The name that usually opens doors like magic seems to bounce right off her. “Your name means nothing here,” she says. “I have strict orders—no one enters this room.”
“Damn it,” I mutter, spinning on my heel. “Of course, you have orders.” I guess that’s a goodthing.
She raises an eyebrow.
I take a deep breath, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “He’s my bodyguard,” I explain, the words tumbling out. “He got injured protecting me. Please, I need to see him.”
Her expression doesn’t soften. “You could be the president for all I care. No one gets in.”
I shake my head, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “Please,” I beg, hating how weak I sound. “I’d give anything to see him. I don’t have much time. Zane’s waiting on the roof?—”
“Zane?” she interrupts. “You mean Zane Mercer?”
Hope flares in my chest. “Yes,” I say. “He brought me here to see Ryder.” I hold up the card like a talisman.
Her entire demeanor changes in an instant, a smile spreading across her face. “Why didn’t you say you were with him?” She takes the card, swiping it through a hidden slot by the door.
I follow her inside, the sharp smell of disinfectant assaulting my nose. We pass through a small anteroom, and then I see him through a glass window. My hands fly to my mouth, stifling a sob that threatens to tear me apart.
Ryder lies motionless on the hospital bed, his powerful frame looking somehow diminished against the stark white sheets. His eyes are closed, dark lashes stark against too-pale skin. Machines surround him, their steady beeps a grim chorus.
The nurse rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. “He means a lot to you, huh?”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. When I find my voice, it comes out as a whisper. “I love him.”
Ryder was always so careful, so vigilant. He wouldn’t even eat out, and he would have told Zane if he’d been injected with something. What the hell happened?
“How was he poisoned?” I ask, wracking my brain.
She shakes her head. “We can’t tell for sure, but it looks like it has been absorbed through the skin. That’s the only reason he didn’t die. The concentration was high, but the amount transferred was likely insufficient because of the method.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Ryder being attacked, poison seeping into his skin while he was unaware.
“What are his chances?” I force myself to ask, dreading the answer.
“He’s strong and healthy. I think his odds are good. But it’s hard to say what damage the poison has already done. If he’d received treatment earlier...”
Her voice trails off, and guilt crashes over me like a tidal wave. He didn’t get treatment earlier because he came to save me, even knowing it might kill him.
“Whoever poisoned him wasn’t playing around,” she says, moving to check his chart. “They used a mixture of dimethyl sulfoxide and Cyanide.”
I frown, trying to process this information. “Cyanide? Oh my God. But he’s going to be okay, right? You said his chances were good.”
“We’re treating him aggressively. The fact thathe survived long enough to get here is a good sign. The skin absorption likely slowed the process enough to give us a fighting chance. We’re giving him diazepam to control the seizures, and we’re supporting his respiratory and cardiac functions.”
I look at Ryder, taking in the tubes and wires connecting him to the various machines. “How long until...until we know?”
“The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical,” she says. “If he makes it through that, his chances improvesignificantly. But even then, we’ll need to monitor for potential long-term effects.”
I nod, overwhelmed by the information but grateful for her honesty. “Thank you,” I whisper, turning back to Ryder. “He’s tough. He’ll make it through this.”
“From what I’ve seen, I believe he will.”
“What is this place, anyway?” I ask, desperate to focus on something other than my spiraling thoughts.
She smiles, a hint of pride filling her voice. “This is where people come when they have deep pockets.”
I frown. Ryder has a modest cabin. He doesn’t have deep pockets, but I guess Zane does. “Does Zane come here often?”
