I’m torn. I’d love to catch a glimpse even if it looked like a tiny blob, but I also don’t want that gift without there to share the moment.
“It’ll help you get out of here earlier,” he says with a wink.
It’s the wink that does it for me. He must work closely with that doctor.
His words sway me, too, so I get up and into the wheelchair.
“Tell Ilya where I am when he gets back, okay?” I say as the orderly wheels me away.
“Will do,” Isla says over the whine of Albert.
I don’t need to look, do I? And if Ilya arrives…it’ll be an awesome surprise.
Suddenly a drop of unease spreads.
I expect the orderly to go into the non-Demyan wing of the hospital, where patients come for pre- and post-natal care. I’ve passed it before when I got lost looking for Ilya when he’d been shot.
But we’re not going there.
Instead, the orderly takes me to an elevator.
That drop turns into a small lake.
We get in, but it’s not until the doors open again that things feel off.
For one, the floor looks empty. I know Demyan keeps floors in case a disaster happens to his men and he needs a lot of people taken care of fast, from ICU to theater to just observation.
I haven’t seen them, but this feels like one of those floors.
But weirder still, there’s an old sign statingCLOSED FOR RESERVATIONS.
Didn’t they do some work in the other part of the hospital a few years ago?
Alarm bells ring inside my head.
“Actually,” I say, “I think I should skip the ultrasound.”
I start to stand, but a hand comes down hard on my shoulder. The coolness of a gun’s muzzle touches my temple.
Heat streaks through me like lightning.
“Sit.”
I do. He’s some kind of maniac, and I need to stave off the panic, focus on calm, and get the fuck out of here.
“Whatever you want, we can pay. My brother and husband are rich and powerful, so just let me know and?—”
“Be quiet.”
He moves the gun to the back of my skull and pushes the chair until we enter a hospital room with what looks like a new bed. It’s not made up at all, but I don’t think comfort’s the name of the game here.
My heart thumps wildly.
“Get up and get the fuck on the bed. Now.”
Shaking, I do as he asks, and he cuffs me into place and then leaves.
“You can’t do this! What do you want? What do you think my husband will do when he gets you? My brother?” I don’t even know if he’s outside the room.
