Free Forsaken by Sarah Ballance Page A

keeping his high-profile clients safe. Between tracking the bad guys and keeping tabs on his own people, Maverick’s gadget inventory was much more of a necessity than Gage first thought. Time and time again, those computers and whatchamacallits had saved his ass.
    “You gonna tell her the truth?” Maverick asked.
    Gage cocked an eyebrow. Maverick wasn’t one to meddle, and he picked a bad time to start. “I think I’ve hurt her enough.”
    “You want to move forward with this, Lawton, you’re going to have to tell her the truth.”
    Gage sighed. “Who said anything about moving forward?”
    “You love her. You can’t tell me you don’t want something with her if she’s willing. Tell her the truth before this goes any further. You might lose her, but you can’t keep that inside forever. Don’t hurt her more than you have to. She deserves the truth—at least give her that while she decides what to do with your sorry ass.”
    Gage glared wordlessly, his jaw set.
    To Maverick’s credit, he changed the subject without awaiting an answer. “Remember I told you no one had visited Colt in the rehab facility?” he asked, rounding the nearest desk. He sat in front of a computer and repositioned the monitor so Gage could see the screen.
    Did he ever. “Yeah.”
    “He did have a frequent guest before he left the hospital. Rigby. Uh…Tom Rigby. Know the name?”
    Gage frowned, trying to force his mind back to times he’d long written off. “No, it doesn’t ring a bell. How frequent?”
    “Very. Started with a phone call about six weeks after the accident.”
    “They track phone calls in a hospital?” Gage asked with blatant skepticism.
    Maverick shrugged. “This guy made himself memorable. Always called at the same time. Talked sweet to the desk nurse.”
    The frown deepened. “So? I still don’t get why anyone would remember a few phone calls. They must get hundreds.”
    “Would you let me finish? Anyway, he wanted to go in after visiting hours. Insisted on it.”
    “Which is a piss-poor way to stay under the radar.”
    “Agreed. After a week, Tom had the nurse looking the other way. He visited every night—or every night she was on shift, at least—for about two weeks. Then he took a break and didn’t show up again until a couple of nights before Colt moved to rehab.”
    “And?”
    Maverick stretched and cupped his hands behind his head. “And it stopped. Well, obviously the hospital visits stopped, but no one contacted Colt in rehab either.”
    Gage drummed his fingers on the desk, wishing Maverick would get to the point. “Any idea what the secret meetings were about?”
    “All I know is they supposedly met through some sort of counseling thing. A support group, maybe?”
    “Wait. What? Colt went to counseling? As a quadriplegic?” The idea struck Gage as absurd at first—insensitive ass as he was, all he could picture were rows of gurneys in a conference room—but the more he considered it, the more it made sense.
    “I’m sure they can do something while they’re in the hospital. I don’t know. I imagine it’s very much tailored to the individual’s need. But in Colt’s case, they had a psychologist on board because he faced so many changes all at once, losing his parents and his mobility in one night.”
    And his sister and fiancée . “Still getting this from the nurse?”
    “Yeah. Apparently the psychologist introduced Tom and Colt. Sort of a survivor’s thing.”
    Gage frowned. “If their meeting was on the up and up, then why the late night secrecy?”
    “Good question. And here’s another one. Nothing I dig up on Tom gives any indication as to how he fits with a rehab program.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Meaning there’s usually a connection. You know, guy who overcame something is there to support the guy just starting to go through it. I would expect Tom to have recovered from spinal cord damage or to have a loved one who has dealt with injuries similar to Colt’s—some