Chapter 5

Around us, visitors and staff screamed.

"Grace!"

I lunged forward and pulled her hard against me. At the same time I threw my right arm up into the path of the chair.

The impact exploded through my forearm and a deep cut opened across the skin. Blood ran down my hand immediately.

"Ryan!"

Grace's voice cracked behind me.

I pushed her back until she was well out of reach.

Then I stopped pretending. I looked at the drunk with no expression at all, and whatever he saw made his arms freeze in the air.

Ignoring the blood, I pulled out my phone and called Miles.

"Metro General. Third-floor surgical nurses' station. Bring security and legal. Now."

I hung up.

The corridor had gone dead quiet. The drunk hefted the chair again, trying to talk himself back into courage.

"You— you can quit the act. Making a phone call, are you? Tonight I'm going to—"

"Move again." My voice was almost calm. "Try it."

He met my eyes, and didn't take another step.

Less than five minutes later, footsteps came pounding down the far end of the hall. Miles came out of the elevator with four security officers and two attorneys.

The officers took the man down without hesitation and pinned him to the floor. He landed with his face against the broken glass, howling.

Miles didn't spare him a glance. He came straight to me. Then he saw my arm, and his face changed.

"Mr. Hawthorne. I'm sorry, we should have been here sooner."

The title went off like a thunderclap in the quiet corridor.

The man on the floor stopped struggling, his eyes wide with fear. Every doctor and nurse watching turned to stone.

Then more footsteps came up the stairwell.

Dr. Alan Pierce, the hospital president, arrived at a run with two senior administrators and a string of department heads behind him, all of them sweating and out of breath.

Pierce saw me and his legs nearly went out from under him. He crossed the last few yards in a stumble, dragging out a handkerchief, blotting his forehead, his voice unsteady.

"Mr. Hawthorne. Mr. Hawthorne, we had no idea you were coming. If we'd known—" Then he saw the blood and went white. "You're hurt. Get the surgical chief. Get him the best trauma room we have, now.

"Mr. Hawthorne, I am so sorry. This is a catastrophic security failure on our part. We will make this right, whatever it takes."

I looked at him without a trace of warmth.

"My attorneys will discuss what it takes. And if I'm not satisfied, Hawthorne Group's equipment donations and funding for this hospital are canceled for next year."

Pierce went gray and started apologizing over and over.

The two attorneys had already moved in, spelling out the criminal charges to the man on the floor, and then the hospital's liability to Pierce. The hallway dissolved into noise — apologies, instructions, the drunk begging.

Then I remembered.

I turned around. Grace was standing less than two feet behind me, completely still, staring at me.