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Ernesto shakes his head. “Do you have a better idea, boss?”
I snap my mouth shut and narrow my eyes at him.
Ernesto takes me to the chapel on the top floor and leaves me there. A short while later, he comes back in with a plastic bag, and I’m pacing. There’s a cheap white wig inside, a scarf, and a large pair of sunglasses. Reluctantly, I put them all on and flick my gaze up to Ernesto’s.
He is eyeing me critically. “You’d better stay out of sight.”
“Not fucking happening. If I’m going to wear this ridiculous getup, I’m going to be close to Isabella.”
Ernesto exhales. “At least don’t be in the same room with her. That’ll tip people off.”
I give him a curt nod and follow him outside.
Ernesto takes a cane from Paul, who won’t look at me. “Here, this should help, too.”
I lean half of my weight onto the cane and give an exaggerated hobble. “You two are fucking enjoying this.”
Paul’s lips lift into the ghost of a smile. He spots something over my shoulders, and his smile vanishes. Then he stands up straighter and clears his throat. “I’m sorry I can’t help you. I don’t know if there’s another chapel here.”
Ernesto loops his arm through mine. “Why don’t I help you find someone else who can help you?”
“Thank you,” I murmur, narrowing my gaze behind the sunglasses. “You’re so kind.”
On our way to the elevator, more and more tall and muscled men began to creep out. Even though none of them are doing anything overt to give themselves away, I can tell they are Natori and Philips men. They are all dressed in suits, sporting buzzcuts, and they have an unhinged twinkle in their eyes. One of them steps onto the elevator with us, and I see the outline of a gun underneath his shirt.
“I can’t wait to get Ernestine out of here,” I say in a low, gravelly voice. “Why are you here, sonny?”
Ernesto offers me a distracted smile. “My wife. She’s gone into early labor.”
I nod in the direction of the man’s gun. “Don’t you just love surprises?”
Ernesto stands up straighter and studies the man, who stands with his back erect, studying the screen on the wall and shifting from one number to the other. I tuck my hands into the pockets of my large coat, my fingers running over smooth and slick metal.
All I need is one good shot. Then Isabella and I have one less problem to worry about.
My fingers close around the gun, and I shift to take it out when the elevator shudders to a stop. The man frowns and takes a step forward. He squints at the panel and presses a button. Then he lifts his gaze to Ernesto, and a flicker of comprehension moves across his face. Ernesto takes a step back and curls his hands into fists.
I take my gun out and hit the man on the back of his head.
When I hit him again, he crumples into a heap on the floor with a groan. Then I kick him hard, and he lets out a low wheezing sound. I wait until the man is unconscious before I look over at Ernesto, who is still pale and uneasy.
“That was a little too close,” Ernesto murmurs, checking both sides of the hallway when the doors ping open. Together, we step off the elevator, with Ernesto matching his stride to mine. A group of men is headed in our direction, and I tense. Doctors and nurses rush past in either direction, wheeling patients on gurneys.
I don’t want this to turn into a massacre. Violence is necessary, but not in a hospital.
But clearly, Mayor Hughes doesn’t share my reservations. He’s an even worse prick than Frances, and I can’t believe he’s willing to sacrifice the lives of innocent people to stay ahead of the game.
I’m surrounded by snakes and foxes.
Ernesto lowers his head and digs his nails into my hand. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
I teeter nervously and pat his hand. “You’re such a dear for agreeing to help me.”
The men walk right past us in the direction of the elevator. I twist to watch them leave, my heart thudding painfully as we round the corner and break into a bolt. Hastily, Ernesto and I take the stairs, descending further and further into the bowels of the hospital. When we reach the basement, he pushes the double doors open, and we find ourselves in the middle of a morgue.
The smell of death and decay makes my stomach recoil.
Ernesto draws a sheet back and gestures to the empty slab of metal. “Come on. They’re not going to think of looking under a body.”
