Chapter Twenty-One
RAYNE RELEASED THE door and dove to the tile floor as medical personnel hurried toward her. “No, go back.” She motioned for them to move further away. “It’s not safe.”
“Was that a gunshot?” demanded the charge nurse.
She nodded. “Stay back.”
“I’m calling security.”
“Good idea.” She doubted they could do anything about the shooter. By the time they arrived, he’d be gone unless Rayne caught up with him.
She crouched beside the door and pushed it open. This time, no gunfire greeted her. Still in a crouch, she hurried to the landing and peered through the railing into the darkened stairwell.
No movement.
Frowning, she made her way to the ground floor. If this nurse was fake, like Rayne suspected, he wouldn’t want to be caught inside the hospital. This stairwell led to the ground floor and the ER entrance. After running a few feet from the stairwell to the entrance, the shooter would be home free.
She raced through the sparsely populated lobby and dashed outside to the sidewalk, where an ambulance idled, waiting for a patient. Rayne scanned the parking lot for movement. When she’d almost given up, movement in the shadowed corner of the lot caught her attention. She headed in that direction.
Seconds later, an engine cranked, headlights gleamed, and the vehicle’s tires squealed as the driver sped toward the street in front of the hospital.
Rayne cut through the aisles of vehicles, hoping to see the license plate of the vehicle speeding away and the driver.
She increased her pace, but the black SUV moved too fast for her to see a license plate.
With tinted windows, she couldn’t see the driver either.
She stopped, glaring at the vehicle as it sped away.
In the distance, sirens sounded closer. Great. Now she’d have another encounter with the police. The first one had taken too long. She didn’t want to be away from Grant again.
Minutes later, she tapped on the door to Grant’s room and slipped inside. Elias stood between the door and a sleeping Grant.
“Catch him?”
She shook her head. “The guy’s a rabbit. I couldn’t get a look at him or the license plate of his SUV as he raced away.” She inclined her head toward the sleeping operative. “How is he?”
“Hasn’t stirred. Whatever the doc gave him must be potent.”
“That’s why he refused to take any more after the last dose.” She walked to the window and looked out. “Cops are here.”
“We’ll have to talk to them. No choice.”
“I know. Since we didn’t see him without the mask, we can’t describe the guy.”
Elias grunted. “The cops won’t be happy. We’re not excellent witnesses.”
“Tell me about it,” she muttered.
“Rayne?”
She spun and hurried toward the bed. “Hey. How do you feel?”
“Wiped out,” Grant murmured. “Everything okay?”
“We had some excitement while you were napping.”
“What happened?”
She told him about the fake nurse and her failed attempt to catch up to him.
Grant’s eyelids drooped. “Riley. Security cams.”
Rayne smiled. Grant might be drugged to the gills, but his brain still worked.
“He’s right.” Elias headed for the door. “You want to contact Riley, or shall I?”
“I’ll do it.”
He gave a slight nod. “Get comfortable. The cops will be here any minute. I’ll wait in the hall for them.”
“Thanks for your help, Elias.”
“Didn’t do much but you’re welcome.” He stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
Rayne grabbed her phone and called her teammate.
“What do you need?” was Riley’s greeting.
“Your computer skills.”
“What happened?”
“Someone attempted to drug Grant. We want a look at his face.”
Silence, then, “You didn’t see his face?”
“He wore a surgical mask. We saw only his brown eyes.”
“Description?”
“Dark brown hair, brown eyes, about six foot four, muscular.” She thought back through his movements. “Someone trained him, Riley. He moved like the guys on Echo unit.”
“Law enforcement or military?”
“I think so. He has the look.”
“What was he wearing?”
She described his clothes down to his running shoes.
Riley whistled softly. “Expensive shoes. Any distinguishing characteristics I can use to help ID him?”
Rayne thought a minute, replaying her encounter with the fake nurse. “No visible tattoos. But he has a scar on his left hand.”
“What kind of scar and what shape is it?”
“The scar looks like a knife wound that wasn’t attended to properly. The reason it stood out to me was the scar’s shape. It looks like the letter Z.”
“That helps. Anything else?”
“Not that I recall.”
“If you remember something else, I want to know about it. I’ll get on this and let you know if I find a match.”
“Thanks, Riley. I owe you one.”
“Nope, not between friends. Later.”
Rayne returned to the chair she’d placed beside the bed. Although Grant had wanted her close to him, that would have to wait until the cops were gone. She didn’t want to give the responding officers more fuel to doubt her account of the encounter with Fake Nurse.
