Chapter Sixty-Seven
The emergency room was absolutely manic, and Blair’s headache wasn’t improving with all the noise. Crying babies, drunk college kids arguing with nurses, and some guy who’d apparently super-glued his hand to a beer bottle. Just another night in the city.
She was lying on a gurney in what was the hospital examination room, but was really just a space sectioned off by curtains that did nothing to block out the noise. Roman was right next to her, much to his disgust, arguing with a doctor about why he didn’t need X-rays on his shoulder.
“My shoulder’s fine,” Roman was saying for the third time.
“Sir, you have a visible dislocation and you’re bleeding,” the young man doctor replied patiently. “We need to—”
But the young doctor was no match for Roman in a bad mood. “What I need is to stay with my fiancée until we know she doesn’t have a serious head injury. You are not wheeling me anywhere.”
Blair would have rolled her eyes if it didn’t make her dizzy. “Roman, just let them fix your damn shoulder.”
“After they clear you for a concussion.”
“I don’t have a concussion.”
“You don’t know that.”
The doctor looking after her, she couldn’t see her name tag. Bent down to check her pupils with that annoying little flashlight, cleared her throat. “Actually, she’s right. Mild concussion at worst. Her pupils are responsive, she’s coherent, and her neurological responses are normal.” She clicked off the light, which was a relief. “You’ll have a headache for a day or two, but you should be fine.”
No one needed to tell her about having a headache.
Roman visibly relaxed. “Thank you.”
“Now, will you please let us look at your shoulder?” The male doctor asked.
“Fine. But I’m not going anywhere. Just set it back in place.”
Blair squeezed Roman’s hand before the doctors pulled a curtain across in between their beds. She could hear him complaining about hospital gowns. Blair couldn’t help smirking. He really was a terrible patient. He wasn’t in control and Blair knew Roman liked control.
“Is he always this...” The doctor, still with her, paused and looked around at the curtain where Roman was, searching for the right word.
“Controlling? Overprotective? Generally annoying when he’s worried?” Blair supplied. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“I heard that.” Came Roman voice.
“He cares about you.”
“I know.” Blair touched the bandage on her forehead. The doctor had been cleaning up the small cut before covering it. “Someone’s been trying to kill me. He’s taking it personally.”
The other woman’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. This is the third attempt.” Blair realized how insane that sounded. “It’s been a really weird week.”
Before the doctor could respond, she heard familiar voices in the hallway, one worried, one loud and argumentative, both definitely approaching fast.
“Excuse me, we’re looking for Blair Warner—”
“I don’t give a shit. We want to see her now. Our sister was in a car accident—”
“Ma’am, you need to calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! And why is this place so fucking confusing?”
Sutton and Keira. Of course, they were already here.
“Blair!” Keira’s voice was getting closer. “Blair, where are you? This place is like a maze designed by sadists!”
“In here!” Blair called out, then immediately regretted it as her head pounded.
The curtain was yanked back. It was a good thing she wasn’t naked. Keira appeared, looking like she’d thrown on the first clothes she could find. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she had what looked like chocolate on her shirt.
“Jesus, you look terrible,” was the first thing out of her mouth.
“Thanks. You’ve got chocolate on your shirt.”
“I was stress-eating Ben and Jerry’s in the car. While Sutton drove.” Keira looked her up and down. “On a scale of one to ten, how dead are you?”
“About a three. Maybe four when I laugh.”
Sutton appeared behind Keira, more composed but with that look of barely controlled worry that Blair recognized from their teenage years. “How’s your head? Any dizziness? Nausea? Double vision?”
“I’m fine, Doctor Sutton. The doctor already checked everything.” Blair tried to sit up straighter and winced. “Roman’s the one who dislocated his shoulder and came worse off than me this time. He shielded me with his body. I still managed to hit my head, though.”
“Because he’s an idiot who threw himself over you,” Sutton said, but there was approval in her voice. “Which, for the record, was the right thing to do as far as we are concerned.”
From behind the other curtain, Roman’s voice carried over: “I can hear you talking about me.”
“We’re saying nice things!” Keira called back. Then, quieter, “Mostly.”
“How bad was the car?” Sutton asked, settling into the plastic chair beside Blair’s gurney.
“Toast. The whole back end was crushed. I think my side hit a tree, but it’s all pretty fuzzy.” Blair touched the bandage on her forehead again. “If Roman hadn’t...” She didn’t finish the sentence.
“But he did,” Sutton said firmly. “And you’re both okay. That’s what matters.”
“Speak for yourself,” Keira said, flopping into the other chair. “I’m pretty sure I took ten years off my life when Peters called. Do you know how terrifying it is to get a phone call that starts with ‘There’s been an accident, but everyone’s alive’? Alive doesn’t mean ok.”
“Sorry. I didn’t exactly plan this.” Blair felt guilty that what was going on was stressing out her sister. With Sutton being pregnant, it was the last thing she needed.
“I know that. I’m just saying, my heart can’t take much more of this.” Keira paused.
“Tell me about it. It’s happening to me.”
“I know.” Keira grinned. “So, was this the same asshole who’s been trying to turn you into roadkill, or do you have multiple enemies now?”
“Same asshole, we think. God, I hope so or my life really has turned to shit.” Blair sighed. “Roman says Peters knows the make and model of car and he also got part of the plate number. Before the other car took off.”
“Good,” Sutton said, and there was steel in her voice. “Because I’m getting really tired of people trying to hurt my sister.”
The curtain was pushed aside, and Roman appeared with his left arm in a sling and a grim expression. “Peters just messaged.”
“And?” Blair asked, though she could tell by his face it wasn’t great news.
“They found the SUV. Abandoned and torched about ten miles from here.” Roman’s jaw was tight. “Nothing left to trace, even the VIN number was gone.”
“So we’re back to square one?” Sutton asked.
“Not exactly.” Roman pulled out his phone. “But they did get something from the traffic cameras before the car was destroyed. A clear shot of the driver.”
Blair felt her stomach drop. “Did you recognize him?”
“No.” Roman turned to phone for her to look at the screen. “Do you?”
Blair looked at the graining photo before shaking her head.
“Peters is getting a friend of his to run it through the FBI database. We should know something soon.”
Keira threw up her hands, clearly upset. “So basically, we’re playing the world’s most dangerous game of waiting.”
“Pretty much,” Roman said. “But I’m working on something that could lead me to who is doing this.”
“What?” Sutton asked.
“I think this..” Pointing the the image on his phone. “is a professional job. So I’m going to follow the money.”