“This is not Hadley’s fault.” Bishop stepped up to the foot of the bed. “Stop looking at her like you just scraped her off the bottom of your shoe.”
“It’s fine.” I touched Bishop’s arm. “Mr. Torres has a right to be upset.”
“Sure,” Bishop agreed too easily. “He’s also got the right to not blame you.”
This time, I bypassed the gentle approach and pinched Bishop hard enough he turned his mad on me.
“Can you think of anything else?” I wedged myself between them. “Anything at all?”
“It happened so fast.” A glossy sheen to Cruz’s eyes promised tears. “I couldn’t save him.”
“This isn’t your fault either.” I sank every ounce of conviction into my vow. “We’re going to find him.”
“I want to rest now.” He leaned back and shut his eyes. “I’ll get a message to you if I remember more.”
“You did the right thing.” I had to offer him some hope. “Calling me when you did might make all the difference.”
A nurse bustled in and fiddled with his IV. Before long, a relieved sigh parted his lips as he drifted off.
“He’ll rest easier during transfer this way.” She caught herself and winced. “You were done talking?”
“Yeah.” I waved aside her concern. “We’re done here.”
A sentinel I recognized as a member of the Atlanta Police Department greeted us at the door on our way out.
“I’m Chad Faulk.” He stuck out his hand. “I’ve been assigned to Mr. Torres for the next eight hours.”
“I appreciate the APD’s assistance.” I shook with him and clasped his shoulder. “Mr. Torres is a close personal friend of mine. His safety and health are of the utmost importance to me.”
“Understood.” He posted himself outside the door. “I have orders to use Reece as a point of contact.”
The familiarity in his tone perked my ears. “You know Reece?”
“He’s a friend of the family.” He winked. “Dated my mom for a while.”
“Whoa.” I rocked back on my heels. “Really?”
“No.” A snort shot out of him. “I’m a tech geek. He’s a tech geek. We met in a forum online.”
“That how you ended up here?” Bishop waded in. “We didn’t expect an escort for Cruz to the Faraday.”
“Check with Reece.” Faulk raised his hands. “He’ll vouch for me.”
“We’ll do that.” I left Bishop to watch Faulk and stepped down the hall to dial Reece. “Hey.”
“Faulk is an obnoxious chatterbox,” he said without preamble, “but he’s brilliant and a decent marksman.”
“You could have given us a heads-up he was going to meet us at the hospital.”
But it gave me the warm fuzzies that Reece had called in a favor for my friend.
“I should have,” he agreed but didn’t carry it any further. “I have the blogger’s phone.”
Midas must have dropped it close for Reece to be working on it so quickly.
The promise of a mystery to unravel would also explain why he forgot to text me about Faulk.
“Let me know when you crack it.”
“Midas bought the password off the owner.” Reece sounded glum. “I’ll have the files to you in ten.”
He ended the call with a huff, probably annoyed he had less work to do but still eager to get back to it.
“Faulk checks out,” I told Bishop, booking us a Swyft. “We’re clear to leave.”
“All right.” He swept his gaze over Faulk. “You up to this?”
“I want to join the OPA someday.” He switched off his teasing demeanor. “For now, this is as close as I can get.” He locked gazes with me. “I won’t let you down.”
Wondering if this was a subtle hint from Reece, I nodded. “I’ll keep you in mind.”
Our ride took its sweet time arriving, but Atlanta traffic was extra gnarly this time of night.
“Do you think it’s a coincidence?” I balanced on the edge of the curb. “Sue’s arrival then this?”
“Nothing in this life is coincidence.”
Neely was my most pressing concern, Cruz too. She ranked a distant third. “You think she’s part of it?”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?”
It would solve a lot of problems if I could unmask her as the villain Scooby-Doo style in under thirty minutes. Then I could save the day, rescue Neely, and set Cruz firmly on the road to recovery.
Sadly, real life didn’t work that way. For one thing, villains would suffocate wearing latex masks in the Georgia summer heat.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t visit her at her hotel.” A wicked glint lit his eyes. “Shake her up a bit.”
“Nah.” I dismissed it for the sole reason it would have felt good. “We need to follow real leads, not invent them.”
“Are you sure?” He stared down his nose at me. “I’m creative.”
Laughter was not the correct response when I could tell he meant it, but it still felt good.
Our driver arrived, his car perfumed with cigarette smoke, and we asked him to take us to Marx’s.
“There was a kidnapping there earlier tonight,” he warned us. “The whole place is swarming with cops.”
“I appreciate the warning.”
With a shrug that conveyed it was our money to waste, he lit up then set out for our destination.
We rode with the windows down, and the night air stroked its hands through my hair in a gesture I could pretend was the city soothing me. Minus the end result of a billion knots I would spend hours tonight untangling.
A block away from our destination, we gave up on the traffic, paid our tab, and braved the light drizzle. A barricade had been set up on the sidewalk outside Marx’s to keep out the curious, and there we met a familiar face.
“I wondered when you’d grace us with your presence.” Lizzy cocked an eyebrow. “Your man just left.”
Lizzy Frommel was the pack’s liaison with the Atlanta Police Department. She was a lawyer, but she was also an enforcer. Kind of like Rambo but with a law degree. She represented gwyllgi in police custody and made arrangements with the undercover sentinels to ensure justice was served
