Page 80 of Bossed By Three Billionaire Brothers

I checked the screen. Amy had sent us a group text.

Something happened to Gen. She’s hurt. In the hospital right now. She’s in Saint Vincent’s in the West Village.

Without a word, I called Amy.

“Dad?”

“Where are you? What’s going on?”

She was panting, trying desperately to catch her breath. “She got hurt.”

I held back my impatience at the lack of details. No doubt Amy was in shock, not thinking clearly.

“What happened?”

“This crazy ex of hers showed up and tried to take her. She fell and hit her head and got knocked out. I’m going to the hospital right now.”

“OK. Amy, just try to calm down as best you can. We’re in Midtown right now, OK? Traffic’s rough, but we’re going to get there as quickly as we’re able.”

“OK. Just… just get here soon.”

The call ended, my attention going to my brothers, then to the traffic all around us. It was clear that there was no way we’d be able to make it to the hospital with any kind of urgency and we were only about two miles away.

I pressed the speaker for the front compartment to talk to the driver.

“We’re going the rest of the way on foot. Take the car to our townhome.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Bradshaw.”

With that, the three of us burst out of the car and into the warm, afternoon air. We didn’t share a single word before running, heading south, each of us saying a silent prayer that Gen was OK.

Chapter 33

Gen

The pain in my head felt like a small but incredible, powerful train had slammed into me at full speed. I groaned, trying to roll over, my eyes still closed.

Before I could make it all the way, a hand came down gently on my shoulder.

“Easy, easy.”

I groaned again, my senses coming back enough for me to realize where I was.

My eyes shot open. I was in a small and sparsely appointed hospital room, the single window looking out over a small green space that appeared to be a picnic area of the hospital. To my right was a kindly-looking nurse with warm features, middle-aged, a slender build and bright blonde hair.

“What happened?”

“Tell me what you can remember,” she said. “It’s good after a head injury to think a little bit, get things working again.”

I placed my fingertips on my forehead, trying my best to jog my memory.

Mark.

“Where is he?” I asked, sitting up.

The nurse placed her hand on my forearm. “He’s in custody. According to the police, he tried to get you into his car.”

“And then I fell. Rather, he pushed me. I remember now.”

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