“Dr. Morales?” the nurse prompted.
The doctor was still shaking Tom’s hand, grinning like crazy, then suddenly seemed to realize what she was doing and dropped his hand with a little laugh. “I’d better take a look at your brother. See how my handiwork is doing. But maybe we could grab coffee later? Catch up?”
Tom ducked his head a little and glanced at the other occupants of the room. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” Then he coughed, clearing his throat, and turned his attention back to his brother. “I’ll check back on you later, Bro.”
His father patted Gabe lightly on the shoulder, his normally stoic expression cracking a bit with emotion. But the Old Man covered it well—as usual—and just gave Gabe a curt nod before turning and leaving the room.
“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all,” the nurse said, sharing a glance with Gabe.
Dr. Morales washed her hands and grabbed a couple of latex gloves from a box hanging on the wall. “I haven’t seen Tom in years, Wanda,” she said rather wistfully. “Not since the incident in the ER.” But before the doctor could explain what she was talking about, she gave Gabe a bright smile. “So, how are you feeling, Deputy Dawson?”
“Like I got shot,” Gabe drawled, sleep creeping in as the nurse moved the sheet off of his leg so that the doctor could take a look. “How ’bout you?”
As sleep dragged him under, he heard the doctor’s giggle, heard her say something in reply, but he couldn’t quite make it out and was too tired to bother trying…
*
It was dark when Gabe awoke for the second time. At least, it felt like he was awake, but he wasn’t quite sure. The edges of his vision were blurry and the room seemed to swim a little. His body felt light, almost like he was floating—or maybe just threatening to. For a brief, panicked moment, he wondered if he was dead, if the floating sensation was his soul drifting away. But then the dull pain in his leg made him realize he was still very much alive.
He sighed, relieved, and was letting his lids close again when he realized he was not alone in the room.
His eyes snapped open, his senses suddenly alert as he battled through the fog of sleep and painkillers to try to figure out who the hell was in there with him. He tried to sit up. Couldn’t. His body, so light just a moment before, now seemed to weigh a ton and wouldn’t respond to his command.
“Who’s there?” he managed to croak out, his throat dry and scratchy, making the question sound more like a growl.
The shadows in the room shifted a little and a figure slowly moved into the small pool of light cast by the various monitors. And he recognized the face immediately. His pulse quickened in a mixture of fear and anger, but still his body wouldn’t respond. The monitors began to beep like crazy again, but Nurse Wanda didn’t barge in this time. He was alone. With the father of the man who’d tried to kill him.
“Get the fuck out,” Gabe spat.
Jeb Monroe tsked and shook his head. “Such vulgarity,” he drawled, sounding to Gabe’s ears as if he was under water. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised to hear such language from a dirty pig who will lie down with any whore.”
“Nurse!” Gabe yelled as he reached for the call button, keeping his gaze locked on the crazy son of a bitch walking toward him. His fingers fumbled, his body not cooperating as a result of the pain meds, and the device tumbled from the edge of the bed.
Monroe’s hand lashed out, and he grasped Gabe by the throat, but not tight enough to choke him or leave any marks. The slippery bastard was far too smart for that. “The nurse just left the desk to attend to another patient down the hall, so I thought now would be a good time for us to chat.”
“There’ll be security footage of you entering my room,” Gabe warned.
Monroe’s brows lifted casually as if he was unconcerned. “True. But last time I checked, it wasn’t a crime to visit a man in the hospital.”
Gabe narrowed his eyes. “What the hell do you want, Monroe?”
He leaned in, his breath rank as he hissed, “You got my boy killed.”
“He got himself killed,” Gabe shot back. “And it’s on your head, Monroe. I’m guessing he was just following orders.”
Monroe chuckled darkly. “Orders? What orders?”
Gabe’s eyes narrowed. “Yours. You sent him to take out Elle McCoy, didn’t you?”
Monroe grinned. “Now why would I ever do such a thing, Deputy Dawson? I’m a peace-loving man who just wants his government to keep its promises and stop imposing its tyrannical laws on God-fearing citizens. I encourage nonviolent civil disobedience. Like Thoreau.”
Gabe scoffed. “Right. That’s exactly who you remind me of.”
“Don’t believe me?” Monroe said, arching his brow. “My views are right there on my website. You can’t prove I believe otherwise, Deputy. And you know it.”
“Why the hell did you come here?” Gabe hissed, his fury at the truth of Monroe’s words raging in his veins.