Broken Bonds (Club Imperial Series) (2 page)

Franz laughed. “It’s not worth drinking if it’s not good.” He turned in the seat and folded his hands on the table. “Look, Nathaniel, go easy on her. She’s a tough kid, but inside she’s just looking for what we’re all looking for in life. Someone who’ll be there for her. There is no one else who deserves the fairytale more than she does. So, even though it seems like there’s no room for negotiation, there is. Be gentle.”

Nathaniel nodded. “I want nothing more than to make her smile every day.”

“Good.” Franz sat back. “Then I think we’ll all get along.”

The door slammed open behind them, hitting the wall hard, forcing them both to turn and look. Nathaniel was momentarily shocked—Chantal was racing toward them. She looked utterly panicked and was scanning the room desperately. Franz raised his hand to catch her attention.

“Franz, I can’t get Tessa’s door open.” She was out of breath. “I swear I hear her in there, but I can’t get it open.”

“She’s got a client, Amaryllis.” Franz studied his employee.

“She asked me to bring her a drink, and when I tried to open the door it was locked.”

“Locked?” Franz stood abruptly. “She never
locks
the door.”

Nathaniel stood with him, and followed Franz to the door. The three of them ran up the stairs, Nathaniel only cursorily realizing where they were going. There were doors on either side of the hallway and they were a third of the way from the end of the hall when they stopped in front of a door with the name ‘Tessa Saint’ on the plate.

Franz grabbed the door handle and turned it. Nothing happened.

They all heard the yelling inside. Nathaniel’s blood froze. He recognized the pleas as Emmy’s voice.
No one uses their real name here.
Tessa Saint was his Emmy.

“No crying! No more crying! You like this, why the fuck are you crying? Gimme that bat. Give it to me.”

Franz yanked on the door handle, hard, yelling at Chantal. “Go get security, now. Go, go!” She took off down the hall as Franz pulled and pushed on the door. “Tessa!” he screamed.

“Do you have keys?” Nathaniel demanded.

“Only security, no one locks the doors.”

“Hoping he’s going to rescue you?” someone inside yelled. “Keep hoping.”

Nathaniel banged on the door. “Emmy!” He looked down the hall. “Where the hell is security?”

“They’ll be here,” Franz said, but his voice was laced with the same panic Nathaniel was feeling.

“Oh, fuck this.” Nathaniel stepped back. He brought his foot up and slammed it into the door near the knob. Franz did the same as Nathaniel pulled back. Nathaniel kicked it even harder the second time and the door flew open.

A cricket bat flew at his head. He was able to throw his arm to deflect the blow, but he heard one of his bones crack. Whoever had the bat was good; they had it spinning around on him, nailing the small of his back, then shoved him forward with the edge.

Right into Greg Cortez.

Nathaniel’s fist flew out and connected with his jaw, knocking him backward into the wall. He heard pounding footsteps in the hall and Franz screaming. “Go after him! Find him and take him down!”

Greg was holding his arm up in front of his face to protect himself. “You’re a fucker, just as bad as your brother.”

Nathaniel punched him again. This time his head was so close to the wall that it bounced and knocked him out. He slid to the floor.

Nathaniel dropped next to Emmy on the floor, gathering her into his arms. She had blood all over her mouth and face. Every breath was ragged and hitching on the way in and out. Her arm was clearly broken and there was a bright bruise already blooming on her arm and her forehead.

“Oh fuck, Emmy,” Nathaniel said. “Can you hear me? Oh, God, please hear me...”

She didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t even flicker.

Franz grabbed someone running by. “You! Go call an ambulance and the cops! Now! No, don’t question me, go!”

Nathaniel tried to stand with her, but Franz held him down. “No. You’ve moved her too much already. Stay still. The ambulance will be here soon.”

“Emmy.” Chantal gasped from the door. “Oh, God, Emmy.” She squatted down. “Nathaniel, your arm!”

He didn’t even glance at it. “I’ll deal with it when we get to the hospital.”

It seemed hours passed before the cops and the EMTs came stomping up the stairs. They took charge of Emmy, taking her stats as fast as possible. Nathaniel refused to let her go and he didn’t like the EMT chatter either. They had the stretcher up in no time and he stood while they placed her on it, strapping her down.

“Sir, your arm.” One of the EMTs pointed at the quickly growing lump. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said, “I’m going with you.”

“We should check—”

“No, just go, go.” Nathaniel held his arm. A throbbing finally registered in his mind and he firmly ignored it.

The two techs rolled Emmy out of the room on the stretcher, and Franz grabbed Nathaniel’s cell out of his pocket, dialing. They heard a phone ring and Franz answered his, then ended the call. “There. I have your number and you have mine. I’ll call you later and let you know what’s up. I need to find the asshole who ran out of the room and figure out how these bastards got in.”

