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We reach his SUV, and he opens the passenger door for me.
“Bryce is alive. We’re still trying to figure out what to do with him.”
My shoulders relax as I pull my seatbelt across me. I’m not sure Skylar would ever forgive Owen for killing her brother, and that would make things very complicated for us.
He’s quiet as he starts the engine and backs out of the space. It’s not until we’re sitting at the first red light that he speaks again.
“This is bad, Bellamy. Bryce isn’t the mastermind behind any of this, but Ernesto, Senator Pratchett, even the God damn Mayor of New York City’s murder is part of it, and we have no bloody idea where the head of the snake is. I’m not convinced that the High Card and what we’ve built in Vegas is going to survive the fallout of tracking these bastards down.”
Hearing that makes me sick to my stomach. For the past six years, my life has been Owen and the High Card. I can’t even think about something happening to everything we’ve built here. I was looking forward to showing Tobias more of it and making memories with the three of them.
Reaching across the console, I squeeze his arm. “We’re going to survive, Sir. We have to. Let’s start with finding out who the fuck is paying Bryce and what it is they want.”
Chapter thirty-six
Chapter 35
Tobias
“Sir,youreallyneedto lie back down.”
I grit my teeth against sharp pain as I slide my legs over the edge of the hospital bed. It’s only been two days since I took a bullet, but I’ll be damned if I’m spending one more minute in this antiseptic hellhole. Not when Owen and Bellamy are sleeping in a twin-size bed next to mine at night because they don’t want me to be alone. Not when they are working all day to track down who is funding these relentless attacks while I sleep the day away. I have to get out there and help them.
The nurse shakes her head. “The doctor hasn’t cleared you yet, Mr. Thorne. Now lie back down.”
“Give me whatever paperwork I need to sign because I’m leaving whether the doctor clears me or not.”
An Indian woman in a business suit enters as the nurse is glaring my direction. She looks familiar, but I can’t say from where. Maybe she was part of my surgical team.
“What’s this about you wanting to leave?” she asks, picking up my chart from the end of the bed.
“I’m not staying here so they can pump me full of pain meds.”
She stares at me for a moment, clearly trying to decide how serious I am about leaving. “You suffered a major injury. They need to watch for infection. But I can see you’re determined.”
The woman turns to the nurse who has been standing there with her arms folded. “I’m Dr. Singh, his primary care physician. You can sign Mr. Thorne out to my care. I have the proper credentials for your paperwork.”
The nurse rolls her eyes and snatches the chart away from the doctor. “I’ll be back.”
I give Dr. Singh a long skeptical stare when we’re alone, and she smiles. “Relax, Mr. Hunt. I’m a colleague of Owen and the owners of the club. They’ve asked me to keep an eye on you.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
She nods to my cell phone, charging on the bedside table. “Call Owen yourself.”
I pick up the phone and dial the number that is now at the top of my contacts list. It’s still strange to see Owen’s name on my screen with such frequency. While I’m waiting for an answer, the doctor slips out, giving me some privacy.
“Tobias, are you still giving the nurses hell? I thought that one this morning was going to put something in your IV just to be rid of you.”
I let out a pained chuckle. “Something like that. Listen, a woman calling herself Dr. Singh is here. Do you trust her?”
Owen laughs. “I better. She’s the official club doctor, and a close friend. Why do you ask?”
I don’t want to tell him I’m breaking out of the hospital, so I lie. “No reason. She just stopped by to check on me, and she looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure why. We can never be too careful.”
We chat for a bit, but Owen’s updates are hard to follow because of all the webs of money he’s untangling. Several minutes pass before the door opens, and Dr. Singh enters with a stack of papers.
“Sign these, please.”
