for Jarrod and his family—and their leader, Bayural, had left them with a warning that he would soon be coming for the entire Martin family. Jarrod had no doubt that the man would come through on his word.
Still, the attack wasn’t typical of something the Gray Wolves would have put together. They were far more crass and deliberate. They certainly weren’t the type who would hit and run; rather they would face him down as they drew their weapons. Bayural wanted him and his family to know exactly who was pulling the trigger and why.
So, in essence, he had been left with no real answers—only more questions.
He tied the back of his gown as tightly as he could and made his way down the hall one more time to Mindy’s room. Nurses rushed from one room to the next.
At the nurses station stood a man who appeared to be visiting the floor. Jarrod guessed he was in his midthirties, with a high and tight haircut and a stiff back. As Jarrod approached, he made sure to walk closer to the wall, masked by the comings and goings of the staff and visitors, and outside of the man’s direct line of sight. Something about him felt off, but he couldn’t attribute that feeing to anything obvious about the man’s appearance.
Jarrod passed behind him just as the man said something to the nurse at the counter.
Had the people responsible for the nerve agent attack found them? They had to have known they would end up at a hospital.
To be safe, he and Mindy had to get out of there, but at the same time, he didn’t want to alarm her. She’d had enough happen in the last twenty-four hours. If she caught a whiff of their being under further attack she might bolt—and likely end up dead.
He tapped on the closed door of her room, and the TV inside the room clicked off. “Come on in,” she said.
His body clenched at the sound of her voice. He had known she would be fine, but there was still a tremendous amount of relief in hearing her sound so healthy.
He looked toward the nurses station one more time, but the suspicious man had turned and was now walking down the hall in the direction of Jarrod’s room. He opened her door and slipped inside. He was probably making something out of nothing.
“Hey.” He walked over to the window, carefully holding the back of his gown shut.
“Hey.” She gave him a look that made him wonder if she was as much at a loss for words as he was.
What could they say about what had happened out there on the street? The nerve agent attack wasn’t something a person was forced to endure very often.
For a moment, he considered making a joke about the weather, but he remained silent.
“Feeling okay?” Mindy asked.
He nodded. “You?”
She nodded. “Were you a man of this few words yesterday, too? Or is this something new?”
He cracked a smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m super chatty.”
“Wow, if that’s true then you must think I never shut up.”
He laughed. “I know for a fact you are quiet sometimes. Last night, for example, you only snored a little bit.”
She covered her face with her hands but peeked between her fingers, the action uncomfortably endearing. “You did not come in here when I was sleeping, did you?” she asked, sounding slightly embarrassed that he would have seen her in such a vulnerable state.
“Not in a weird way,” he said, trying to make her feel better. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”
She motioned down her body. “As you can see, I made it through unscathed. And I am so ready to get out of here.”
“Have you looked in your closet?”
She shook her head. “Why?”
“Well, you and I are going to have matching gowns on the way out. That is, if you want to go AMA with me.” He hitched his thumb toward the open door, beckoning her. He tried not to sound hurried or alarmed, but his thoughts kept moving back to the man at the nurses station. If one of them had been the intended target of the nerve agent attack it would be no time at all before the perpetrators found them and finished them off.
“I should’ve known you were a rebel.” She got up from the bed and walked over to the closet. When she opened the door, there was only a plastic bag filled with her wallet and personal items.
“Crap.” She took the bag out and put it on the bed as she rifled through it.
“What?” he asked.
“My phone. It’s missing.”
“You threw it on the ground, remember?” He could still hear the sound of the glass of the phone crunching as it hit the concrete. He was impressed she had thought to sacrifice her phone for the greater good.
“Dammit… Okay, first stop, I need a new phone.” She looked up at him, appearing somewhat frantic at the prospect of being cut off from the outside world.
“If you need to get ahold of someone, like your boyfriend or whatever, you can use my phone.” He lifted the bag he was carrying for her to see. “It’s in my briefcase.” He reached inside his bag and pulled out his cell phone.
He had twenty-seven text messages. Most of them were from his sister Zoey, who had pulled data about the attack and immediately pieced together what had happened. The farther he read down into her texts, the more frantic they had become, with the last unanswered text reading, I’m on my way to NYC if I don’t hear back from you. Plane leaves in three hours.
That had been two hours ago.
He tapped out a quick message to let her know that he was okay, but no doubt she would still be beside herself with concern. It was one of the things he loved about his brothers and sisters—or rather, sister…now that Trish was gone.
God, he was never going to get used to that.
He was nowhere near ready to go to Montana and face his family and the ranch without his sister. Though logically he knew it wasn’t his fault, he still felt responsible. He was the one who had picked the job. He was the one who had put their family right in the middle of the Gray Wolves crosshairs. If he had just jumped on another ticket and taken another contract instead of this one, they could have been a thousand miles away and unknown to the men who now wanted them dead.
“Everything okay?” Mindy asked, looking at his phone as she walked over to the sink and washed her hands. “Your wife freaking out?”
He couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped him. “No wife. No kids. No home base.”
“Ah,” she said, drying her hands. “I see. You are the rootless man.”
“Is that this generation’s way of asking if I’m a playboy?” he asked.
She giggled, the sound melting away even more of his resolve to stay emotionally detached from the beautiful woman standing in front of him with nothing on but a hospital gown. “You aren’t that much older than me, are