They moved Emmy down the stairs as fast as they could and out toward the waiting ambulance. Franz grabbed Nathaniel’s good arm. “Please. I’ll try to make it there, but let me know how she is.”

Nathaniel nodded and hopped in the back of the ambulance as they slammed the doors shut. He reached over and grabbed Emmy’s good hand with his good hand, and held on. He stared at her, a massive goose-egg rising on her forehead, and a small stream of blood trickling down her mouth. “Hang on, Em. The doctors will fix you up.”

He could swear she squeezed his hand.

Chapter Two

The doctor finished applying the last of the plaster on his cast. Nathaniel stood and the doctor directed him back to the bed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“My girlfriend is in the next room,” Nathaniel said.

“No, she’s not,” he answered. “They took her up to surgery. She had an internal bleed and the broken humerus needed to be pinned.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he snapped.

“Because I was trying to fix your arm and I needed you here to do that.” The doctor remained utterly calm. “Don’t worry, Mr. Walsh. She’s in good hands. We’ll keep you updated on her. Meanwhile, please just stay here and wait for that plaster to cure.”

“Can you tell me anything else about her?” He looked at the doctor and instantly lost the edge of anger he’d been carrying. “Please.”

“I’m not supposed to unless you have a signed HIPAA slip.” The doctor lowered his voice. “But she was beaten up pretty bad. Kidney blows, cracked ribs, broken arm, crushed trachea, severe contusion and a diffuse axonal brain injury. The brain trauma doesn’t appear to be anything too serious, but they won’t know until they can do a full MRI. Right now, the internal bleed from the rib seems to be the most critical issue. While they have her under, they’ll pin the humerus and fix her throat.”

Nathaniel shook his head, trying not to let the anger seep back in. The urge to smash Greg into the wall again led him to believe he’d failed at trying to relax. He jerked his head up. “Did they bring Cortez here?”

“No,” the doctor answered. “The club manager demanded he go to Allegheny. We, of course, were the better choice for your girlfriend.”

Nathaniel nodded. He had the EMTs take them to Magee-Womens. He was glad Franz had it in him to demand a different hospital. “Is there a place I can wait for updates on her? Can I get one of those HIPAA things to make sure I can hear about what’s going on?”

“I’ll get HR to get you one.” He paused and looked up at Nathaniel. “They’re going to want to know why you deserve one.”

“I’m her boyfriend and I’m paying the bills.”

“They’ll like that,” the doctor agreed. He slapped the chart closed. “Now, I’d show you where you can wait, but the detective wants to talk to you.”

“Detective?” Nathaniel swallowed hard. “Okay, I can do this.”

“There’s also someone named Dorn here to see you,” a nurse said as she walked in. “But only when the doctor says it’s okay for them to come in.” The doctor bobbed his head in the positive.

“Let’s get it all over with.” Nathaniel gestured with his good arm to bring everyone in.

The nurse nodded and motioned to the group waiting just out of sight. The detective walked in, followed by Franz.
Oh, Dorn. I didn’t know that was his last name.
The doctor nodded pleasantly at the detective. “Detective Garabaldi, good to see you.”

“You too, doc,” the detective said as the doctor walked out.

Nathaniel was distracted by the nurse as she laid out a sling. “The cast will be dry in another five minutes. It’s heavy. Use the sling. Once it’s dry, you can go to the surgical unit and tell them who you are there to see.” She looked at the chart. “I’ll have the forms sent up for you to sign.”

“Thank you.” Nathaniel pulled the strap of the sling over his head. 

The nurse walked out between two cops and two security guards.
Security guards?
He was confused for a moment, and then realized Franklin and Victor had probably assigned them to him. He motioned for them to come into the room and they stepped in. One of them was a rather tall, trim woman who seemed to compliment her rather beefcake-looking counterpart. “Who are you?”

“Wright.” The woman held out her hand. Nathaniel shook it.

“Perez.” The man did the same.

“Wright, I need you to go up to the surgical area and keep tabs on Emmy.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m assigned to you. I can’t leave.” Wright pulled her jacket straight.

“You’re reassigned to Emmy.” Nathaniel stared at her hard.

“Sir, Franklin—”

“I don’t give a rat’s
ass
what Franklin said,” Nathaniel snapped. “I want you upstairs on Emmy two minutes ago. I will tell Franklin what I asked of you. She had the shit beaten out of her tonight and I want someone on her at all times. Starting now.” Wright stared at him for a moment longer, and Nathaniel roared, “Now!” Wright turned on her heel and headed for the nurses’ station to ask for directions. He motioned for Perez to stand outside the door.

