Chapter Nine

"Blame It On the Morphine"

Sometimes a dream can disorient you so thoroughly that when you wake up, you have no idea where you are or how you got there. And other times you wonder if you're actually dreaming.

That wasn't presently my problem. I knew I wasn't dreaming and yet I couldn't remember what had happened to land me in a hospital with tubes sticking out of places no tube should be stuck into in the first place.

"Oh, thank God, you're awake!"

I expected Mr. Quinn to be there to fill in the blanks, so I was quite surprised to see a beautiful young face hovering over me.

"We weren't sure you were going to make it!" Ami was frantically explaining while I was trying to adjust my focus. Maybe I was dreaming after all, although she had said 'we.' My mind was clear enough to realize there had to be someone else in the room.

"We?" I mumbled which was more difficult than it should've been. Who had filled my mouth with sand?

"I'm here," a deep, familiar voice replied. "You did give us a scare, although you should know upfront, this probably isn't the last time you're going to be shot at."

Matthew Quinn was sitting near the window. I couldn't get a good look at him though and worked to sit up.

"Here. Let me help."

Multiple pillows were placed behind my back and head, and after that, a straw was inserted into my mouth.

"You need to drink something." Her words were kind but authoritative. I didn't dare refuse and took a few sips of ice water.

When I turned back to look at Quinn, he was grinning like the Chesire Cat himself. I glared at him in an effort to warn him not to say anything, but there was something I wanted to ask.

Oh, that's right. I'd been shot. I had wondered where exactly, but when I'd maneuvered to a better position in the bed, the answer became obvious: Lower back, right side.

"I'm going to assume you didn't see the shooter," Quinn pointed out.

"Obviously," I replied sarcastically. Where was the nurse with the pain meds? "Who shoots someone in the back?" I wondered aloud.

"Somebody who doesn't want you nosing around anymore would be my guess. You really must've pissed him off."

"This is all my fault," Ami, who hadn't left my bedside was saying. "I'm so sorry you got hurt. Mr. Quinn, please send me the bill. I want to pay for Ben's care."

I cast Quinn a sideways glance. I knew all about his financial troubles. Surely, he would accept her offer. The agency needed the money.

"Don't worry about it, Miss Berrie. We have insurance to cover things like this."

What a confusing response. We had insurance? Since when? The question must've shown on my face because Quinn quickly and privately shook his head. That's what I thought.

"If only I had seen something!" Ami was continuing to bemoan, and was that a tear in her eye? For me? How about that! "But all I heard was a shot and when I ran out into the hall to see what it was, I found you lying on the floor next to the elevator."

Now I remembered. Following my meeting with Steven Alpati, I wanted to go over a few things with Ami.

"We have the bullet," Quinn informed me, reaching over to actually hand me the hunk of metal that had apparently been dug out of my back.

I studied the object for any markings before finally giving up. "I don't recognize this," I admitted.

"That's because it isn't out in circulation yet," Quinn explained, easing my mind. I didn't like not knowing about things like this. "That type of bullet belongs to a Colt Python, not due to hit the market until next spring."

If my deductions were clear, that could only mean one thing. "The shooter had to either know someone in the firearms industry or the means to go about getting one."

"My thoughts, exactly," Quinn agreed.

Good. There wasn't anything worse than saying something stupid in front of your boss. "Can we get a warrant on this?"

"I'm sure we can. I'll call Chief Dunn and find out. I don't want to assume anything, but I can probably guess the location for the search." Mr. Quinn never missed much. He'd been in this game a long time.

I nodded silent confirmation. "As soon as I get out of here, Mr. Alpati has a few more questions to answer." After all, I did tell him I'd be back.

"Focus on healing up first, sport," the old man teased before he rose to his feet. "I'll get in touch with Dunn and get the paperwork started."

"Thanks," I told him before he nodded a farewell and headed out.

That left Ami and me alone in the room, and I had to admit I was still a little confused as to why she was still hanging around. What made it worse was when she dragged a chair over next to my bedside and sat on it.

"What were you wanting to talk to me about yesterday?"

All right. That made more sense. After all, she had found me bleeding outside her apartment door. Funny, how I was secretly hoping she was staying because she cared. Get real, I told myself. There was no way a girl of her looks and financial status would have anything to do with someone like me.

"I visited Mr. Alpati yesterday," I explained. "He had a lot to say about you and I hate to tell you this, but it wasn't anything good."

I watched her reaction closely and was surprised she didn't seem bothered by this information.

"The feeling is mutual," she told me, leaning forward against the rail of my bed, her dark eyes wide and innocent. Or so they appeared.

"He's one of those people who think that just because they have a little money, they can step all over those who don't. He doesn't realize it's those people who got him where he is today. Did you know he was a tailor back in Italy? It's true: a poor tailor. And yet, someone cut him a break, offered him an internship, and sent him to America. He's been lucky and has had everything handed to him."

She certainly had a fairly low opinion of the man, which led me to tell her something I may regret. "That's exactly what he said about you," I informed her. "He said you wouldn't be where you are today without him – that he's given you everything."

A sweet smile lifted the corners of her glossy lips. "What he doesn't realize is that I'm the one using him. I have no intention of killing myself trying to become the next Alpati supermodel. I have other plans for my life."

Interesting. "Is that so? What sort of plans?" I couldn't help but ask. I was truly interested in anything she had to say and thoroughly enjoyed watching her say anything.

Iris was not going to like this one bit.

"I enrolled in City College last semester. I'm studying Political Science. The professors are so great. I'm allowed to take my work with me when I travel so I don't get behind. I attend classes whenever I'm in town."

"I'm guessing Mr. Alpati isn't aware of this," I stated, recalling the man saying something about her not having a higher education.

"That's true. I'm hiding this from him because he wouldn't like it. He prefers to have his employees solely dependent upon him. That way he has the right to dictate where we live, what we eat, whom we date, and where we go."

"Golden handcuffs," I pointed out. It was something Quinn had said to me once.

"Pardon me?"

"You're essentially a prisoner who relies on someone else's money to provide everything you need to live. You aren't free to make your own decisions."

"Yes. That's a good way of putting it," she agreed.

Our conversation was interrupted by a rather robust nurse who insisted on removing my catheter. Ami stepped behind a privacy curtain which I was thankful for. This would go much better if I was unconscious.

"I'm glad to see you've come to, Mr. Noble," the nurse said while pulling out a tube I could've sworn was lined with barbed wire. "I'll inform the physician and have a meal sent up soon."

"Great. Thanks," I told her, though I really didn't mean it. I had to get out of here as soon as possible and I wasn't hungry.

After the nurse left, Ami stepped back into view.

"Sorry about that," I told her while damning the way my skin had turned pink, even though she hadn't seemed to notice.

"Don't be silly. You're in a hospital. Things like this are to be expected."

A long pause followed her comment which surprisingly wasn't awkward at all. She was just standing there smiling at me, and I was thoroughly enjoying it. Despite the fact alarm bells were going off in my head and a promise I'd made to Mr. Quinn to not get involved with a client was about to be essentially ignored, I didn't seem to care.

I'll just blame it on the morphine.