“Dermot,” King snapped from where he stood in the hallway, “just listen to the fucking doctor and sit down. You are going to be useless if you are knocked out when she wakes up.”
Dermot stormed past Sterling and Lincoln, who were standing guard at the door, and he sat himself in a chair next to Yates, looking livid. Yates, who hadn’t moved since he got here, his gaze completely focused on Dahlia.
I really couldn’t predict how any of them were going to react to situations… Well, that wasn’t completely true. It was pretty easy to see that Kingston was a second away from going on the goddamn war path.
I knew we had been trying to work with the FBI, and I hadn’t discussed it with the guys yet, but this was the final straw. We had barely been back twenty-four hours, and the first time that she goes out, she is targeted for an explosion in a public venue. Paired with the presence of Max Brooks? Yeah, we were going to end up finding a way to eliminate the problem, and not through legal means.
“This needs to be handled, tonight,” Dermot said harshly, his eyes manic.
King replied quietly, “It will be, but we can’t talk here, so shut the fuck up and get the doctor to look at you. We aren’t doing anything until Dahlia is at home and safe. She’s our first priority.”
And then blood. Lots of fucking blood.
I was really damn glad my MeMaw was staying with her friend right now. This wasn’t the time or place for her to be anywhere near the crosshairs of such a dangerous situation. I also knew that if she found out about Dahlia and everything she had been through, she would be extremely upset. She absolutely adored my angel.
“How did this happen?” Lincoln demanded, keeping his voice low in the quiet of the hospital.
“The coffee shop wasn’t planned, but they had searched it before we entered, which means that it somehow managed to either slip past them, which is highly unlikely, or someone planted it post-search,” Dermot hissed.
“Max,” I offered.
An odd look crossed Dermot’s face. “I don’t understand how the fuck he even got in. Something isn’t adding up.”
I finally admitted what I’d been thinking. “I think the security problem is higher up than one of the ground crew. The fact that shit keeps getting past means that there is someone pulling the strings.”
“Maybe we should talk to Owen,” Sterling conceded.
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t. Do we know we can actually trust him? I know he’s been a family friend and someone you have trusted for decades, but Dahlia’s life is at stake. I wouldn’t trust anyone.”
That concept seemed to silence everyone.
“Fuck,” King cursed, pulling out his phone and no doubt contacting his father. I couldn’t blame them for wanting to trust Owen—there were a million reasons to—but sometimes when you were that close to a situation, shit got messy.
“Max dies tonight. No matter what,” Yates finally said, his gaze never leaving Dahlia.
No one disagreed, and honestly, I hadn’t expected them to. He did deserve to die, because I was almost damn positive that he was the reason the bomb went off.
When there was a knock at the door, we all looked to find a middle-aged man in a white coat giving Dermot a no-nonsense look. “Son, I would highly suggest getting those injuries cleaned. You wouldn’t want to die before Ms. Aldridge wakes up, would you?”
“In here,” Dermot snapped back. The doctor nodded and called someone in to help as he approached Dahlia, a concerned look coming over his expression.
“She’s stable and should wake up soon. It may have aggravated her previous injuries, along with her leg now… I have to ask, how did she get bruised ribs? I can tell they were inflicted by someone.”
I could practically taste the accusation in the air.
“She was kidnapped and beaten,” King growled. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
The doctor eyed him before looking back at Dahlia without a word. “The bruising isn’t my only concern. Ms. Aldridge is not only dehydrated but lacking sufficient vitamins, and it points to unhealthy habits.” He hesitated before asking, “Is this something you were all aware of?”
Dahlia’s voice filled the room. “Yes.”
I squeezed her hand as the doctor looked down at her.
“Yes?”
Then she said the words that I hadn’t thought she would ever say out loud.
“Yes, they are aware of me having an eating disorder.”