Chapter 36
Sydney
I hold on tight to my coffee cup as I push the office door open. There’s no way I’m dropping this. Heck, I should’ve gotten two.
I’ve barely slept a wink since the conversation with Luigi, Maria, and Antonia the other night. And to think the education I received from Carol Ann was eye opening. How had I been married to a man I knew so little about? Had I been so smitten that I simply chose to ignore all of the red flags? Because no one could be this na?ve.
My emotions would declare war on each other every time I’d try to close my eyes. My heart would clench, worrying about how Matteo was doing in rehab. Was he physically ill? Was he scared he might not be able to get control of this? But no sooner would I empathize with his situation, then I’d be royally pissed off he didn’t let me in. Part of me wanted to get a message to him, reassuring him I was all right. So, he could focus on his recovery. The other part wanted to kick him in the nuts for ghosting me. Not once, but twice. The ghosting part, not the nut kicking part. Oh hell, I probably wanted to do that twice too.
I swear, this mercurial man is causing me to have a psychotic break.
“Hi, Sydney,” Beatrice greets.
“Hi.”
“Your first patient of the day arrived early. I’ll wait until you get settled and then ask Angie to bring him on back.”
I glance at my watch. Wow. He really is early. But better early than late. I’d prefer to avoid another day where I spend the whole thing playing catch up. “Okay. It shouldn’t take me too long to get myself together.”
“Take your time, dear.”
Placing my things down on my desk, I power on my laptop and log in to the electronic records software to prepare myself to start my day. I reach for my coffee, taking another long sip before standing and heading to the door. A new set of clean, pressed lab coats is hanging from the hook. Pulling back the thin protective layer of plastic, I withdraw the garment, unbutton it, and slide it on.
I catch a glimpse out of my window over the parking lot below. Everyone is scurrying about, heading this way or that. Birds are flying overhead, the sky a backdrop of brilliant blue. There’s not a cloud in sight. No sleep or not, how could anything go wrong on a day like this?
Reaching for the phone, I dial Beatrice’s extension. “Hi, Bea. I’m all set.”
“Oh, hello dear. Mr. Humphries should be all set to go. Angie placed him in room three.”
“Got it.” I disconnect the call and head in the direction of my first patient. I haven’t seen Jay Humphries since his laparoscopic gallbladder surgery. I hope his early arrival isn’t a bad sign.
Knock, knock. I carefully open the door after rapping on it, so as not to startle him. I don’t believe he’s been waiting long. But I hate to scare him if he’s still having symptoms. The times I’ve consulted on him in the emergency room were often anxiety provoking for him, given the amount of discomfort he was having without an obvious cause. “Hi, Mr. Humphries. I hope things are going well.”
He jumps off of the stretcher, causing me to take a step back. “Oh, Dr. Cunningham. I was so anxious to see you today, I could barely stand it.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, unsure where this is going. He doesn’t seem any worse for wear.
“I have to admit, I didn’t have high hopes for this surgery. I mean, we weren’t certain that my symptoms were stemming from my gallbladder. But I was so miserable, I was willing to consider almost anything.” He chuckles. “I was about to contact someone to do acupuncture on me when you called to say there was an opening in your OR schedule.”
“Oh.” I laugh nervously.
“But you did it. I haven’t felt this good in so long. I’m able to eat whatever I want. I can make commitments to people outside of work. Hell, I’d stopped doing anything besides work and home for fear my pain would start up again. It was so isolating. And I’d only started seeing someone a few months before this pain began, so that didn’t last. I mean, who wants to deal with this kind of thing? Never going out anywhere. And forget having dinner together.”
My hand covers my chest at his words. How awful. I hadn’t realized the social implications of his prolonged illness.
“Solving the discomfort was one thing, but knowing I can rejoin the living.” He shakes his head, smiling broadly. “I don’t have to live in constant fear anymore.”
I have to blink a few times to keep from getting too emotional. The lack of sleep is turning me into a hot mess. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear this.”
“Not as glad as I am to share it. You’re amazing, Dr. Cunningham. I’m so grateful you took on my case. It would’ve been really easy for you to pass me off to a stomach doctor or my primary care. But you didn’t.”
I can’t help but stand a little taller, proud I could help this man. Nothing I’d done was particularly noteworthy. Beyond continuing to look for answers where there didn’t seem to be any. He’d returned several times to the ER, discharged on each occasion without a source for his symptoms. I can only imagine how frustrated he was. Attempting to alleviate his pain by removing his gallbladder isn’t cutting edge. But it was certainly worthy of a try.
“Well, let me take a look at your incisions.”
He hops onto the stretcher with more vigor than I expect. I have to bite my lower lip to keep from giggling at his exuberance at life. After performing a physical exam, I wish him well and watch as he confidently strolls from the exam room.
