Page 15 of Iron Will

“No, on his actions,” I counter. “Are you forgetting I got that guy out of here yesterday? Paisley didn’t want him here. She told me.”

She blinks up at me, surprised. “She said that?”

I nod. “As good as. She said she didn’t like him. She was scared as shit of him. You didn’t see the way she reacted — pulling her legs up in front of her, like she was trying to protect herself. She was pretty happy I got rid of him.” I shake my head. “Fuck. You tried to get me away from that kid, when I was protecting her, but you let that asshole come and go as he pleases.”

She looks troubled, uncertain. “He is her mother’s boyfriend,” she murmurs, frowning. “She’s authorized him to be here. And there’s no reason to think the little girl is in any immediate danger from him while she’s here in the hospital.”

“You’re full of shit,” I scoff. “You can’t think it’s good for her to be around him?”

To my satisfaction, my words finally seem to shake this chick out of her self-assured, holier-than-thou act.

“No,” she admits, looking down. “I don’t.” She hesitates. “To be honest, that’s part of the reason we’re keeping her for a few days. Not that she doesn’t need care, but… Well, let’s just say we’re using an abundance of caution.”

Aha. So, shedoesthink the guy’s bad news.Fuckin’ finally.My blood pressure falls a little bit.

“So, why can’t you keep him away from her since he got in a fight with me yesterday?” I challenge. “You can say he’s violent, and poses a threat to the other patients?”

“Well…” Her mouth twitches just a little. “As I understand it, technically,youwere the one who hithim. So,technically, if anyone should be thrown out of this hospital, it should be you.”

I almost get mad again, but then I see the twinkle in her eyes.

“But you’re not gonna do that, are you?” I ask.

She snorts softly. “No. I’m not going to do that. Frankly, I…” she looks down again, as though she shouldn’t be saying what she’s thinking. “Frankly, I can’t say it didn’t give me some satisfaction to hear about it.” She looks back up at me. “That’s not very professional, is it?”

“No, but it’s human. The guy’s a dirtbag.”Thank fuck.A chink in her armor.

She purses her full, luscious-looking lips. “Look,” she mutters, a crease of stress wrinkling her forehead. “I’m not any happier about all of this than you are, Mr…”

“Rourke.”

She frowns. “Rourke’s yourlastname?”

“No. Rourke’s my first name. Rourke Powers.”

“Mr. Powers,” she corrects herself. “As I said, I’m not any happier about it than you are. But unfortunately, unless Paisley’s mother expressly tells us she doesn’t want him visiting her daughter, there’s nothing that can be done about it.”

“Rourke,” I repeat. “And like hell there ain’t,” I growl. “Like hell there ain’t.”

6

Laney

The next day, I come into work to find a phalanx of bikers stationed outside of Paisley’s room.

Katie is standing at the nurses’ station as I walk down the hall. As soon as she catches sight of me, she takes a step forward, her eyes wide and brows raised. “I didn’t know what to do with them!” she hisses, glancing backward. “I tried to tell one of them they couldn’t be loitering around like that, but they said they’re all taking turns visiting their friend.”

I roll my eyes. “Like hell they are,” I snort, unconsciously repeating Rourke’s phrase. I wasn’t sure to make of his cryptic remark yesterday. But now it’s obvious what he meant.

Katie tells me that the bikers have been here for over an hour. As she’s talking, an older couple comes down the hall. They pass by the crowd of tattooed men, and skitter toward the far side of the corridor, the woman clutching nervously at the man’s arm. Once they’re past the group, they avert their eyes and walk as quickly as possible toward the elevators.

“Oh, lord,” I mutter. “This isn’t going to work.”

Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and walk toward the men. When I get to the edge of the group, I scan for Rourke, since he’s the only one besides the patient called Bear that I’ve actually spoken to. Not seeing him, though, I clear my throat and speak up.

“Excuse me,” I call.

The half-dozen men all turn to look at me. It’s a virtual wall of muscle, testosterone and ink. As their eyes settle on me in unison, my stomach does an unpleasant flip. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

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