A fresh-faced doctor and two older looking hospital security guards came running over: three sets of wary eyes on Elijah as they surveyed the scene. Elijah reached into his jacket and pulled out his badge, breathlessly holding it up to them.
“I’m a cop,” he gasped for air, one hand gripping his bruised side. “I’m a cop.”
The doctor glared at Elijah before dropping down to his knees to examine Michael’s hand. The two security guards warily flanked Elijah.
“Is he dangerous?” one of the guards said, his grey eyes almost the exact same color as his grey hair. He stared down at Michael who was still howling in pain as the doctor tried to help him to his feet.
Elijah glanced over, his gaze connecting with Michael’s. “You could say that.”
“You’re an asshole,” Michael snapped out through gritted teeth. “You’re not seeing her,” he sneered as the doctor led him away. He looked back over his shoulder. “You hear me? Cop or not, you’re not getting in to see her.” He turned back around.
“We’re going to need to get you checked out,” the other guard said, rubbing a hand over his thick beard. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, holding it out to Elijah. “Don’t worry, it’s clean.” He gestured for Elijah to follow with a nod of his head, and all three men followed after the doctor and Michael.
Several nurses and patients had gathered in the doorway of the hospital entrance, and they parted as the men went inside. Elijah was glad of the shade offered by the hospital, and the cool air-conditioning unit that hummed and coughed out stale air as they passed under it.
They walked down one of the white hallways until the doctor led them all into a room. Elijah followed him in, the older of the security guards patting him on the back as he went to clear the crowd from the entrance. The bearded security guard followed all three men in, standing between Michael and Elijah as the young doctor directed each of them to opposing beds.
“That’s enough of that,” the security guard warned Michael who continued to glare at Elijah from his bed. “This is a damned hospital, and there’ll be no more fighting, or I’ll get you both thrown in jail for the night,” he turned to Elijah. “Cop or not.” He said with finality.
Elijah nodded and looked away from Michael, hearing a soft chuckle elicited from him.
“That’s right, look away,” Michael growled out.
“I said enough!” the guard’s voice cut across the room, a loud yell in the heated atmosphere. “I don’t know what happened between you two, and I don’t care. There are sick people here, and they need rest.”
Elijah looked at the guard and nodded, avoiding the continued glare from Michael.
“My wife is one of the sick patients you’re talking about, and this man,” Michael said, his speech forcing Elijah to look up at him. “This man is banned from seeing her. Isn’t that right, Elijah Schiver? You can’t go near her.”
Elijah gritted his teeth, a million things going through his mind, a thousand unspoken threats dangling on the edge of his tongue.
“I want a guard on her door at all times, do you hear me? I want this man nowhere near my very sick wife.”
Elijah looked at Michael as he continued to gloat and cursed himself for being so careless as to be seen. He had no idea what he was going to do now. He had no idea how he was going to help her if he couldn’t get in to see her.
All he knew was that he needed to. No matter what. And soon, he decided, watching the simmering rage quivering under Michael’s skin.
Chapter Forty.
Elijah
Elijah made his way out of the hospital and walked slowly across the parking lot.
Michael had gone straight up to Delores’s room after the doctor had set his hand in a cast. And he’d made sure that Elijah had heard him order security to stay on Delores’s door whenever he wasn’t there. With one last sneer he had sauntered off, his cocky strut grating on Elijah’s last nerve.
Elijah had a small cut above his eye with a butterfly stitch holding it closed. A long red scrape covered the left side of his jaw, and his shoulder hurt where he’d slammed into the ground, but barring that he was fine. He’d at least come off faring better than Michael, he thought smugly.
He looked up at the darkening sky and wished he could start this entire day again. Only this time he wouldn’t wake up late, he wouldn’t bump into Michael and end up fighting, and he wouldn’t screw his entire plan up.
The shrill ring of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts and he pulled it out from his pocket, glancing once at the screen and then answered it with barely contained annoyance. It was Paul, and he had no doubt that his friend would have some choice words for him. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his tone calm if he started giving him a lecture.
“Busy day?” Paul said calmly after Elijah answered.
“He started it, and for the record, I didn’t hit him back. Yet.” Elijah stopped walking, putting his back to the building.
“He’s pressing charges, Elijah,” Paul huffed out, the sound of his irritation travelling down the cell. “I told you to keep this all on the down-low.”
Elijah balled his free hand into a fist, now wishing he had actually hit Michael. “I’m sorry.”
