Chapter 27 Ramsay
I’d lied.
Knowing there was no way the doctors would tell me what was going on with Silver. Knowing she had no immediate family left.
I’d informed the hospital in Inverness that I was Silver’s husband.
Lucky for me, I was a paranoid bastard with a photographic memory. When I’d looked into Silver, I’d memorized small details, like her date of birth, without even trying. A quick glance at it and that information was stored in my brain.
I couldn’t sit around. I’d been in contact with Jack.
The police didn’t catch the bastard who robbed and stabbed Silver, but a tourist had come forward to say he’d snapped a photo of the perpetrator and the boat.
He’d handed over the information to the island police who, in turn, shared it with mainland investigators.
After that phone call, I’d called Jay and asked her to hack the island police to get the photographs.
Quinn, Cammie, they’d all called for an update, but I didn’t have anything yet. I told them there was no point in them traveling the five hours it would take to get here without more information.
I tried to detach myself from the situation.
Think on it as if Silver were a stranger.
Reevaluate her situation with my emotions removed.
Was there as much blood as I’d thought?
Surely, if there had been, wouldn’t she have bled out in the helicopter?
But she was still alive, if unconscious, when the paramedics wheeled her into the hospital.
As much as I attempted to rewind the last few hours … my mind kept conjuring horrifying images of Silver drenched in blood.
I couldn’t … I couldn’t rationalize. I couldn’t think logically.
Fear had clouded my perception. Truth be told, I had no fucking clue how bad her injury was.
All my training … out the fucking window.
Maybe I’d been too long out of the game. Maybe the people of Glenvulin had made me soft. Fundamentally changed me.
Or maybe she had.
When I’d returned to the waiting room, I was aware of the looks from the other patients.
Because of my height and size, it wasn’t unusual to feel eyes on me.
My size, in fact, had often been a hindrance in my job, and I’d found ways to try to diminish it through a careful use of body language while wearing clothing that made me blend in.
But the patients here weren’t looking at me because of my size. A nurse had given me a shirt from lost and found that just about fit because I was bare chested after giving Silver my own. The same nurse had led me to a bathroom to wash Silver’s blood off my hands.
Yet my jeans were splattered in her blood.
Now, a quick glance in the mirror on the wall revealed I’d streaked my cheek with her blood and hadn’t noticed. Fuck. I got up to head to the bathroom again but was stopped when a doctor in scrubs appeared in the waiting room.
“Tierney Silver’s family?”
“Me.” I stepped forward and perpetuated my lie. “Husband.”
The doctor nodded. “I’m Dr. Vincent, your wife’s surgeon.” He gestured for me to follow him outside the waiting room for privacy.
My heart rate increased.
“How is she?” I demanded as soon as we were in the corridor.
“Your wife has been very lucky, Mr. Silver. The knife didn’t go deep enough to hit any organs or major arteries. We’ve repaired the wound, though it may leave scarring—it appears as if her attacker twisted the knife once he pushed it in.”
Rage thrummed through me, but I kept my expression perfectly blank.
“She lost a fair bit of blood, so we’ve given her some. All her vitals look remarkably good considering.”
Relief cut through my wrath. “Can I see her?”
“Of course. She’s in the recovery ward. It might take her a while to wake up from the anesthesia.” He started walking, and I fell into stride beside him. “We’d like to keep Tierney for a few days to monitor her recovery before we discharge her.”
“Aye, okay.”
“We have some forms for you to fill out. A nurse will be in with those. For now, I’ll let you sit with your wife.” He opened the door to a private room on the ward and I strode in. Only to stop abruptly.
In my worst nightmares, I’d imagined finding Silver with an oxygen mask over her face, breathing for her.
But she lay peacefully on the bed, unconscious, yet breathing on her own. She was hooked up to machines that kept an eye on her vitals, the sound of her heartbeat a steady rhythm in the room.
“Fuck.” I ran a shaking hand over my beard.
“She’s going to be fine, Mr. Silver,” the surgeon repeated as he patted my shoulder. He left the room, closing the door behind him.
Slowly I made my way over to Silver.
Christ, she looked even younger than her age lying there. Such a baby face.
Too young.
Too sweet.
What the hell had she gotten herself mixed up in?
What the hell had I gotten myself mixed up in?
I reached out to stroke her cheek, knowing that I was on a dangerous path to ruin.
After everything I’d fought my way through …
all I’d wanted was peace. Peace on my fucking island.
What had I been thinking getting mixed up with a woman who so clearly had a million secrets?
Who so clearly had lost everything and wasn’t only looking for a safe place to land …
she was looking for a person who made her feel safe.
I huffed bitterly.
Aye, well, she chose wrong.
I couldn’t keep her safe.
She hadn’t trusted me enough to keep her safe.
Because I wouldn’t let her in.
I couldn’t.
Slumping down onto the chair next to the bed, I watched over her. I’d watch over her until I knew who was behind this. Because I knew this wasn’t a straightforward pickpocket. No one came to a fucking island just to rob someone. Too many variables. Too many chances to get caught.
Then there were the threats we thought had disappeared.
I’d find who did this to her.
And then I’d deal with them.
Permanently.