The helicopter touched down at Baylor University Medical Center in Dallas, Texas. Henderson had contacted Director Jameson, who made a few calls and had a team of doctors and nurses standing by on the roof. They quickly got Special Agent Cruz on a gurney and examined her on the way to the operating room. Doctors determined she needed immediate surgery.
While Cruz was wheeled to the operating room, Doctor Raj stayed behind. He spoke in a thick Indian accent. “The surgery could take up to three hours, depending on what I find when I open her up. As soon as I know more, I’ll let you know.” He turned to leave.
Hardy put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. “Is she going to be all right, doctor?”
“It’s too early to tell.” He removed the hand. “I need to get prepped. Leave your contact information at the front desk.” He disappeared behind the double-doors before anyone had a chance to ask more questions.
Hardy stood with his hands on his head, fingers interlocked, facing the slowly closing double-doors. He watched the doctors and nurses take the gurney—and Cruz—out of his sight.
Charity and the members of AR-1 had gathered around him. Several moments passed before Draper stood alongside Hardy and put her hand on his lower back. “She’s going to be okay, Hardy.”
Hardy dropped his hands and made eye contact with everyone. When he came to Charity, he stopped and stared. He could nothing for Cruz, but he could fulfill her duty to the witness. “Miss Sinclair, we’re going to move you to a safer location. I’ll contact Director Jameson and get another safe house lined up for you.” He turned his head toward Draper and gestured toward Charity. “Draper, I want you to—”
“The hell you are,” said Charity, raising her voice and interrupting him. All eyes focused on her. She pointed at the doors. “Twice, that woman risked her life to save me. I’m not going anywhere, until I know she’s going to be okay. I owe her at least that much.”
“This isn’t open for debate, Miss Sinclair. Your safety is my responsibility now and I make the decisions. And, I say we’re moving you.”
Charity put her hands on her hips and glimpsed him from head to toe. “I can see you’re a man who’s used to getting his own way—that’s fine with me. In this case, however,” she poked her forefinger into Hardy’s chest, “you will not be getting your way.” She jerked her thumb at her chest. “You will not be ordering me around. And, if you try to remove me from this hospital,” she moved her right foot back, transformed her hands into fists and brought them to her chest, “you may succeed, but I guarantee you I will not go quietly.” Still in a fighting stance, she gestured toward Henderson and his team. “Besides, how much safer can I get with all of you around me.”
Hardy’s mouth fell slightly open and his eyebrows went up. After a few seconds, he lowered his head and his nostrils flared. His fingernails dug into his palms. She was right. He was used to getting what he wanted. He had been in positions of authority for many years and no one had spoken to him that way. If Charity had been a man, she would have been picking her teeth off the floor. Since she was a woman, however, he could not correct her insolence with his fists. He glimpsed Henderson and Tyler.
Raising their hands in surrender, they stared at the floor and shook their heads. Hardy moved on to Draper, who poorly hid a small grin.
“Don’t look at me. I’m on her side.”
Coming back to Charity, Hardy’s eyes narrowed before he unclenched his fists. What am I doing? He was not going to hit a woman.
“She has a point, Hardy.” Draper made a circular motion with a finger. “There’s no safer place for her than with those who’ve already killed to defend her.”
Not feeling up to arguing, he threw up his arms. “Fine,” he grunted, departing from the group. “Have it your way.” Over his shoulder: “For future reference, the next time you plan to hit someone, you might want to make a proper fist.” He disappeared down the hallway.
Charity glanced at her hands. They were in the shape of fists, but she had her thumbs tucked under the rest of her fingers. If she had thrown a punch, she would have most likely dislocated or broken her thumb.
“Come on, slugger.” Draper wrapped an arm around Charity’s shoulder. “Let’s get some coffee. We’ve got a few hours before we know anything.”