Page 84 of Embrace Me Forever

He hesitates, his silence foreboding.

“Where is she?” I press, raising my voice, although it’s no more than a terrible rasp.

“She’s been taken,” he finally admits as I drop back onto the bed.

“And Lowe? Where the fuck was Lowe?” The thought crosses my mind that he might’ve been another of Bertram’s Trojan horses.

“They got him too, stabbed from behind and locked in the men’s room right across from where he got Georgia-May,” he sighs. “He’s critical but stable.”

I concentrate intensely, trying to push my brain past the lingering effects of the chemicals coursing through my bloodstream. Dizziness soon overwhelms me. I gag, the room violently spinning as I throw up.

Clayton tends to me. “Hey, lie down.”

Hopelessness and embarrassment hit me at once. My boss, my friend, and now, in this moment, my caretaker.

“Shit! Sorry, Clay.”

He wipes my mouth with a towel. “Take it easy, tough guy. Dealing with sick rookies was just another day on the job,” he quips, no doubt reminding me of his days in the Air Force.

After gulping a bottle of water, I muster the strength to stand.

“Blake! You were lucky the drug didn’t kill you, but if you want to keep moving, you’ve got to stay put,” Clay insists.

“If it was going to kill me, it would’ve already!” I counter.

I take deep, labored breaths. Whatever that impostor nurse injected into me is making me feel as if I’m being mummified alive. But there’s no way I’ll let this stop me—not when Georgia-May’s safety is at stake.

Propelled by a fierce determination to act, I manage to leave the bed. “We need to move,” I assert, pulling on my clothes that hang loosely from a chair.

“Jesus, Blake! Leave it to the police. Garcia is already on it,” he says, referring to Sergeant Laura Garcia. She’s the LAPD sergeant we know well, having assisted us in countless cases that inevitably come with running a billion-dollar business.

“I need to talk to her then.”

Clay stops me from getting up. “You tell us what needs to be done, then Rob and I will do the doing.”

“If it were Isabelle, wouldn’t you do the same? Come on, we need to check the hospital’s security footage.”

Clay ceases his protests and supports me as we make our way to the security room.

On the way, as I hobble away, Clay says, “We’ve flown Anne and her boyfriend over. We’re not taking any chances.”

I appreciate the effort. It’s definitely the right move, but we may be acting too late. Who would’ve thought a woman posing as a nurse was actually hired muscle? That sick fuck Abner Bertram!

Inside the hospital’s security office, the LAPD is already present.

“Mr. Blake!” Sergeant Garcia is surprised to see me. Horror paints her face, perhaps an indication of how grim I look. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Sergeant. Tell me what you know,” I say.

Together, we review the CCTV footage.

“Georgia-May was taken by this man to the parking garage on the ground floor,” Garcia says.

The suspect appears to be an orderly, but upon closer inspection… “Is he wearing a mask or something?” I question, noting the peculiar face and the familiar way he moves, his height and build. I’m certain he’s the hooded man I bumped into on the university campus. The same one Georgia-May mentioned was following her.

“Then she was transferred into this car,” the officer continues.

“Have you traced it?”

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