Sarah stood to pace the room. “Dad, are you sure you saw two men bow?”
“Of course.” Joe kept his eyes covered with his arm. “I was told not to tell anyone.”
“Who told you that?” Nate asked.
“Those same two men came to see me in the hospital. They said if I told anyone what I’d seen, Sarah would be killed. Then before they left, they bowed again.”
Nate clasped his hands behind his neck. “Did they bow to the waist?”
Joe nodded.
“Good,” Nate said. “That’s good.”
“How is that good?” Sarah whispered. “My father saw Fianna warriors bow. We both know what that means. We have to get my father out of here. Now.”
He took her shoulders and pressed his forehead against hers. “It’s possible Remiel was behind the drug deal and your father got in the way. I also think Remiel’s men injected your father with…something before the Prince’s men showed up to stop the drug deal.”
“I knew something terrible had happened to my dad because after that night, he was never the same. I’d just never realized he’d been deliberately poisoned.”
Nate’s jaw was moving as if he was grinding his molars. “My headaches and seizures started in the POW camp when the guards shot me up with something. The doctors thought it was an opioid but could never identify it. At the prison hospital in Maine, they had to stupefy me with drugs just to keep the seizures under control.”
“If Remiel was responsible for both the POW camp and the O’Malley Pub massacre—”
“It means your dad and I were injected with the same compound.”
“Except my father’s situation is getting worse.” She shook Nate’s arm. “Look at me.”
When he did, she saw the truth in his eyes. His situation was getting worse too. Her breath shortened, and she felt light-headed. “They told my father there’s no cure.”
“They told me the same thing.”
She closed her eyes. This couldn’t be happening.
Nate took her hand. “Sarah—”
Noises outside the door startled her, and she opened her eyes. Two voices came through the door.
“Nurse?” a man asked. “Have you checked on Mr. Munro yet today?”
“Not yet.” The female nurse’s voice had a soft Southern drawl. “Mr. Munro gets his next dose of meds in fifteen minutes.”
Sarah glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost six.
“Who are you again?” Joe’s voice boomed, and Nate rushed over to whisper in his ear.
Sarah watched the door handle, waiting for the nurse to type in the code and unlock it.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” the nurse said. “Mr. Munro has been quiet all night.”
“And you’re giving him all of the meds?”
“Of course.”
“Fuckers!” Joe threw his cup at the door, barely missing Sarah’s head.
The paper cup fell to the floor, and Sarah grabbed tissues to wipe up the water.
“What was that?” the man asked.
“Occasional outburst,” the nurse said. “Side effect of the drugs you prescribed.”
“He shouldn’t be having outbursts if you’d given him enough sleeping pills.”
“You didn’t prescribe sleeping pills.”
“I need to talk to your supervisor.” Footsteps echoed until they both walked away.
Sarah dropped the wet tissues in the trash. “What are we going to do?”
“Joe?” Her dad turned toward Nate’s low voice. “You don’t mind getting wet, do you?”
“What the hell do I care?” Joe grabbed Nate’s arm. “No pussy hair at the wedding.”
“Got it.” Nate smiled. “No pussy hair.”
Sarah shook her head. She was both disgusted by her father’s newly acquired language skills and brokenhearted because it meant his neurological condition was declining. Nate leaned in to say something else to her father. But she couldn’t hear and didn’t care because the lock had clicked. Someone was outside trying to come in. “Nate?”
“Remember,” her father said to Nate. “Augustus was a pussy. No pussies allowed.”
“I promise.” Nate took out his gun and nodded to her. “Time to go.”
A moment later a female nurse entered with a pill cup. She stopped, her focus on the gun. “You two shouldn’t be here.” She looked back over her shoulder as if not sure she was in the right place. “How’d you get in?”
“Long story.” Nate pulled the fire alarm.
Three things happened at once. The alarm was so loud the nurse fell to her knees, hands over her ears. The sprinklers turned on, spraying everyone and everything. And Nate dragged Sarah out of the room.
She glanced back to see her father sitting up, soaking wet, and smiling.
