Page 20 of Iron Will

“Fuck.” It does not make me happy to hear that the man who spends time around Paisley has a drug habit.

“Yeah,” Yoda says drily. “My source over at Mazur’s said Mickey did a good job of charming Paisley’s mom at first. Talked a big game about how he was gonna make it big off bein’ a professional poker player.” He eyes me. “They’re living at the Sunrise Motel right now. Got kicked out of the place they were living in a couple weeks ago.”

“Why’d they get kicked out?”

“According to my source at Mazur’s place, Paisley’s ma told her Mickey got drunk and disorderly one too many times.”

“That ain’t hard to believe,” I remark. “You talk to Mazur yourself while you where there?”

“Nah. Just to Amber, one of the dancers there,” Yoda shrugs.

“Huh.” I pause for a couple of seconds, lost in thought. “Yoda,” I finally say, “why don’t you and me take a ride back down to Mazur’s place tomorrow?” I suggest. “I got some questions I wanna ask Jimmy myself.”

“Fine by me,” he says with a leering grin. “The scenery’s always good, at least.”

I laugh and tell him to get hold of Mazur on the phone in the meantime, to make sure he’s gonna be around when we stop by.

I decide I need to start keeping closer tabs on Mickey King. Who he hangs around with. Who might be out to get him for an unpaid debt.

And most of all, how likely it is Paisley and her mom might end up caught in the middle of it all.

8

Laney

Iknow I’m in for a dressing down from Blake Barber even before we get to his office. All the way there, I’m arguing with him in my mind, preparing my defense. Explaining how I had no control over the crowd of bikers in the hallway outside Paisley’s room.

So I’m taken a little by surprise when, once his office door closes behind me, Blake turns around with an indulgent smile on his face.

“Laney, Laney,” he begins, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms. “You need to learn how to let me, help you.”

“I’m sorry?” I stammer.

With a soft chuckle, he continues. “I understand that you lost control of the situation down there. That in itself isn’t a crime. But where you went wrong is not calling security, or me.”

I stare at him. With his expensive, well-tailored suit, he looks every inch the hospital executive. I know from what he’s told me — repeatedly — that he has a master’s degree in health care administration from the University of Denver. What he’s doing as an administrator in a small-town hospital like this, I don’t know. But he acts for all the world like he’s some hyper-important businessman. Like Christian Grey or something. Without the playroom.

At least, I hope so.Gross.

I tamp down my impulse to tell him I did not lose control of one damn thing. Being confrontational with my boss isn’t likely to do me much good here.

“Blake,” I say instead, keeping my tone reasonable. “As I said before, those bikers did nothing wrong. They were merely visiting their friend. The only problem we had down there was the boyfriend of that mom of the patient across the hall. He created thedisruption, not them.”

I consciously use his word, working hard to keep any hint of mockery out of my voice.

“I reserve the right to make my own judgment about what I saw,” Blake responds with a tinge of irritation. “The point is, in the future, I expect you to do a better job of being proactive.”

Blake moves behind his desk and sits down, motioning for me to take the chair across from him. He leans forward, elbows on his desk, his long, thin fingers laced in front of him. His nails are cut perfectly straight across, professionally manicured and buffed to a polish. Distracted, I notice how pale and soft-looking the skin of his hands is. How different they are from Rourke’s — strong, rough, and square. The two men couldn’t be more different, really. Blake’s power comes from his title, and his position behind this desk in an office with his name on the door. Rourke’s strength comes from himself. From some inner force inside him. He doesn’t need fancy clothes or titles to hide behind.

Blake clears his throat. I look up guiltily, realizing I was practically daydreaming. When my eyes find his face, I suppress a moue of disgust.

“Now.” Blake hunches forward a little more, giving me a direct look. “Enough about those bikers.” His lip curls at the word. “I need to know what the situation is with the patient and her mother. Is there any reason to believe your professional involvement is needed here?”

I need to tread lightly here. Blake has been known to override my decisions in the past. And as the hospital’s CEO, he’s brought a single-minded focus on Morningside’s financial bottom line that means he’ll choose saving a little money over patient care every time. “The little girl — Paisley — came in with a broken arm and head trauma. I was brought in just to make sure there was no evidence of abuse.”

He purses his lips. “How much longer until the girl is released?”

“I’m not sure,” I hesitate. “I know the admitting doctor wanted to run some tests on her. To make sure the symptoms of concussion aren’t an indication of something more serious.”

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