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“Cass? What’s wrong?”
“I could ask you the same thing. I was doing a last-minute systems check of the office and noticed the alarm hasn’t been set. Are you still working?”
In his haste to follow Eveline down to the ambulance, he hadn’t even thought about closing up the office. “I’m at the ER.”
“What! What’s wrong? Do you need us? Why didn’t you call? Jesus, Ox, why do you have to be so stubborn and not ask for help when you need it?”
Despite everything that had passed in the last few hours, he chuckled. “I’m fine, Cass. But I appreciate the concern.”
“If you’re fine, then why are you at the hospital?”
At that moment, a nurse walked into the waiting room. “I’m looking for Eveline Durville’s fiancé.”
Immediately Ox shot to his feet. “I’ve gotta go, Cass. Can you call Walt and get him to go up and deal with the office? We can talk later.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond, he killed the connection, pocketed his phone and strode over to the nurse. “Hi, I’m Kyle Matthews, Eveline’s fiancé. How is she?”
Dammit, the more he said that, the more natural it felt. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He needed to remember just who Eveline was and who she worked for. Not to mention what she’d done in the past. Although none of that mattered at the moment, considering she’d been hurt badly, and he was standing in the ER waiting for news on her situation.
“She’s sleeping at the moment. If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you to the room we’ve put her in, and the doctor will let you know what her prognosis is.”
Ox’s stomach dropped, her prognosis? Did that mean she’d suffered more than a concussion?
No, don’t borrow trouble.
As a former Delta he’d seen a lot and dealt with a lot, but at this moment, worry for Eveline consumed him. Which was totally ridiculous, since he’d only spent one night with her and hadn’t seen her for months until she’d surprised him at his office less than a week ago.
The trip to the floor Eveline was on was made in silence, and when he entered the room, he stopped at the foot of the bed.
Like the nurse had said, Eveline lay sleeping. What she hadn’t said was that the bruising on her face had come out. The whole side of her cheek was turning purple. The cuts on her cheek had been treated and were covered with butterfly strips. Beneath the hospital gown, he could see that her shoulder was strapped, and she was attached to an IV.
“Mr. Matthews, are you alright?” The nurse asked, pulling him from the stupor he’d been in.
“Yeah.”
“I know it’s a shock to see the bruising, but it will go down.”
Another voice joined the conversation, and Ox glanced over his shoulder to see a doctor had entered the room.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Sanders.” She looked tired but had a friendly smile on her face.
Smiling had to mean that she wasn’t about to deliver bad news, didn’t it? Ox hoped so.
“What are her injuries?” he asked, finally moving from the base to Eveline’s side, carefully sliding his hand beneath the one that rested on the bed, making sure not to disturb the IV.
“She’s got a serious concussion, and we’ve admitted her so that we can keep an eye on her. There are no fractures to her cheek or eye socket. Her shoulder has a slight strain, so we’ve tapped it to keep it stable. Those bandages can be removed in a couple of days. If it’s still painful, she can get her primary care physician to strap it again for her. Or refer her to a physio to get it looked at and treated.” Dr. Sanders paused, and Ox braced himself for what was about to come. “Do you know what happened to her?”
The doctor’s tone may have been casual, but as Ox had expected, there was an underlying question she didn’t come out and say.
“No, I don’t. And I didn’t do it to her.” Ox attempted to keep the anger out of his voice, but he wasn’t successful with the way the doctor took a step back from him.
“I wasn’t suggesting that you had,” Dr. Sanders quickly backtracked, but the accusation, regardless of if it was stated or not, hung in the air like a bad smell.
“Eveline was coming to my office, and we were going out to eat. When she was almost thirty minutes late, I got worried so I went looking for her. When I got to the elevator, it opened, and she collapsed at my feet. I can provide you with the video footage from my building, if you need it.”
Only the part about eating together was a lie. The second part was all truth. He had been worried because a sixth sense had washed over him that she was in danger—the same instinct that kept him and his former Delta team safe on many occasions.
