Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Do you know anyone at the hospital? Can we call to let them know we're coming?”
He lifts a hand, pointing. “We're basically here.” Now that he's said it, I notice the red and white emergency sign a few lights beyond where we have to stop for cross traffic. He leans on the horn, but it's no use. He can't stop the cars moving in both directions in front of us.
“As soon as she's taken care of, we need to start making calls.” We've lost precious minutes that could have taken Bianca further from me. Who would be dumb enough to do this? It doesn't matter who it is. All that matters is finding her and ensuring she's okay.
“If Amanda had her phone on her, one of our guys will grab it,” Romero grunts in frustration before leaning over the wheel in his eagerness to move. “It could also have the answers to our questions.”
“Give me your phone.” He has everyone's number programmed into his contacts, and once he hands me the device, I scroll through the list and stop at the first of the men we left at the warehouse. I press the call button for Bobby. I bark into the phone as soon as he answers, “Amanda's cell. Have you found it?”
“It wasn't in her purse—which they left under the body,” he explains. “It also wasn't inside, and it's not in her pockets.”
“Her car, it has to be there. Search the vehicles, too. Get me an update as soon as possible.”
“Of course, boss,” he replies and I end the call.
Romero swings the car into the emergency room lot, pounding the horn with his palm as he races for the doors. By the time the car squeals to a stop, a pair of paramedics are jogging out of the ambulance bay.
“She needs to be seen immediately!” I shout once they open the door closest to me. “All we know is that she has a head wound.”
“Let us take it from here.” One of the men practically pries her body from my arms. I don't know if I'm going to live through the pain that's cutting into the muscles of my chest. It burns, the skin fileting back, leaving my still-beating heart vulnerable. I'm vaguely aware of Romero pulling away to park the car while I jog behind the paramedics rushing Tatum to an empty bay in the emergency room.
A middle-aged nurse places herself between my daughter and me, pushing a laptop on a wheeled stand and blocking my path. “I'm going to need her information to enter into the system,” she informs me while a team of doctors assesses Tatum.
“Look, can't this wait?”
“I need a name and a date of birth for her ID bracelet, along with insurance information and any known allergies.”
There's a crazed animal in me, fighting to break loose and paint the tiled floor with blood. Think of Tatum. Tearing into this hospital won't get her help any faster. “Jane Doe,” I growl.
She looks up from the screen, frowning. “Excuse me?”
“You heard correctly. Her name is Jane Doe.”
Straightening slowly, she murmurs, “Sir, do I need to call the authorities?”
“I don't think so and, honestly, I would rather you didn't.”
“You're telling me you don't know this girl's name? Exactly how did she come to be injured? Or are you unaware of that, as well?” The snippety attitude she's giving me is the last thing I need, and it needs to end now.
“Listen to me very carefully.” My voice drops to a whisper as I lean over the top of the computer screen until she has no choice but to lean back. “I don't care what it takes for you to do it, but this girl's name will not be recorded. It could be dangerous for her if someone were to call and ask if she's been brought here.” Not that I see that happening, but I can't afford to take any more chances. “Suffice it to say she is my daughter. I found her this way, and I don't care how many tests you need to run—or what anybody around here requires in order to keep their mouths shut. Is that clear?”
“How do I know you aren't bringing her here after losing your temper?”
“If I was, do you think I'd come in with her and risk being blamed?”
“Sir, you have no idea exactly how often that very thing happens.” She glances over her shoulder to where Tatum is. I should be in there with her, damn it. “I could have security escort you out and acquire her side of the story once she's conscious and doesn't have you standing over her.”
This isn't working. Would they really throw us out if I don't tell her? Can I risk it?
The idea takes my voice down to a murderous hiss. “Listen to me. The people who did this to her, they're dangerous and don't give a fuck about anyone else except themselves. There's no saying that they might not decide to show up here to finish the job. I will not risk leaving her vulnerable. Now stop questioning me and enter whatever the hell you need to in that computer, or I'll find someone you love, then make sure you had wished you'd stopped asking questions and done your goddamn job.”