She was likely being oversensitive. However, that didn’t diminish her need to protect Grant from closer scrutiny by local law enforcement.
Threading the fingers of her right hand through his, Rayne sat back and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. Ten minutes had passed when a light tap sounded on the door and Elias peered around the frame. “Police are here. Want me to stay with Grant while you talk to them?”
Grant squeezed her fingers.
She glanced down to see him watching her.
“Stay.”
“You need to rest.”
“I need to know you’re safe,” he countered.
Fair enough. She felt the same about him. Rayne turned to Elias. “Let them in.”
Seconds later, two men in uniform stepped into the hospital room and questioned her. She gave them the same information she’d given Riley.
The younger man, Carrington, looked impressed. “You’re observant. Most witnesses aren’t.”
Not observant enough to identify the guy. She shrugged. “I used to be on the job. Comes with the territory.”
“Where?” Harris, the older officer, asked.
“Chicago. Ten years.”
“Why did you resign?”
No way. She wasn’t getting into her history.
She didn’t want to talk about having to watch her own back because her fellow cops had found out about her past and no longer trusted her.
They’d have one of two reactions once they knew the truth.
Either they’d feel sorry for her or the cops would view everything she said with suspicion.
“Fortress made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
” She ignored the contempt in their eyes.
“Do you need anything else? Grant just had surgery. He needs to rest.”
Carrington eyed Grant. “Do you have information that will help us identify the man who invaded your room, Mr. Bowen?”
“Can’t help you. I slept through all the excitement.” He grimaced. “The painkiller the doc gave me is potent.”
After a few more fruitless questions, the officers left Grant’s hospital room.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Grant asked Rayne. “He didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m fine. He didn’t get close to me despite my best efforts to catch up to him. The guy is fast.” She clasped his hand. “Sleeping is the best thing for you right now. Do you think you can sleep for another couple of hours?”
He shook his head.
A ball of ice formed in her stomach. Had Grant changed his mind about trusting her? Maybe, since she hadn’t caught the man threatening him, Grant didn’t believe she could protect him. “What’s wrong?” She steeled herself for a blow to her ego.
“The nausea has come back with a vengeance. If something doesn’t change soon, I’ll be in serious trouble.”
Relief flooded her. An easy fix. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She sped into the hallway where Elias turned, eyebrows raised in silent question. “Stay with him for a couple of minutes.”
“Everything all right?”
“He’s feeling sick again.”
Elias grimaced. “I understand.” He entered Grant’s room and closed the door behind him.
Rayne went to the nurse’s desk and asked for two more ice packs. “Grant is nauseated again.”
“Some people have more trouble throwing off the effects of anesthesia than others. Wait here.” The nurse returned in less than a minute with two cold packs. “Anything else?”
Rayne remembered another trick Violet used to help members of Echo and Artemis with nausea. “Do you have a soft drink with real ginger?”
“We do.” The nurse hurried off again and returned with a canned drink that she handed to Rayne. “How else may I help you?”
“Might be wise to ask the doctor for an anti-nausea patch for Grant. He’ll fight nausea for at least another twelve hours.”
“He’s injured a lot?”
“Hazard of the job.”
“Is he a cop?”
“He used to be on the job. Now he’s in private security. The work can be dangerous.”
“I see. I’ll message the doctor about the patches. Let me know if Mr. Bowen needs anything else.”
“Thanks.” Rayne retraced her steps down the hall and knocked softly on the door. She slipped inside the room.
Grant’s looked more miserable than he had three minutes earlier.
Not good. She slid the cold packs in place and snatched up the small plastic bin in case nausea got the upper hand and placed it by Grant’s side. Opening the green can, she poured part of the liquid into a plastic cup, dropped a straw in it, and held it to his mouth. “This should help.”
He sipped and moaned. “This tastes so good.”
“Go easy, buddy,” Elias warned. “We want you to keep that down.”
Grant took two more swallows, then eased back onto the pillow. “Thanks.”
“We’ll let that settle, then try more.” Rayne brushed Grant’s hair from his perspiring forehead. “Sleep if you can. Every minute helps.”
He gave a slight nod and closed his eyes.
Ten minutes later, the desk nurse tapped on the door. “Dr. Green authorized an anti-nausea patch.” She waggled the packet as she walked to the bed. “How’s he doing?”
“A little better. The ice and soft drink helped.”