Chase figured it had something to do with Reese and the massive donation Garrett Resources made every year to Baylor Medical.
The nurse put Chase’s arm in a sling to help immobilize his injury, then Harper and the nurse helped him into a wheelchair. They wheeled him out of the room and down the hall, stopping at the pharmacy to pick up the pain pills the doctor had prescribed. He wouldn’t take them unless he had no choice, but he needed to get some rest in order to heal.
Maddox had his Yukon, which luckily still ran, waiting out in front. Harper helped Chase into the backseat, and they headed for the offices at The Max. Chase kept several changes of clothes there and a safe full of weapons.
Being Sunday, it was quiet. At the moment, none of the PIs were around. The meds were wearing off, his shoulder beginning to ache like bloody hell.
Harper helped him change into a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt. Chase put the sling back on while he and Maddox armed themselves from the steel gun safe in the converted gym at the back of the office.
Chase chose the Nighthawk .45 he kept as a backup weapon. His little .380 S&W ankle gun was locked up in his condo. Maddox went for a SIG 220 .45 cal to use as backup. With the Kimber in the shoulder holster beneath his leather jacket, he shoved the SIG into the waistband of his jeans behind his back.
“I’ll take the revolver,” Harper said, which wasn’t a bad idea. He’d seen her shoot in the jungle. The guy she had aimed at was dead.
While Maddox grabbed some extra ammunition, Chase handed Harper the .38, which she palmed and aimed. Then she flipped open the cylinder and checked to be sure the revolver was loaded. Since guns weren’t much good if they were empty, she needn’t worry.
“I’ve got to buy some clothes,” Harper said, holstering the pistol. “Everything I owned was destroyed in the fire.”
Chase preferred her naked, but he knew better than to say so. “I want you close,” he said. “We still don’t know what’s going on. I’ll call Mindy, have her pick up whatever you need. Just give me a list of your sizes.”
“I’ll call Shana. She knows my size and what I like. I need to talk to her, anyway, tell her about the fire and ask her to cover for me until we get this sorted out.”
Harper rested a hand on his cheek. “You need to rest. You shouldn’t even be out of the hospital. Are you ready to go home?”
His chest wound was aching, his strength ebbing. Bullets had a way of doing that. “I’m ready.” When she slid an arm around his waist to help him out the door, he didn’t protest. He was smarter than that.
They climbed back into Maddox’s battered SUV for the short ride to his condo. The Dodge pickup, part of a crime scene, had been towed. Even if he had it, after the crash it probably wasn’t running. Chase figured if it hadn’t been for Detective Ford, the Yukon would probably be in lockup, too.
He needed to talk to the detective, find out if the police had identified any of the attackers. He needed answers, hoped like hell Heath Ford had some.
When they reached the condo, Maddox parked in the underground lot next to Chase’s silver Mercedes. Harper helped him over to the elevator for the ride to his unit on the seventeenth floor.
He checked the hall. No one around.
“I’ll make a sweep,” Jason said as soon as they entered the condo. He disappeared, made a brief search, then returned. “All clear.”
Chase set the alarm and called down to the lobby to alert building security to be on the lookout for trouble.
“You need to get someplace you can lie down,” Harper said when he ended the call. Figuring she had noticed the sheet-white color of his face, he didn’t argue. He was amazed he was still on his feet.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, her pretty face lined with worry.
“Like I’ve got a bullet hole in my chest.”
“And another in your leg.”
He managed to smile. “Ricochets don’t count.”
Harper didn’t look amused. “Which way is your bedroom?”
“Down the hall, but I need to make some calls first. Where’s my cell phone?”
“I haven’t seen it. You must have lost it last night.”
No surprise there, considering. He’d deal with the problem later. “I can call from the study.” Chase started in that direction, and Harper reluctantly hurried to help him.
Chase sat down behind his desk and picked up the phone, called Dallas PD and asked for Detective Heath Ford. He was hoping the police had been able to ID one of the victims. At least he’d have a place to start. Unfortunately, Ford wasn’t in. Chase left a message and leaned back wearily in his chair.
“Okay, that’s it. You’re going to rest for a while—whether you like it or not. You won’t be good to anyone if you wind up back in the hospital.”
