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I don’t have time to think about that now. I have to think about finding Vincent, which means activating the app on my phone connected to the tracker I arranged to be planted on his car. There I was, hoping I would never need to use this, but he has a way of proving me right even when he doesn’t mean to.
On my way to the car, I mutter, “Thank you for the heads up. I was just wrapping things up here, so I can track them down with Chuck’s help.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to meet you anywhere?”
“No, you have more than enough to deal with now.” When I reach the car, I catch sight of my reflection in the door and realize I look like I’m ready to kill. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Home, sir?” Chuck asks once I’ve settled in and he’s behind the wheel.
“Not just yet. We have a little hunting to do.”
“Sir?” I glance up from my phone to find him wearing a puzzled look, watching me in the rearview mirror.
“We need to find my brother. GPS is finding his location as we speak.” Yes, and now instead of a wide circle transposed over a map of the city, there’s a single, flashing blue dot that doesn’t move. I use my thumb and forefinger to expand the map, honing in on his location.
And my stomach drops.
“Saints Memorial, and step on it.” I can barely get the words out for the tightness in my chest. What the hell are they doing at the hospital? Does she need help? Why didn’t she tell me if she needs help? She seemed fine last night, but I didn’t check on her this morning before leaving. What if she woke up and found she was bleeding or there was pain that suddenly came up? That fucking doctor, what the hell does he know?
Why didn’t she feel like she could come to me? Then again, I wasn’t there. And she has no way of reaching out—she doesn’t even know my cell number. Fuck, am I ever going to get this right? How am I supposed to do right by her when little things like this keep getting in the way?
I should have been the one to take her to the hospital if she needed help. Then again, what kind of message does that send? More likely this should serve as a warning to me. I care too damn much, still. No matter how I try, I can’t get her out of my heart. How am I supposed to say goodbye to her when I can’t stop obsessing over every goddamn move she makes?
Who am I kidding? Having her gone won’t make things any easier on me, even if she’ll be safer. It’ll only mean more sleepless nights, obsessing, worrying, wishing things were different.
What has she done to me?
“It looks like he parked in the garage,” I tell Chuck once we’re a block from the hospital. He takes my meaning, steering us into the concrete structure, then slowly rolling through in search of Vincent’s car. We don’t have to search long, finding him parked on the second level.
And lucky for me, he’s still in the car.
“Let me out here, then find a spot.” I get out of the car, slamming the door before Chuck rolls away. Vincent’s head snaps up at the sound and immediately, he opens the driver’s door. “Just hold on—”
“No, you hold on.” I take him by the collar and slam him against the car. “How dare you? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Would you let me explain, for fuck’s sake?” His question echoes off the concrete floor and ceilings. “She fucking begged me to bring her. What was I supposed to do?”
Then, because he’s not a complete idiot, “Wait, how did you know where to find me?”
I ignore that question, focusing on Delilah instead. “What’s wrong with her? Why are you out here when she’s in there? Why did she need to come here?”
“Do me a favor and promise you’re not going to be a total prick about this.”
“You have three seconds,” I growl. “Three… two…”
“There’s somebody here, somebody she cares about. I asked her a hundred times on the drive but she wouldn’t say. Just that it’s somebody important to her.”
“How would she know somebody important to her is here?”
“Well I guess you would have to ask her, wouldn’t you? Why are you wasting time out here with me when you should be finding her?”
Good question. “Did she say where she’d be in the hospital?”
“The ICU.” I let go of him, but he takes hold of my shoulder. “She is extremely messed up about this. Whoever it is, they mean a hell of a lot to her. I don’t think she stopped crying for a minute the whole way here.”
“What’s your point?”
I hate the way he’s looking at me. Like he doesn’t know whether to believe me or not. “My point is, she doesn’t need you puffing out your chest and strutting around like you own the hospital. You know?”
