Page 7 of No Lies No Promises

As I open my mouth to argue, a young doctor in his late twenties parts the curtains, looking at his tablet. “You lost a fair amount of blood, but not enough to need a transfusion. The fluids brought your pressure up, and your labs look good. If you agree to take it easy, you can go home.”

Agreeing, I thank him, and as we shake hands goodbye, a no-nonsense woman in navy scrubs marches in.

“We're ready to release you, Mr. Clark. First, we need to go over a few instructions.” She glares when a ringing phone dares to interrupt her.

“Sorry.” Face red, Lillian glances at the screen. “It's Dante. Carry on. I’ll take this outside.”

As my only lifeline disappears into the hallway, Nurse Ratchet picks up the paperwork in her lap. “Excellent. Now we can discuss your restricted activities. No sex, no…”

Shit. This ought to be fun.

Chapter 4

Lillian

Shivering in the cool breeze, I pace the sidewalk outside the emergency room with my phone to my ear. “Sean claims he never saw her before, and I believe him.”

Hoping my boss has finally finished his questioning, I plop onto a bench.

The tiny speaker distorts when Dante, who must be exhausted, whooshes out his breath. “I'll see what Daedalus can dig up.”

What is it with these guys and their nicknames?

My eyes roll into my forehead. “Wasn't he the man who flew too close to the sun?”

Not missing a beat, the annoying man replies, “No, that was his son, Icarus. Daedalus designed the wings.”

“Wow, for five in the morning, you sure are full of random facts.” I’m tired and cranky, and dried mud itches everywhere. What I wouldn't give for a shower.

Despite my sarcasm, or because of it, Dante chuckles. “He's our best data analyst. White hat. Hacker. Ex-government.”

“Don’t suppose he has a real name?”

“Yeah, Daed.” Lucky for him, the squeal of brakes drowns out my smart-ass retort.

A second later, a dark sedan pulls into the NO STANDING zone where a lone driver exits and slams the door.

“Shit.” I hurry back inside through the automatic sliding glass. “Think we've earned ourselves a detective. Gotta go.”

“Copy. I'll send a car and text you. Try not to blow this one up.”

Like it’s my fault? “Talk to Sean. It’s his disaster, not mine.”

“Remains to be seen.” Dante's ominous tone sends a shiver down my spine.

No time to dwell, I call my sister. “Hey, Becks. Sorry about the time.”

She groans. “What the fuck, Lil? It’s the ass crack of dawn. Are you alright? What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Traffic jam. Stayed the night. Feed Buddy? Thanks a mil’. Bye.”

Ignoring her immediate callback, I nod to security, then jog to the open curtain where my fiancé sits on the edge of the bed, lacing his shoes. In front of him, a middle-aged lawman flashes his badge.

After introducing himself as Detective Lawler, he fishes out his phone, then begins scrolling. “Mind if I ask you two a few questions?”

When he looks up, Sean stands. “Can it wait until later? Neither of us has slept.” Hand at my lower back, he steers me toward the exit.

“It won't take long.” The cop’s smile doesn't reach his eyes. “I want to clear up a couple of issues. Sit. Or we could discuss this at the station house. Their coffee's worse than here.”