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“What the fuck do you mean according to Connelly?! Were you not there?”
“I-”
“Why the fuck weren’t you there?!”
“I-”
“You are paid to fucking be there, Hill!”
“I am not allowed on the water transport vehicles, Sir.”
“It happened while she was working?!”
“According to Connelly, she slipped and hit her head resulting in what the attending physician believes may be a concussion.”
“What do you mean may believe?! How do they not know?!”
“They-”
“Why do they not know!?”
“They-”
“When the fuck was this?!”
“We rushed Bryn straight here to the Tellman Medical Center after the boat docked.”
Indecipherable roars reverberate throughout the room.
“She is currently being examined further by the doctor who may want her to get an MRI.”
Additional growls rattle my teeth as I struggle not to snap the receiver in half.
“Connelly is currently the only one allowed in the room-”
“Why?!” Lunging pointlessly further is attached to me barking, “You are a member of her security team! You should be in that room until I can be!”
“Connelly-”
New rumbles of disapproval effortlessly seep loose.
“-is her coworker and according to The Institutes policy listed as an onsite contact during emergencies.”
“What?!”
“It’s policy for each member of the pairing to have that direct point of contact according to Connelly. I haven’t had a chance to verify that information but-”
“I will get that fucking verified. You get your ass outside that fucking room and give me constant information until my arrival. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
The second I slam the phone down, I shout, “Zaideeeeee!”
My assistant scrambles into the room, clearly ready to take whatever action is necessary. “Yes, Mr. Wilcox?”
“Contact personal transport. Tell them I need a vehicle and emergency assistance from here to South Haven.”
“Vehicle?” Her brows scrunch together in surprise. “Not a plane?”
