Chapter 22
Forrest General Hospital
She looked so innocent lying there.
Fury tightened his lips. Bitch. His gaze roved the white sheet, landing on her protruding belly. Disgust twisted in his gut.
He would not allow this.
His son would not suffer as he had.
More of that mounting fury exploded in his veins. It was Christmas and he couldn’t even be with his son.
It was her fault.
But he had a plan. One that destiny had set into place centuries ago . . . then whispered in his ear just weeks ago. He relaxed. A smile spread across his face.
Soon. Very soon he would be with Danny.
Nothing could stop him now.
Everything was almost in place.
He touched his wife’s hand. Soon her flesh would be cold and that damned princess growing in her belly would be dead.
Just like the others.
“Everything all right in here?”
His gaze shot to the door where the errant police officer now hovered.
Funny that he seemed interested in the patient’s well-being now. The stupid cop hadn’t appeared to notice when a virtual stranger walked into the room he was supposed to be watching. No, he’d been too distracted by a woman from another room.
Ridiculous. Worthless. A smart man would never allow his cock to override his brain. But, unfortunately, most all men fell victim to that traitorous organ from time to time.
Even him.
“I could use your assistance, Officer,” he said in his gentlest tone. “This IV machine is acting up. I need to replace it,” he gestured to the one he’d brought into the room with him, “but the cords are a tangled mess. I hate to have to call another nurse. We’re shorthanded as it is tonight.”
“Sure.” The officer smiled. “I hope you got to spend some time with your family today. Christmas is a bad time to be on duty.” The cop came around the bed. He chuckled. “Believe me, I know.”
Smiling at the cop’s words, he reached into his right pocket and wrapped his fingers around the hypodermic needle he’d prepared for just this sort of obstacle. The same one he’d used on the nurse in the pharmaceutical storeroom. The key to the success of any plan was preparation.
“Stand right here.” He ushered the cop next to the bed. “Now hold her arm to ensure I don’t pull anything loose. We wouldn’t want to cause her any unnecessary discomfort.”
He just wanted her to stop breathing.
“Okey dokey.” The stupid cop did exactly as he was told.
Keeping one eye on the cop, he placed his free hand on the IV pole and withdrew the hypo with the other. “Here we go.”
The cop held on to the patient’s arm with both hands.
Perfect. Gritting his teeth, he swung away from the IV and jammed the needle into the cop’s shoulder and shoved the plunger downward.
The cop released his hold on the patient and spun around. He cried out at the burn in his veins. Tried to speak . . . but it was too late.
Potassium chloride worked very fast, stopping the heart as effectively as if he’d reached into the man’s chest and ripped out the organ.
The cop crumpled to the floor.
He reared back to glance out the open door, checked the corridor. Now, he had to hurry. Time was not on his side. As soon as he’d injected the bitch the monitors would react. His escape plan was less than desirable. He’d watched for days and this was the only viable option.
This had to be done.
He reached into his left pocket and retrieved the second hypo. Carefully he inserted it into the tube of her IV. Perfect.
She moaned.
He froze.
One, two, three seconds he watched her. She lay still as stone. Must have been an involuntary response sound. The bitch was in a coma. He relaxed and returned to his work.
Her arm flopped.
She moaned. Louder.
Her eyes opened.
She flopped her arms again. Tried to roll toward the other side of the bed away from him, those hideous sounds gurgling from her throat.
The monitors screamed for attention as her heart’s rhythm reacted to the fear.
Shit! He had to hurry!
He placed his thumb on the plunger, pushed. “Just die,” he muttered.
“What’re you doing there?”
The nurse didn’t wait for his response. She dropped the patient chart she carried and rushed toward him.
He released the hypo. Hoped it would be enough. He jumped across the bed, bypassing the nurse. Then he rounded the foot of the bed.
He knocked down another nurse as he charged out the door. She scrambled up, screaming for help.
Would the small amount he’d injected prove sufficient? No way to be sure. He could hope.
As if to set his mind at ease, the code blue echoed through the hospital’s intercom system.
Excellent. He mentally marked taking care of that bitch off his list of things to do.
Now he had to escape.
His son needed him.
And there was the business of the last princess.