Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
I heaved a sigh and pulled the airline magazine out of the pocket in front of me.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a flight attendant said over the intercom. “The captain has turned off the seatbelt signs. You’re now free to leave your seat if necessary. While seated, we do ask that you keep your seatbelt fastened.”
The chair back in front of me came back with a jolt, cramming my knees into it.
I rolled my eyes.
Coach was for the birds.
We arrived at Helena airport and took a cab to the Holiday Inn. No posh stay at a five-star hotel. We really had to stay under the radar. Again, we talked little during the cab ride. When we were all checked in, we took the elevator to our standard room. Two queen beds and a bathroom. That was it. Not even a damned coffeemaker.
I quickly checked the room for surveillance equipment. “Looks clean,” I said to Rock.
“Good enough, Mike.”
We’d decided earlier to use our aliases when referring to each other. Just in case.
“We should head to the hospital,” I said.
“Agreed. You hungry?” he asked.
“Not overly.”
“Me neither, but we need to stay nourished.”
“True. What sounds good?”
“Nothing. Let’s just grab a burger through a drive-through or something.”
“We didn’t rent a car.”
“Fuck.” Rock pulled off his Yankees cap and scratched his head.
“How quickly you’ve gotten used to the lifestyle, Dave.” I couldn’t help smirking.
“Fuck off.” The cap went back on his head. “We’ll grab something at the gift shop, then. A candy bar.”
“Nutritious.”
“Fuck off,” Rock said again.
“Duly noted.” I saluted him, beanie still atop my head. “Let’s go.”
An armed guard dressed in black stood outside Leta Romero’s hospital room. Muscular but not tall. Rock and I both towered over him.
I cleared my throat. “We’re here to see the patient. She’s an old friend.”
“She’s asleep.”
“That’s okay. We just want to make sure she’s okay. I’m Mike Bush, and this is my brother, Dave.”
“Do I look like I care?”
“If you’re guarding Leta,” Rock said, “you sure as hell should care.”
Mental note—make sure this guy got fired.
“Look, we just want to see her,” I said. “Make sure she’s okay. She and Dave, here, used to date.”
“You tapped that?” The guard was interested now.
“Once or twice.” Rock glared at me.
“Tell you what,” the guard said. “Go ahead. If you get me her number.”
“She’s just been through hell—” I began.
“Done,” Rock interrupted.
The guard smiled and nodded.
I wanted to sucker punch him in the gut.
But we got into the room.
Leta was, as the guard had said, asleep. Of course Nieves was nowhere to be found. If this guard was indicative of the security I’d hired, that company wouldn’t be getting any more Wolfe business.
Leta’s face was still swollen, and bruises covered both her eyes. An inch of stitches train-tracked over her jawline. They’d roughed her up good. The rest of her was covered with hospital bedding, but I was sure it wasn’t pretty.
“Leta.” I nudged her shoulder softly.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Nieves?”
“No, not Nieves. I’m…an old friend of hers.”
She squinted. “I’m sorry. Who are you? These drugs keep me pretty messed up.”
Drugs. Good. Between the beanie, the glasses, and her drugged-up head, she wouldn’t recognize me or Rock. Plus, the only one of us she’d met previously was Roy, when he went to Montana to question her. “You probably don’t know me. I’m Mike Bush, a friend of Nieves’s.”
“Oh.”
“This is my brother, Dave.”
“I’m sorry. Nieves isn’t here.”
“We didn’t come to see her,” Rock said. “We came to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m…not okay,” Leta replied. “But it’s getting better. Slowly. Do you know where Nieves is?”
“No,” I said. “Don’t you?”
“She went to get coffee or something, but she never came back. That was yesterday. I think. Maybe it was this morning.”
She was really doped up. “That’s the last time you saw her?”
“I think so.”
“Where’s her phone?” Rock asked.
“Why would I know that?”
“Didn’t you make a phone call with it?” I asked.
She furrowed her brow and then winced in pain. “Did I? I don’t remember. Who did I call?”
I eyed Rock. He was the one who’d initiated this line of questioning.
“I work for the cell phone company,” Rock said.
Would she buy that?
“You do?” She furrowed her brow again and then winced again.
“Easy,” I said. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“It hurts whenever I move my mouth or my eyes. Everything.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I don’t remember making a call. Her phone’s probably in her purse. It’s… It’s somewhere. Weird that she didn’t take it.”
“Yes, definitely weird,” I agreed.
Rock found a handbag and pawed through it. He shook his head and mouthed, “no wallet, no phone.”
Interesting.
“Look around,” I mouthed back to him.
He nodded and began to search. I sat down in the armchair next to Leta’s bed, effectively cutting her off from any view of Rock. If she could see at all with the drugs.
“You want to tell me what happened?” I asked. “We’re both so sorry about this.”