Female. I could tell from the shape under the cut, the way her hips sat, the length of her legs.
The patch on her back was two vipers coiled around a skull, fangs out. Shore Vipers the top rocker read.
My stomach did something complicated.
I pretended not to analyze her, but my eyes catalogued details anyway. Black jeans. Black boots. Black cut. Holster line just visible under the leather. She didn’t move as I rolled past. Just watched. I could feel it even though I couldn’t see her eyes.
I found a spot closer to the main entrance and backed in. Killed the engine. The silence felt loud after the ride.
My hand had just left the bars when I heard another bike start. I looked up.
She was gliding toward me now. Slow. Controlled. Not posturing. Just moving like someone who knew exactly how much attention they could command without even trying.
She pulled up beside me and cut the engine. For a second there was nothing but the tick of cooling metal and the faint whoosh of passing cars on the road beyond the lot.
Her helmet turned. Visor still down. She lifted her left hand and flicked her cut just enough for the leather to part. Inside, I saw the outline of a gun snug against her side.
Message received.
Then she took two fingers, tapped the brim of her visor where her eyes would be, and pointed them at me. I see you. I am on you.
I lifted my chin in a small nod. Not a challenge. Not a bow. Just acknowledgement.
Without another word, she kicked her bike into gear and rolled away, disappearing aroundthe side of the hospital toward the back.
I watched her go for a breath longer than necessary, then shook myself and headed inside.
The front sliding doors hissed open, releasing a wash of overly filtered air. Bleach, coffee, something floral from an automatic dispenser. It all smelled like a lie trying to cover metal and fear.
The desk in the lobby was manned by a girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty. Ponytail, pale blue lanyard ID, boredom written in every line of her posture. Until she saw the cut.
Her eyes widened just a little. Her mouth flattened.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Morning,” I said. I softened my tone a notch, let the Jersey accent sit heavier. “I’m here to see a patient. Came in last night from a motorcycle accident. Name is George Kiehls.”
She blinked at me, then clicked her mouse. “Are you family?” she asked.
“Brother,” I said. Not lying. Just not specifying the kind. She looked at my cut then back to my eyes. She knew what I meant. “His partner is on her way later. I’m checking on him until she gets here.”
“I’m not supposed to give out room numbers without verification,” she said with a sigh. “Especially with… especially in cases where there was an… incident.”
“Incident,” I repeated. “You mean a wreck or the fact that he came in wearing the same patch as me?”
Her cheeks colored, but she didn’t back down. I liked her a little for that.
I leaned on the counter just enough to bring us closer. “Look,” I said. “I get it. You have rules. I respect the rules. But my brother is upstairs, possibly waking up in a strange place full of people who don’t talk like him, think like him, or give a damn beyond their shift. I need to lay eyes on him. Make sure he knows he isn’t alone. You help me do that, I’ll walk out of here happy and quiet. You send me through hoops I don’t need, I am pacing this lobby for an hour and making everyone nervous. You seem smart enough to prefer option A.”
Her lips twitched like she didn’t want to smile and was losing the battle. “You’re laying it on thick,” she said.
“I’m desperate,” I said honestly. “And I’m very charming when I’m desperate. Ask anybody.”
She looked at the screen again, then at me, then sighed. “Sit,” she said. “I’ll print you a visitor band. If anyone asks, youarefamily, you came in with the initial intake but had to step outside to smoke.”
“You’re a lifesaver…?” I glanced at her ID. “…Hannah.”
She rolled her eyes. “I am an underpaid front desk clerk,” she said. “Your friend is in ICU Step-Down. Fourth floor. Room 417B. Visiting hours technically start at eight, but if you act like you belong there, most people won’t question you. If you can wait a few more minutes, it’ll look betterfor the both of us.”
