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A middle-aged nurse places herself between my daughter and me, pushing a laptop on a wheeled stand and blocking my path. “I'm going to need her information to enter into the system,” she informs me while a team of doctors assesses Tatum.
“Look, can't this wait?”
“I need a name and a date of birth for her ID bracelet, along with insurance information and any known allergies.”
There's a crazed animal in me, fighting to break loose and paint the tiled floor with blood. Think of Tatum. Tearing into this hospital won't get her help any faster. “Jane Doe,” I growl.
She looks up from the screen, frowning. “Excuse me?”
“You heard correctly. Her name is Jane Doe.”
Straightening slowly, she murmurs, “Sir, do I need to call the authorities?”
“I don't think so and, honestly, I would rather you didn't.”
“You're telling me you don't know this girl's name? Exactly how did she come to be injured? Or are you unaware of that, as well?” The snippety attitude she's giving me is the last thing I need, and it needs to end now.
“Listen to me very carefully.” My voice drops to a whisper as I lean over the top of the computer screen until she has no choice but to lean back. “I don't care what it takes for you to do it, but this girl's name will not be recorded. It could be dangerous for her if someone were to call and ask if she's been brought here.” Not that I see that happening, but I can't afford to take any more chances. “Suffice it to say she is my daughter. I found her this way, and I don't care how many tests you need to run—or what anybody around here requires in order to keep their mouths shut. Is that clear?”
“How do I know you aren't bringing her here after losing your temper?”
“If I was, do you think I'd come in with her and risk being blamed?”
“Sir, you have no idea exactly how often that very thing happens.” She glances over her shoulder to where Tatum is. I should be in there with her, damn it. “I could have security escort you out and acquire her side of the story once she's conscious and doesn't have you standing over her.”
This isn't working. Would they really throw us out if I don't tell her? Can I risk it?
The idea takes my voice down to a murderous hiss. “Listen to me. The people who did this to her, they're dangerous and don't give a fuck about anyone else except themselves. There's no saying that they might not decide to show up here to finish the job. I will not risk leaving her vulnerable. Now stop questioning me and enter whatever the hell you need to in that computer, or I'll find someone you love, then make sure you had wished you'd stopped asking questions and done your goddamn job.”
Her lips draw into a thin line, but her skin grows pale, giving way to a slight trickle of fear. “I've been threatened before,” she whispers.
“Never by somebody so prepared to follow through.” I make a point of checking out her name tag. “Cecilia Miller. What a nice name. Nice wedding ring, too,” I add with a glance at her left hand. “Mr. Miller has good taste. Let me guess, 2.5 kids, a big house with a picket fence. It would be a real shame if something happened, now, wouldn't it? Do your kids have any close family? Do you think they could live without their mother or father?”
Her chin quivers before she makes a strangled choking sound while questioning whether I mean what I'm saying. Whatever she sees on my face convinces her. She gives me a short nod before clearing her throat. “Jane Doe it is,” she whispers while a bead of sweat rolls down her temple.
Romero finds me when I'm finished, barking orders into his phone before jamming his finger at the screen to end the call. “We're gonna find them,” he whispers, watching as Tatum is treated through an opening in the curtain. “We're going to find them, and when we do, they're all fucking dead.”
“Way ahead of you,” I murmur, already imagining the pain I'll inflict. “After we get Bianca back.”
“It might be a good idea to call him.”
I know whohimis, and it's the last thing I want to do. Fuck me. It's a good idea since I need as many people as possible to search for her. Charlie has years of experience tracking people, but he's her father. He's going to kill me, or worse, lose his mind. Bianca is all he has left, and if he thinks she might be dead... Well, I can only imagine the fury that he'll unleash. There will be no stopping us, and the hell we will rain down on these people if anything happens to her.
“I'll call Charlie,” I tell Romero.
“I know you don't want to deal with him, but maybe he can help.”
I sigh, “Yeah, maybe, or he'll kill me. At this point, it doesn't matter.” If anything happens to Bianca, I won't be able to forgive myself.
Bianca's home number is already stored in my contacts. I never imagined her father being the person I'd be calling if I ever had to call that number. My hand trembles as I bring the cell to my ear after hitting the green call button.
“Hello,” Charlie's deep voice fills my ear.
“Charlie, it's Callum.” Closing my eyes, I whisper, “I need you to meet me at the hospital. We have a problem.”
BIANCA
My body trembles. My teeth chatter together, the only sound filling the small space. Is this what shock feels like? I can barely think of anything except what happened.
