was a barrel-chested black man in a security-guard uniform standing at the nurse’s desk when they emerged from the stairwell. The nurse nodded toward them and the security guard started walking their way, wariness evident in his dark eyes. He kept one hand near the weapon tucked into his gun belt.
“Is there some sort of trouble?” he asked.
Anson answered in a calm, authoritative tone, “Earlier this evening, one of your patients was stabbed by one of four men who accosted him and his sister. I just spotted one of those men in a pair of scrubs heading toward his room. He turned and started running, so I went after him to see if I could catch him. But he had too large a head start, and then it occurred to me that he might have been a diversion.”
Ginny looked up at Anson. “You think—” She didn’t even stop to finish, darting down the hall toward her brother’s room.
When she dashed into the room, she found Danny still sleeping peacefully. The monitors next to his bed showed no signs of distress.
She slumped into the chair beside his bed, pressing her face into her shaking hands.
“Is everything okay, ma’am?” The security guard’s gravelly voice made her look up. He stood in the doorway, Anson a step behind him.
“Seems to be,” she answered, her voice wobblier than she liked. “I think I’d like a nurse to come check on him.”
The security guard nodded and headed back down the hall.
Anson waited in the doorway, his eyes narrowed as he looked from her to Danny, then back to her. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Are you sure it was one of those guys at the Whiskey Road?”
He entered the room, nodding. “Why would they come all the way here to go after him again?”
“I have no idea,” she admitted, feeling scared and helpless. It was a terrible feeling, one she’d experienced far too many times growing up, and she struggled not to give in. “I honestly don’t. Danny hasn’t said anything about being in trouble, and I haven’t noticed anyone suspicious hanging around the property or anything—”
“Does he live with you?”
“Since he went on disability.”
A nurse entered then, smiling at Ginny as she crossed to take a look at the monitor by Danny’s bed. “All his vitals look good.”
Danny stirred at the sound of the nurse’s voice, his eyes squinting at the light overhead. “Whass ’appenin’?
Ginny rose to comfort him. “Nothing’s happening, Danny. Why don’t you go back to sleep? You’ll feel a lot better in the morning.”
His eyes stopped struggling to focus and within a minute, he was asleep again. Ginny stared down at him, torn between wanting to tuck him in and wanting to jerk him up by the hair and shake him for what he was putting her through these days.
“He seems to be recovering nicely,” the nurse said with a gentle smile. “Call us if you need us.”
Ginny moved away from the hospital bed and sat down again, slumping forward, her forearms resting on her knees.
“You’re going to stay here all night, aren’t you?” Anson asked.
She looked up at him. “Yeah.”
“Did you call Quinn?”
She shook her head, feeling defeated. She had so much work on her desk waiting to be processed, and now she’d be another day behind. “I’ll call in the morning. I guess I’ll need to ask for a few days off.”
“No,” Anson said.
She looked up at him. “No?”
“There’s no reason for you to stay here with your brother for three days while he detoxes. You’re not his mother.”
Anger at his presumption flooded her tense gut as she rose to her feet. “You don’t have a say in what I do or don’t do.”
“No, I don’t. But I do have experience with drunks. And there’s no way you can baby him back to health. He has to want it for himself.” There was no hardness in Anson’s words, no censure. His rumbly voice was gentle and even sympathetic. “Until he wants it for himself, you’re just standing in the way of a freight train that has no intention of putting on the brakes.”
“I don’t think my staying here is going to make him stop drinking,” she said in a softer tone. “But if you’re right about that orderly being one of the men from the bar, then he might be in danger.”
“And you think you’re big enough to stop one of those guys?”
“No. But if I’m here, I can call for help.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue. But finally, he gave a brief nod. “Fair enough. But you’re going to need to sleep sometimes. You can’t stay here playing bodyguard around the clock.”
“There’s no one else to do it.” She sat in the chair again, wrapping her arms around her stomach, hoping to calm a sudden case of the shakes. She was starting to feel completely overwhelmed.
“Yes, there is,” Anson said quietly. “I can stay with your brother.”
She looked up again to see if he was serious. He was. She shook her head quickly. “No, that’s— I mean, it’s very nice of you to offer—”
“Thanks but no thanks?”
“Mr. Daughtry—”
“Anson,” he corrected gently.
“It’s a generous offer, but you don’t really know us. And I don’t really know you that well, and Danny doesn’t know you at all. And surely you have other things to do with your time.”
“Right now? Not so much.” He looked around the room, spotted a second chair and crossed to bring it closer to the recliner where she sat. He leaned forward until his eyes were level with hers. “I have an ulterior motive. I’ll admit that.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m bored. I don’t have a job to go to, and I don’t have anything interesting set up on the side while I’m waiting for Quinn and his investigators to finally figure out I’m not out there leaking company secrets like a rusty pipe. Plus, I happen to have a little experience with people who drink too much. And maybe it’s a good thing Danny doesn’t know me, you know?”
“You think I’m a pushover.”
“Didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t have to.” She looked over at her brother. He was still asleep, his face soft and boyish, reminding her of the boy he’d once been. She sighed. “I know I’m too soft on him. But he’s all I have.”
“Believe me, I get that.” A melancholy note in Anson’s deep voice drew her attention back to him. He was looking at her, his gaze warm and serious. “I know what it’s like to be you. Only it was my father. And he never recovered.”
The thought of losing Danny to booze or, God forbid, drugs was enough to send a chill all the way to her bone marrow. She hugged herself more tightly. “I’m sorry.”
“Let me do this. I’ll even stay tonight if you want so you can go home and get some sleep.”
She shook her head. “No car, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
As an awkward silence descended between them, there was a light knock on the door, and a moment later, the security guard who’d questioned them earlier stuck his head through the doorway. “Everything okay in here?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said, managing a weak smile at the man.
“Did you find the man with the beard?” Anson asked.