Free The Enraged (A Jonathan Quinn Novel) by Brett Battles Page B

friend?”
    “Woman.”
    “Orlando.”
    The nurse clearly hadn’t heard that name before.
    “Which room?” he asked.
    “ICU.”
    “Can you take me there?”
    She hesitated, but said, “Follow me.”
    The intensive care unit was on the other side of the hospital, in a wing that had been divided into six private rooms off a central hallway. At the head of the hallway was a desk manned by another nurse. She looked surprised to see Nate and his escort.
    The two women spoke in hushed Spanish for several seconds. When they were done, the one at the desk stood up.
    “She will show you to your friend,” the first nurse said. “I have to return to my desk.”
    “ Gracias ,” Nate said.
    She smiled. “ De nada. ” Then her face turned serious as she pointed at him. “Don’t stay long. You need rest.”
    The new nurse led him down the hallway to the last room on the left, nodded at the closed door, and, without a word, headed back the way they’d come. Nate quietly opened the door, not wanting to wake Orlando if she was sleeping.
    Orlando’s room was much more elaborate than his. Diagnostic equipment and monitors all but surrounded her bed. The only thing in the room that was the same as in his was the chair Liz was sitting in. She was asleep, a magazine lying against her chest, her head lolled to the side.
    Nate eased the door closed and stepped over to the chair. If Liz stayed in her current position, she would have a hell of a sore neck in the morning. Gingerly, he lifted the magazine out of her hands and set it on the nightstand. He then repositioned himself in front of her, and attempted to move her into a more comfortable position.
    He was only seconds from success when her eyes eased open. For a brief moment, she looked at him as if she couldn’t comprehend who he was or what he was doing, then she sat up with a jolt.
    “Nate?” She blinked to push away the sleep and looked around her. “Wait. This isn’t your room.”
    “No. It’s Orlando’s.”
    “Right, right.” She started to relax, but then her brow furrowed again. “What are you doing out of bed?”
    “Looking for you. I woke up and you weren’t there.”
    She put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, but you slept through most of the day.”
    “Tell me what?”
    “I promised Jake I would watch Orlando while he was gone.”
    Jake, Quinn’s birth name, and one Liz still used.
    “Gone? Where?”
    “He and Daeng went to DC to see Misty.”
    “Misty?” He could understand if Misty wanted to talk to Quinn about Peter’s death, but they could have done that on the phone. “Why?”
    “You should get some sleep,” Liz said. “We can talk about it in the morning.”
    “I’ve had more than enough sleep, so we can talk about it now.” When she didn’t respond right away, he said, “Liz, I’m going to find out one way or the other.”
    She rubbed her eyes and let out a deep breath. “He’s trying to figure out who’s responsible.”
    “Responsible for what?”
    She looked at him like he should already know. “Killing Peter. What happened to Orlando. To you. And the others. What do you think?”
    “We know who’s responsible. They’re all dead.”
    “No. Jake wants to find who started it all. Who gave Romero the list of names he was working from,” she said.
    Nate leaned back.
    The list. Of course. The list that mistakenly contained Quinn’s name. A mistake that was magnified, at least for Nate, when Romero’s snatchers thought Nate was Quinn.
    “Has he learned anything?” he asked.
    “I have no idea. Haven’t heard from him since he checked in earlier today, but it’s not like he’d share anything like that with me. You know that.”
    “What about Orlando? Did he talk to her about any of this?”
    “Nate, she hasn’t woken up yet.”
    “What?” He looked over at Orlando. “You told me she was doing okay.”
    “In the grand scheme, she is,” Liz said. “But she has a long way to go. I