CHAPTER 24

Isobel

Time wasn’t on my side. I pushed the gun into the back of my pants and slit the bindings holding him to the chair. His eyes flew open the second his leg fell away from the chair. In a flash, I clamped my hand over Brock’s mouth, muffling the scream that escaped. I had a feeling there were more than two guys around and wanted to get him out of there without attracting any more attention if I could avoid it. His eyes locked on me, pain swirling in the dark orbs.

“I’m going to get you out of here, but I need you to fight through the pain. Can you do that?”

Brock gave a barely imperceptible nod.

“I’m gonna move my hand, but you can’t make a sound.” Slowly, I removed my hand in case I needed to cover his mouth again.

He bent his head and sucked in short, shallow breaths.

“I have a car not far from here. I can hold some of your weight but not all of it. You’re going to have to walk.”

Brock clenched his hands around the top of the chair. “I can do it.” He glanced around the room and stopped on something in the corner of the room. “Grab that.”

There was a small sliver of wood lying on the ground. I handed it to Brock, more than aware that I didn’t have much longer before someone found us or Brock passed back out from the pain. I took hold of the arm on his good side and threw Brock’s arm over my shoulder and forced him to his feet. My knees shuddered under his weight, but I forced myself to remain standing. We took a step forward, Brock’s scream muffled by the stick between his teeth.

The process was slow, but somehow, step by step we made it to the car. No more of Jimmy’s men emerged from the shadows. At one point, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold him up any longer, then the car came into sight and I forced myself to push on. Sweat beaded across Brock’s brow, his breathing more ragged than before we’d started. We were almost in the clear. I yanked the door open and began to help Brock into the back when he slid from my grip into the back of the car. He was face first on the seat, his legs still hanging out of the side of the car. I ran around to the other side, throwing the door open. I hooked my arms under Brock’s shoulders and yanked as hard as I could. Enough damage had already been done to his body. I couldn’t make it that much worse. Staying there would only get us both killed.

When I’d pulled Brock as far across the seat as possible, I did my best to tuck his legs into the car without waking him up. But it wasn’t enough. His eyes flew open, practically bulging from his skull. Somehow, he managed to bite back his scream. His head dropped to the seat and he was out again. I climbed into the driver’s seat, not wanting to waste a second, not caring about the attention I drew with the squealing of the tires.

The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever as I listened to the muffled groans coming from the backseat. Every part of my body ached. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to carry Brock inside. Luckily, the ambulance bay was empty when I pulled into the lot. I parked directly in front of the doors and waved at one of the nurses inside. The door opened.

“You need to—” the nurse started, but I wasn’t giving him a chance to finish.

“He’s been beaten.” I threw the door open to show him the damage done to Brock’s body.

“We need a gurney,” he called over his shoulder, running for the car. He climbed into the car, stabilizing his neck while two other nurses slid a backboard inside and strapped him to it. The moment one of the nurses touched his knee, the sound of his screams echoed throughout the car.

“What happened?” he asked as they pulled the board from the backseat onto the stretcher.

“I’m not sure. I found him on our front lawn like this.”

“And you didn’t think to call 9-1-1?” another of the nurses snapped.

My first instinct was to tell her to fuck off, but I bit the inside of my cheek. If I was going to get the sympathy I needed to get Brock taken care of quickly, I had to play every card in my arsenal. I sucked in a few swallow breaths. “No,” I cried. “I just wanted to get him here.”

The nurse who came out to help first jumped in. “Let’s get him inside. We’ll take him back while you move the car and give the nurses up front all of his information.”

I held tighter to Brock’s hand, almost reluctant to let him go, afraid if I did I wouldn’t see him again. Reason eventually prevailed and I released my grip, watching as the nurses situated him and rolled the stretcher directly into the back. I ran back out to the car, moving it to the far back of the lot, doing my best to remove any trace of fingerprints. The amount of blood was too much for me to deal with on my own. I’d have to dump the car eventually, but I’d worry about that later. I shoved the laptop into my bag and returned to the hospital.

The doors to the emergency room slid open. A nurse from the front counter came over and led me to the seat in front of her desk. “Can you give me his information?”

I nodded and glanced down at my shirt to see it was covered in blood. She followed my gaze.

“Don’t worry. We can find you something to wear while you wait.”

She must’ve thought it was all Brock’s blood. If only she’d known that wasn’t the case. Either way, I’d be glad to get the shirt off my skin.

“Thank you,” I said in a soft voice. While my chest ached at the thought of Brock lying on that stretcher, I’d been trained to keep those emotions below the surface. This time, I needed to put on the right persona to avoid them asking too many questions and digging further than I wanted them to go. Against everything I’d done for the last nine years, I let my emotions rise to the surface.

