Page 20 of Grant
“Is that something he’d do?”
“He felt guilty that hiring us put me in the line of fire. Of course, he’d try to fix this himself! We have to find him.”
“We will. See? Fritz is already on it.” Luca pointed to where Fritz stood by the reception desk.
Despite the hubbub in the waiting area, Fritz’s voice reached them loud and clear. “I’m looking for Mr Matthias Sharp from Procurement. Can you direct me to his office?”
Whack job about covers it.Spencer’s first thought on coming to wasn’t a comforting one. It wasn’t even funny. He’d dealt with his share of spaced-out, drunk, or aggressive patients, but none of them had ever taken a two-by-four to his head. Or tied him to a chair.
Spencer pried his eyes open—and closed them again in a hurry when the room spun. Nausea boiled in his gut, and he breathed through the need to throw up.Possible concussion. Fabulous.
“He’s mine. He’s always been mine. Even when you stole him from me. He’s mine.”
The words ran together in a sibilant whisper, a hiss like a fishing line playing out and difficult to parse. Once the meaning behind them registered, though, Spencer couldn’t unhear them.
“You’re welcome to Carlo.” He spoke slowly. Breathed through the nausea. Started over. “Carlo and I don’t suit. We broke up seven months ago and haven’t spoken since. If he’s with you, he’s yours.”
“That’s what you think!”
Sharp grabbed Spencer’s hair and yanked his head back. The motion set the room spinning.
Spencer screwed his eyes shut.
He mustn’t pass out. He was alone in a room with a confused, aggressive man.
He focussed on the pain in his head and the burn in his shoulders, then swallowed bile and gasped at the sting.
“He talks about you.” Sharp had taken up his muttering again. “Tells me how perfect you are. How much I’m lacking. Always comparing. Always. He never did that before. Only once you’d stolen him from me. Why did you have to steal him from me?”
The wail made Spencer’s ears ring and dialled the pain in his head up to eleven. The behaviour his captor described meshed with his own memories. Carlo had loved to find fault. He found pleasure in undermining someone’s confidence. In making them feel lesser and worthless. Spencer had resisted the manipulation and had eventually thrown Carlo out. Matthias Sharp hadn’t been so lucky.
He cudgelled his brain for the right words to penetrate the man’s delusion. Words that brought him back to the present and made him realise what he was doing. But with his head pounding like a drum and the room spinning every time he opened his eyes…
“I’m going to kill you. That will stop you interfering.”
“I have never interfered.” Spencer knew he’d made a mistake. He’d come up here to talk sense into Matthias Sharp, to protect Grant, who already carried more scars than any man should collect in a lifetime.
It had been a noble gesture. And a stupid one. Because Sharp was clearly deranged. And since nobody knew he was here, nobody would come to his aid.
“You won’t take him from me. You’ll be dead, and he’ll be mine.”
Grant pressed his ear to Matthias Sharp’s office door. “He’s lost the plot,” he whispered, loud enough for Fritz and Luca to hear.
“Spencer?”
“Nothing yet.” Sharp’s threats made Grant want to storm inside, but he had to know where Spencer was.
“Carlo is yours.” Spencer was using his doctor voice—low and calm—trying to talk sense into someone who was beyond reach. “I don’t love Carlo Sigismund. I love a man called Grant. Carlo is yours.”
“He will be. Once you’re dead.”
Grant straightened. “Sharp’s off his rocker, threatening to kill Spencer,” he whispered. “Spencer’s to our right. He’s conscious.”
They took up positions.
“Luca and I take Sharp. You protect Spencer.”
“Done.”
