Page 46 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

“That’s…thank you. This is perfect.”

Pierce grinned. “No problem. So…we gotta talk.”

“Let me guess…you wanted to make sure I remembered to keep quiet about—”

“No, that’s not it.” Pierce gave me a roguish grin. “But that nightwaspretty amazing.”

“Yes, it was.” I swallowed hard. “Okay, then what—”

“I want to know who David is or was,” he blurted.

“David?”

“You heard him. Jasper was wheezing that name. He said we were related through David, and he’d explain.”

“Let me get this straight. You want to visit him in the hospital to ask him about the very subject that may have put him there in the first place?”

Pierce shrugged. “Yeah. Or you could shed some light. You’re friends.”

“I’m a shop-boy friend. We talk about home decor, not deep dark secrets.”

“But you told him about your ex and grandmother, and he told you he was sick. You’re part of his inner circle. You know his nurse and how to lock up his house when he isn’t there. You’ve probably met a few of his friends.” Pierce smacked his knee. “He trusts you, Lo.”

“That’s true, but we keep our conversations light and breezy. We’ve acknowledged we’ve each been through things we don’t necessarily want to talk about, so we don’t.”

“I get that.” He sipped his latte, his gaze locked on mine. “Look, he knows something or someone connected to my mom. She’s gone now, so let’s find David.”

“Let’s?” I gestured between us. “I’m not in on this. I’m an innocent bystander.”

“Not so innocent. You were there at the scene of the crime.”

“You obviously watch too many detective shows,” I huffed. “Listen, I appreciate that finding this elusive family connection is important to you, but maybe wait till Mr. G is home and—”

“And risk putting him back in the hospital? No way. You’re going to visit anyway, and it makes sense if I tag along. He’ll probably feel more comfortable talking if you’re in the room.”

“So you’re using me,” I deadpanned.

Pierce rolled his eyes as he secured his latte in the cupholder. “I’m asking a favor. As a friend.”

“Fine. But we need to stop for flowers and—wait. Can you go to the hospital without an entourage?”

“Youaremy entourage.”

I opened my mouth to ask him what the fuck that was supposed to mean, when the SUV stopped. Raul tapped the screen and lowered it a moment later.

“We’re here, sir.”

Pierce grabbed a Dodgers cap from the seat pocket in front of him and pulled it on. “Let’s do this.”

There was no time for questions. A security guard whisked us through a side entrance to what looked like—

“We’re at the wrong hospital,” I commented in my best Captain Obvious impression.

Pierce motioned me to follow the stoic guard into an elevator. “Right hospital, different wing. We’re visiting the cool cats first. If anyone asks who you are, tell them you’re my assistant.”

I flipped him off, stepping closer to whisper-hiss, “I amnotyour fucking assistant. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His lips tickled my earlobe. “It’s just protocol. Everyone needs a title. Choose a different one.”