Chapter 4
Lochlan James
Officer Perez points his gun at my chest. “Hands in the air.”
Bloody hell. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He twists my arms behind my back and cuffs me.
Seriously?“My wife needs me.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want you with her. Did you ever think of that?” The cop glares at me like I’m some kind of wife-beater and I’ve had quite enough.
“Am I under arrest?” At my loud, angry voice, TV cameras turn and the youngster in the NYPD uniform mutters, “If the driver doesn’t press charges, I’m sure the judge will let it go.”
“Yeah, well, I’m thinking lawsuit.” I swivel so the kid can release my cuffs.
“Can you at least tell me where they’re taking my wife? She might not make it. I may never say goodbye.” I fake sob into my forearm. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to hit the paramedic. I just wanted to go with her to the hospital.”
A dark woman, mic to her mouth, steps in front of me. “I’m here with Mr. Lochlan James, whose wife was only moments ago freed from beneath the rubble of a gas explosion. Can you tell us what happened?”
She points the microphone at me and I ham it up even more. “I was tryin’ to climb into the back of the ambulance. The bloody paramedic pushed me out. Naturally, I reciprocated and then this man…” I point to the officer. “…pulled a gun on me.”
I glare at the cop who releases my cuffs then smiles politely at the news crew. “Would you like a lift, Mr. James?”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate one.” Rubbing my wrists for much longer than needed, I shoot an award-winning look of gratitude toward the cameraman.
If not for the evening news, I’m sure the cop wouldn’t have offered but I don’t give a shit. Something is bloody wrong. With an awful feeling tugging at my gut, I text my boss who by now, must be at the hospital with his wife.
Me: Paramedic wouldn’t let me ride with Callie. Check on her?
Gray: Give me 5
Me: Copy
My new best friend glances across the seat as we head uptown. I don’t want the young idiot to have an accident so ignore his glare. I need to arrive in one piece, hold my wife, and never let her go.
Because of the fucking crosstown traffic, it takes thirty minutes to arrive at the hospital. I hop out of the cruiser and run into the emergency room where a sixtyish woman sits behind a glass window.
Resting my hands on the counter, I lean in, and hand her my driver’s license. “Is Calliope James here? I’m her husband.”
She motions over a young woman in scrubs who escorts me to one of the curtained-off bays. My heart sinks when I peek in, it’s not my wife, it’s Grayson’s.
I give Isabella a half smile, motion Gray to me, and whisper to the nurse. “That’s not her.”
Red-faced, the woman hightails it to a central nurse’s station and types madly on a keyboard.
She looks up from her monitor. “I’m sorry sir. There was a bit of a mix up. She’s not here.”
“Where the fook is she?” I scowl at the cop, the person most responsible for me not being with my injured wife.
The officer pales when he recognizes the billionaire standing next to me and says into his radio. “Perez here. What’s the status on Mrs. James?”
“She just arrived at Mount Sinai,” the woman on the other end responds.
She’s here?Heart drumming, I rush up and down the hall, checking all the bays. Lilac waves from one, Mel from another, and Blake from a third.
At the end of the hall, I open the last curtain. For a brief moment, I forget Callie and rush to Suds’ side but he’s either unconscious or asleep.
