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When I don’t bother with threats or plead for more information, Jackson bobs his head in an approving manner.
“I don’t think Suggs acted completely alone,” he finally says in a low voice. “But obsessed isn’t a strong enough word for how he felt about Shelby.”
“Meaning what?”
He sighs and quickly glances around. “He’s been tracking her since she was on some television show.” He coughs and looks away. “Not sure if your buddies came across it or not, but Suggs has a history of being inappropriate with young women. For years now. But these days, his house is dedicated to all things Shelby Morgan.”
Sounds like that house and his shrine to Shelby need to be burned to the ground. “That’s just great. So glad he’s been running around loose, unchecked.”
“Nothing we could nail him on until now.”
I cock my head. “Why are you sharing this with me?”
“I shouldn’t, since you withheld information from me and made me look like an asshole, but I thought you should know. Since he’s on the run. Technically, Shelby’s still in danger.” He glares at me. “I figure you’ll want to add some extra protection here at the hospital. In case he comes looking for her.”
While I’m puzzling out what seems to be an invitation to add more Lost Kings to the hospital waiting area, he checks his phone.
“You think someone on the tour was working with Suggs?” I ask.
“I didn’t say that,” he answers quickly.
“Logan!” Dawson’s voice echoes down the hallway, his heavy boots thundering over the tile. “Any word about her yet?”
He stops when he recognizes Agent Jackson. “Jesus Fuck. Not you again.”
I duck my head and laugh. “Popular guy.”
“Fuck off,” Jackson mutters, which only makes me laugh harder. He turns and flashes a wide shit-eating grin at Dawson. “How are you, Mr. Roads?”
“Fine.” Dawson’s gaze slides to me. “Everything okay here?”
A prickle of unease slides down my spine. Did Dawson have something to do with Shelby’s kidnapping? To my knowledge, he cooperated with the police. His concern seems genuine, but it could be an act. Or maybe he knows Bane was involved and he’s covering for him to avoid the bad press.
My jaw clenches as I work through the possibilities.
Jackson’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Easy. It’s not him.”
Dawson’s troubled gaze pings between Jackson and me. “What’s going on, Logan?”
I’m not sure if I trust Jackson’s judgment, but I try to calm myself before answering Dawson. “We’re still waiting for news about Shelby. Doctors are working on her.”
“Thank God. Thank God you found her before…” Anguish tears through his voice. “Never had somethin’ like this happen before…crazy fans, yeah. But this…this is a whole new level. Poor Shelby.”
Something about his poor Shelby comment rubs me wrong. Shelby’s tough as nails. Once she makes it through this, she’ll be kicking ass in no time. I’m sure of it. She doesn’t need Dawson’s pity. Or anyone else’s.
Dawson’s phone buzzes, and he digs it out of his pocket. “Shoot.” He holds it up. “Made the mistake of talking to my ex a couple of days ago, and now she won’t leave me alone. Give me a minute.” He holds up one finger and shoves the door to the stairwell open. It clangs behind him, and his muffled voice comes through loud enough for me to tell he’s irritated, but I can’t make out the words.
Jackson stares at the door, watching Dawson through the sliver of glass.
“What’s on your mind?” I frown at Jackson. “You think Dawson’s involved?” Five seconds ago, he seemed certain Dawson had nothing to do with it.
“No,” he answers slowly.
“Logan!” Greg shouts. “Get down here.”
My feet start moving immediately, jogging down the hall faster than the hospital folks probably care for. “What?”
A doctor’s in the waiting room with Greg. I skid to a stop inside and she backs up a step. “I, uh, privacy reasons, I can’t share a lot of details, but Miss Morgan has woken up.”
“Thank God.” I squeeze my eyes shut.
“She’s asking for Rooster…?”
“That’s me.” I raise my hand like the most eager kid in class.
“Oh, well. Follow me.”
Instead of taking me to see Shelby, she leads me into a smaller room—a doctor’s lounge with a coffee machine and a few scattered chairs. She remains standing.
“What’s going on?” I glance at the door and back to the doctor. “Can I see her?”
“In a minute. She’s in and out of it. Not quite lucid yet. Besides being sedated, she had some sort of allergic reaction, as well as several bumps, bruises, cuts, and a mild concussion. Her body’s been through a lot. She needs rest.”
“But she’s okay?”
She glances down at her chart. “A kidnapping. I don’t see a lot of those. Anyway, she’s going to need to talk to someone. I’ll have a counselor stop by when Shelby’s more with it.”
“Whatever she needs.” I jab my fingers through my hair. “Thank God. I’m just so glad she’s awake. She’s going to be okay?” I ask again. The doctor hasn’t exactly given me a definitive answer yet.
