Page 42 of DFF: Delicate Freakin’ Flower (Family Ties #5)

Webb

W e were still glued to the screens when my phone rang again—Eddie’s name flashing across it.

I snatched it up, my heart instantly kicking into overdrive, pounding faster with a rush of adrenaline I couldn’t stop. “Eddie?”

“She’s gone,” he answered bluntly, his voice low and tight. “Ira, too. Neither of them is in the hospital, and the nurses are losing their minds. The doctors are freaking out because a patient with a skull fracture is missing from her bed.”

For half a second, the world tilted on its axis. Gone?

I forced myself to stay calm so I could think. “Was Gabby stable the last time you checked?”

“She was resting. Her vitals were steady, and she was sound asleep. I only stepped away for five minutes—to deal with a guy who’d been lingering too long outside the ICU. But when I got back…she was gone.”

Across the room, Malcolm, who was still perched with his laptop on the dining table like it was a throne, raised his hand. “Uh...don’t panic.”

The rest of the room froze. Those damned words naturally meant we all instantly panicked.

“What?” I barked.

Malcolm kept typing, fast and loose, eyes flickering over lines of stolen data. “I hacked her medical records.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Marcus made a strangled sound. “You what?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” Malcolm snapped, waving a hand. “You wanted answers, I got ‘em. No HIPAA rules apply when it's a family crisis.”

Even Benny leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised high enough to disappear under his messy hair.

Malcolm ignored them and kept going. “She was scheduled to be moved out of the ICU tomorrow morning. According to the records, she was stable. The last MRI showed no new bleeding, no signs of pressure or complications.”

Relief punched me square in the chest—but it didn’t last long.

“There’s something else.” Malcolm’s fingers tapped in a blur. “There’s a withdrawal logged in the pharmacy inventory under her account. But it’s weird, it wasn’t a nurse pulling it the normal way—it’s a flagged transaction.”

“What medication?” I asked.

He typed faster, screens flashing. “Cross-referencing... Okay, looks like it’s pain management stuff. Oral antibiotics, ibuprofen, Tylenol, anti-inflammatory injections.”

“All things she’d need for recovery if she left the hospital,” Marcus pointed out.

Jesse leaned over and whispered to Elijah, “She stole her own meds. Savage.”

Elijah, ever the calm one, murmured back, “Or someone helped her.”

“Find her,” I growled through gritted teeth. “Check the security cameras. Do whatever it takes.”

Malcolm grinned like he lived for moments like this. “Already on it.”

He hacked through the hospital’s internal security system as if it were a kid’s clubhouse. Five minutes later, he whistled low and waved me over.

“You gotta see this.”

He pulled up grainy footage from one of the security cameras, the view fixed on the hallway just outside Gabby’s room. The angle wasn’t perfect, but it captured everything: a figure in scrubs pushing a gurney with what appeared to be a body covered by a sheet.

I leaned in, squinting at the screen. The person was older, moved with steady hands, and had a slight limp.

Malcolm zoomed in and froze the frame.

“Recognize him?” he asked.

I stared at the screen and then let out a low, almost disbelieving breath. “Send it to Eddie.”

Seconds later, Eddie’s voice came through my phone again. “Yeah, that’s Ira.”

Silence settled over the living room, thick and heavy, as if the entire space was holding its breath.

Finally, Jackson groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “The old man stole her?”

“Eloped with her is more like it,” Jesse snickered.

Benny whistled. “I love these people. Where did we find them?”

Sasha, standing behind the couch with her arms crossed, grinned like she was ready to buy Ira a trophy. “That’s badass.”

Malcolm pulled another window open, already a step ahead. “So, plan B. I’m tracking Ira’s credit cards.”

Nothing like that had occurred to me yet, so I stared at him for a moment. “What?”

“Relax,” Malcolm muttered, typing furiously. “Your guy’s old-school—no burner phones, no crypto, nothing off the books. He uses a regular-ass Visa tied to his pension account. And he just made a purchase two hours ago.”

Malcolm’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he pulled up Ira’s financial transactions. His screen refreshed, and his brows lifted.

“Well, well, well. Grandpa’s been busy.”

We all crowded around as he pulled up the latest charges. First, a sizeable purchase at Walmart—timestamped early that morning—followed by a stop at a gas station not long after.

“What the hell did he buy at Walmart?” Jesse asked, leaning in. “Half the store?”

Malcolm clicked into the details. “Groceries, clothes, medical supplies. A couple of camping items, too.”

Marcus crossed his arms. “Sounds like he’s setting up to hunker down.”

“Or survive off-grid,” Elijah suggested grimly.

“They’re on the move.” My gut tightened as I spoke. “They’re not just hiding out in Orlando anymore—they’re getting out.”

Sasha, pacing near the door with her phone clutched in her hand, spun back toward us. “Maybe they’re heading for the bayou cabin.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of realization settling over everyone. It made sense—too much sense.