He had to take a few deep breaths to calm down again. He was starting to wonder when the angry testosterone surge was going to settle. He turned to the other men in the room. “Sorry about that, Detective. I’m worried about her.”

“You have every right to be.” Garabaldi flipped out a notepad and pen. “So, I need your version of the events tonight.”

Nathaniel quickly rolled through what had happened in the room, all the way to the point where they had rolled Emmy into one of the emergency’s triage rooms, and forced him out into his own room. Garabaldi nodded and looked at his notes. “So you’d never met Dorn before drinks tonight?”

“Never,” Nathaniel responded.

“You have no idea who the other person in that room was?”

“I didn’t have a chance to get a good look at him.” Nathaniel’s arm throbbed with the memory. “The bat came at my head and I just never got a look at his face.”

“I’m sorry to report we weren’t able to apprehend him,” Garabaldi said. “Do you know if Miss Westerly has any enemies?”

“Greg Cortez,” Nathaniel answered without hesitation. “Other than that, I’m not sure. Grill him. I’m sure he’d be willing to trade up time for information.”

Garabaldi paused and carefully put the notepad back in his pocket. Nathaniel could tell he was considering his words carefully. “Well, we would, but it appears he was in and out of the hospital, down to the station and made bail.”

“What?” There was no word Nathaniel could think of that really got to the heart of what he was feeling when Garabaldi dropped that bomb.
Homicidal
came close. And from the look on Franz’s face, they’d both be facing charges.

The detective nodded curtly. “Made bail. About an hour ago.”

“He posted bail?!” Franz growled. “The motherfucker is out?”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Who posted it?” Nathaniel asked.

“Can’t disclose that information.”

“You can’t—” Nathaniel was cut off by Franz’s hand silencing him. 

“I thought the judge wasn’t too thrilled about this whole thing.” Franz stared down Garabaldi. “I thought he was going to throw the book at him and deny bail. Especially after the whole Victor Walsh fraud debacle yesterday.”

“I thought he was too.” The controlled tone in Garabaldi’s voice told them that he was on their side, but had to remain detached. “Apparently, we were all mistaken.”

Franz glanced over at Nathaniel. “I have no idea who the other guy was. By the time I turned around he was already halfway out the door. Security didn’t catch up with him either and when they found my upstairs bartender unconscious, they had to split forces.”

“By the time we got there,” Garabaldi explained, “we had no idea what direction he’d gone or even if he’d insinuated himself into the crowd on the dance floor.”

“I really think one of my staff would’ve noticed a psychopath with a bloody bat,” Franz grated out the words, “no matter what your opinion of my employees and clientele might be.”

“I implied no such prejudice, Mr. Dorn,” Garabaldi said. “Mr. Walsh, do you have access to Miss Westerly’s apartment?”

“Yes, I do.” Nathaniel was anxious to help.

“Do you think you could let us in so we can check the place out? We really want to catch this guy because that girl was beaten up really bad and we need to know if there are any enemies in her past.”

Franz stepped back out of Garabaldi’s vision and shook his head vigorously ‘no’, mouthing the word.

Nathaniel nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good, good,” Garabaldi said, as Nathaniel saw Franz cringing behind the detective. Garabaldi looked at his watch. “Let’s do that later today. Say two p.m.? We’re all going to need some sleep, though I don’t think you’re going to get any rest with the accommodations in the waiting room.”

“I’ll make sure either my brother or I are there with the key to let you in,” Nathaniel said. “Now, my cast is dry and I want to head up to the surgery suites. If we’re done for now.”

Garabaldi nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Walsh. I’ll see you later. I hope everything goes well with Ms. Westerly’s surgery.”

“Thank you.”

Nathaniel liked the guy, despite the situation and the anger still roiling through his blood. Both he and Franz watched the detective walk out of the triage room and Nathaniel could see Franz wait until the man was completely out of earshot. He pounced in the next moment.

“Walsh, you can’t let them in that apartment at all. If they see what she has in there, they are going to stop the entire investigation and turn her into some kind of societal freak.”

Nathaniel had the phone to his ear, half ignoring him and holding up a finger to stave him off for a moment. The other side rang and rang. He had to redial a few times, and finally someone answered. “You are a fucking asshole, Nathaniel,” came Victor’s voice. “It’s four in the fucking morning and you woke the baby.”

“Fuck off, I’m in the hospital,” Nathaniel answered.

“What?” Victor’s voice was suddenly wide awake.

“Someone attacked Emmy four hours ago. She’s in surgery, and they got away.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Nathaniel could hear the anger in his brother’s voice.

“They were too busy casting my arm. Look, this is a fantastic chat, but we have a serious problem. Greg was one of the attackers.” He waited for an answer from his brother, but there was dead silence from the other side of the conversation. Nathaniel went on. “The other attacker got away. I put Wright—one of Franklin’s people—on the surgical suite Emmy’s in, being put back together.”

