2. Vice Blackwell
VICE BLACKWELL
Iwas halfway through telling the contractor everything that was wrong with the floor plan when my phone started vibrating across the conference table.
Nobody even looked in its direction because they already knew better. When my phone went off during a meeting, it wasn’t anybody else’s business unless I made it theirs.
“We’re not squeezing another twenty tables in there,” I said, sliding the blueprint back across the table. “People don’t come to Blackwell’s to eat shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Open the dining room back up.”
“Vice, that’ll cut seating by almost—”
“I know exactly what it’ll cut.”
He didn’t say shit right away as he cleared his throat before nodding. Then he went, “I’ll redraw it.”
“You do that.”
I leaned back in my chair, letting my eyes travel around the room. My assistant sat off to my left, typing notes faster than anybody could talk.
The room stayed quiet as everyone waited for me to say something else. Before I could, my phone started vibrating again. I glanced down at the screen and saw Mace’s name, the head of my security staff. I declined the call and shifted my attention back to the meeting.
“If that’s all,” I said, looking around the room. “We’re done for the day. We’ll pick back up tomorrow.”
Chairs scraped across the floor as everyone stood, gathering their notes and heading toward the door. Before anyone could make it out of the conference room, my phone rang again. Three calls in less than two minutes. Mace didn’t call me three times unless somebody was dead…
…or about to be.
I answered before the ringtone could finish.
“What?”
“Vice…” Something in Mace’s voice made my stomach tighten. “It’s Sam.”
Every muscle in my body locked, but I still managed to get out, “What about him?”
“He got shot.”
For a second, I just stood here staring at the conference room doors, hoping I’d heard him wrong.
“When?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“Outside of Grady. In the parking garage.”
The fuck was he doing at Grady? That nigga had no business being at no gotdamn Grady. The thought crossed my mind, but getting answers could wait.
“Is he alive?”
Mace didn’t answer right away, and that silence told me everything I needed to know.
“Barely.”
I was already headed for the door.
The room fell quiet as I walked out, but nobody was stupid enough to stop me or ask questions. My assistant hurried behind me, struggling to keep up in her heels.
“Vice!”
“Cancel everything,” I said, not even bothering to slow down.
My assistant hurried after me, still struggling to keep up. “What happened?”
“My cousin got shot.”
The color drained from her face, and she stopped walking for a second before rushing to catch up with me. “Oh my God. Is he—”
“I don’t know.”
The words came out harder than I meant them to, but that was all I could give her. I didn’t know how bad it was. I didn’t know who shot him or why. All I knew was Sam had been rushed to Grady, and every second I spent standing in this building felt like a second too fucking long.
Mace was still on the line when I reached the elevator and pressed the button.
“They rushed him straight into trauma,” he said.
My jaw tightened. “I’m on my way.”
“And I just got off the phone with Grady, but they ain’t telling me much.”
The elevator doors finally opened, and I stepped inside, pressing the lobby button before turning toward my assistant. “Don’t forget to cancel the rest of my day. Everything.”
She nodded quickly as the doors started closing.
“You want me to meet you there?” Mace asked.
“No. Stay where you are.”
A brief silence settled between us, and I could hear him breathing on the other end. Mace and Sam were close, so I knew sitting still probably wasn’t any easier for him than it was for me.
“You want me looking into it?” he then asked.
I frowned as the elevator started moving. The fact that he even had to ask irritated the fuck out of me. “I shouldn’t have to tell you.”
“You don’t,” he said quickly. “I’m already on it. I’ll call you if I find anything.”
The call ended, leaving me alone with the one thought I had been trying not to let into my head since Mace called.
Sam better not fucking die.
I stared at my reflection in the stainless-steel doors, my jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Sam wasn’t reckless.
He didn’t just end up shot for no damn reason. Something had gone left… I just didn’t know what yet.
The elevator barely made it to the lobby before I was digging my keys out of my pocket. My mind kept replaying the same three words over and over.
Sam got shot.
Nothing else mattered.
I made it to my truck, threw it in drive, and headed straight for Grady.
It seemed like every red light caught me, and every car in front of me suddenly forgot how to press the damn gas.
