Unease filled me, and I replaced the tube on the shelf, twisting around to look at my paradise to give me a semblance of calm.
It didn’t work.
Even surrounded by narrow aisles with tall shelving units loaded down with any and all mediums that my heart desired, concern had me stuttering, “W-Where are you?”
“I’m at Belvedere Central.”
My eyes flared wide, but that he was in an actual hospital, as crazy as it seemed, filled me with relief.
I knew the Points only used setups like the one he’d been operated in when the injuries were from illegal activities.
Gulping, I asked, “Why are you there?”
“Because Brennan got shot.”
My heart stuttered a little. “Is he okay?”
“Flesh wound, in and out. I promise, he’s fine. Wouldn’t be asking for you to come collect me if he were badly hit.”
The logic had me releasing a shaky breath. “What the hell happened?” I questioned as, with no guilt, I dumped my loaded basket on the ground and hurried out of the store.
When George saw me—he’d stayed outside, guarding the door—his blank expression morphed when our gazes clashed.
His shoulders straightened, and tension filled him as he scanned the area, looking for a threat.
I grabbed his sleeve. “I need to get to Belvedere Central,” I told him.
A second later, he had his cell in his hand. “Bring the car around, Jerry. Now. Emergency.”
“I’ll explain when you get here,” Declan murmured in my ear.
“Won’t be long. I’m only on 7th Avenue. Just around the corner from Carnegie Hall.”
“Ask for the West Magdalena Suite.”
“Will do.”
Because I kind of wanted to cry, I cut the call instead. The panic inside me was ridiculous, considering he was fine and that Brennan, while injured, had been hit with a clean shot.
Even though George had said the magic word, ‘Emergency,’ it still surprised me when, barely two minutes later, the SUV was swinging around the corner and the brakes were squealing as Jerry roared toward us.
I didn’t need hustling in, but George hustled me anyway, and the second our asses were on our seats, the engine groaned as Jerry made the ten-minute drive in five.
George was out before me, a miracle considering I nearly face-planted in my haste to get out of the vehicle, but he had his hand on the bulge at his shoulder as his head whipped from left to right, making sure there was no active threat against me.
The trouble was, if someone was stupid enough to have tried to take out an O’Donnelly then the trivial turbulence between factions had just morphed into an all-out war.
Aidan Sr. was going to lose his shit over this.
I just knew it.
Terror for Seamus was a solid weight in my stomach, for what this might mean, for what it represented, and I was inordinately glad that he had a guard on him at school. It was a wonder I could get air in and out of my lungs as I ran to the reception and asked for the suite Declan had named.
The instant I uttered ‘West Magdalena Suite,’ the receptionist’s air of boredom disappeared. Her eyes flashed wide and she jolted to a standing position. Immediately keyed into the fact that was the VIP ward, I wasn’t surprised when she muttered something to her coworker and beamed a sympathetic smile at me.
“If you’d like to follow me, ma’am?”
I dipped my chin, and with George at my back, strode down the busy corridors to the elevator.