Natalie, please,” Stacey said to the medical resident where they stood in the corner of Harborview Hospital’s main lobby. “You have to sneak me in to see Max Carressa. It’s important.”
Natalie crossed her arms, blowing a piece of hair that’d escaped her messy ponytail out of her face. “Why, exactly, do I owe you any favors? You cheated on me!”
“A long time ago!”
“Not to mention I could lose my job if I get caught sneaking you into an area you’re not supposed to be in. And it’s unethical.”
Stacey would’ve shoved a wad of twenties into Natalie’s hand if she thought it would work, but her ex-girlfriend was too classy and honest for that. Dammit. “Listen, I know I fucked up when we were together, and I’m sorry. But this isn’t about us. My best friend’s husband is dying, and I think I can help him. I need to at least try.”
Natalie’s rigid posture softened a bit. Whispering to keep any undercover reporters from overhearing, she said, “He’s suffered severe cranial and spinal trauma. He’s unlikely to live through the next twenty-four hours, let alone regain consciousness. You can’t help him. Unfortunately, nobody can.”
“Then he has nothing to lose. Please, Natalie, let me see him, only for a few minutes. If what I try doesn’t work, I’ll leave immediately, and no one will know I was here.”
Natalie sighed and shook her head. “Well…what is it you’re going to do?”
“It’s an, uh, herbal thing. With crystals. Ancient Chinese recipe. I just sprinkle it around his bed. I’ve seen it work before. It’s like magic!” She gave Julian’s duffel bag around her shoulder a slight shake for emphasis.
Natalie rolled her eyes at Stacey’s description, no doubt thinking her ex-girlfriend had succumbed to some crazy medical fad similar to avocado colon cleanses or huffing rhino horns. “You absolutely cannot touch him, or any of the life support equipment he’s on, or pour anything on his wounds or his skin, or give him anything orally, intravenously, rectally, or any other way you can think of. Understand?”
“Yes! Thank you, thank you. I owe you big time.”
Natalie motioned for Stacey to follow her. “Just don’t get me fired.”
They wound through the corridors of the hospital’s interior, Stacey keeping her head down to avoid drawing attention to their little smuggling operation. After a few minutes of serpentine walking, they came to a small room with about a million machines in it, all hooked up in some way to Max’s lifeless body on a hospital bed. She’d never been the biggest fan of Val’s husband, but damn, he did not deserve this.
An older man in a hospital gown looked up from where he sat at Max’s bedside, his face taut with grief. “Hello?” he said, a cross between a greeting and a question.
“Hi, I’m Val’s friend—Stacey, my name’s Stacey.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, though his voice sounded drained and his smile weak and fleeting. “I’m Michael, Max’s…friend…dad…something in the middle.”
Jesus, the poor guy was missing an arm, too. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, unable to stop herself from glancing back and forth between Max and the spot where Michael’s left arm should be.
Michael rolled his eyes. “He’s not dead yet, and I’ve still got one arm, so all things considered, it could be worse. And your awkwardness is providing some much-needed comic relief, so thanks for that.”
“Oh. Glad I could help.”
“What are you doing here anyway?”
Natalie nudged her and nodded toward Max: Get on with it already.
Stacey walked to the bed. “I came here to pay my respects.”
“I said he’s not dead yet.”
“I know, I know.” She reached into the duffel bag and eased a vial of blue stuff into the jet injector. With a nervous glance up, she saw two doctors conversing on the other side of a window, gesturing toward Max and shaking their heads. “I wanted to, um, try something.”
Stacey pulled the injector from the duffel bag. She didn’t know exactly how they worked, but Julian and Honora made it seem simple enough—press the tip against the neck, pull the trigger, and watch a miracle occur.
As soon as Natalie caught sight of the injector, she was in Stacey’s face. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Just let me try—”
“No!” Natalie seized Stacey’s arm, and they struggled for a couple seconds over control of the hypo.
“Please! I’ve got to try—”
The sound of Max flat-lining broke them up.
“Shit!” Natalie lunged for a defibrillator on the wall while Michael pushed away from the bed, terror racked across his face.
It was now or never.
With Natalie distracted, Stacey pushed the injector’s tip into Max’s neck. “Please work,” she said, and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened. Fuck. Fuck! She’d failed. She’d chosen love too late. What would she tell Val if she ever saw her friend again? How could she look her in the eyes, knowing how she’d let her down—
Max’s hand twitched. Then his arms followed, and his legs. The heart monitor sprang to life with a torrent of chaotic beeps, a procession of jagged peaks flooding the screen. Twitches turned to spasms, and the hospital bed bucked and banged against the wall as his whole body convulsed.
Just when Stacey thought she’d somehow made him worse than dead, his eyes popped open. The convulsions winded down to thrashing as he cast a wild gaze around the room. He jerked his head up and yanked the tube out of his throat, gagging when the end came out, before sucking in a lungful of air.
Max looked at Stacey, then Natalie, then Michael, and then the horde of doctors who’d begun storming the room, every single person frozen and staring at him.
He gasped, “What…am I…doing here?”
For a moment, no one said anything, unable to get their jaws off the floor.
Oh my God, it worked. I can’t believe it worked.
When Stacey’s voice returned, she said, “You were in a car accident.”
He blinked at her, still dazed. Hopefully, it wasn’t permanent. “Was I? When?”
“Yesterday.”
Touching his temple, he pushed off a bandage wrapped around his head, revealing smooth, unbroken flesh underneath. “But how did I—”
“I’ll explain everything later, okay? Right now, we need to get the hell out of here. Val and your kids need your help.”
Mention of his family seemed to snap him out of his confused state. He threw off his bed sheet. “Where are they?” he asked as he pulled tubes out of his body.
“A mansion in the woods. I’ll take you there.” She dug into the duffel bag and pulled out a pair of khakis, a sweater, and shoes she’d swiped from Julian’s bedroom. “You can put those on. We have to go now.”
He jumped off the bed and teetered as the side effects of Lucien’s mystery drug seemed to hit him. After a few seconds, he found his balance and threw on the spare clothing. Less than a minute later, he was dressed and rushing out the door, pushing past the crowd of doctors too stunned to stop him.
Stacey shoved the duffel bag into Natalie’s arms, her ex-girlfriend still standing by with the defibrillator pads in both hands. “Hope this is enough to make us square,” she said on her way out, following Max. “Enjoy your Nobel Prize in Medicine.”