Page 121

Nash

Today

Each step down thehall toward the family waiting room pulls a pain-filled grimace to my face. I should take it easy on my leg, but there's no time for it. If Mac has any insight into ending this shit storm, I won’t let exhaustion hold me back.

I find him sitting in a chair, staring at his phone.

With a groan, I plop into the chair beside him and lean my head back against the wall. "I can't remember the last time I was this tired. Basic training, maybe. Hell, I can barely put two thoughts together."

Still staring at his phone, he nods but doesn't say a word.

Odd.

"What’s up with you?" I say with a punch to his shoulder. "What did you want?"

Turning, he bunches his brows as he levels a hard stare. "Patrick is denying any involvement, and the CIA is playing hardball with giving us access to his online history and phone logs. They say it’s a matter of national security, which I bet it is."

Growling into the hand covering my face, I stare up to the ceiling. "She's not ready yet."

"I know, but we need evidence. Anything she can remember will give us enough leverage to push past this fucking red tape."

"When she's ready. She's fucking exhausted, and the docs said it would be another day before the drugs are fully out of her system. We ask her then."

"Listen, I love her too." My possessive, ‘back the fuck off’ stare makes him chuckle. "Calm the hell down. Not like that. We're family. All the family each other has." For now. "But we need to get this done so she can move on. So you two can move on."

After a long pause, he looks over his shoulder to me, then back to the floor. "We need her to talk."

He's right. I know he's right. Every second counts, but how do I balance knowing what needs to be done and her? This urge to protect her, keep reality at bay for a little longer for her is hard to suppress.

"Fine," I breathe and lean back. "When she wakes up." A flurry of nurses jogs down a hall, drawing our attention. "I need to get back in there. Fucking hated leaving her with that douchebag Matt. The shot he took was close, too close. He's damn lucky that bullet didn't go through her first. He's either a damn good shot and knows it or a complete idiot."

"I've never seen him fire a weapon, so I don't know about the good shot, but for him to take it, he must’ve felt comfortable with his ability. Can't believe you called him before me, bastard. And the additional tracker, keeping me in the dark—"

Everything shifts to slow motion as I replay his words. "What do you mean, we called him? You called him and he was closer."

All emotions fall from his face, leaving a cold, blank stare.

"Right? That's how he ended up at the warehouse before you."

Still nothing. Not a word.

My eyes widen as the pieces fall into place.

We shove out of our chairs at the same time and bolt down the hall toward her room.