“Damn,” Victor said, quietly. It was a neat summation of everything going on.

“We have to let the police into Emmy’s apartment to check it out and see if they can find any clues to what’s going on,” Nathaniel said.

“Do I need to pick up the key?”

“No. I need you to get Albright and Durham and rent a storage unit, p.d.q.” He looked at Franz. “Do you have two people you trust implicitly? Who can lift heavy shit?”

“Yes.” Franz nodded, catching on to what Nathaniel had in mind.

“So we have six of you who can get the stuff out,” Nathaniel said. “Good. Look, Victor, we have to empty out one of the rooms and replace it with something spare bedroom-ish. You need to go to a furniture store with a truck and get a bedroom set, as soon as it opens.”

Franz shook his head. “Better still, I have some extra stuff at my place.”

“No money trail.” Franz agreed. Nathaniel spoke to Victor again. “I’m pretty sure you can get into a twenty-four hour storage place and get a unit. Get a ten by ten.”

“No.” Franz interjected himself again. “Your brother is a bad choice to rent the unit. Let me send someone to do that. We don’t want to give them an obvious link to you or Emmy. Victor Walsh has no use for storage units when he owns a warehouse.”

“Good point,” Nathaniel said. “Victor, just get the van from the yard.”

“Nathaniel, what the fuck is going on?”

“I’ll explain when we get there.” He sighed. “Look, I really need your help with this, man. Emmy is as innocent as the day is long in this, but if they find that room we’re all fucked. All of us. You, me, Franz, and Emmy.”

“What has your girlfriend gotten into?” Victor said.

“Think about that question for just a while, Vic, and give me your answer later. Meet me in the parking garage at seven a.m.” Nathaniel shut the phone off and adjusted the sling, tossing his feet over the side of the bed. “I’m going up to surgery. I need you to go get your two guys and meet us in the basement of the Mellon building at the same time.”

“Walsh.” Franz clapped him on the good shoulder. “Thanks. Thank you for taking care of Emmy. She’s a special girl.”

“I know.” Nathaniel stood and straightened himself out. “Parking garage. Seven.”

Franz marched out of the triage area. Nathaniel made his way up to the waiting room with Perez following him. They found Wright standing outside one of the operating suites and the sitting room was directly across the way. He motioned Perez to stay outside and walked in. There was a big plush couch on one side of the room as well as two love seats.

He sat down and stared at the door, shocked. How had he made it this far in this mental state? Just a few seconds after Nathaniel realized everything that had gone on, he finally,
finally
lost it. He couldn’t stop the tears. His whole body shook hard, thinking about the bloody mess Emmy had been as she was lifted her onto the stretcher. She was limp and bruised and completely vulnerable. She was unconscious and hurt. He loved her—he just wanted her to wake up at that moment and know how he felt. Know he couldn’t be whole until she was made whole and healed again.

Nathaniel’s chest hurt, and he gulped the air. It felt like someone was squeezing his heart. He didn’t care about Emmy’s kinky sex. She was sweet, intelligent, kind, and somewhere deep inside she’d been hurt badly. Nathaniel wanted to know why and how so he could help her find the healing she needed. Now he was going to have to help her heal her body as well as her mind. And nothing would keep him from that task.

He would make sure Greg Cortez and whoever else had attacked her would never breathe free air again. Cortez. He’d broken his brother’s heart and broken his girlfriend’s body. He’d break the bastard’s spine if he saw him.

“Mr. Walsh,” came a voice from the door.

He looked up and realized at some point, he had fallen asleep on the couch. He gasped and sat up, looking at his watch. He was relieved to see it wasn’t seven yet. He saw a doctor standing in the door in scrubs, and stood.

“Mr. Walsh,” he repeated, walking in. “Doctor Fisckar.” He stuck out his hand.

Nathaniel shook it. “How is she?”

“She’s going to be fine,” he answered. “I just finished with the last suture and came straight out.”

“What’s happened?”

“She had a small internal bleed we had to stitch up. It would have been life threatening if it had been left alone. We reset the rib and I used a touch of glue to hold it in place to start healing. Her arm was a ragged break, so we went with five pins around the bone but everything was clean when we finished. And her throat was bruised, a little swollen, but we intubated her, taking the pressure off, so that will heal nicely on its own. She’s going to have a catheter for a few days while her kidneys heal from the bruising.”

“And the brain trauma?”

“Minor. We’ll send her for an MRI in about two hours, but I really don’t think it’s much more than a little shaken brain. Diffuse Axonal injury was an over-reaction.” He paused. “This was a pretty savage attack, Mr. Walsh. I hope someone caught the bastards.”