Page 39 of These White Lies

“Did he get you, too?”

Oh god. This is my fault.

He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “No. I’m okay.”

“Then why do you sound like that? Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty pissed.”

My brain fuzzes, and I hear myself ask, “Are you going to disappear again?”

I think I hear him say something, but the effort of staying awake is too hard, and I let the darkness have me.

I thinkI’m in a car. My mind struggles to figure out what’s happening when, from a distance, I hear a woman saying, “Female, thirties, stab wound entry point left lateral torso, mid-abdomen. Bleeding is… “

I don’t like this show; the thought flits across my brain as I let myself drift off to sleep again.

The next time I wake up, a woman is smiling at me as she adjusts an IV in my left hand. My panicked eyes dart around the room.

Questions tumble through me, making the heart rate monitor beep rapidly.

How long was I out? Am I okay? Where’s Brady?

Almost as if she can read my mind, the nurse presses a reassuring hand to mine. “Don’t stress, honey. It’s the medicine that’s making you so sleepy. You’re okay, and your husband is right over there.”

My what?

11

BRADY

The ambulance hasn’t even pulled away from the curb when I’m starting my car and dialing Finn.

“Did you find her?”

I have no patience for his jokes right now. “Partial plate.” I rattle off the information I heard the guard give the responding police officers. “See if you can get anything off traffic cams.”

“What the fuck happened?” Finn’s voice is sharp, jokes forgotten.

My fingers flex hard on the steering wheel. “Ambushed us in the parking lot. They cut her.”

“Shit. Is she okay?”

“Yes.” She has to be. “I don’t think it’s critical. Make sure one of the rooms upstairs is ready for when we leave the hospital,” I tell him, referring to the small rooms we have on the upper floor of our headquarters. We don’t use them often, but they are fully equipped for overnight guests in dire circumstances. “I don’t know if it will be tonight or tomorrow. Depends on the wound.” My stomach knots.

“What’s the plan?”

“In development.” I end the call and immediately call Luke, filling him in and telling him which hospital Elizabeth is beingtransported to. Racing into the first parking space I find, not caring if I get towed, I reach into the duffel in the back seat and swiftly swap my blood-soaked dress shirt for a gray T-shirt.

By the time I stride through the emergency department doors, the adrenaline has burned off, leaving something sharp and exhausted in its place. The woman behind the nurse’s station looks at me suspiciously.

“Elizabeth Gowan? She was just brought in by ambulance.”

“Are you family?” Her fingers are flying over the keyboard.

“Her husband.” I don’t even hesitate. I’m not in the mood to deal with the hospital’s bureaucratic bullshit.

When the nurse glances up, her eyes linger on the dried blood on my jeans, and she gives me a sympathetic smile. “If you’ll take a seat, I’ll let the doctors know you are here.”