Chapter Fifty

 

RYAN

 

I don't know how long my eyes have been open for when I realize that I'm seeing the inside of the room, but it's been a little while.

I push myself higher in the bed. Jada and Logan are both sitting there. Both silent, watching me get up.

"How long have I been out?"

"A little while," Davis tells me. Her voice is soft.

"You aren't careful, I'll think you were worried about me."

"Watch yourself, Beauchamp. They let me keep the gun just in case any dangerous criminals come around."

I can't help smiling at that.

"Logan," I say. My head feels pretty heavy. My whole body does, really. Feels like rubber or lead or something in between them. "You're alright."

"Sure I am. Can't kill me that easy, can they?"

"Naw, I figure not."

"You look like you got hit by a truck, man."

"No," I tell him. I wait a minute, lay my head back and can't stop myself cracking a little smile. "We hit the truck, actually."

"Why, you smart-alack—"

"What happened after the accident? I remember… bits and pieces, but nothing much."

"Uh. Pollack is… probably alive. Haven't heard anything, but he's not in my unit. I wouldn't hear anything. Donaldsen wasn't moving when I pulled you out of the car. I think he's—"

"He's dead," I tell her. I don't know what caused the reaction she gives me, but it's not the one I would expect from a cop who I just confessed murder to. She looks happy, of all things.

"Okay, that's… what it is. So I drove you here, and got you into the room."

"Anything else? You didn't see anyone tailing you, nothing like that?"

"Nope. Nothing like that far as I could see. I was watching you and your brother, though." She turns to Logan. "I don't know where he is, but he should be out of surgery by now. They said he was pretty rough when I brought him in. If you wanted to check on him, I gave the name… Mitchell Blake, I think. Hell."

I don't need to say anything, the look I gave her says what it needs to say. She shrugs and make a face that says she doesn't have a good excuse for the name choice.

"Go on, Logan, have a check on him. I'll be fine in here."

"No way. I'm staying here. Bet you dollars to donuts that there's going to be some Crazy Horse bastard walking through that door any minute, and I'm going to be here when it happens."

"That's awful sweet of you, but I need a few minutes to myself, man. Go on out, stretch your legs." He doesn't look like he wants to, but I don't know why. "Go on, go find me a bag of M&Ms if you're so worried about it."

"That damn sweet tooth of yours," he growls.

"Yeah, that too."

Logan pushes himself up.

"You too, Davis. I don't care if it's just down the hall and back, get out of here a minute. I just want a few minutes without someone starin' at me like I'm liable to croak any second!"

She pushes herself up, too. She's about as reluctant as Logan was. Something about the whole thing puts me on edge. I don't like any of this shit, but I like it least of all when both the people who say they're here to keep me safe are afraid to leave me alone for ten goddamn seconds.

Logan leaves with Jada in tow, and for about three seconds I get a moment of real peace. Then, like it was some kind of God damn comedy record, she comes back in a second later in a real hurry.

"Ryan."

"I told you to get out of here, Davis, now get!"

"You gotta listen to me, Beauchamp. I don't know the details, just yet. But you have to keep an eye on your brother. Something fishy's up."

Then, again, she's gone. Now that I'd like to hear more about whatever suspicions she's got. I don't know any damn reason to be suspicious of Logan, nor of Brian.

But I know that Davis wouldn't say it if she wasn't serious, and that makes me uncomfortable. Damned nervous, in fact. I lay my head back and turn towards the television.

It's showing some daytime television garbage. I don't recognize it, but I recognize the over saturated colors, the too-sharp lines of cheap digital cameras.

There's something that's always been distinctly off-putting to me about seeing those shows, and seeing the way that they set up their video. Like there's something wrong with it.

Still, it's not my place. Not my show, not my video. So I guess they've got the right to do whatever the fuck they want. I want to change the channel, but if there was a remote in here, I never saw it. I'm sure they've got it hidden in a drawer somewhere.

I take a deep breath. Keep an eye on my brother? What the hell is that supposed to mean? He's always been reliable. The immediate-follow-through kind of guy. I don't trust anyone the way I trust him, or that's how I thought.

Davis says "boo," though, and now I'm doubting him? I don't know. Maybe I'm taking trust a little too far for a woman I've known for all of a little more than a week. And I don't trust her assessment of the situation implicitly.

I just know that she's a cautious type, and if she has her doubts then they're based on something real, something tangible, and something that I must not have any knowledge of at all.

A minute later, Davis walks in. She's got a bottle of water in her hands now. She doesn't offer me a sip, which would be pretty rude if it weren't for the fact that we're in a hospital and sharing damn near anything would be very foolish. That's how you get sick, after all.

Logan isn't long behind her. I follow Davis's advice. I keep my eyes on him. I watch him go around the foot of the bed. I watch him settle into a chair that just about fits his broad hips.

I don't know what it is, but there's something off about it. Something that feels almost rehearsed, like whatever he's doing, he's doing it to show off.

That makes me damned nervous, because it means that whatever is about to happen, Logan doesn't think he can tell me, and Davis thinks that I shouldn't trust it.

I learned a long time ago not to trust people when the chips are really down. People let you down all the fucking time, but they let you down most of all when you're in a bind.

At the same time, I learned a long time ago not to trust my own instincts. Not completely. If I have a solid idea, I know it's solid. But if I have any doubts, look at what someone else is doing.

I have doubts. I have a lot of doubts. He's my brother, for one thing. There's no way in hell that he'd do raise a hand against me. It's not the way with my family. We simply aren't that kind.

But when I look at someone else, all I'm seeing is Davis telling me that I need to keep an eye on him. And that, by itself, is making me real damn nervous.

I hear someone coming. I don't know why I think they're coming here. Shoes walking by outside are about the most common noise I hear. But something tells me that they're heading straight for my room, so when I see someone filling the frame of the door, I'm not that surprised.

When he's holding a gun, I'm not that surprised. It's not until Logan grabs Davis's hand as she reaches for hers that I get a surprise, and it's one that I don't like one damn bit.