Page 85 of Enforcer

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

DANTE

“What do you mean, released?” I shout, knowing I’m causing a scene but not giving a fuck.

The nurse sighs, rolling her eyes over to the male nurse leaning against a filing cabinet as if she’s asking him for backup. “It’s just like I said, sir. She asked the doctor to go home, and he advised against it, but she signed the AMA forms so we couldn’t hold her.”

Anger sweeps through my chest before worry breeds, spiking my heartbeat.

“That’s fucking idiotic. She needs medical treatment!”

Now, the nurse, who looks at me like she thinks I’m going to eat her for dinner, pushes off his spot beside the filing cabinet. “Medical treatment is a personal choice unless the patient is unconscious and cannot give consent. We’re not in the business of holding people prisoner around here. If you think she isn’t in her right mind, you can, by all means, follow the elevator to the fourth floor to the psych ward; maybe they can help you.” He smiles smugly, and my knuckles crack as I tighten my fists against my sides.

“Or maybe you could visit the fourth floor for yourself if you’re feeling distressed and out of control, sir,” the nurse, whose name tag reads Meghan,says with a snide look on her face.

I lean forward, fully ready to go toe to toe with this woman solely based on how angry I am at Alyssa’s stupidity. Still, Meghan stands up, her dark blue scrubs shifting, her chair rolling backward behind her, and she pushes up her glasses and narrows her eyes at me.

Suddenly, I lose all interest in the battle, and scoff, turning away from the nurses’ station and making for the elevator.

“Don’t forget,” Meghan calls after me. “Fourth floor is psych!”

I grind my teeth as I get inside and smash the button for the first floor.

Looking down at my phone, I hover my finger over the contact image for Slate in my recent calls. Once I suck in a steadying breath, however, I realize I can’t call him.

He’s on his honeymoon, and I need to call Lorenzo or handle this myself.

Since this is a personal matter, it’s probably best to handle it independently.

I call Alyssa’s phone, heart speeding as the elevator spits me into the lobby. She doesn’t answer.

She has to go home, all her things are there. Well, my home, anyway. Somewhere along the way over the last few days, it’s also started to feel like it’s her home.

I raced to the apartment, and when I got off my floor, Pauly was standing at the door.

“What the hell are you doing up here?”

He looks at me, startled. It’s like he’s notmydriver and hasn’t been in my life since I can fucking remember.

“Pauly…” I warn.

He looks at the door as it opens.

“Alright, this is the last bag, and then all I have to do is lock up. Do you think you could give Dante my key?”

She turns around, eyeing Pauly when he doesn’t answer.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Ms. Alyssa.” He nods in my direction.

She flicks her eyes toward me.

She doesn’t bristle, however. She digs in her pocket for the key. “Good, you’re home. Here, it’s easier to give it to you, anyhow.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask her.

Pauly grabs her bag, rolling it toward the elevator. “I will meet you downstairs,” he tells her, and she sighs and nods at him.

I’ll deal with that traitor later. He knows it, too. He glances in my direction as the elevator takes too long to reach the penthouse floor.

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