Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Fuck, I’ve been gone way too long.
I jolt up from my seat and dash from my office back to the ER. I run around a corner before suddenly, I almost go crashing right into a guy. With a gasp, I jump back, steadying myself and bringing a hand up to my heart.
“Whoa, sorry, miss—”
The older man with the grizzled grey stubble frowns. “Sorry, Doctor Linetti?”
I arch a brow. “Yes?”
He clears his throat and pulls something out of his jacket pocket.
“Dr. Linetti, I’m Detective Hall. I was actually hoping to speak with you.”
“Oh?”
I swallow, trying to look as surprised as possible even though I think I know damn well what he’s looking to talk to me about. Or who.
“Detective, I actually can’t talk right now, I’m on rounds.” It’s true, but I also do not want to sit here lying to a cop. Because deep down, I know I would. I know he’d ask me questions about Jack, and I know damn well the truth isn’t what he’d get from me. I don’t know if that makes me crazy or stupid or worse, but I swallow it back as I look up at him.
He frowns. “Right, well, when would be a good time? I just need a few minutes of your time to ask you some questions about a patient of yours.”
I smile. “Detective, I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss anything about any of my patients—”
“But you can if I roll in here with a warrant, right?”
I frown and swallow thickly. “I’m sorry, what is this about, Detective Hall?”
He smiles. “The man you treated earlier, Jack Corbin?”
I frown, and he sighs heavily.
“The guy handcuffed to the damn bed, doctor. Ring any bells?”
“Oh, right, yeah,” I say distractedly.
Just then, mercifully, my pager goes off.
“I’m sorry, detective, I really can’t talk now. Perhaps later?”
“I’ll be around, Dr Linetti,” he grunts with a gruff smile. “I’ll speak to you later.”
“Yep,” I say dismissively, already turning and walking away from the detective.
“Oh, and Dr. Linette?”
I sigh and turn again. “Yes?”
Detective Hall frowns.
“Your patient, Mr. Corbin. He’s extremely dangerous. I’m not trying to frighten you, but the FBI is getting involved on this one too due to his mob connections. He’s considered a huge flight risk, not to mention the high-level assassination risk we’re putting on him.”
I frown. “You think he’s trying to assassinate someone?”
Detective Hall shakes his head. “No, Doctor. I mean someone, or probably several someones, want him dead. The man turned his back on the mob, as far as we hear from our inside sources, which puts him at a huge risk, even here in this hospital.”
My blood chills, my stomach knotting as I glance back down the hall towards the recovery wing where Jack is. That is, unless he’s already gone. The thought has me souring inside, my eyes dropping along with my heart at the thought of him being gone. But I quickly shake it away, the fear of him leaving slowly being replaced by the fear of this harm Detective Hall says the mob wants to inflict on him.
“Thank you, detective,” I smile thinly. “I’ll speak to you later.”
I turn and walk calmly away, but the second I’m through the double doors to the recovery wing, I’m running. My pulse hammers as I race down the hall and around the corner, down another shorter, empty hallway to the far room where Jack is. I’m sure he’s fine, and I know this is just weird paranoia brought on my Detective Hall’s ominous words. But I just need to check—
I barge through the half open door to Jack’s room, and my whole world freezes. My eyes see him first, lying in his hospital, his face red and his muscles straining as he gasps for air. But then, my eyes refocus, and I take in the two men standing above him, both holding him down and the bigger of the two with a hand around Jack’s neck.
You hear stories of mothers lifting cars off of their kids after an accident—people accomplishing insane feats of strength and self-defense they’d never ever be able to pull off in a normal situation. Well, that’s what happens to me. I turn without even thinking, and I grab the fire extinguisher off the holder on the wall. I whirl, lunge, and before I know it, I’ve hauled the heavy metal extinguisher over my shoulder and brought it crashing down on the back of the head of the big guy with his back to me.
He grunts and crumples, his hand falling away from Jack’s throat. Jack gasps a ragged breath as I raise the extinguisher again and throw it as hard as I can across the bed at the second guy. He roars as it smashes into his nose, breaking it. But then Jack grunts, snatching up the extinguisher with one hand and slamming it hard into the side of the guy’s head.