laid eyes on her.
The nurse waved at his colleagues, cracking jokes and calling out greetings. Each time he slowed his step to acknowledge someone, I wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and shake him.
Who fucking cares about these assholes!
Finally, after several agonizing minutes of traveling through the hospital, he buzzed us through to another wing. This one with nurses who weren't smiling. They all hustled from station to room, carrying food, medicines, or reading charts.
Something about their competency settled the edges of my frayed nerves.
As soon as the doors shut behind us, the nurse glanced over his shoulder, his cheery mood also gone. "You're in the Network's wing of the hospital. Everyone past these doors has been vetted and they report directly to the Network. You're in good hands."
He stopped at a closed door and turned to face us. "I'm Greg. If you need anything, ring their buzzer on the hospital bed and I'll be in straight away."
When he reached for the doorknob, I grabbed his wrist. "What's wrong with them?"
Greg blew out a harsh breath as he dropped his gaze. When he locked eyes with me again, there was nothing but stark professionalism.
"We're running toxicology reports. We believe we know what they've been dosed with, but I don't want to speak out of turn. In the meantime, we've hooked them up to a saline drip and given them a mild sedative so that they don't have to be tortured by being alert and paralyzed—"
Atlas jumped forward, his brows pulled low. "Is that safe?"
Greg nodded. "Yes. Their heart rates are stable and we have them under constant supervision. At this point, we know that it was an injection of some kind, most likely from a dart one of the paramedics picked up at the scene. Which we're testing too."
"Make sure you also have someone in the Network test it for fingerprints." Andre stepped forward, full of authority and menace.
"Absolutely." Greg inhaled and continued. "If we confirm the counter agent, we'll administer it, but unfortunately, until the toxicology reports come back, the best course of action is to let the drug wear off on its own."
He reached for the handle again, but I had one more question. "And the woman?" My voice was harsh, like falling gravel on a frigid day. "There was blood."
"Ah, yes. Ms. Hart is fine. There was a cut on her neck that we've bandaged. It wasn't fatal and should heal with only minor scarring."
The back of my neck tightened and I bit my tongue. Everyone who was involved tonight would suffer. Maybe we'd open a new invitation-only room in the club. One where sadists could take out all their sick and twisted pleasures out on our captives.
When he turned the handle, this time I didn't stop him. The door pushed open and two beds appeared. The curtains were pulled so we could only see their still feet under the blankets. My chest squeezed.
Joaquin stood at the end between the two beds, staring hopelessly at them. His head snapped up and Atlas raced into the room. They collided in a fierce hug, Atlas whispering to Joaquin.
"We'll wait out here." Andre's voice pulled my attention from my family.
I nodded because I damn sure wasn't going to thank them for privacy. At the end of the day, it was safer to have them close by as backup.
I could also watch them. At least until I could determine the fallout from Parker losing his investment and ownership in Snatched.
Parker had been livid when Joaquin flipped over the joker.
I’d never seen that level of rage on him before and I knew it was seconds before he ordered Andre to take us out.
But since the power went out, both he and Andre had been supportive, pensive, and quiet.
I hadn't missed their covert looks though.
I didn’t trust them. Guy had Snatched on lockdown in case they tried to do a hostile takeover.
With one last look at the brothers settling in a few chairs across the hallway, I stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind me.
Facing the door, I pulled in a shuddering breath and released it. I needed those few extra moments to compose myself. I felt put together enough to see what waited for us in the beds. Turning around, Atlas had his arms around a teary-eyed Joaquin as they both watched Beasty and Kim.