Bobby
I eye the fluorescent-lit hall, the smell of antiseptic strong as I take in everything. I left my leather cut at the club, and pulled on a dark blue hoody, the hood concealing my face. I pull the hood down over my face lower, making sure I’m not seen as I sit in a chair directly across from the hall. I see where Augustus’s room is; there are two bulky men standing guard, their heads wrapped up in a green bandanna, indicating they are men of Augustus. All men who work for him wear green. I told the brothers I was coming to the hospital to just check on Jessica, but now I’m here, I can’t walk away from Augustus until I know he’s dead. He is too much of a liability. If he wakes up and tells them who shot him, he could order a hit on the entire club.
I adjust my pistol in my waistband as I eye the hall under the hood of my sweater. I can’t go in there until the men on guard leave or fall asleep. I don’t need any unwanted attention with a confrontation.
I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do when I get in there. I know he is going against the club’s deal. He runs drugs on our side of town, and we run guns on his side. He is doing something against us; otherwise, why would he have tried to kill Lip.
Jessica ensured me Lip wasn’t followed and nobody saw her with him, but I don’t want to chance it. Augustus dies today, even if I have to sit here all night.
“Sir, have you been seen--?
I don’t look up at the person questioning me, not wanting them to see my face. I keep my head down and nod. She pats my arm and walks off, leaving me to stare down the hall. I see Jessica walk toward the room, her blonde hair is pulled up high, and she’s wearing blue scrubs. She talks to one of the guards outside of Augustus’s room and a bolt of adrenaline shoots up my spine causing me to go deathly stiff. My hands twitch in fear of what they could do to her if they figured out who she was affiliated with.
They nod and she walks into the room, writing something on a clipboard. After five minutes, one of the guards leaves the door, walking down the hall. I slowly stand and take a step forward. I may have to take my chance with one guy. There is no way they are going to leave the door completely unguarded.
I see Jessica walk out of the room and give the guy still standing outside the door a pat on the shoulder sympathetically, before she walks down the long corridor. I notice her tuck something away in her pants pocket, looking over her shoulder nervously. I stop in my steps and raise an eyebrow at her unease. White lights begin to flash along the hall as a computer at the nurses’ desk beeps like crazy. I take my eyes from the desk and look back down the hall at Jessica walking away quickly.
What the fuck did she just do?
Jessica
I walk to my locker, grab my bag, stuff my things in it, and slam the door shut. My heart is thudding against my chest in mere panic as evidence that I just killed a man sits in my pocket. The blood in my body is racing so hard, trying to keep up with my beating heart. My vision wobbles with clarity. I. Just. Killed. A. Man. I inhale sharply at the thought. A sob racks from my mouth, and my hands tremble as I pull the drawstrings to my bag together. I lean my clammy forehead against the cool locker door, breathing in and out slowly, trying to steady my heart rate. I filled a syringe with adrenaline, and pumped it into Augustus’s arm, giving him a heart attack. I don’t know what I was thinking. All I could think about was Augustus killing Bobby. I pull away from the locker and shake my twitching hands, gaining some control. After a few moments of calming myself, I walk out of the dressing room. I have to get out of here. I can’t be here in the state of panic I’m in.
“Dr. Wren, you gotta do something,” one of the men I helped wheel in Augustus pleads as I walk past the room holding his dead boss. My head pounds with instant remorse as the man begs for me to save his mentor, but I know what I did will not only save Bobby and the club, but any other person that crosses paths with the likes of such a kingpin.
I give a tightlipped smile and rub his arm.
“I’m sorry. I did everything I could,” I respond, my voice soft and low to hide the tremble of fear crackling through. The guy pulls away, runs his hand over his chin, and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize again, my tone in the stern voice I use with everyone when they have lost someone close.
I continue to make my way toward the exit, my back wet from a nervous sweat, and my hands shaking uncontrollably.