I follow the signs that point to the registration desk. I figure they can tell me what room Diesel is in. I called the hospital before we headed out, but they refused to give me information. In fact, they hung up on me. I didn’t have resources to find out anything quickly, so I made this fucking trip in record time and the boys and I have rode hard, barely stopping to take a piss. We made it here in about twenty-four hours. All of which means, I’m fucking tired, hungry, pissed and a bunch of other shit I’m not even naming. They’ll let me see my boy. If they don’t, I’ll burn this fucking town down and at this point I’m deadly serious.
“I’m looking for my brother,” I tell a startled looking older lady behind a reception desk.
“Uh, what’s his name?” she asks, taking a pin out of her permed, gray hair and adjusting her glasses. She has a white stack of papers, about four or five that have been stapled together.
“Westin Cross,” I tell her.
She sifts through the numbers, and swear to God the woman is slow as fucking molasses. Gunner is beside me and he exhales to the point it sounds like he’s snoring.
“I don’t have a Westin Cross listed,” she says, looking up at us nervously.
What the fuck?
“Check again,” I growl.
The old lady jumps visibly and if I wasn’t so worried about Diesel, I’d feel like a piece of shit.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “There’s no Westin Cross listed in a room here.
“We were told he was in a coma and recently came out of it,” Gunner adds.
“There’s a chance he could be in the Intensive Care Unit. Those names are protected for family privacy, but since it’s your brother you should be able to check with them.”
“Where is that?” I ask her.
“ICU is on the fifth floor,” she responds. She barely has the words out before we’re heading toward the elevators.4Crusher“I’m looking for Westin Cross?” I ask the woman at the nurse’s station.
“I’m sorry?” she asks, sounding surprised.
“I was told my brother was in here, Westin Cross?”
She frowns. “Let me double check,” she says. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a man listed by that name,” she says looking up from her papers.
“What in the ever-loving fuck?” Gunner growls. “If we came all the way here and Diesel is not here, I’ll hunt down that McDaniels chick on my own,” he growls, not bothering to be quiet about it.
“McDaniels?”
“Yes, Rory McDaniels, she’s the one that called me. Do you know her?”
“Give me a moment please,” she whispers, her face changing. She turns away, looking at us over her shoulder and goes to a doctor who is standing there looking at a chart. I watch as they whisper amongst themselves.
“What the hell do you think is going on?” Fury asks me. I frown.
“Fuck if I know, but something is,” I mutter, as the doctor nods to the nurse and then walks over to us.
“I understand that you were sent here looking for a family member?”
“Yeah, and for some damn reason I feel like something is going on that I’m not a party to,” I tell the doctor.
“Can I have your name please?”
“Alexander Dawson,” I growl, even more confused.
“Your brother, do you happen to have his birthdate?”
“Doctor—”
“Birtley. My name is Dr. Birtley.”
“Fine, Dr. Birtley, I think it’s about time you tell me what’s going on.”
“I need you to confirm your brother’s birthdate and I know this is unorthodox, but do you have a picture ID for Mr. Cross?”
“What in the fuck?” Fury growls.
“His birthday is in February,” I tell him. He looks at me still waiting and I resist the urge to reach out and grab him by the throat and choke him if he doesn’t let me see Diesel—barely.
“The day?” he asks.
“Jesus,” Gunner growls.
“The fourteenth,” I mutter, knowing only because once upon a time, before time and women fucked my boy, he used to say that being born on Valentine’s Day was why all the women loved him. He was a different man back then.
I miss him.
This Rory chick must be some fucking woman for him to trust her.
“And do you have something to show that you know uh… Mr. Cross?”
“Doc, you’re going to have to start explaining shit and soon,” Fury growls.
“I need to make sure you all know my patient,” he says, not even blinking at Fury. Fury is big and mean looking. Hell, most people go out of their way to avoid him, let alone the four of us together. If I wasn’t so pissed, I’d be impressed by the doctor’s cojones.
“Fuck,” I growl.
“I have a picture in my billfold of the four of us, will that work?” Gunner asks.
“What the fuck are you doing with a picture?” I ask, surprised. “Have you turned into Mr. Hallmark?”