Page 13 of Stone

“I’m not going to wear a tie.”

Nick laughed. Then his phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. He frowned.

“Problem?” Knox asked.

“It’s Lainie’s assistant.” He pressed it to his ear. “This is Garrick.” Then his body stiffened. “What? Is she all right? What hospital?” Nick sucked in some fast breaths. “Okay. I’m on my way.”

“Hey.” Knox touched Nick’s shoulder. The guy looked panicked. “What’s wrong?”

“Lainie fainted at the office. She’s being taken to the hospital to get checked out.”

“All right, take a deep breath.”

Nick dragged in a breath.

“Pregnant women faint,” Knox said. “It’s not uncommon. Happened to my sister.”

“Okay. All right.” Nick still looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. “I have to check on her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The hospital’s in the opposite direction to the office.”

“I can get myself back to Sentinel. Go.”

“You sure?”

“Go see your wife, Nick.”

“Thanks, Knox.”

The man slid into his car where it was parked out front, and Knox watched him pull away.

Then he glanced down the traffic-clogged street. Guess he was going for a walk.

Nola slowly pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs. She didn’t see or hear anything. She cautiously stepped into the lobby. She couldn’t see anyone. The marble felt cold against her bare feet.

She hurried across the space, and spotted the doorman. “George, thank God.”

The older man looked up from his desk and frowned at her. “Ms. Newhouse? What—?”

“I need help. Call 9-1-1.”

The man looked alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“There were men—”

A door slammed open behind her. She swiveled and one of the men chasing her stepped into the lobby. He had a scary scowl on his broad face.

Oh, crap.

“Is this man bothering you, Ms. Newhouse?” George asked.

The thug reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun.

Nola’s muscles tightened.

He aimed in her direction. Bang.

Nola dove to the floor. The gunshot was deafening, and the noise echoed through the lobby.

She rolled and watched as George fell to the floor, moaning. He clutched his shoulder. As he writhed, blood smeared on the marble.

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