Page 26

ADRIAN

I stood back from the sidewalk. A crowd of spectators already flocking around the bright-yellow crime tape that separated the outside world from whatever was happening inside the towering gates of the Cruz family mansion.

Except I knew what was happening, while the hordes of plain-clothed officers were still trying to figure it out.

What I didn’t see was a body bag. Nothing on a stretcher. No medical examiner either. Which was a good sign. I guess. It told me that I wasn’t completely incompetent when it came to cleaning up after myself. Though it still didn’t answer the question lingering in the back of my mind.

Where the fuck was Marisela?

Because she wasn’t standing next to her father as he shouted orders at the highest ranking official on the scene. And I refused to accept the fact that I would have hurt her, knowingly or not.

I ground a palm against my twitching orbital muscle, dropping my hand to my neck and popping the collar of my long black trench coat, and stepped away from the chaos. I needed to get out of here before I was spotted and someone started asking questions.

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me even as I knew no one was looking. It was paranoia. Another side effect of the drugs still in my system. Drugs that weren’t metabolizing as quickly as they should have, and I’d yet to figure out why that was either.

By the time I’d made it back to my room, John was waiting for me.

His hands clasped behind his back as he eyed the sparse space like it held anything of interest to him.

It didn’t. It was just his way of feeling superior.

Because he had more than I had and I didn’t even have this, seeing as everything I owned belonged to my father. And Tate.

“There you are,” John grumbled as he pivoted on his heel to face me.

“Here I am,” I parroted as I shrugged out of my jacket, shaking out the wrinkles in the fabric as I set it gingerly on the hook to my left.

I might not have had much to my name, but at least I took care of it.

Unlike the fucker in front of me who liked to toss aside the gadgets in his collection every time something newer and shinier came along.

John raised a challenging brow, meant to caution me, before he took another step forward. “Grab your bag and a change of scrubs. You have twenty minutes to meet me in the car.”

I didn’t bother arguing with him. I didn’t see the point. We both knew I had as much of a choice as any dog on a leash when its owner came calling.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I prepped my med kit, including a number of sedatives and narcotics I’d formulated myself. I ran my fingers over each of the vials. Any one of which could leave the man in front of me foaming at the mouth within seconds.

I glanced up from my kit and found John staring at me. He’d been doing that more frequently now. Dissecting me with his eyes, when he’d barely ever acknowledge me before. Though I couldn’t figure out if he was more intrigued or disgusted.

He paused a moment, his predatory glare dancing over my face like he was looking for something before he answered, “Briarwood. There’s a patient I’d like you to meet.”