“Too risky?” Henninger asked as he followed them through the door.
“What the f**k is wrong with you two? Let them take care of him!”
“No,” Zane said as he got Ty to the passenger side. “You’re going up there and telling them we walked for coffee and were nowhere near that car, you got it?”
Henninger opened the door, hand gripping the side of it until his knuckles turned white. “But why? They’re going to know it’s your car,” he said logically.
“Yeah, and by then, we’ll be where no one can get at us,” Zane said as he practically lifted Ty into the backseat of the SUV.
“You think someone in the Bureau is trying to kill you?” Henninger asked incredulously, brows nearly up into his hairline.
“It might not be a bad idea for you to hide out for a while after this, too,” Zane said without answering the question. “You were too close to that computer.”
Henninger blanched and repeated himself. “You really think someone from inside’s trying to kill you? But that means they’d have to know why you were really sent here.”
“And now you see the problem,” Zane answered, shutting the door carefully. He turned to the other agent. “But right now, kid, you’re the only person I trust besides him,” he said with a jerk of his head at Ty, who had slumped in the backseat. “Look, call my cell phone once they pick apart that car and let me know what they find, okay? There’s obviously someone on the inside helping, if nothing else.”
Henninger’s face went hard as he followed Zane around the SUV.
“Got it,” he murmured in a low voice.
Zane nodded and climbed into the truck. Before closing the door, he stuck out his hand, which Henninger shook. “Take care of yourself. Get Morrison to watch your back.”
Henninger nodded. Zane shut the door and drove out of the garage, leaving Henninger behind to cover for them. By the time the SUV hit daylight, Ty was unconscious.
Carrying his bloody partner into the emergency room didn’t even raise any eyebrows until Zane was able to flash his badge, and then everyone got busy, fast. Ty had a nice crack on the head; a long, thin gash that had bled badly but didn’t even need more than a few stitches, and some minor burns and bad bruising down his arm. Aside from the unpredictable head wound, the worst injury was to his rib cage. Nothing was broken, but he had pulled muscles and suffered deep, painful bruises along the intercostals that would impede his movement for quite some time. Weeks, definitely. Possibly months, the doctor had told Zane.
Zane sat in a chair, leaning over with his elbows on his knees next to the bed where Ty sprawled, hooked up to an IV and all kinds of monitoring equipment. He needed to get them out of here soon. Since he’d used his badge to get in, word would get back to the office sooner rather than later. The admitting doctor had insisted on keeping Ty overnight, to watch the concussion and make certain it didn’t turn ugly. They had kept Ty awake most of the night, and it had made him very cranky, very sulky, and very difficult to deal with. Even more so than he usually was. Now he dozed as Zane waited impatiently for the doctor. He checked his watch yet again just as the doctor walked in.
“He’s got a little internal damage, swelling in the skull that might bother him a few days, and a nice, big lump on the outside,” the doctor offered before Zane could even question him. “He got his bell rung, but he seems to be doing okay, other than the pain. Take him home, put an ice pack on it. Keep an eye on him, keep him up for an hour or two before you give him pain meds, just in case. If he doesn’t need the pills, don’t give them to him. I’m talking writhing in agony pain,” he said sternly. “And keep him in a nice quiet place for a few days until that swelling goes down. A head injury like this can turn bad quickly, though, so like I said, keep an eye on him. If 188
there’s pronounced dizziness, blurring of vision, slurring, shakes, confusion, nausea and so on, call an ambulance. That swelling in his head is the worst problem, and it might cause some memory issues. Any questions?” he asked.
Zane shook his head silently. “I’ll have an orderly in to help him out, then,”
the doctor said.
Zane stood, shaking his head. “No, just clear the hall, and I’ll get us out of here,” Zane said.
The doctor scowled and inclined his head stubbornly. “Either he leaves here in a wheelchair attended by an orderly,” he said calmly, “or he doesn’t leave at all.”
Zane’s nostrils flared angrily. “I’ll make you a deal,” he grated. “I’ll push him, and your orderly can follow along behind.”
The doctor narrowed his eyes and nodded, removed Ty’s IV, and skirted around the curtain to start the paperwork.
Figuring he’d try to make a quick escape, Zane shook Ty’s shoulder lightly, bending over close to the other man’s ear. “Ty? You want to wake up so we can get out of here?”
Ty turned his head slightly, his temple nudging Zane’s chin as he groaned in answer. “Just leave me here with the drugs.”
Zane chuckled. He knew they hadn’t given Ty anything for the pain because of the concussion, but Ty wouldn’t know any different as out of it as he was. “I’ve got a couple pocketfuls of drugs to keep you happy,” Zane crooned to him. “Let’s get you up, big boy.” He slid his arm under Ty’s shoulders and started to slowly lift him to a sitting position.
Ty swatted at him, shivering as his head throbbed. “You sure it’s good to move me?” he asked dubiously as he swung his legs off the bed. He wasn’t typically too bothered with injuries, but getting conked on the head and losing time bothered him. He couldn’t remember a thing from the time he’d walked out of the doors of the Federal building until he woke in the hospital. “Quit touching me,” he muttered with a weak swat at Zane’s hands.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a pretty little nurse getting me out of bed? I think you scared the doctors into releasing me,” he accused as an orderly wheeled in a wheelchair.
“Sure I did. ‘‘Because I’m a big, scary guy,” Zane said with a note of pride.
“That’s not entirely a good thing,” Ty grumbled as he stood carefully and shuffled over to the wheelchair. He had seen men try to refuse the wheelchair ride out of the hospital before. Most were macho idiots, and many of them wound up doing a face plant into the floor for their troubles. Ty had never seen the point. Even if he had been the type, though, he knew he couldn’t walk a straight line right now anyway.