As I return to my office, I can’t fight my grin. When all else in my life is going to hell in a handbasket, at least I have this.
Two hours later, I’ve completed my coffee and contemplating going to the first-floor café between patients to grab another. Geez. If I can’t get any sleep tonight, I might have to take a sleeping pill or something.
I stroll up to reception to see if there’s a break between patients before lunch, when I notice Beatrice shaking her head in frustration. “Sir, I need you to write down the reason for your visit.”
“Where do I write that?”
Beatrice reaches over toward the clipboard in his hand. “Where it says reason for your visit.” She exaggerates the last four words, and I have to push down a laugh. As tough as my job can be sometimes, I don’t envy what the people on the front lines have to contend with.
Once Beatrice has returned to her seat, I whisper, “Hey, what’s up?” There are quite a few people sitting in the waiting room, so I don’t want to draw too much attention.
“Your next patient, that’s what’s up,” she replies quietly, her lips contorted to one side. She stands from her chair and walks over toward the file cabinets, out of view of the awaiting patients. “I don’t think this guy’s elevator goes all the way to the top. Initially, I thought he was here to consult for a hernia repair. He kept rubbing his belly. But for all I know, he’s here to order lunch.”
I cover my mouth to suppress a laugh.
“But he and his friend kinda talk funny, so maybe there’s a language barrier. Now that I think about it, their accent reminds me a little of your ex-husband’s voice. When he’d call here for you.”
A frown tugs at my lips before I can stop it.
“I’m sorry, dear.”
“Oh, never apologize, Bea. It’s my fault I haven’t gotten over him already.”
She puts her hand on my forearm, giving me the affectionate motherly expression she often did right after I shared my husband and I were headed for divorce. “It’s hard to let go of someone you gave your heart to.”
My chest tightens.
This sweet grandmother of a woman gives me an adoring glance. “Even if they were a dickweasel.”
I let out a snort. “Oh, my god.”
“Let’s see if you can work your magic on this guy.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, look what you did for Jay Humphries. He practically skipped out the door; he was so happy.”
“How much longer do you think before Angie brings him back?”
“She’s still in room one, applying clean dressings over their incision. So, it’ll likely be a few more minutes. Why?”
I try to stifle a yawn and fail miserably. “I need a second cup of coffee.”
“Oh, you run along and get whatever you need. Something tells me it’s going to take her twice as long to get his information and vital signs as the average patient.”
“Great. Can I get you anything?” Suddenly, I’m so excited about another round of caffeine, I’m already feeling invigorated.
“No. I’m having a Coca-Cola with my leftovers. Any more caffeine than that, and I’m likely to be up all night.”
Boy, I get it. Except my stimulant is the constant thoughts of my husband, ex-husband. Ahh!
After a quick sprint downstairs, I return with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. I’m ready to take on this next challenge. Sipping the hot brew one last time, I deposit the cup on my desk and make my way to the exam rooms. They must’ve placed the new patient in room two, as it’s the only one with a clipboard perched outside the door.
I approach and begin to reach for it when I hear something puzzling. The door isn’t completely shut, so their conversation drifts into the hallway. I believe Beatrice may be correct, as their accents sound Italian. Yet, it’s hard to make out exactly what they’re saying. Their words are hushed, and their cadence hurried.
I’m only able to pick up one or two words. But a few stand out that I’ve heard before.
Doctor.
Uccidere.
Bianchi Bitch.
Wait. What was that second one? I know I’ve heard it before. Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve my phone and quickly enter the word into my translator app. Once I verify the sound is turned off, I hit the submit button. My mouth instantly goes dry, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Kill.
I slowly back away from the door, praying I can make a hasty exit without drawing any more attention to myself. Heading to my office, I carefully place the clipboard on the desk top and try to take a deep breath. What do I do? Where do I go?
Rushing for the office door, I almost make it when Beatrice stops me.
“Hey, Syd. I thought you’d already made your coffee run.”
“Oh, I think I left my credit card down there. Just want to rush down before they close up for the day.”
I dart out the door before she can come up with any additional questions or, God forbid, offer to run down there and retrieve it for me. I need to put as much distance between me and the men in the office as possible.
Flinging open the stairwell door, I carefully run down the stairs, holding on tight to the handrail in case I slip in these heels. As I reach the first floor, it hits me. What if there are additional men waiting for me at my car? Do I risk hoping that a Cadillac Escalade armed with men in suits will protect me?
Uccidere. Kill.
Nope!
I scurry down the hallway until I reach the doors to the surgery center. If nothing else, you need a badge to gain entrance here. It might at least give me time to come up with a plan. As I swipe my badge, I retrieve my phone from my pocket and attempt to call Matteo.
