“Don’t be too hasty to turn him down. That boy’s going places.”
And had probably asked Fischer to reassure her, which only irritated her more. As she’d told Rick, now was not the time to deal with this. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She glanced at her watch as a way to remind him that she was in a hurry. “Are we done?”
“For now.”
“I’d better get to the infirmary.” She started out, then quickly turned back. “Warden?”
“Yes?”
“If Simeon Bennett lives through this, can I have your permission to transfer him out of here?”
“That’s the CDC’s call, not mine.”
But Wallace would never agree. “We should take a stand.”
Fischer didn’t like the tone of her voice, and he let her know it by the tone of his. “I told you, that’s the CDC’s call,” he said. Then, strained though it was, he produced a smile. “Have a nice evening.”
Virgil didn’t look good. Eyes closed, he lay perfectly still while a nurse, who’d already removed his shirt, cleaned away the blood that covered so much of his torso. She was working too fast to be gentle, which bothered Peyton. But Virgil didn’t react to her pushing and probing.
Peyton hoped he wasn’t as badly hurt as it appeared from out in the hall. He’d been stabbed at least once—in the stomach. That was obvious from the blood that poured out. And he cradled his left hand close to his body as if it hurt.
At the sound of the door opening, the nurse turned toward her.
Cute, petite, dark-haired Belinda, a young mother of two, must’ve been expecting the doctor or someone else. When she saw Peyton she straightened in surprise. “Chief Deputy Warden. I, um… Is there something I can help you with?”
Virgil’s eyes opened and riveted on hers. Hardly able to keep from rushing over to him, she stood against the wall.
“Don’t stop,” she said. “I won’t get in the way.”
“We’re a bit short-staffed tonight,” the nurse explained as if she thought Peyton had come to observe how well she was handling the emergency. “But the doctor will be here as soon as he’s available.”
As soon as he’s available? Virgil had been stabbed. Why wasn’t the doctor here now? “Where is he?”
Belinda jerked her head toward the examination room next door. “With another inmate.”
“Who?”
“Weston Jager. And there are two more across the hall. They were all in the fight that caused this.”
“Are Weston’s injuries more life-threatening than what you have here?”
At the anger in her voice, the nurse blinked several times. “No…”
“Then why is the doctor with him?”
“He, um, he demanded to be first. And it was easier than putting up with his abuse,” she admitted sheepishly.
Peyton wasn’t willing to reward Weston’s sense of entitlement. “He can wait,” she snapped. “And so can his buddies. Get the doctor in here.”
The nurse hesitated. “You want this guy seen first?”
“His name’s Simeon Bennett, and that’s exactly what I want.” Peyton groped for an excuse to explain why she cared so much. “He’s the brother of a friend of mine.”
“Oh! You know him?” She seemed relieved to finally understand.
“Not personally,” Peyton hedged. “But I’ve promised my friend he’ll be okay while he’s in here. I feel responsible for keeping that promise. You understand.”
“Of course. I’ll tell Dr. Pendergast.”
After giving Virgil a piece of gauze to hold against the knife wound near his navel, the nurse left and Peyton allowed herself to move closer.
“Good line,” Virgil mumbled.
“Line?” She wasn’t sure what he meant. Her thoughts were too busy vacillating between self-recrimination for letting this happen and prayers that Virgil would be all right.
“About me being…related to a friend…of yours. Good…cover for our association.”
Association? The panic she felt went way beyond that. “Yeah, well, hopefully she bought it.” She had no reason to believe otherwise; she was just wound up.
He managed a smile. “Quit worrying, okay? Everything’s fine.”
“This is fine?” She motioned to his injuries. “You look like hell.”
“I’ve seen better days. But I’ve seen worse, too.” His smile turned into a grimace as he repositioned himself on the table. “What about the other guys? I hope they’re in worse shape than I am.”
“I haven’t checked. It’s you I’m concerned about.”
His bandage was already soaked with blood. She got him a new one and tried to help stanch the flow, but he knocked her hand away before she could touch it. “You’re not wearing gloves.”
“You think you might give me a disease?”
“Why take the chance?”
“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?”
Another wince told her he was in significant pain. “It’s not my blood I’m worried about.”
“What happened?” she asked.
He let his head fall back. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“You’ve been in a fight. That’s obvious. But you were only inside for a few hours!”
“I had to clear the first hurdle.” His chest rose as he drew a breath. “Once I settle in, we’ll have a better chance of not meeting up in here.”
The new gauze was as saturated as the old one. Since he had to struggle to do even simple things, she jerked the bandage away from him and held it in place herself.
“I told you not to touch—”
She blocked him so he couldn’t stop her. “I’ve got it. Just relax.”
When his eyes closed, she was afraid he was in worse shape than he wanted her to know. Talking cost him a great deal of energy, but as long as he was alert, she felt reassured—and that prompted her to keep the conversation going. “You jumped them?” she asked.
“Four men?” He tried to laugh, but couldn’t. “They…jumped me. I just…issued the invitation.”
“Big of you to get things started.”
“Calm down. I’m fine.”
“You’re fine, huh? For how long?”
“For now.”
Had he done enough to impress the Hells Fury? Or would the job require more? “Please tell me you did what you were hoping to do.”
“Too early to tell.”
“So this could happen again. And again.”
“Maybe. Depends.”
She examined his wound and frowned at the blood that continued to pour from the jagged opening. What had they knifed him with? A sharpened toothbrush? A piece of metal they’d brought from the industry yard and sharpened for days on end? She twisted around to stare into the hall. Where was the damn doctor? “God, tell me this isn’t deep.”
“I have no idea. I didn’t…expect anyone to have a…weapon. No one did…at first. Buzz must’ve…slipped one to his friends.”
“Buzz was involved in this?” The man she’d carefully vetted as his cell mate?
“He backed off once the fighting got serious. He’s dead set…on getting out of here…didn’t want to screw that…up. But, yeah…he was the instigator…and the only one who…didn’t get hurt.”
“Then we’ll move you to a different cell.”
Virgil shook his head.
“It’s the only way to keep you safe.”
“No.”
“If you won’t move, then I want you out.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“Peyton, stop.”
She glanced behind her to make sure they were still alone. “I can’t stop.”
His hand covered hers. “Yes, you can. This…is my only shot.”