Page 104 of Crimson Love

I leave the truck running in the circle drive. It’s the last thing I care about. She’s cradled in my arms with her head lolled back. I kept my fingers on her pulse the whole drive. It’s a miracle we didn’t slide off the side of the mountain.

The doors slide open, and everything goes bright.

Lights.

Voices.

A medical team rushing toward me with a gurney.

I lay her limp body on the bed and talk as they rush her down the hall and into a bay. “She was fine, and then she just started slipping until she was completely unconscious.”

“Her BP is dangerously low. Get her on the monitors.”

She slips from me as they push me away to get to her. Fuck, her skin is so pale—paler than normal, and her lips are a tinge of blue in the corners. Panic courses through me so strong, the roar is deafening in my own ears. The medical team starts to work. One is hooking her up to machines. Another takes vitals. Someone else cuts her shirt up the middle. Stickers and wires are slapped on her chest as another tech starts an IV.

One woman doesn’t look away as she works and demands answers. “Is she allergic to anything?”

I drag my hands through my hair. Fuck. Why didn’t I ask that in all of the useless conversations we’ve had. “I don’t know.”

“Is she on any prescriptions?”

“Fuck, I have no idea. I don’t think so.”

The woman glances up at me for a slip second. “Does she use recreational or illicit drugs?”

“What? No!” I move to the end of the gurney and watch as five people work on her at the same time. “I’m telling you, she was talking, alert, and eating. This happened in a matter of thirty to forty-five minutes. Just fix her!”

“Let’s get a full blood panel.” The woman in charge turns to me. “Sir, you need to step back. I’ll call security if I have to.”

Oh, fuck.

“The food.” I don’t step back. I can’t move, because the thought hits me like a freight train. “The food. What she was eating ... it was meant for me.”

The woman turns to me. “What was she eating?”

I shake my head. “It was a gift basket. From my company—my family’s company. At least that’s what the card said. She ate from it, I didn’t. But it was sent to me—it was fucking meant for me and now she’s lying there unconscious.”

“We’ll start there. But if you don’t step back, I’ll have you removed. I’ll call the police if I have to.”

I step out of their way and think about the gift basket from Stonebridge.

Would Stonebridge really send a fucking gift basket of food?

I pull out my cell and hit go on a number I’ve called way too often lately.

Devon barely has the chance to answer. “Please tell me you weren’t run off the —”

“Devon, there was a delivery for me not too long ago. The doorman took it to the back and said he was going to put it in the fridge. Don’t let anyone touch it. I think it’s tainted.”

Devon’s tone turns gruff. “Tainted? What the hell does that mean?”

“Call Moretti. Let him know. It needs to be taken into evidence and tested. I didn’t eat it, but Lennon did. We’re at the hospital. It’s not good. In fact, it’s bad. Really fucking bad.”

“Tell me how bad, dammit,” Devon demands.

He murmurs to Harlow in the background as I watch them continue to move around Lennon’s lifeless body like every moment counts and they don’t have enough of them.

The medical team starts barking orders at each other.