But I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek. “It’d be a nightmare getting her there.”

Marcus frowned. “Why?”

“You can’t drive a car right up to the cabin,” I pointed out, frustrated just thinking about it.

“You’ve got to park way out and then either hike through half a mile of swamp trail or haul over unstable ground.

Even I struggled the first time—and I wasn’t full of broken bones and surgical stitches. ”

Benny let out a low whistle. “And you’re telling me Ira—who’s got to be, what, a hundred years old and made of spit and stubbornness—is gonna pull that off?”

“He’s determined enough,” Jesse mused.

“But it’s still damn near impossible.” I raked a hand through my hair, my skin buzzing with worry. “It doesn’t add up. Unless he’s got another plan to get her closer without walking the whole way.”

Malcolm shrugged. “Maybe he’s planning to wheel her in. If the guy can steal a gurney, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

The idea of Gabby being bounced around in a wheelchair over swamp grass made my stomach twist hard.

“She’s injured,” I snapped. “Head trauma, broken bones, fresh surgical wounds—she shouldn’t even be out of a hospital bed, let alone bouncing around the goddamn bayou.”

No one said anything to that. Because we all knew—if Gabby was behind this, and if Ira had agreed to it—then she must have had a damn good reason.

Still, it didn’t stop the fear from coiling tighter and tighter in my chest.

“She’s trying to draw Barris out,” Marcus said, almost to himself. “Or finish this on her terms.”

I nodded once tightly. “Yeah, and if we don't move fast, she’s going to be alone when he finds her.” I turned back to Malcolm. “Keep tracking them. If they make another stop, I want to know the second it happens—gas station, store, toll booth, whatever. Don’t miss a thing.”

“On it!” He typed even faster.

I looked around at the others—my brothers, my friends, my family—and saw the same fierce resolve burning in their eyes that I felt deep in my gut. We were going to find her. We were going to end this. One way or another, it was happening.

I was pacing behind the couch, trying to think ten steps ahead and failing, when Sasha’s voice cut clean across the room. “You guys are focusing on the wrong thing.”

I stopped and turned, along with everyone else.

She crossed her arms, stance stubborn. “Barris should be the priority. Not Gabby.”

The whole room stared at her like she’d just suggested we go on a group cruise with Maddox and Barris as our bunkmates.

Even Jackson, her husband, looked mildly horrified. “Honey, I love you, but are you hearing yourself? Gabby’s out there with Ira—and no offense, Ira’s great, but he’s what, eighty-five? She’s injured, and Barris is a psycho with a personal vendetta.”

Sasha shrugged, completely unfazed. “And yet, Gabby’s survived worse. She’s smart, and with Ira hiding her, she’s probably safer out there than we are sitting here doing nothing. If you really want to protect her, then don’t just wait—find the danger before it finds her.”

Marcus rubbed a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath about women with too much sense being terrifying.

Jesse leaned in and whispered to Elijah, “She’s kind of scary when she’s right.”

Elijah just nodded grimly.

Still, Jackson wasn’t done. “Technically, an old man pushing a half-broken woman through swamp country is a danger, too.”

Sasha gave him the look—that one that could make grown men reconsider their life choices. She held up a hand, fingers stiff like a queen dismissing her court. “Nope. Logic says find Barris. You all know it.”

It ate at me to admit she wasn’t wrong. As much as it twisted my gut to think of Gabby somewhere out there, hurting, exhausted, and vulnerable, I knew Sasha had nailed it. Chasing after her would only split our focus, and Barris would still be out there, still hunting.

Malcolm cleared his throat from the table, looking up from where he was working three devices at once. “Just so we’re clear, my cousin’s scaring the crap out of me right now with how serious and bossy she’s being.”

Benny snickered but didn’t disagree.

“But she’s right,” he added, tapping a few keys rapidly. “Good news is, we’re already on it. I've tot Barris’s financial transactions pulled up. Anything linked to him—cards, dummy accounts, off-the-books spending—are all synced to Remy’s laptop.”

Remy gave a thumbs-up from where he was hunched over, scrolling through charges and flagged transactions.

“Meanwhile,” Malcolm continued, “I’ve got Matty running facial and license plate recognition on any known vehicles tied to Barris. If he so much as drives past a gas station camera in a stolen Honda Civic, we’ll get an alert.”

Matty glanced over his shoulder. “And I've layered it with known rental agencies. If he rents a car using one of his fake IDs, we’ll know.”

The room went quiet for a beat—thick with tension but also with something else. Determination. We were finally getting somewhere.

I cracked my knuckles, rolling my shoulders back as I looked at the wall of laptops, monitors, and phones lighting up like we were operating an underground war room.

“All right,” I said, voice steady. “We find Barris first.”

I met each of their eyes in turn. Jesse. Marcus. Elijah. Remy. Matty. Malcolm. Jackson. Even Sasha.

“And when we do... we end this.”