Patrice Milliard watched as one man left Larabee’s room. Her hair hung down over her shoulders and she wore the uniform of a hospital cleaner. She’d been standing by the waiting room on the forth floor and had simply changed the half eaten salad for the one that was meant to be on Larabee’s tray. She knew he hadn’t consumed enough of the larkspur tainted salad to kill him, but it didn’t make her angry. She smiled as she thought of how uncomfortable he’d be feeling once the toxin from the leaves took effect. She knew what those would be, nausea, cramping pain, vomiting, everything she could wish on the man who’d cost her so much.
Patrice picked up the dust broom and pretended to clean the floor as she listened to the conversation inside the room. She knew Larabee had only seen her briefly, and he’d been sick at the time, and she smiled as she looked at her reflection in the glass adorning the nursing station. The brown wig and glasses made her look totally different from how he’d seen her and she pushed the door open. She moved inside and caught sight of the man lying on the bed. She kept her gaze diverted as she swept under the bed and around the man seated in the chair.
“Vin, maybe you should go back to the hotel,” Jackson said as he watched the tracker rub his shoulder.
“I’m okay, Nathan. Arm’s just a little sore. It’s Chris we need to worry about.”
‘You’re right. It is Larabee you need to worry about,’ Patrice thought as she finished cleaning the room and made her way to the door. ‘Because the next time I won’t miss!’
Vin watched the door close and sighed heavily. He was tired, a deep seeded tired that cut to the bone. He hadn’t been eating right and what he did eat wouldn’t stay down for long. He knew it was probably the concussion, but he could also tell that he was losing weight and Jackson was starting to notice. He rubbed his head, hoping to stave off the mounting headache, but a sudden blinding pain told him this one would not be so easily quelled. He felt the soup he’d had at dinnertime coming back in his throat and hurried to the bathroom.
Jackson watched helplessly as Vin made it to the bathroom and shut the door. The sound of retching told him all he needed to know. The sharpshooter was far from healthy and he vowed to make him go to the ER and get checked out. He looked at the bed and knew Larabee was awake and also aware of what was going on.
“Nathan, what’s wrong with Vin?”
“I don’t know, Chris,” Jackson said as he pulled the blankets up over the shivering man. “But I intend to find out. He’s going down to the ER as soon as he comes out here.”
“He’s g...gonna fight you.”
“Right now I don’t think he’s got the strength.” He saw the worry in the green eyes and placed a hand on Larabee’s shoulder. “He’s probably just worn out, Chris. He’s not fooling any of us with that ‘I’m fine’ line of his and...” He didn’t get to finish as he heard the sound of running water and the door opened, revealing a very pale and shaky Vin Tanner.
“Sorry,” he said and noticed his best friend was awake. “Hey, Cowboy, how’re you feeling?”
“Hopefully not as bad as you look. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Chris...”
“Don’t give me that shit, Vin!” Larabee snapped. “Shit! Look, do me a favor...”
“Anything!” Tanner vowed.
“Go down to the ER...”
“Chris, I don’t need...”
“Fuck thaf shit, Vin. Look, I feel like shif and I need to know thaf you’re really okay! Just do this for me, okay?” Larabee’s words were not as slurred, but his friends could tell his mouth was still hurting him.
Jackson knew Larabee had used the right words. He’d used his own illness to get the tracker to give in to his demands, and the medic had little doubt that Tanner would do just that. He knew their leader was baiting Tanner and was about to set the hook.
“It’s just the affects of the concussion. Dr. Milano said I’d probably...”
“Humor me, V...Vin. Please,” the blond mumbled tiredly.
“Ah, hell...”
‘Hook, line and sinker,’ Jackson thought, keeping the smile off his face as he listened to the two friends.
“Go with him, Nathan,” Larabee said, his voice filled with relief.
“I know the way...don’t need an escort!” the tracker hissed.
“Yeah,” the blond grinned. “I just want to make sure you don’t take any detours. Go, I’m going back to sleep anyway. Wake me up when you get back.”
“Come on, Vin, let’s go get you checked out,” Jackson said and led he younger man to the door.
“I’ll be right back, Chris.”
“I’m counting on it,” Larabee said and closed his eyes.
Vin took one last look at the injured man and walked out of the room. He felt Jackson beside him and realized just how tired he felt as the other man reached out and grabbed him as he swayed. “Thanks, Nate,” he mumbled tiredly.
Jackson pointed at two chairs beside the window. “Why don’t you sit over there until I get a wheelchair?”
“I don’t need a wheelchair, Nathan. I keep telling you I’m just tired.”
“Tired and sick. Look, Vin, I’ve heard you puking your guts up when you thought no one heard...”
“Concussion...”
“That may be, but you told Chris you’d get checked out. You want me to go in there and tell him you’ve changed your mind?” the medic asked.
“Hell, Nate, that’s...”
“Blackmail!” Jackson finished with a grin. “Now let’s go!”
“Shit!” Tanner swore, but walked towards the bank of elevators.
Patrice watched the two men leave and smiled as she looked at the closed door. ‘I could end your life so easily right now, Larabee. I could walk into your room and take a pillow and shove it over your face, pressing down, watching your arms and legs thrash on the bed until you suffocated and no one would know it was me!’ she thought and made a move towards the door. Her hand touched the handle and an evil glint shone in her eyes as she slowly pushed down.
“Excuse me!”
Her hand dropped from the handle and she sucked in a deep breath, not realizing she’d been holding it in anticipation of her plans. She turned to face one of the nurses at the desk. “Yes?”
“I need you to clean a spill in 410 right away.”
“Okay!” Milliard said, her heart hammering in her chest as she hurried away from the door towards the utility closet. She checked the desk and then hurried to the stairwell before anyone else saw her. Once the door shut behind her, she leaned heavily against it until she got her breathing under control. A smile formed on her face as the adrenalin kicked in and the danger made her heart flutter in her chest. ‘Soon, Larabee, very soon,’ she thought as she raced down the flight of stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The nurse’s desk in the ER was quieter than usual and Nathan steered his charge directly towards the dark haired woman standing behind it.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” the nurse asked.
“Yeah,” Jackson answered. “He needs to see a doctor.”
“I can talk, Nathan!” Tanner hissed.
“Well go ahead.”
“Sir?” the nurse asked.
“Sorry. My friend here seems to think I need to see a doctor.”
“Can you tell me what the problem is, besides your arm?” she asked, a sympathetic smile on her face.
“Had a concussion...”
“Severe concussion,” Jackson corrected.
“Severe concussion.”
“What happened and how long ago?”
“Got shot, guess it’s been a couple of weeks,” Tanner answered.
“Two weeks since he was shot. Maybe a week and a half since he signed himself out of the hospital. A week since he ended up back in here!” Jackson could feel the quiet tracker glaring at him as the nurse wrote things down on the paper before her.
“So you were a patient in here for how long?”
“Couple of days,” Tanner answered. “Saw Dr. Milano...”
“She’s here tonight,” the nurse said and continued her questions. “What other symptoms brought you back here?”
“Nausea, headaches, vomiting,” Jackson again answered and felt the blue eyes blazing into his back.
“Nathan!”
“Well, you didn’t answer her.”
“Just a minute,” the nurse said as she typed the information into the computer.
“Mr. Tanner?”
Vin turned to face the doctor who admitted him the week before. “Ah Hell, hi, Doc,” he said.
“Problems?”
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