Ring, ring, ring.
Oh, please. Oh, please. Pick up, Tey. I pace back and forth like a madwoman. It takes me a few moments to remember where he is. Would he even have access to his phone in rehab? The call is forwarded to voicemail, and I disconnect, returning the cell to my lab coat pocket. My body starts to shake uncontrollably. Retreating a few steps, I keep my back to the cold tile wall and glance in every direction. My eyes connect with a few familiar nurses and technicians, concern drawn across their faces.
“Syd, you okay?”
I peer over to find Holden Knight beside me.
“You’re pale as a ghost. What’s going on?”
My mind is reeling. What can I say without sounding like a lunatic? Two Italians are here to murder me. What should I do? Instead, I ask, “Is Broadie here?” Why I think he’ll have any answers is beyond me.
“Yeah, he just finished a case. I think he’s in with the family. Come with me.”
Holden gently places his hand on my back and leads me in the direction of our dictation office. Wiping my clammy palms down my lab coat, I jam my hands under my armpits to keep from trembling.
The sound of the portable C arm being pushed around a corner causes me to flinch.
“In here.” He points.
I follow him inside, my lips and chin now beginning to quiver. Other than bumping into each other on occasion in the OR, Holden and I don’t run in the same circles. From all I’ve heard, he’s one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the state. He seems nice enough, but he almost seems to have a sixth sense that something is wrong. Or I look even worse than I think right now.
“Broadie typically comes straight here to dictate his notes after speaking with the family in the recovery room. From what he’d told me before his case started, it was a simple appendectomy. So, he shouldn’t be long.”
I’m unable to push any words through my lips, so I simply nod.
“I won’t leave you until he gets here. You aren’t having a medical emergency, are you?”
Geez. It probably looks like it. I shake my head. I’m sure after everything that happened with Alexis, he probably thinks I’m being paranoid.
He rubs slow, comforting circles over my back and encourages me to take some deep breaths. It must appear I’m having a panic attack. Heck, in a way, I am.
Broadie enters the small room and his face immediately falls.
Unable to control myself, I hop up from where I’m sitting and rush for him. “Broadie, I’m scared. I think someone’s after me. I know it sounds crazy.” My words are rushing from my mouth as if I’m playing beat the clock. Because I am.
“Shhh, Syd. You’re okay. We’ve got you.” He leads me back over to the chair and bends down in front of me, gripping my hands tightly in his. “Slow your breathing down.”
The gentle glide of Holden’s hand on my back returns as Broadie’s eyes meet mine. Jesus, I’m glad I never drank that second cup of coffee. My shakes are at a fevered pitch now.
“That’s it. Now, tell me what’s going on.”
Lord. Where do I start? “I was upstairs. In the office. There was a new patient. They didn’t speak English well. Turns out they’re Italian.” I pause to take a fortifying breath. “I’ve been studying Italian. I’m taking a trip there next year.” I stop to breathe and collect my thoughts. Wondering just how much to share.
“Matteo’s family…” I shake my head. How do I even approach this? And will it put him at an even greater risk if I share this with these two? What’s to prevent them from telling others what I say here?
“I know, Syd.”
What? How could he know? “No, he… they—”
“What did the Italian patients in our office say?”
“They said, that Bianchi bitch,” I stutter. “But I use Cunningham here. Then one of them said, uccidere. Uccidere.” I grip his hands tighter. “It means kill.”
Broadie looks at Holden. There’s no question in his gaze. I’m not sure why he believes this outlandish story, but thankfully, he does. “Holden, I need you to do me a huge favor.”
“Anything. You know you can count on me.”
“Sit here with Syd for a moment while I make a few phone calls.” He turns to me. “He’s got you. He won’t let anything happen. We’re going to get you out of here. But I need to make a few calls first. Okay?”
Licking my lips, I nod as Broadie stands to his full height, dropping my hands. Holden drags a chair closer, and I instinctively reach over to grab his sleeve.
“I promise, Sydney. We’ve got you.”
I glance over to find Holden giving Broadie an affirmative nod. Broadie exits, locking the door from the inside before pulling it shut behind him.
Suddenly, the magnitude of the situation overtakes me. I drop my face into my hands as sobs start to erupt.
Holden pulls me into his strong arms. I let go of any embarrassment over my current state. As he continues to try to comfort me, I notice the tattoos on his forearms. How had I never noticed them before? It’s an odd thing to find comfort in. But I’ll take it wherever I can get it right now.
What seems like only minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. I jerk at the unexpected sound. Holden gently stands and moves to the door.
“Holden, it’s Broadie.” Holden opens the door, and Broadie darts back into the office. He rushes to where I’m still seated, dropping to his knees. “You need to come with me.”