Nurses ran around, yelling for help. She and Nate slipped as they ran toward the exit. No one noticed them since everyone was running into different rooms. The patients were now screaming, some were crying, and the mobile ones had come into the hallway.
They made it to the stairwell. Just as the door shut, she heard someone yell, “Stop them!”
She raced down the stairs behind Nate, not stopping until they reached the basement. She slipped on the concrete floor, and Nate gripped her elbow to keep her upright. “Where are we?”
“The morgue.” He pointed to the EXIT sign down the corridor. “Run.”
Their footsteps echoed in the empty space until Nate pushed the emergency door handle and another alarm sounded. They ended up in a receiving lane behind the hospital, shimmying between food trucks, parked ambulances, and hearses until reaching a main road.
Luckily, it was still dark and raining again. They crossed two more streets and found the truck. She prayed her father would be okay. She hated leaving him in that chaos. Although, from his smile, it seemed like he had been enjoying himself.
Nate opened the passenger door for her, and it wasn’t until he turned on the ignition that she realized he was driving again.
“Nate—”
His cell phone rang, and he answered it on speaker. He then tucked it into the center console so he could maneuver the truck out of the parking space. “Walker.”
“Nate?” Detective Garza’s voice sounded tranky—tired and cranky, like her father’s used to get. “Tell me you’re not at the hospital.”
“Not at the hospital.” Nate slammed on the brakes, and she gripped the dash. Fire trucks had blocked the way, and he had to do a six-pointer to turn around.
“Were you at the hospital this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Dammit, Nate. We talked about public disturbances—”
“We went to see Sarah’s dad and ran into trouble.”
Garza sighed like Nate was the most bothersome kid in class. “How is Mr. Munro?”
“Not great.” Nate waited for the light to change before turning left. “Can you find the evidence files used to build the case against Chief Munro and Detective Waring?”
“For the O’Malley Pub case?” Garza scoffed. “That was a national scandal. I’m sure those records were sealed.” Garza paused. “Oh. Right. You weren’t here then.”
Sarah studied Nate’s clenched jaw. He’d been in the POW camp.
“You’re from Jersey. Surely you have some clout.”
“Okay, brother. You do know that Trenton and Boston aren’t in the same state. Right?”
Nate scowled and worked his way around a garden square. There was a surprising amount of traffic. Then she remembered today was the opening day of the Summer Arts Festival in the Historic District and the police were redirecting traffic to public parking areas.
“Dude,” Nate said as they passed a horse-drawn carriage. “Any chance you can meet us at the apartment at seven?”
“Us?”
“Me, Pete, and Zack. I’m calling Samantha and Calum too.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just call it a check-in.”
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.”
Nate hung up and, at a stoplight, dialed another number. Instead of using the speaker, he held the phone to his ear. “Calum, can you come to the apartment at seven?” Nate paused. “Seven a.m.” Another pause. “There will be donuts.”
When Nate was done, she touched his arm. “What are you doing?”
“Rallying the troops. We need help.”
“We don’t need help.” She turned to face the window. “We don’t need anyone.”
“Did you see the situation back there? We barely got out.”
“We did get out, Nate. We’re both smart and capable. We can do this together.”
“My men, our friends, won’t betray us.”
“How can you say that? Jack accused you, and Kells signed your commitment papers. And we just confirmed that the Prince and Remiel have been at war for years. We’re better off on our own.”
“I can’t protect you without help.” He parked across from a bakery not far from the apartment. “And I’m not too proud or afraid to admit it.”
“It’s not pride or fear. It’s experience. We can’t trust anyone.” She pointed to his soaking-wet clothes and then to the donut shop. “You can’t go in there like that.”
“It’s pouring. No one will notice.” He took her hand and gently drew her in for a kiss. He smelled warm and masculine and wonderful. Why couldn’t they have stayed in bed, tucked away from the world and the weather? “It’ll be okay. I promise. We’ll solve the cipher. Save your father and my men.”
Now that he was all in, she had doubts. But instead of speaking them, she kissed him. His words, full of promise, made her want to believe him. Believe in the trust he had for his men. She just wished he’d included himself in that list. That he believed himself worth saving.