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When he turns to grab it, I pull out my phone and surreptitiously snap a photo of the ledger. Thankfully, the phone is on silent so he won’t hear the fake shutter noise it makes when the volume is on.
I can only hope that the picture comes out clear because there isn’t time to take another. Even with the key, it’s going to be hard to come back down here without anyone noticing. Brady turns back around and I slip my phone back into my pocket.
He takes the ledger from me and sets it back on the shelf. “Nothing in here can leave this room. House president always serves as key holder, so don’t screw it up.”
I make what I hope is an agreeable noise and follow him out the door, locking it under his watchful attention. But my mind has already moved on from this moment and it’s going a hundred miles an hour.
I might have just figured out a way to bring Evangeline back to St. Bart’s.
Chapter Nine
After Brady goes back to the royal suite that he probably reserved for himself, it takes another few hours before I can get out of the house without raising suspicion. I have to wait until the Celtics game comes on and then make some excuse about needing to make a beer run.
“Why don’t you send one of the pledges?” Nolan asks as I get up from the couch.
“Only Elliot is legal, and he never gets the right thing,” I lie. “Craft beer is no joke these days. There are like a hundred different brands.”
Nolan looks like he wants to argue, but then the ref calls a foul and his attention immediately returns to the game.
“Get some chips for nachos. We’re running out,” Cole calls without looking away from the screen. “And not the store brand crap, it goes stale quicker.”
“You got it.” I reply as I back toward the door. But they’re all too distracted to even glance up at me. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Nobody responds, their attention fully returned to the television screen. Hopefully, everyone is too wrapped up in the game to notice the time as I leave because I’ll be gone way longer than a quick trip to the store should take.
I need to be the first one to the hospital when the meds wear off and Vaughn makes it back to reality. The two of us need to have a conversation, and I definitely don’t want an audience for it.
The ride to the hospital is short, but I closely study all the cars that pass. Brady should be holed up in the fancy hotel on the opposite side of town from the hospital, but I wouldn’t put it past him to be keeping tabs on us.
And just because he is the only Havoc House alumni that I’ve seen doesn’t mean that he is the only one of them in town.
I spend the ride trying to convince myself it’s possible that Vaughn isn’t in any danger. Despite what I told Evangeline, there is a chance that their accident was just that…an accident. Hit and runs happen all the time and this town is full of seedier types.
Of course, that wouldn’t explain why anyone else would be on a road that only leads to St. Bart’s in the middle of the night.
A quick stop at the main desk lets me know that Vaughn has been moved to another floor of the hospital. I can only hope that means he is on the way to recovering.
The receptionist on the unit barely glances up as I pass, her gaze fixed on a broadcast of the Celtics game that she has playing on her computer screen.
Vaughn still looks like crap, although maybe the tiniest bit better. His nose is swollen up to twice its normal size.
His eyes are closed, breathing fairly even, although I doubt he is actually asleep.
“You look like shit,” I announce loudly as the door bangs shut behind me.
Vaughn snaps awake with a groan, gaze bleary as he focuses on me. “What the hell, man? You can’t bust into a hospital room all aggro like that.”
I hook the back of a chair with my hand and drag it to the side of the bed. “Apparently, we all walk around doing whatever the hell we want.”
He shifts into a sitting position, grimacing with each movement. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“Did I say it was good to see you?”
Vaughn regards me wearily. “I wasn’t expecting balloons or a teddy bear, but this is bad even for you.”
“Last time I was here, you were loopy as a toucan. I guess your meds got downgraded.” I trace the tubing to the bag hanging from his IV pole. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?”
He rolls his eyes. “A four.”