“What?” I’m not sure why, but I expected him to return with hospital security or the police or something. “Where are we going?”
His gaze drops to the floor. “I’d rather not say.”
I’m lost.
“Listen, Syd. I think of you as a little sister. You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right?”
I nod. I feel as if I’ve been trembling for so long, I’m becoming weak.
“Holden and I will walk with you to the front entrance. There’s a car waiting for us. Once you’re inside, we’ll get you somewhere safe.”
Again, I shakily nod. “All of my things are still upstairs. I’m not sure how I’ll get in the house without a key, now that the alarm system is set up.” Yet as I start to voice my concern, I catch a strange exchange between Broadie and Holden. Broadie looks deeply troubled. This only worries me further. Hell, he was supposed to convince me this was all in my head. That everything was going to be okay. Yet nothing about this feels as if it’s going to be all right.
“I need you to take this. Okay?” Broadie holds his hand out, a small white pill resting on his palm.
“What is it?”
“It’s for your nerves.”
“No, Broadie, I—”
“This isn’t a request. I need you to do this for me,” Broadie barks in a commanding tone I didn’t know he possessed.
What the heck?
“Listen, I promise to explain everything. But right now, we don’t have the luxury of time. And things are about to move very quickly.” He grabs my face, turning it to him. “Please, honey. I only want to help you. We’re taking you to Matteo.”
My ears prick up. “Okay.” Geez, it couldn’t hurt at this point.
Holden helps me up from my chair. My legs are shakier than a newborn foal.
“Once we walk out that door, we’re going to need to move fast.”
I all but laugh, after seeing how unsteady I am. Hopefully, I’ll be fueled by pure adrenalin, because my legs feel as if they’re no longer communicating with my brain.
“We’ve got you, Sydney.” Holden’s soft voice is so reassuring. How is he so calm? He must wonder what the heck is happening. Yet, he’s acting like this is just another day in the neighborhood. “I know you’re scared, but lean on us. Broadie and I have you.”
“You ready?”
I jerk my head up and down, no longer able to process what’s happening. It feels like an out-of-body experience.
“Let’s go.” The dictation room door swings open, and I immediately feel each of their strong arms wrap behind my back as I’m catapulted forward. We swiftly move down the hall and out of the safety of the locked doors of the surgical suite. My heart races as my eyes bounce all around, looking for any sign of trouble.
“Just look straight ahead, Sydney. It’s not much farther now.”
As we approach the surgical center waiting room, the men drop their arms and place a hand on my back to guide me through the sliding glass doors. As the sun hits my face, I lift my hand to shield my eyes as a black Cadillac Escalade pulls up. I’ve never been so damn glad to see one in my life.
Holden opens the back door, and I climb inside. Dr. Weston encourages me to slide over so he can join me.
“Hang in there, Sydney.” I quickly rotate to look at Holden’s face. His jaw is tight, cheek muscles tense. “You can do this.”
But before I can respond, he closes the door, and the car pulls out like it’s the start of a NASCAR race. I grip the door handle with white knuckle force. “Where—”
“Take us to the drop site, Troy.”
Drop site?
We fly through the streets surrounding the hospital before turning down a side street. My heart is pounding in my ears so loud I’m surprised Broadie can’t hear it.
“They’re just up ahead, sir.”
I turn to look at Broadie. What the hell is happening?
“You need to trust me, Syd. I know this is scary. But try not to worry.”
Uh, it’s a little too late for that.
The door flies open, and I find the driver of the Escalade with his hand held out for me. I reach for him and exit the Cadillac, moving instead toward a silver Toyota Prius with an Uber sticker on the front windshield.
“Hop in, Sydney,” Broadie encourages, nodding to the open door of the back seat. I do as he says and, again, he slides in beside me. The driver takes off before Broadie even has the seatbelt on. How does he know where we’re going?
The world flies by as we whip down dozens of back streets. The images outside my window don’t seem to add up. This is a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Wouldn’t it be faster to get wherever we’re going if we took the main highway?
But as this question comes to mind, a fog descends over me. What was in that pill? It kicked in so fast. I turn to Broadie to question him and discover he’s holding a syringe in his hand.
“What… what are you doing?”
“Sorry, Syd.”
My long-time coworker and friend pushes me down on my side, pulling up my skirt. I panic, flinging my arms, trying to cry out. I feel his full weight on top of me just before a sting pierces the skin of my right ass cheek. I’m stunned.
What the hell kind of nightmare is this?
Had I run from the trouble, or into it?
Yet as I push myself up to argue with Broadie, everything starts to spin. The sound of screeching tires surrounds our vehicle. All of a sudden, there’s an abrupt jolt of the Prius as a thunderclap of crunching metal penetrates the air.
Then everything goes black.