Cooper did a double take. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have to ask, would I? You don’t listen too good.”
“No, what department. ICU, pediatrics…”
“Right.” He slapped his forehead. “Sorry, sometimes I get to talking, and goddamn if by the time I reach the end of a sentence I haven’t forgotten the beginning. It’s like the trail of tears. Only, you know, without the dead Indians.”
The pharmacist stared at him. It wouldn’t have taken Cooper’s gift to read his thoughts: This guy is a moron.
Not far behind it, though, was, Maybe I should call security. It was a hospital, after all. There were legitimately crazy people here.
“She had her tonsils out.”
“Okay. Recovery.” The man gave him directions, speaking slowly and carefully. Cooper nodded, thanked him, and then went back the way he’d come. He barely kept himself from laughing but let the smile spread.
Until he turned the corner and saw a security guard hurrying toward him, along with the surgeon from the cafeteria. Shit. They’d hoped the doctor might not need his badge so quickly, and that even if he did, he’d waste time retracing his steps. Instead, it appeared he had gone straight to security—
The fact that they’re here means they checked the computer system. They know his badge was just used to access the dispensary.
They won’t waste time talking to the pharmacist. They’ll go for the door.
Which is the only exit. She’ll be trapped.
—which left Cooper with no choice. He’d do the security guard first, a quick combination, solar plexus-kidney-kidney, then the doctor. Sprint back to the dispensary, hop the counter, take out the pharmacists if they got in the way. Get the Neurodicin, get Shannon, get out.
Someone tapped his shoulder, and he whirled.
The Girl Who Walks Through Walls stood behind him. “Hi.”
“You. But.” He turned, saw the guard and doctor hurrying past. Neither glanced at them, focused on their goal. “Oh. Huh.”
“What?”
“It’s just, I thought you were still in there. I was going to…I was about to—”
“Rescue me?”
“Uhh…”
“I’m not a cat up a tree. I can handle myself.” Shannon held up an orange plastic bottle, shook it so the pills rattled. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
She wasn’t what he expected.
Shannon had said that her friend Samantha went way back with John Smith. Cooper had imagined another woman like her, strong, ideologically dedicated, and very dangerous. A soldier.
What he hadn’t expected was this tiny, delicate thing with pale-blond hair. She had a woman’s face and curves, but couldn’t have been more than four foot ten, maybe ninety pounds. It had a strangely erotic effect; she was so small you couldn’t help but imagine what she looked like naked.
“Hey, Sam.” Shannon stepped forward, leaning down to hug the woman. “This is Cooper.”
“Hi,” he said, holding out a hand. As she shook it, he got a whiff of perfume, sweet but clean. Maybe it was that, or the softness of her hand, but he felt himself getting turned on.
“Come in.” She stepped aside.
The room looked like a catalog from an upscale furniture store. Twin white sofas sat atop a thick shag rug. A coffee table holding coffee-table books. The only hint of personality was a bookcase packed to bursting. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, only night and the looming invisible bulk of Lake Michigan.
Shannon said, “Brought you a present.” She held out the pill bottle.
“Wow. How did you get your hands on Nada?” Samantha pronounced it like a lover’s name. “That’s so sweet of you.”
Given the upscale apartment and Samantha’s style and carriage, Cooper had almost forgotten that she was an addict. But watching her as she held the pill bottle, he could see the raw, curling need inside her, the hunger. She started to open the bottle, stopped herself, tapped the label. “Sweet of you both.”