A fifteen-minute drive felt like an hour, and by the time I pulled into the hospital, police cars surrounded part of the parking garage.
I parked wherever I could fit my truck and walked inside without looking back.
The emergency room was exactly what you’d expect. Families filled the waiting area, nurses hurried from one patient to the next, and doctors moved through the halls like they had ten places to be at once.
It only took me a few seconds to spot Mace, never minding the fact that I told him he didn’t have to come.
He was standing near the nurses’ station talking to a police officer, but he wasn’t alone.
My uncle Henry stood a few feet away with his hands resting on top of his head, staring toward the double doors that led back to trauma.
The conversation stopped the second Mace saw me coming.
“Any update?” I asked.
“They’re still working on him,” Mace answered.
I looked past him toward the double doors, wishing like hell I could see through them. Sam was somewhere on the other side fighting for his life, and all we could do was stand here waiting for somebody to come out and tell us whether he was going to make it.
Uncle Henry finally looked over at me, and I barely recognized the expression on his face. I had known this man my whole life and couldn’t remember ever seeing him look this shaken.
“Your aunt is in one of the consultation rooms,” he said in a rough voice. “One of the doctors is with her.”
“She good?”
Uncle Henry shook his head and dragged a hand down his face. “That’s her son, Vice. She ain’t good.”
I nodded because I already knew that was a stupid-ass question. None of us were good.
“What the police saying?” I asked.
Uncle Henry’s jaw tightened as he looked toward the officer standing beside Mace. “Not enough. They asking a bunch of damn questions, but nobody can tell me who shot my son or why.”
“We’re still gathering information, Mr. Jones,” the officer said, talking to my uncle.
Uncle Henry turned toward him. “Then gather it faster. My son is back there fighting for his fucking life.”
The officer didn’t respond, and for a second, I watched my uncle stare him down before turning his attention back toward the trauma doors. Anybody looking at him would’ve seen exactly what I saw—a father scared he was about to lose his son.
I looked at Mace and tilted my head toward the other end of the hallway. “Come here.”
He followed me far enough away that neither Uncle Henry or the officer could hear us.
“You find out anything?”
“Not yet.”
His answer came quick, but something about him felt… different. He wouldn’t hold my stare for long, and every few seconds, his eyes moved toward the trauma doors like he was waiting for them to open.
Mace had always been good under pressure. I’d seen him handle situations that would’ve made most men fold, but tonight he looked like he was forcing himself to stay focused. If I hadn’t known him as long as I had, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it.
A nurse stepped out from behind the station carrying a clipboard. Before she could walk away, I stopped her.
“My cousin came in not too long ago. Samuel Jones.”
She glanced at the computer before looking back at me.
“Are you family?”
“I’m his cousin.”
“One moment.”
She disappeared through the double doors, leaving me standing here with Mace beside me. Neither of us spoke. There wasn’t much to say until somebody came back with answers.
A few minutes later, the doors opened again, and a doctor stepped into the hallway, pulling his mask down as he looked around the waiting area.
“Family of Samuel Jones?”
Uncle Henry moved before I did. “I’m his father.”
The doctor’s eyes moved from him to me. “Come with me.”
I followed Uncle Henry down the hallway while Mace stayed behind with the police.
The doctor led us into one of the consultation rooms, where my aunt sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
The second we walked in, she looked up at us, and the fear on her face told me nobody had given her any real answers yet.
Uncle Henry went straight to her, sitting beside her and reaching for her hand. She held on to him with both of hers as I took the chair on her other side.
The doctor closed the door before turning toward us. “I’m Dr. Peterson. Samuel lost a significant amount of blood before we were able to get to him, and while we were working on him, his heart stopped.”
My aunt made a sound beside me, and Uncle Henry immediately tightened his hold on her hand.
“But you got him back?” I asked.
“We did,” Dr. Peterson said, nodding his head up and down.
“We were able to get his heart beating again, but he’s still in extremely critical condition.
He isn’t breathing well enough on his own, so we’ve placed him on a ventilator.
Right now, his body has been through a major trauma, and the next several hours are going to be very important. ”
“Is he going to make it?” Uncle Henry asked.
The doctor hesitated, and that hesitation told me more than I wanted to know.
“I can’t promise you that…”