“Okay, can you tell me his name?”

“Brock Phillips.”

“And what’s your relationship to Mr. Phillips?”

“His fiancée.” The lies rolled easily off my tongue. I wanted it to be true. I wanted him to be mine for the long haul and to make it impossible for someone to get in the way of that. If Jimmy was going to come after us, we were stronger together. For now, I had to do everything I needed to bring him back to me.

I spent the next fifteen minutes giving the nurse behind the counter as much information as I could. It seemed to be enough to appease her, since she led me through the double doors and to a room down the hall. Rummaging through the cabinets, she pulled down a pair of green scrubs.

“Why don’t you take those off and put these on? I’ll get you a bag to put the dirty ones in.”

I nodded and took the clothes from her hands. My chest felt tight thinking about Brock lying in that room all alone. A part of me knew he’d be fine. He had to be. I knew he’d probably been hurt before, but I didn’t know if it was ever this bad. I pulled the blood-stained shirt and pants from my body, quickly replacing them with the green scrubs. The nurse returned a few moments later with a large red bag. I placed the clothes inside.

“I’ll get these to the garbage unless you wanted to keep them?”

“No, they can go to the garbage.”

“We’ve contacted the police to come and take your statement. I’ll bring them to you. I’m sure they’ll want to speak to Mr. Phillips when he wakes.”

“Thank you. I’ll tell them everything I can.” It was standard protocol to contact the police when another’s hand inflicted the injuries. Waiting for them in Brock’s room would give me the chance to perfect my story. The destruction at Brock’s house would help our cover.

She tied the end into a knot and looked back up at me. “If you’re ready, they have Mr. Phillips situated in a space down the hall until they can transfer him to a room. I can take you there if you’d like.”

“I’d really appreciate that. You don’t have a rubber band, do you?”

“Let me see what I can find at the nurse’s station on the way past.”

The nurse opened the door to the room, where she led me down the hall full of closed curtains. We stopped at the fourth one down, and she pulled back the curtain to reveal Brock, bandages, IVs, and wires covering much of his body. There probably wasn’t a place on him that wouldn’t be bruised by tomorrow. At least the nurses had given him enough pain medication to keep him asleep. The nurse picked up a clear bag at the end of his bed.

“Here are his personal items. Is there a next of kin you can call?”

“Yes, there is.” The better question was who to call, Malcolm Hawes or his mom?

“Good. They’ll need to take him to surgery to repair his knee. I can let you stay with him while we wait for them to come and get him. Once they take him, I’ll show you to the surgical waiting room where you can contact his family.”

I took the chair beside Brock’s bed, slipping my warm hand into his cool one.

The nurse laid a hand on my shoulder. “He’s in good hands here.”

“Thank you, I know he is.”

She squeezed my shoulder briefly, then I heard the door click into place. When I turned back to Brock my stomach churned. All of the damage on his body was because of me. He could claim all he wanted that it had to do with his job, but really, I knew Jimmy went after him to get to me. He wanted Miller for the death of Nathan, but that was only to send a message to everyone else not to mess with him. Fucker was probably glad they got Nathan out of the way for him.

It wasn’t long before the members of the surgical team arrived to take Brock upstairs. According to the X-rays, the damage to his knee was extensive. They’d be able to repair the kneecap, but Brock was looking at over a month in a cast, not to mention the months of therapy afterward. I’d been shown to the waiting room, where I knew I should contact someone from Brock’s family.

I glanced down at the clear bag and saw Brock’s phone at the bottom of the bag. I still hadn’t decided who to call. I highly doubted his mom would be able to make the trip. Besides, what would she say seeing her son like that? Which left me with the only other option.

Malcolm Hawes.

I highly doubted he would come if I asked him to. I’d have to pretend to be one of the nurses looking for him. Once he got here I could deal with his wrath, most of it justified. Then again, at the moment, I had no information to give the family if they asked. The surgery wasn’t supposed to be long, leaving my best option to wait. A TV blared in the background, while my mind revolved around Brock. There was no reason to keep my feelings from him any longer. I didn’t get a chance to tell him before I went back to Nathan’s house and I wouldn’t waste any more time trying to keep up the walls I’d built around my heart. I vowed when he woke, I’d tell him what I wanted from us.

The hard plastic chair was digging into my back when a doctor in dark blue scrubs entered the room. “Ms. Renville?”

“That’s me.” I moved to stand from my seat, when she stopped me by taking the seat next to me.

“We were able to repair the damage to Mr. Phillips’s knee. However, he will need extensive physical therapy to regain full mobility.”

“All right. What about his ribs?”

“We’ve wrapped them to allow them to heal. Beyond that there’s not much more we can do besides give him pain medication to make him more comfortable.”

