Page 75 of Celebrity Dirt

“A concussion is a serious thing. Your head needs time to heal.”

“Yeah, but how could I sleep for three days?”

She smiles gently as she picks up my chart and gazes at the monitor. “It’s your body telling you it’s not ready. But your vitals look great. How’s your pain level?”

Emotional or physical? “My arm kills.”

“No worries. Let’s get you some morphine. It will ease the pain for you—”

I grab for her arm. “Wait. Please. I don’t want to sleep anymore.”

She stares at me with a sympathetic gaze. A few seconds pass before she nods. “Okay, how about this? I’ll give you half a dose. This way, it can ease some of the pain, and you can stay alert. But if it becomes too much, then you’re getting the rest. My job is to make sure you get healthy.”

“Thank you. Also, do you have a TV remote or a newspaper? Has there been anything in the news about any sort of crime bust—”

The door to my room opens, and we both look over as Agent Bishop enters.

“Miss Finch,” he addresses me as he walks up to my bedside. The nurse offers me a sympathetic smile before nodding to Jake and disappearing. “How are you—?”

“I want to know what’s going on,” I cut him off, demanding answers.

“You have a concussion—”

“Don’t bullshit me!” I’m past caring about bad language. I’m angry. “Where’s Logan? What happened? How did I get here?” More questions he doesn’t look like he plans on answering. My irritation grows—and my heart monitor proves it.

“It’s best you stay in the dark about—”

“Best? Best? How is it best? You tell me I have to stay and be used as bait so I don’t mess up all your hard work, and once I do, I get shot and almost killed in the process, then you tell me it’s best I don’t know? I want to know where Logan is. Is he okay?” I bite down on my bottom lip to force back my tears.

“Miss Finch, this is a very high-profile case. You were part of taking down a very powerful man. Not only Vincent, but Renaldo Valdez and Mayor Brighton. It’s going to take months to work through all the evidence. Until everything is cleared, we cannot have you and Agent Broderick make contact. If ever.”

Ever? What is he talking about? “That’s not—you don’t have any say in that.”

“Right now, I do. It’s in the best interest of the department and your safety. Once you’re cleared here, you are going to be moved to a secure location. The only way we can protect you until this goes through the courts is witness protection—”

“You’re crazy. I’m not going anywhere. I want to talk to Logan.” His blank stare only frustrates me more. “Fine! If you don’t allow it, I’ll find my own way.”

Pulling out a notepad, he flips it open. “Miss Finch, I suggest you save your energy. Agent Broderick has been pulled from this case and is no longer available. He is just as at risk as you are. Therefore, he’s been taken into custody. There’s no way you will make contact. I suggest you understand that and start thinking about your future. We have a list of locations and names you can—”

“Stop! Stop talking to me like a child who can’t handle what’s going on.”

“No one said you were, Miss—”

“And for the love! Stop speaking to me like I’m an old lady! My name is Addy. And I have a brain and feelings. If you have any of those, just tell me if he’s okay!” My bottom lip begins to quiver, and my guilt-ridden tears fall. “Tell me he’s okay.”

Agent Bishop takes a deep breath and drops his notepad on the table. “Logan took a bullet to the arm. He had surgery to remove it. He’s okay.”

That’s why I remember blood. Just before passing out… My carelessness got him shot. If I would have just listened…

I bend forward, shame and regret stabbing at my insides. “Miss—Addy, you did a brave thing out there. That day… You took down a powerful man—something Agent Broderick spent the last two years trying to accomplish.”

“Yeah, and look where that got him.” I angrily swipe at my fallen tears.

“I know this is hard. I can’t—”

“Imagine? Yeah, you can’t. I want to see my parents. Are they here?”

He clears his throat. “They’ve been notified of your situation. At this time, they shouldn’t make themselves present. We’re not sure who’s still around, who might be watching. It’s to keep everyone safe—”

“Safe? Is that what you people call taking all my rights away nowadays? What about my life? I have a job, a landlord I have to pay. You gonna pay him monthly to keep him safe too? What about my things? What if I had a cat!” I snap. He opens his mouth to reply, but I’m done. “Don’t. I can’t stomach any more of your bullshit. Let’s just get this over with.”

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