“You want me to meet you there?” Mace asked.
“No. Stay where you are.”
A brief silence settled between us, and I could hear him breathing on the other end. Mace and Sam were close, so I knew sitting still probably wasn’t any easier for him than it was for me.
“You want me looking into it?” he then asked.
I frowned as the elevator started moving. The fact that he even had to ask irritated the fuck out of me. “I shouldn’t have to tell you.”
“You don’t,” he said quickly. “I’m already on it. I’ll call you if I find anything.”
The call ended, leaving me alone with the one thought I had been trying not to let into my head since Mace called.
Sam better not fucking die.
I stared at my reflection in the stainless-steel doors, my jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Sam wasn’t reckless.
He didn’t just end up shot for no damn reason. Something had gone left… I just didn’t know what yet.
The elevator barely made it to the lobby before I was digging my keys out of my pocket. My mind kept replaying the same three words over and over.
Sam got shot.
Nothing else mattered.
I made it to my truck, threw it in drive, and headed straight for Grady. It seemed like every red light caught me, and every car in front of me suddenly forgot how to press the damn gas. A fifteen-minute drive felt like an hour, and by the time I pulled into the hospital, police cars surrounded part of the parking garage.
I parked wherever I could fit my truck and walked inside without looking back.
The emergency room was exactly what you’d expect. Families filled the waiting area, nurses hurried from one patient to the next, and doctors moved through the halls like they had ten places to be at once.
It only took me a few seconds to spot Mace, never minding the fact that I told him he didn’t have to come. He was standing near the nurses’ station talking to a police officer, but he wasn’talone. My uncle Henry stood a few feet away with his hands resting on top of his head, staring toward the double doors that led back to trauma.
The conversation stopped the second Mace saw me coming.
“Any update?” I asked.
“They’re still working on him,” Mace answered.
I looked past him toward the double doors, wishing like hell I could see through them. Sam was somewhere on the other side fighting for his life, and all we could do was stand here waiting for somebody to come out and tell us whether he was going to make it.
Uncle Henry finally looked over at me, and I barely recognized the expression on his face. I had known this man my whole life and couldn’t remember ever seeing him look this shaken.
“Your aunt is in one of the consultation rooms,” he said in a rough voice. “One of the doctors is with her.”
“She good?”
Uncle Henry shook his head and dragged a hand down his face. “That’s her son, Vice. She ain’t good.”
I nodded because I already knew that was a stupid-ass question. None of us were good.
“What the police saying?” I asked.
Uncle Henry’s jaw tightened as he looked toward the officer standing beside Mace. “Not enough. They asking a bunch of damn questions, but nobody can tell me who shot my son or why.”
“We’re still gathering information, Mr. Jones,” the officer said, talking to my uncle.