I hated the thought of Brock suffering any more because of me. “Can I see him?”

“Right now they’re getting Mr. Phillips situated in his room, but they’ll be down to get you once they’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If you have any more questions, one of the nurses can page me.”

She shut the door behind her, leaving me alone again.

I pulled out Brock’s phone and immediately searched his contacts, finding Malcolm’s number and hitting send. For the briefest of moments, I thought about calling Ashton first, considering that Brock always claimed he’d be more receptive to my story, but I dismissed it quickly. Ashton wouldn’t be able to wield the kind of power Malcolm could. Especially if neither of them had the right to make medical decisions for him.

The phone connected on the first ring, as I lifted it with a shaky hand to my ear.

“You better have news I want to hear instead of the bullshit you tried to feed me earlier.” His voice rose with each word.

I’d have to be ready when he arrived. With the rage pouring through the phone, he may not worry about trying to kill me in public.

No greeting, acknowledgment of who he was talking to, just straight to the point. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Who is this and why are you using Brock’s phone?” he demanded.

“Is this Mr. Hawes?”

“It is, but that doesn’t answer my question of why you have Brock’s phone.”

“My name is Amanda, one of the nurses at St. Mary’s. I’m calling to inform you that Brock Phillips was brought in earlier tonight and we believe you might be his next of kin.”

“No, he’s not my next of kin. What the hell happened?” he yelled.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hawes, but I can only give that information to his next of kin.”

“Well, you can give it to me. I do have power of attorney over all his medical decisions.”

“That’s what we were looking for. Mr. Phillips was attacked today and brought in a little while ago. Right now, he’s in surgery.”

“Surgery? Jesus fucking Christ.”

I ignored the cursing, hoping most nurses would. “Would you be able to come down and get some things straightened out?”

“Absolutely, I’ll be there soon.”

“We might have Mr. Phillips in a room by then. Just stop by the nurses’ station and we’ll get you to the right place.”

The phone disconnected. I dropped the phone back into Brock’s bag and looked up just in time to see the nurse who’d brought me to the waiting room peek her head in the door.

“Can I show you to Mr. Phillips’ room?”

“Yes.” I stood and followed the nurse down the hall to another bank of elevators.

We took one up to the seventh floor. She led me down the hall to the right and stopped at one of the doors about halfway down. When I walked inside, the first thing I noticed was the missing gray pallor Brock had to his skin when we first arrived. His face was still covered in bruises,  one eye barely a slit, and beneath the light sheet, I could see the cast that now ran from the middle of his thigh to his toes.

I dropped the bag on the table and pulled one of the chairs closer to the side of the bed. Taking Brock’s hand in mine, I rested my head on our joined fingers. The knowledge that Brock was safe for the moment went a long way to quieting my mind, and I found myself drifting off to sleep. The next thing I knew, the door to the room was flung open.

“What the hell happened?” Malcolm had arrived.

I jumped to my feet, not wanting to leave myself vulnerable in case he decided to attack on sight. I had no idea what Malcolm knew of me, if anything.

“I told you when you arrived, sir, that he was attacked. His fiancée found him on the lawn and brought him in.”

“Fiancée?” Malcolm’s eyes scanned the room. “Brock doesn’t—” His eyes narrowed into slits.

There was no way I’d let the man intimidate me.

“Thank you.” His dismissal was cold and clear. “I won’t leave Brock’s fiancée alone.”

I braced myself at his thinly veiled threat. The nurse nodded, and Malcolm shut the door behind her. He charged forward, grabbing me by the throat and slamming me into the wall.

“You conniving little bitch. First you have my son shot, then you go after Brock and you have the nerve to come here?”

I clawed at Malcolm’s fingers, which were slowly cutting off my air. His hands tightened their grip.

“I could snap you neck right here and no one would mourn your loss.”

Needing to draw a full breath before I passed out, I thrust my knee up, directly into Malcolm’s cock, doubling him over at the waist. His grip around my neck gone, I choked air into my lungs, barely able to stand.

“I didn’t . . . didn’t attack . . . Miller.” I tried to get the words out between coughing. “I was coming . . . to warn . . . you and Brock . . . what Jimmy had planned. That’s . . . when I figured out . . . they had Brock.”

Malcolm straightened and advanced on me again. “You’re a manipulative little bitch with a penchant for violence. Why the fuck should I believe a word that comes out of your mouth?”

I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “’Cause unlike you, I’m the one who went in and got Brock out of there,” I snapped.

Malcolm stopped. “How the fuck was I supposed to know where the hell he was? He stormed out of my house when I told him to kill you.”

“She didn’t do it.” Brock’s raspy voice came from behind me.