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“It’s not enough.”
“No, it’s not. My father and the judge should reach a decision today about Jenna’s future. I’ve already stalled two attempts by her family to relocate her to a more…specialized facility, but you need to be prepared for a decision that takes matters out of my hands.” Zeke used the point of his joined hands to rub a line between his eyebrows. “Jenna’s nursing staff assure me she’s unaware of her situation. The meds are keeping her relaxed and stress-free. She’s not fighting, she’s not panicking.”
So essentially they were doping her to keep her quiet. Fury sparked in his veins, propelling Connor back onto his feet. This time, he didn’t just stand. He gathered momentum, using all the strength and stamina he’d exhausted himself to build over the past two days, and beelined for the door.
He fought with the handle, battling to keep his balance, and noted Zeke hadn’t moved from the chair. As the door swung open, Connor went down to his knees with a jarring thud. “Fuck. Shit.” He slapped the tiled floor and breathed through his teeth. “Get up, idiot.”
“Need a hand?”
Connor snarled. “Don’t you have kids to see to? Someone else to annoy?”
“Between my mother, Sarah’s parents, and Cain, the boys are having the time of their lives. Everyone’s pitching in to keep them occupied while we deal with the aftermath of Sire.” Footsteps treaded lightly on the tiles, big hands scooped Connor’s body off the floor effortlessly and set him back on his feet. “Going for attempt two, or ready to head back to bed?”
Connor poked his head around the jamb. So few feet to get to Jenna, but they might as well have been miles. He gripped the doorframe one-handed as his shot shoulder was giving him a few complications. With a careful eye, he perused the outside area.
Nurses, orderlies and a few doctors buzzed about like dedicated bees in a hive, all with a mission to complete. Maybe they’d stop him, maybe they wouldn’t. But the two females sitting outside Jenna’s room most certainly would.
Her sisters, he knew from the photograph.
They hated him without saying so much as a word to him. Not one member of Jenna’s family had been to see him, to talk to him or ask about his relationship with their daughter or sister. Not one had thanked him for saving her life for a second time—not that he wanted or needed thanks from the likes of them.
A doctor approached the women, said a few words, then disappeared into Jenna’s room and closed the door.
Connor frowned. He didn’t recognize the doctor from the revolving whirlwind of medical professionals who came into his room on a daily basis—not that he knew every doctor in the hospital, or even the names of a handful. He’d been too engrossed in concern and self-pity to pay much attention to anyone who didn’t bring him news on Jenna.
Zeke’s cell phone bleated noisily. A common occurrence these last few days. If he wasn’t answering calls, he was usually texting or emailing whoever he needed to confer with. The man was a machine, seemingly running on eternal solar power, and capable of a wealth of patience Connor couldn’t fathom.
“Fairfax,” he said bluntly.
Connor heard the scream and reacted before he knew what he’d done. The sound was high, terrified, and set the hairs on his neck and arms standing like needles in the way only Jenna’s fear could provoke. He tripped out of the door, stumbled down the corridor in his pajama pants and slippers, barely upright.
He heard Zeke shout his name and ignored his friend. No doubt Zeke would strip several layers off his hide for breaking the court order, but who gave a fuck? Jenna’s screams cut off in mid-pitch, and Connor shoved her sisters out of his way as they huddled around the door to Jenna’s room, trying to peer through the tiny window.
Connor didn’t bother with the window.
His weight and clumsy momentum slammed him through the door, sent him sprawling. He shook his head to clear the dizziness of adrenaline pumping through his blood, heard distressed whimpers and the rapid beat of the heart monitor as it struggled to keep up with Jenna’s overwhelmed pulse.
“Who the hell are you?” The doctor asked incredulously, then tsked. “Mr. O’Malley, you’re forbidden to enter this room. I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave. Nurse, please help him back to his room.”
“Make me,” Connor growled. His breath came in pants, reducing the effect of the threat as he crawled to the nearest stationary object and gave his best shot at pulling himself back up to standing.
Shit, he’d done some damage to himself.
Blood seeped through the bandages on his thigh, staining the cotton with bright red blood. More dripped down his back, his armpit where the bullet had gone in. Stitches ripped, he diagnosed. An easy enough fix if he discounted the lecture he’d get at the same time.
For the first time in almost a week, he saw the love of his life, and it damn near broke him. He hadn’t seen her, hadn’t touched her since they’d lain in the snow beneath a winter sun, when he’d believed she was dead. The part of his brain that could recollect some memories from that dark morning had known she was in a bad way.
He’d misjudged just how bad she’d been.
A lot of the swelling had receded, especially around her face and eyes. What remained was puffy, deflated, and bruised in all shades of black and purple, yellow and green. Her eyes themselves were dead, hollow inside, with no spark of life lurking. They’d suffocated it out of her, smothered it with isolation and drugs.
There was still an IV plugged into her arm, and a drain in her ribcage. An oxygen mask rested over her chin as though it had been knocked from over her mouth in a struggle. A tube ran from beneath the blankets to a bag with yellow liquid, and Connor wondered if she knew she’d been catheterized. Hopefully not. She hated the goddamn thought of one.
His gaze travelled down, to the limp limbs draped beside her torso. One was bound in a cast, while both hands were swathed in bandages from below the wrists.
God knew what else the sheet concealed, but what he saw was enough for him to handle right now. He staggered over to the bed, snagging the bedrail before he went down again, his bloodied leg refusing to bear weight anymore.
“Jenna. Jenna, baby, I’m here.” His heart sank as those lifeless eyes flicked toward him, assessed him as her heart bounced in vocal beeps. He shot an accusing glare at the doctor. “You sedated her again?”
