Page 31 of Breathe
Real slammed through the emergency room doors of UCLA Medical Center and stalked toward the desk.
They had been halfway back to Santa Barbara when the call came in to Dave, who was listed as the emergency contact for Apollo and Cash.
Stone prowled at his side, and when they reached the desk, Stone flipped out his badge. It was an official US Marshals badge that Stone carried on him. Not that the man was a marshal, but he knew people in high places. Plus, having a badge helped them with any bullshit red tape.
“We are here about two patients,” Stone said.
The woman behind the desk eyed him like he was crazy.
“Don’t make me call the Secretary of Defense,” Stone said through his teeth.
She gasped, pressed a hand to her chest, and was just about to speak when security guards came rushing in.
The lead guard spoke with a hand up. “US Marshals Stone and Real?” the lead guard said, approaching. “I’m Smitty. Per orders, I’m to take you to Cash.”
Stone stalked toward the man, who turned and flipped a badge at the doors and led them into the bowels of the ER.
“Talk to me right the fuck now,” Real ordered, flanking the guard.
“All I know is that two college boys were brought in by air ambulance. One with a gunshot to the abdomen, the other with cuts and bruises and a head laceration,” Smitty said. “Dr. Hanson can fill you in on more.”
Smitty reached a room, and Real stepped inside, followed closely by Stone.
Cash lay in a bed with a hospital sheet pulled up to his chest. The boy’s face was pale and one side swollen.
“Hello, are you family?”
“Yes,” Real told the doctor whose badge identified her as Dr. Hanson.
She looked at the chart and went over the injuries. “Cash has a slight jaw fracture, concussion, and a cracked rib. As for Apollo, he went into surgery for a gunshot wound to the abdomen the minute he arrived.” Dr. Hanson glanced at her watch. “That was around 2 PM. I don’t have any news at the moment.”
“Find some,” Real turned on the woman.
She glared at his tone of voice, but he didn’t give two shits about that nor her.
He needed fucking answers before he called Azrael.
“I need to know the chances of Apollo’s survival asap,” Real snarled at Dr. Hanson and saw her throat move with a hard swallow.
“I don’t think we need to remind you that the Secretary of Defense called earlier. These two boys are very important to him,” Stone reminded the doctor.
“Give me a few minutes,” Dr. Hanson said and left the room.
Real approached the bed and gazed down at Cash. The boy was a former assassin who had wanted nothing more than to lead a normal life with his boyfriend and attend college together.
“Cash,” he murmured, squeezing his hands into fists at his sides.
Stone was on the phone, and after several minutes, he hung up.
“That was the campus police. A gunman entered the room around 12:30 this afternoon.”
“That was about half an hour after we dropped them off.” Real fisted his hands.
“Apollo was shot at close range. Their roommate, Jess, was killed instantly with a bullet to the head. Cash got the drop on the guy, and one of the campus policemen was shot and killed after entering the room to help.”
“Fuck.” Real placed both palms to his head. “What the fuck is going on?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. Before he passed out, Cash told the campus police the gunman asked for you by name.”
