There’s hardly anyone in the room, and it’s bright and sparkling clean. Everyone is calm. Nick’s even grinning. It’s a loopy expression, and it gets loopier when he turns his head toward the observation room. He raises his fist and gives me an agonizingly slow thumbs-up.
The scrub-clad people crowd around the table with Tish next to Nick’s head, blocking my view of his face. All I get are peeks when she shifts to check a line as Simon works to repair the damage to Nick’s leg. Alone in the observation room without any way of knowing how badly the bullet ripped him up, I’m left to pace.
And think.
We weren’t prepared. Right to the end, Isaiah caught us with our pants down. He knew we were in the house. Maybe it was blind luck he got me in the backyard alone, but he was prepared.
I frown. Constantine was the one to find out the owners were on vacation, allowing us to break in and set up surveillance in the living room. His help wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. So why can’t I brush aside his sudden appearance moments after hanging up with Nick?
I stop in the middle of the room and watch the surgical team for a moment. Nick has utter confidence and trust in his cousin. Hell, I trust him. I had some doubts in the beginning, but he’s proven himself over and over. There’s no solid reason for my suspicions.
If it is all an act, Nick will be devastated.
I start pacing again, brain latching on to the mystery of Constantine’s behavior like it’s a life raft. If this is some kind of ruse, I’ll need evidence. The list I gave Nick months ago won’t be sufficient. I have to have indisputable proof that Constantine was in on this from the beginning.
I have never wanted so badly for my instincts to be wrong.
Isaiah’s endgame was never in doubt, at least when it came to me. I killed Marc. I needed to die. His jealousy and anger toward Nick were understandable because everyone discounted his smarts and savvy and, well, he had us running around in circles. But it didn’t quite feel like enough then. It doesn’t feel like enough now. Isaiah held his position for two years. There was always the possibility that as time went on, his strengths and intelligence would be recognized and he’d be given his due.
I pause at the window. I need to see Nick’s face, and Tish is still blocking my view. Since I can’t see anything, there’s no real reason for me to stay. Getting out of the hospital before Andreas shows up would be prudent, and I’m sure Nick would understand.
But I promised. I’m not leaving.
Rubbing my arms to warm them, I count my steps to the wall, turn, count my steps to the opposite wall. It’s paranoia. Desperation. Part of me knows that Isaiah is dead and my task is complete, and the rest of me is still trying to catch up. He could have found out about the house the old-fashioned way—we weren’t careful enough and someone spotted us. I could be spinning something out of nothing because I don’t know what’s supposed to happen next.
I press my hand to the glass. Dead, and Isaiah’s still fucking with me. It was so clear before: remove the threat, Nick and I go on with our lives.
The threat’s gone. Nick has a life to go back to. I’m not sure I do anymore.
My thoughts circle and twist as I put one foot in front of the other, stopping every so often to try and catch a glimpse of Nick on the table. Finally Tish steps back, and Simon glances up, meeting my gaze. He dips his head in that way he has and walks away from the table.
It’s over.
I run from the room. Simon intercepts me before I can dash down the hall to look for Nick. “He’ll be awake shortly, and you can see him then. I’ll have someone come get you when he’s ready to leave.”
“Was the surgery successful? What happened?”
He sighs. “I won’t give you that information, Cass.” I open my mouth to protest, and he cuts me off with a sharp look. “Dom might trust you. Constantine might. You are not family to me. If he asks for you to take him home, I will discharge him into your care.”
This is normal behavior. I shouldn’t expect Simon to give me the information I want just because I ask. “You’re going to talk to his father, right? If I’m there while you’re talking to him, would that be a problem?”
Simon gives me a critical, considering once-over. “Andreas would be the one to make that decision.” He gestures to the double doors leading to the unrestricted area of the surgical floor. “Come with me.”
I’m surprised to see Andreas is sitting alone on one end of a fake leather couch and calmly leafing through a magazine. He must have an amazing amount of faith in Simon’s skill. He sets the magazine aside as we approach, his gaze flitting to me before settling on Simon. A month ago, the casual dismissal might have hurt.
Tonight, I couldn’t care less. All I want to know is how severe the injury is and when I can take Nick home.
Simon takes a seat on a nearby chair, so I sit in the middle of the couch, close enough to hear. He raises his brows in question, and Andreas waves it off. “Dominic?”
“In recovery. The surgery went well. The bullet tore through the muscle and glanced off the bone. Had to clean out a couple of fragments. Lucky the bone didn’t break, or he’d need a cast. He’ll have to stay off the leg for a while as it is. Usual instructions for cleaning the wound.”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “What are the instructions? He’ll need drugs and crutches, right?” He shouldn’t try to walk on that leg.
Andreas turns to me. “I’ll take care of it, Cassidy.”
I. Not including me. He’s so much like Turner. So cold, so absolute. I shake my head. “Nick specifically said he wanted me to drive him home. I’m staying with him. If he’s going to be a difficult patient, I need to be prepared.”
“We’re already equipped to deal with a wide range of injuries.” Andreas switches his attention back to Simon. “When will he be ready to leave?”
“Soon. Once the anesthesia’s worn off, he’ll have to go.”
Which gives me an indeterminate amount of time to figure out how to get Nick out of the hospital and away from his family.
Andreas’s phone rings. He stands and walks to the elevators before answering. Simon stands as well. “I need to check on Dominic.”
I grab his hand to stop him from leaving. “Simon. Please. I’m not lying. Constantine spent a good part of the car ride here trying to convince Nick to allow him to take us home. Nick’s got his reasons for hiding from the rest of his family. I don’t know what they are, but shouldn’t your patient’s wishes come first?”
His mouth firms into a thin line. “I will ask him once he wakes up.” He tugs his hand free and stalks off, the double doors opening with an angry slam. I’m left alone with a man who reminds me entirely too much of my deceased father and no allies of my own.
Except Liana.
I slip my phone from my pocket and call Nick’s sister, holding my breath while I wait for her to pick up.
“Cass? What’s up?”
Her tentative, cautious tone reminds me I haven’t spoken with her in a while, but I don’t have time to tiptoe through this. “I need a favor. A big one. Nick’s been shot, and everyone seems determined to keep me away from him. Can you—”
“Nicky’s been shot? What? Where? Where are you?” I hear her rustling around, muttering curses.
“In the thigh. He’ll be fine, didn’t break any bones, just the usual risk of