Chapter 23
twenty-three
JONATHAN
Mags wasn’t coming. She’d stood him up. It didn’t seem her style. If she changed her mind, she would have at least shot him a text.
He texted twice and called once, but her phone was shut off, which was odd when she was in the middle of building a new business.
No, Margaret Morrow didn’t hide. She hadn’t hidden once when he had women hanging on his arm. She would look him in the eye and pretend he wasn’t hurting her. He deserved to be stood up.
As he was picking up his discarded napkins and empty teacup, finally conceding after an hour that he should pack it in, his phone lit up with a call from an unknown number.
He answered. “O’Faolain.”
A man with an accent asked, “Jonathan O’Faolain?”
“It is. Who is this?”
“Eze Otaji. I am…Margaret’s friend.”
Jonathan’s heart rate accelerated—the bastard she was living with. “Where is she?”
“She is getting taken care of at the hospital. She asked me to call you. A car clipped her on her way to meet you, and one of my men was on-site and immediately took her to the emergency room. She appears to have only sustained a few new bumps and bruises, but her phone was broken.”
Jonathan was running to a line of taxis before Eze finished speaking. “I’m on my way.”
Jonathan didn’t think he breathed during the fifteen-minute drive to the hospital. He was too upset to call or text any of their friends, just silently giving thanks that she’d wanted him to know.
While he’d been feeling sorry for himself, Mags had been hit by a car. “Goddamnit,” he growled, pushing his way out of the car, he ran toward the sliding glass doors of the emergency wing.
He saw Eze immediately standing with another smaller man near the nurses’ station. He remembered them both from the charity event. Shoving down all of his panic, he walked up to the large Nigerian and stuck his hand out. “Thank you for calling me.”
Eze nodded. “Margaret asked it of me. The nurse told me that she is banged up from the fall and had the wind knocked out of her, but she will be just fine. The car hit the big bag she’s always lugging around first. She is lucky.”
Jonathan felt better at hearing the news, but he wouldn’t relax until he spoke with her himself.
“As soon as the police finish with her statement, she’s free to go home.”
“Was the driver under the influence?”
“They don’t know yet. The man drove on, then abandoned the car and ran away. The police are looking for him.” Eze pinched the bridge of his nose before adding, “Nasir and some of the other witnesses saw the man purposely turn the wheel toward Margaret.”
A young nurse, not much older than Mags, wheeled her out then. She wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t expect her to be.
“My driver is waiting to take us home,” Eze said as he began to walk toward the exit.
When they stepped outside behind Mags’ wheelchair, Jonathan saw a middle-aged woman staring intently at Mags—like creepily focused. There was a colorful scarf wrapped about her head with a few muddy blonde bits of hair sticking out, and she was wearing a sensible outfit of trousers and a cardigan.
Nothing about the woman was remarkable, except for the unnerving stare and the way her mouth kept moving, as if she were talking to herself. Clearly, she had mental issues, and Jonathan blew it off as they reached Eze’s large sedan.
Jonathan looked at Mags. “I’m coming with you.” Thankfully, no one took issue. When Eze’s man hung back, Mags leaned forward from the backseat of the car.
“Nasir?”
Eze glanced at the other man, a look of irritation plain on his face. “Nasir has duties to see to.”
Jonathan, who was sitting opposite Mags on the rear-facing bench, had to stop himself from catching Mags’ hand before it landed on Eze’s arm.
“Eze,” she said softly. “Can he please come home with us? I would like to speak to Nasir before he goes back to Nigeria.”
Eze’s jaw clenched, but he bowed his head at Mags once before barking at the other man. “Nasir. With us.”
Some strange dynamic was at work, but Jonathan couldn’t figure out what it was, and honestly, he didn’t care to.
Even though he was on his way to the flat that Mags shared with another man, he could only feel relief that she was going to be okay and that even during all the turmoil of the hit and run, she’d thought to have someone call him.
“Well, Eze, I bet you’re rethinking our friendship,” she chuckled softly. She was exhausted, probably from an adrenaline dump. “I seem to have become one of the clumsiest people on the planet.”
“Hardly,” Eze replied. “I am thankful we met and just think, cleaning up after your mishaps gives me plenty of time to consider mathematical theories.”
That made Mags snort in amusement. “Asshole,” she teased.
Jonathan felt like he’d been hit by a car when Eze pulled Mags against his side and patted her head where she lay it on his shoulder. They were very comfortable with one another.
He turned his head to look out the window and noticed Nasir watching the couple across from them. The man had the same look of longing he felt on his own face. What the hell? Did Mags have another man after her affections?
It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t cave or falter. He wouldn’t walk away from Mags, not until he’d exhausted every groveling tactic man had ever created to get a woman’s forgiveness.
Once they were let into Eze’s flat, a woman named Jol, who he learned was married to Abeo, the driver, met them at the entrance and hustled Mags away to get her changed into more comfortable, clean clothes.
Eventually, Mags was led, under protestations, to the living room couch where a bundle of soft, fluffy blankets awaited. “Sit, Margaret, while I get your tea.” Jol hovered over Mags until she was satisfied with the cocoon they’d made.
Jonathan was glad for the distraction. The silence between the four men as they waited for Mags’ reemergence had been wearing.
Mags glanced at the men. “Nasir.” Upon hearing his name, the man’s head jerked up from where he’d been studying the floor. “I can’t tell you enough how thankful I am for you saving me. Had you not been there…had you not run so fast, I wouldn’t have been so lucky.”
“It was nothing.” With his hands clasped behind his back, Nasir lowered his head slightly, accepting her thanks.
“It was definitely something to me,” Mags insisted. “Would you come over here? I would like to speak to you in something lower than a bellow.”
Hearing this, Jol called from the kitchen. “Boys,” she commanded, “please come help me with the tea tray.” Jonathan glanced back a few times and watched as Nasir stood stiffly before Mags. He couldn’t hear anything she was saying, but whatever it was had the man’s full attention.
Soon, Jonathan hoped to have her full attention.