“He may have put a tracker somewhere in your belongings,” Jez explained. “Change into a hospital gown. Leave everything else here. Knox will buy you whatever you need once we get where we’re going.”
She bodily hauled him out of bed, shoved the gown into his hands, and dragged him, limping heavily, to the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later holding his silk pajamas clutched in one hand and wearing Hospital Couture. Tears were already tracking down Paolo’s pale cheeks, and she’d barely even had to try. I covered my mouth and fake-coughed to hide my shark’s smile.
Also, this wasn’t doing a damn thing to quell the lust humming through the bond.
A nervous-looking nurse arrived with a wheelchair. Jez pointed to it imperiously. Paolo balked, looking at her with wet eyes.
“You’re sure I’ll be safe?” he asked.
“Once you get out of here?” she said. “Yes. Until then? Not so much. Now,move.”
Paolo plopped down in the wheelchair as though he’d been pushed. I handed the paperwork to the nurse, who flipped through it to check the signatures. While she did that, I stepped outside and addressed the team, pointing at Vozzina’s men.
“Four alphas each, remain here and make sure these goons don’t leave for the next hour. No phone calls in or out; no discussion of any kind.”
Everyone nodded. Once we were long gone with no possibility of being followed, the ones who’d remained behind would return to the security agency Knox had hired them from, yielding no useful information for Vozzina about where we’d transferred Paolo.
The rest would act as a motorcade for the ambulance, in case Bud had missed something and we were being followed after all. Once Paolo was established at the private clinic, hired guards would stay on rotation twenty-four-seven to screen anyone trying to visit him.
And after that, the lawyers would hopefully take care of the rest.
Jez and I followed the four guards flanking the wheelchair. Paolo was loaded into the ambulance with no issues.
“Wait!” he called, as the EMT moved to shut the double doors. “Jez! Aren’t you going to ride with me?”
Jez tilted her head, assessing him.
“Nah,” she said. “Have a good trip, though.”
The doors closed and latched, cutting off Paolo’s protest.
We got back in our car, where I spent the drive across the city looking out of the back window, obsessively scanning for anyone following us. We arrived safely at the clinic forty-five minutes later, took care of the intake details, and left Paolo looking like a pale, kicked puppy in the middle of the comfortable opulence of his private room.
“Wait, please—” he said again, as we turned to leave. “I thought you were going to stay with me!”
We ignored him, letting one of the two guards remaining behind on duty close the door after us. Once we were back in the car, I turned to Jez, looking down at her slight form.
“Back to the hospital?” I asked.
“Back to the hospital,” she agreed.
FIFTY-ONE
Jez
