Page 118 of Gunner

He grinned, and I had to resist the urge to grab the pillow and stifle him. As long as he was alive, there were ways to make him talk.

The door opened behind me, and a doctor dressed in white scrubs walked in.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Lowe,” he said.

I shook his hand. “Chief Witter. What happened to Dr. Collier?”

“He’s in surgery. Is there something I can help you with?”

“An overview of his condition would be good. We want him to be fit as soon as possible to stand trial.”

“No problem. I’ll be happy to update you on his condition. If you could give me some privacy to check on the patient, we can talk.”

“Sure. No problem.”

I stepped out of the room and took the chair the officer had vacated. My pocket vibrated. I took out my phone. Gunner had sent me a message. A video. I tapped it and smiled at Zeus in the yard at the clubhouse, chasing a laughing Chris. He seemed so happy and carefree.

“You can pick him up when you’re done,” Gunner sent in a follow-up voice note. I gave him a thumbs-up.

My phone rang, displaying Dr. Collier’s number. I frowned. Wasn’t he supposed to be in surgery?

“Hello.”

“Ben, the nurse informed me you’re here,” he said. “The patient should be fine to be interrogated but keep the session as short as possible. When you’re through, stop by my office.”

“You mean you’re not in the OR now?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Fuck.” I ended the call and burst into the hospital room. The “doctor” was removing the pillow from Fox’s face.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I checked the heart monitor, but it had been unplugged.

The “doctor” launched himself at me with a stainless steel bedpan. I blocked the blow aimed at my head with my arm. Pain exploded in my wrist. I cried out and reached for my gun with my other hand, but he knocked it out of my clumsy left hand with the bedpan.

The man, his face contorted with rage, swung the bedpan again, but this time I was ready. I dodged the blow and retaliated with a solid punch to his gut, forcing the air out of him. He staggered back, gasping, but recovered quickly, eyes wild with desperation.

I advanced, driven by a mix of duty and fury. We grappled, his strength surprising. I landed a few more blows, but he was relentless, throwing punches I would have blocked had my wrist not throbbed so fucking much. At best, it was sprained.

“Who the hell are you?” I gritted out, shoving him into the wall.

“You’re pissing off some very important people,” the “doctor” rasped.

He raised his arm. Only a glint of a blade warned me, but I was too late. He plunged the knife into my side. Hot pain seared through me. I staggered back, the knife still buried in my flesh.

“What the fuck!” Officer Michaels burst into the room, his gun drawn. “Put your hands up.” He aimed the weapon at my attacker. “You okay, Chief?”

Fuck no, I wasn’t okay. I leaned against the wall, blood seeping through my fingers. I was losing blood fast.

“Michaels,” I gasped. “Call for backup. And get a doctor in here.”

31

GUNNER

I fucked up. Tonight I met Gunner at our favorite motel where we fucked all night.

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