Page 18 of Grant
“Is there a problem?” Fritz joined them, carrying a pot of coffee. “Fucking hell!”
“Quite.” Spencer raised his head and met Fritz’s gaze. “He needs a hospital. Stat.”
Grant wanted to argue. Rylan wanted to argue. Fritz actually tried. Spencer didn’t listen to a single one of them. He stayed beside Rylan in the back of the car while Fritz drove, eyes on his patient and the phone to his ear, organising a welcoming committee. Within moments of Fritz pulling up outside the Accident & Emergency department, a team of nurses whisked Rylan inside. Spencer disappeared with them, and Grant wanted to swear. His doctor had gone to save Rylan’s life, but he was still a stalker’s target and this place wasn’t safe.
“Spencer Corel’s quite something.” Fritz had conjured coffee and pressed a paper cup into Grant’s hands. “Don’t let him escape.”
“What? Who?”
A sharp slap to the back of his head almost made him spill the coffee. “Fucking keep up. That man is worth holding onto, you hear me?”
Grant scowled. He would not discuss his sex life or the state of his emotions standing in the middle of a busy A&E department. Not even if Fritz insisted. “What happened to Ry?”
“You heard. His target tried to top himself.”
“He told me that bit. If he stopped the car with his body, why the fuck didn’t he go to the hospital?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Actually, since it’s Rylan, your guess will be better. He came home looking rough, but he said he was fine and I believed him. He’s not as averse to hospital treatments as you and Luca.”
“True. Only he wasn’t as fine as he thought.”
“Judging by Spencer’s reaction…”
“Fuck!” Grant wanted to pace. Hit something. Shake Rylan until the idiot’s teeth rattled. And do it while keeping watch over Spencer. “I hate waiting,” he ground out.
“Don’t we all?” Fritz pulled him to a seat beside the doors Spencer and Rylan had disappeared through. “Your man is pretty decisive. Let’s hope he’ll get matters sorted without a lengthy wait.”
A nurse from his theatre team handed him a mug of coffee. Spencer sipped the steaming, sugar-laced liquid while scrutinising Rylan’s scans over the radiographer’s shoulder.
“No broken ribs. No pneumothorax. He was right about that,” the woman said.
“But a sea of contusion.”
“Quite.” She traced the edges of the affected area. “The bruising is extensive enough to make him an ARDS risk. How long ago did this happen?”
“Thirty-six hours. You think it’s still spreading?”
“Possibly. I suggest we repeat the scan in twelve hours and see.”
“Good call. He’s on supplemental oxygen and already breathing more easily. I’ll get him set up with fluids and talk to his friends.” He returned the way he’d come, issuing orders and instructions for Rylan’s care before heading to the waiting area.
Grant and Fritz had staked out a corner. They sat close together, not needing words to comfort each other, and Spencer was glad to see the bond between them, even if their closeness made him feel like an intruder.
He reached for the curtain when a third man joined Grant and Fritz. He appeared younger, but seeing how Grant and Fritz hugged him, he had to be Luca, the fourth member of White Knight Security.
“How is Ry?” he asked the moment Fritz let him go. “What’s wrong with him? When he came home, he only mentioned bruises.”
“No idea. Spencer went spare the moment he caught sight of Ry. They’re working on him.” Fritz pulled Luca to the side. “Now tell me what you found. And sit down! You’re blocking the aisle.”
Luca sat. “I don’t think Carlo Sigismund is the stalker. But he has this new guy and that one’s a whack job. According to my witnesses, he’s the one who believes that Carlo wants to get back with your doctor, Grant. He said he’s tried to—and I quote—scare Spencer off, only it hadn’t worked. I have the feeling he’s going to attempt something else.”
The words sent a chill into Spencer’s blood. Carlo’s lover was sending poisoned chocolates, damaging his brakes, and dowsing his home with petrol? Because he thought Carlo wanted Spencer back?
“Give me a name.” Grant sounded as if he’d been chewing ground glass. The tiny proof that Grant cared warmed Spencer. He wanted to comfort Grant, tell the three of them that Rylan’s condition was improving, but he stayed still. He wanted a name, too.
“Luca?” Fritz already had his phone out.
Luca hesitated. “The police won’t act on my gut feelings. We need actual evidence.”
