“Shush.” I stride into the emergency room and stop at the double doors, glancing left. Then right. Half the beds are full, banana bags abound, and one patient has an actual arrow piercing his torso, down by his lowest rib.
Unfortunate.
“Chief Mayet?” Harrison growls. “What are you?—”
“How powerful are you, Soph?”
She chews something on her end of the line. Crunchy and noisy. Chips, perhaps.Notcandy. “Why?”
“Bet you can’t access the hospital’s PA system and summon a surgeon down to the ER. Her name is Nicki Cleary.”
“Bet.” She crunches on her snack while overhead, a droning voice announces, ‘Doctor Cleary, you’re required in the ER. Doctor Clearyto the ER.’
Harrison’s eyes grow wide, shocked and awed. “Teach me.”
“Eh.” Soph snickers. “He has skills, better than the Average Joe. But he’s just a dumb boy beneath the shine. He’ll never have what I have.”
I meet Harrison’s fascinated expression. “She said no.”
“I’m sending you some of Jen’s batch. It’ll be at your front door by morning.”
“Soph, no?—”
“I did you a favor. Now you’ll do me a favor.”Crunch. “I can guarantee, like… ninety-five percent certain, you won’t die.”
“Pass.” I catch sight of Nicki Cleary marching through the ER, her eyes zeroed in on the guy with an arrow poking through his torso. He’s the patient she’llwishshe’s landed. I’m the patient she’ll have to deal with instead. “Alright, Ace. My doctor is here, and this is gonna make me crazy tired, so I probably won’t talk to you again tonight. I got your email earlier,though, the one about Poul Abate. I’ll call you in the morning to iron out the details.”
“Fine.”Crunch. “I’m still sending the M&M batch. The courier will be at your door early. Take the damn meds, then wait an hour. If you’re still alive, we can discuss Abate.”
I kill our call and charge forward. “Doctor Cleary.”
She swings her gaze in my direction, peeking over my shoulder as she studies my guard, then back to me. Finally, her lips curl into a friendly smile. “Chief Mayet.” She peels herself away from Cupid’s victim and strides across the ER floor, taking my hand between hers.
We’re not girlfriends, pulling each other in for a kiss on the cheek. We’re colleagues at best. We’re professional. And at worst, she’s the woman who dated Archer that one time, long before I did.
Stepping back, she pokes her thumb toward the ceiling. “Was that you? Or is this a coincidence?”
“Unfortunately, it was me.” I bring my eyes across and stop on Harrison. “I don’t need you in here.”
“But—”
“I have a right to, and demand, my privacy. Especially when it comes to my medical care.” Leaving him where he stands, I spy an unoccupied bed and march in its direction, snagging the curtain and whipping it around the instant Nicki is in. I plop my bag on the end of the bed, then I perch my ass beside it. Finally, I meet her confused stare and offer my arm. “I need a Factor infusion. I’m on day three, when I should’ve done this on day two. This putrid heat leaves me more vulnerable than usual; if I don’t medicate tonight, I might spring a leak and not be able to get it under control.”
“Er, well…” She tucks her hands into her coat pockets. Step one innotlosing your license to practice medicine: don’t touch. “I fear I may need a little more information than that, Chief.”
“Would it be easier if I went outside, stumbled on the curb, and smacked my head? That way, you can administer my Factor as a lifesaving measure.”
“Honestly…?” She flashes a wide grin and comes around, dragging her coat out of the way and sitting on my left. “That would make thingsmuchless complicated for me. However, I’d feel kinda bad about the head-smacking thing. Why don’t we try a less aggressive approach, and you tell me what the hell is going on?”
ARCHER
My face fucking hurts. My jaw sings. My biceps burn. And my heart… weeps. It weeps for the woman who deserves so much more than the shit I’ve offered over the last twenty-four hours.
But my phone? It pings with an alert the instant she walks her ass into the hospital, a favor I asked of a certain computer whiz a while back, because fuck, a man can be forgiven for wanting to know every time his wife is in the ER.
I leave Fletch inside the George Stanley with Doctor Kirk and the unfortunate Morty Presley—and his detached half-leg.I ride the elevator alone, cross the lobby in silence, and dart onto the sidewalk outside. Pulling my hat low as I spot those fucking documentary makers hanging out a few doors down, waiting for Chief Mayet and her usual workaholic, stay-back-late routine, I start toward the hospital.
While I’m going, I unlock my phone and dial the topmost number in my call log.
