Broken Bonds (Club Imperial Series) Read Free Page B

beefcake-looking counterpart. “Who are you?”
    “Wright.” The woman held out her hand. Nathaniel shook it.
    “Perez.” The man did the same.
    “Wright, I need you to go up to the surgical area and keep tabs on Emmy.”
    “I’m sorry, sir, I’m assigned to you. I can’t leave.” Wright pulled her jacket straight.
    “You’re reassigned to Emmy.” Nathaniel stared at her hard.
    “Sir, Franklin—”
    “I don’t give a rat’s ass what Franklin said,” Nathaniel snapped. “I want you upstairs on Emmy two minutes ago. I will tell Franklin what I asked of you. She had the shit beaten out of her tonight and I want someone on her at all times. Starting now.” Wright stared at him for a moment longer, and Nathaniel roared, “Now!” Wright turned on her heel and headed for the nurses’ station to ask for directions. He motioned for Perez to stand outside the door.
    He had to take a few deep breaths to calm down again. He was starting to wonder when the angry testosterone surge was going to settle. He turned to the other men in the room. “Sorry about that, Detective. I’m worried about her.”
    “You have every right to be.” Garabaldi flipped out a notepad and pen. “So, I need your version of the events tonight.”
    Nathaniel quickly rolled through what had happened in the room, all the way to the point where they had rolled Emmy into one of the emergency’s triage rooms, and forced him out into his own room. Garabaldi nodded and looked at his notes. “So you’d never met Dorn before drinks tonight?”
    “Never,” Nathaniel responded.
    “You have no idea who the other person in that room was?”
    “I didn’t have a chance to get a good look at him.” Nathaniel’s arm throbbed with the memory. “The bat came at my head and I just never got a look at his face.”
    “I’m sorry to report we weren’t able to apprehend him,” Garabaldi said. “Do you know if Miss Westerly has any enemies?”
    “Greg Cortez,” Nathaniel answered without hesitation. “Other than that, I’m not sure. Grill him. I’m sure he’d be willing to trade up time for information.”
    Garabaldi paused and carefully put the notepad back in his pocket. Nathaniel could tell he was considering his words carefully. “Well, we would, but it appears he was in and out of the hospital, down to the station and made bail.”
    “What?” There was no word Nathaniel could think of that really got to the heart of what he was feeling when Garabaldi dropped that bomb. Homicidal came close. And from the look on Franz’s face, they’d both be facing charges.
    The detective nodded curtly. “Made bail. About an hour ago.”
    “He posted bail?!” Franz growled. “The motherfucker is out?”
    “Jesus fucking Christ. Who posted it?” Nathaniel asked.
    “Can’t disclose that information.”
    “You can’t—” Nathaniel was cut off by Franz’s hand silencing him. 
    “I thought the judge wasn’t too thrilled about this whole thing.” Franz stared down Garabaldi. “I thought he was going to throw the book at him and deny bail. Especially after the whole Victor Walsh fraud debacle yesterday.”
    “I thought he was too.” The controlled tone in Garabaldi’s voice told them that he was on their side, but had to remain detached. “Apparently, we were all mistaken.”
    Franz glanced over at Nathaniel. “I have no idea who the other guy was. By the time I turned around he was already halfway out the door. Security didn’t catch up with him either and when they found my upstairs bartender unconscious, they had to split forces.”
    “By the time we got there,” Garabaldi explained, “we had no idea what direction he’d gone or even if he’d insinuated himself into the crowd on the dance floor.”
    “I really think one of my staff would’ve noticed a psychopath with a bloody bat,” Franz grated out the words, “no matter what your opinion of my employees and clientele might be.”
    “I implied no such prejudice, Mr.