presence just reminded her of how callously he’d cut off contact with her. How after her brother died and she’d assumed Cade would be the one person there for her, he’d just decided she wasn’t important anymore.
“First we need to go to the center.” Her voice was still raspy and tired. Maria knew Nash would argue, but she didn’t want to go home just yet. Way too many memories of her mother there. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever, but she wanted to put it off as long as she could.
Nash opened his mouth, his boyishly handsome face set in frustration, but instead of arguing, he just nodded. “Okay.”
Maria blinked, surprised he wasn’t fighting her, then realized he wouldn’t right now. Not after everything that had happened. Before she could respond, a broad-shouldered, striking doctor with a warm tan and liberal amounts of white peppering his dark hair rounded the nearest corner and strode down the short hallway toward them, wearing the standard white coat. Dr. José Famosa. Head of neurosurgery and a family friend.
His expression was soft as he came up to her and gathered her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry about your mother,” he said. “I . . . the whole city has been rocked by this horror.”
Her throat tight, all she could do was nod into his shoulder. He was about the same height as her father, so at five feet eight, he didn’t dwarf her when he hugged her. After a few moments he pulled back and Maria quickly blinked away the threatening tears. “Thank you for discharging me.”
His expression darkened before he nodded politely at a nurse who handed him a clipboard. He started scribbling furiously as he spoke. “I don’t care whatgovernment branch they are. No one has the right to hold any patient hostage when she’s ready to be discharged. If you knew something that would help them, you would tell them. They’re stupid not to realize it.” She could tell he was angry because his accent grew thicker, shakier. Slightly older than her parents, he’d come over from Cuba at ten years old, fleeing the Communist regime after his teacher parents had been killed for being moderates. She knew that was why her father had called him to get her discharged. He had a strong dislike for any government interference.
“Do you know of a quiet exit?” Nash softly asked José.
The doctor looked at him and nodded. “Yes. Reporters were swarming the front of the ER and many of the exits, but the police have been diligent in getting most of them across the street.” He handed the clipboard to the nurse, then motioned for them to follow him down a nearly deserted hallway.
The ballet-slipper-type shoes Nash had brought for Maria made soft squeaking sounds against the floor, but the other two men were silent as they headed down the quiet hallway. This was a recovery ward, which explained the lack of activity.
Moments later, José opened a stairwell door for them and motioned inside. “This goes all the way to a parking garage. I don’t know where you’re parked, but there should be minimal activity in this garage, if any.” He looked at Nash sharply. “You can find your vehicle, then pick Maria up from the garage. She’s fine to leave, but I want her resting and I don’t want anyone recognizing her.”
To Nash’s credit, he merely nodded. Maria knew hedidn’t take orders often, but right now she understood both men just cared about her well-being. Something she appreciated. After giving the doctor another quick hug, she and Nash hurried into the stairwell.
“The NSA will probably be angry.” Okay, not probably. She didn’t know why she even cared, but for some reason she felt guilty about slipping out before talking to the tall . . . sexy Cade O’Reilly.
She hated that after so long he was even better looking than she remembered. After the way he’d comforted her when he hadn’t needed to, it made her feel even crappier. She’d felt like a total maniac sobbing against
“First we need to go to the center.” Her voice was still raspy and tired. Maria knew Nash would argue, but she didn’t want to go home just yet. Way too many memories of her mother there. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever, but she wanted to put it off as long as she could.
Nash opened his mouth, his boyishly handsome face set in frustration, but instead of arguing, he just nodded. “Okay.”
Maria blinked, surprised he wasn’t fighting her, then realized he wouldn’t right now. Not after everything that had happened. Before she could respond, a broad-shouldered, striking doctor with a warm tan and liberal amounts of white peppering his dark hair rounded the nearest corner and strode down the short hallway toward them, wearing the standard white coat. Dr. José Famosa. Head of neurosurgery and a family friend.
His expression was soft as he came up to her and gathered her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry about your mother,” he said. “I . . . the whole city has been rocked by this horror.”
Her throat tight, all she could do was nod into his shoulder. He was about the same height as her father, so at five feet eight, he didn’t dwarf her when he hugged her. After a few moments he pulled back and Maria quickly blinked away the threatening tears. “Thank you for discharging me.”
His expression darkened before he nodded politely at a nurse who handed him a clipboard. He started scribbling furiously as he spoke. “I don’t care whatgovernment branch they are. No one has the right to hold any patient hostage when she’s ready to be discharged. If you knew something that would help them, you would tell them. They’re stupid not to realize it.” She could tell he was angry because his accent grew thicker, shakier. Slightly older than her parents, he’d come over from Cuba at ten years old, fleeing the Communist regime after his teacher parents had been killed for being moderates. She knew that was why her father had called him to get her discharged. He had a strong dislike for any government interference.
“Do you know of a quiet exit?” Nash softly asked José.
The doctor looked at him and nodded. “Yes. Reporters were swarming the front of the ER and many of the exits, but the police have been diligent in getting most of them across the street.” He handed the clipboard to the nurse, then motioned for them to follow him down a nearly deserted hallway.
The ballet-slipper-type shoes Nash had brought for Maria made soft squeaking sounds against the floor, but the other two men were silent as they headed down the quiet hallway. This was a recovery ward, which explained the lack of activity.
Moments later, José opened a stairwell door for them and motioned inside. “This goes all the way to a parking garage. I don’t know where you’re parked, but there should be minimal activity in this garage, if any.” He looked at Nash sharply. “You can find your vehicle, then pick Maria up from the garage. She’s fine to leave, but I want her resting and I don’t want anyone recognizing her.”
To Nash’s credit, he merely nodded. Maria knew hedidn’t take orders often, but right now she understood both men just cared about her well-being. Something she appreciated. After giving the doctor another quick hug, she and Nash hurried into the stairwell.
“The NSA will probably be angry.” Okay, not probably. She didn’t know why she even cared, but for some reason she felt guilty about slipping out before talking to the tall . . . sexy Cade O’Reilly.
She hated that after so long he was even better looking than she remembered. After the way he’d comforted her when he hadn’t needed to, it made her feel even crappier. She’d felt like a total maniac sobbing against
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