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“Where’s the rest of the family?”
“Dad and Jonas went back to the States a few days ago.”
Hudson nodded. Glanced down the hall. “Let’s find Iris.”
Ned nodded, and Hudson walked over to the man at the nurses’ center. Also blond, blue eyes, he wore green scrubs, a stethoscope around his neck, and looked up.
“Iris Marshall? We’re her family.” He didn’t bother to explain. “What’s her status and when can we see her?”
“Just a moment,” he said, his accent thick. He typed in her name. “She is out of X-ray and in an ER room. Last door on the right.”
Hudson didn’t wait for Ned or Shae, just headed down the hallway.
He banged into her room with probably more force than needed, so apparently he hadn’t left the fury back on the field. He stopped at the edge of her bed.
She lay, her eyes shut, an IV running into her vein, wearing a pulse monitor on her finger, still in her stripes. A nurse was hanging a blood pressure cuff on the wall. “Is she okay?”
“The doctor is waiting to get the X-rays back before they admit her.”
Iris’s eyes opened. Fixed to his for a moment, then flickered off to Ned and Shae, who had followed him into the room, then back to him. “Hud?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Just the one of me, though, in case you’re wondering.”
“I can see just fine.”
“Clearly not enough to get out of the way!”
His own anger jerked him up, and he took a breath, turned away, his hands behind his neck.
“Ho-kay,” Ned said behind him. “What are we missing here?”
“How did you guys find out I was hit?”
Hud turned, watched as Ned came up beside her. “So, actually, we didn’t know you were hit. We got a call from Fraser, who got a call from a guy named Roy, who got a call from someone named Ziggy who said that you were in the hospital.”
She looked at Hudson. “You called Ziggy?”
“Of course I called Ziggy. Hello—that guy had your number from the moment the game started.”
“Hud—you’re overreacting—”
“Does this in any way look like overreacting?” He held out his hand and swept it along her bed, as if presenting evidence. “You could have been killed.”
“From a tackle!”
“You’re five foot five, a hundred thirty pounds at best. And this guy hit you with the force of a thousand suns! Yes, you could have been killed. What do you think we do out there—dance?”
“No. Sheesh—but I don’t think he targeted me—”
“Okay, hold up, I need a brief sitrep here,” Ned said. “What are you two talking about?”
“I’m talking about the hit that is still out on Iris, and she’s completely ignoring it—”
“I wasn’t ignoring it. I just—I want my life back.”
“You’ll get it back when you’re safe!”
“Okay, Hud. Let’s take a breath,” Ned said. “How do you know the hit is out on Iris?”
