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That same firm hand moved from his arm to his shoulder and squeezed. “Look at that monitor there.”
Jude’s gaze followed as she pointed to the monitor that clearly displayed Jordan’s heart rate and blood pressure.
“His heartbeat is good and strong. We start from there, and that’s more than a lot of people who come in here have going for them. We’ll be right here to help him fight.”
Blinking back a fresh rush of tears, Jude looked up at the woman beside him. Her skin was a rich brown, and her eyes were a warm amber with a fierce look in them. He believed her. She’d be there to help Jordan fight, and she’d fight for him when he needed her.
“Thank you.”
She cocked her head to the side a little. “You’re the Jude I’ve heard about. The one who taught Dr. Frost how to smile.”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you can work that miracle, then I’d say your brother probably has the same fighting spirit in him.”
“Thank you.” It was all he could think to say, but the nurse didn’t seem to expect much more from him. Giving his shoulder one last squeeze, she left him alone with Jordan.
Jude lingered only another few minutes. He knew his mother was anxious to see her youngest son, and he didn’t want to talk to his brother. If Jordan could hear him, he didn’t want to disturb him. After surgery, he needed his rest more than anything else.
Slowly standing, Jude took a couple of tentative steps to the bed and placed his hand carefully on his brother’s leg. “I don’t know what happened, but I will find out who did this to you,” he vowed in a whisper and then returned to the waiting room, wiping away the tears as he walked.
Anna was back on her feet the moment she spotted Jude striding across the waiting room. “How does he look?”
“He looks bad, but his heartbeat is good,” he said, clinging to the one thing the nurse had pointed out. “You should go and spend some time with him. I’m going to his apartment to get a few things for him.” She nodded, her tear-streaked face ashy in the hospital lighting.
He turned away and strode out of the waiting room. He ignored all the looks of sympathy from coworkers as he hurried through the hospital with Snow right beside him.
“Get him a few things?” Snow asked when they stepped back out into the cold. “Or look around his apartment?”
Snow wasn’t fooled for a second. Jordan was in a coma in surgical ICU. He wasn’t going to need anything the hospital wasn’t already supplying for a while. But Jude had to get out of there and do something. Anything. He couldn’t just sit there and pray that everything was going to be all right and that the cops were going to locate the fucking bastard who hurt his brother.
“Both. I have a key to his place, and I need answers. Jordan isn’t going to provide any for a while.”
“My gut is screaming that this is more than a random beating. It was too harsh—too personal.”
“It seems that way to me too. I keep going over it in my head, unable to come up with one reason why he would have been beaten and shot. Shot, General!” His voice broke as he was once again filled with the image of his brother, naked and bloody, in a damn field. His hands curled into fists. “He lost a damn kidney, and there’s the possibility of brain damage! What if he’s fucking paralyzed after this?”
“Hey,” Snow said softly, stopping them in the parking lot to pull Jude into his arms. He wrapped strong arms around Jude. “He’s strong. He’s going to fight this.”
But Jude didn’t want to be held. He wanted to hit something. Rage at the stars. His fear for his brother threatened to choke him, so he pulled away from Snow. “Let’s just go to his apartment and see what we can find.”What they found was nothing. Literally nothing.
Jude looked around at the tiny, bare living area and frowned. There was a threadbare brown couch, a small coffee table, and an empty table under where the television used to be. That was it.
“His television, game system, and everything is gone.”
He strode through the bedroom and bathroom, unable to even find his brother’s laptop. It looked like the place had been picked over, but it was all too neat.
“Do you think he was robbed?” Snow asked when he came back into the living room.
Jude shook his head. “It doesn’t look messy—it just looks like he got rid of things.”
He walked into the tiny kitchenette and opened the refrigerator and the cabinets. “He hardly has any food or dishes. It looks like he’s living in poverty, and I happen to know his construction job pays well.” He stopped in front of the empty wall in the living room where the television had been the last time he was there. “This doesn’t make any sense. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s been hocking all his things. I know our uncle pays him well.”
