White Night

Chapter 55

Michael opened his eyes and woke without pain for the first time in three days, but his heart stopped as a fresh hell stood at the foot of his hospital bed.

Victor Hansen.

He had to be dreaming, or still stuck in a nightmare. How the hell? It wasn't possible, but he knew the man was real. Less than twenty-four hours before Michael would've taken the fight to him, and Hansen got to him first, and not alone. Detective Connors stood guarding the door. The bitch was in on it.

His arms weren't cuffed anymore, but there was nothing he could use to defend himself, nothing except the red-hot rage now coursing through his veins.

"Hello, Michael," Hansen said calmly.

He launched himself at Hansen. Needles ripped out of his arm, but he barely felt his skin tear as he flew at the man who ruined his life.

Hansen ran backward. Cowardly piece of...

An arm wrapped around his neck from behind, Detective Connors', but he was a freight train and he wasn't stopping until Hansen's pulse did. The heart monitor screamed when his own heartbeat disconnected from it. Detective Connors' feet scraped along the floor behind him as Hansen continued his retreat, but the asshole was running out of room.

"Michael, stop!" Detective Connors' shouted, but he could only see Hansen.

"Michael!" she shouted again, her arm still around his neck and her hand clawing at his chest, but he had just inches to Hansen's face.

Suddenly his body exploded in pain and his legs gave out.

She'd shot him.

No, she stuck her fingers in his wound, but the devil jamming her fingers through his body had dropped him just the same. He panted at the floor, the inferno ripping through his shoulder again. Detective Connors pulled his arm to the bed. He heard the clack of the cuff on his wrist and then a second clack as she connected him to the bedrail. Trying to find his feet, he strained at the cuffs, but the bed wouldn't move. The wheels were locked and Detective Connors was blocking it with her body. Her hand still clamped on his shoulder and inches from the injury, the threat was real. She could stick him again any moment.

"You bastard!" he screamed at Hansen.

"Michael, I brought Mr. Hansen here," Detective Connors said breathlessly.

"You bitch! I knew it. You said you would protect me, but I knew it," he growled at her.

"I am protecting you," she insisted.

The door opened and a nurse rushed in, her jaw dropping as she saw her patient on the floor, the heart monitor still screaming in the background.

"What on earth?" she shrieked.

"NYPD. It's okay, just give us a minute," Detective Connors said, releasing his shoulder and flashing her badge.

It was his only chance...

"Help! They're going to kill me!" he shouted at the nurse. Her eyes swept from him to the pig and back again.

"Michael, we're not going to kill you." Detective Connors rubbed her forehead slowly.

She was a good actor, but he knew if the nurse left the room, she would end him.

"Don't leave! If you do, I'm dead." He pleaded with her to believe him, but crumpled on the floor, half naked in his hospital gown and handcuffed to the bed, he knew she would take the cop's word over his.

"Look, if you could stay, it might help calm him down." Detective Connors sighed.

The nurse nodded, and relief swept over him. He'd screwed her plan. They couldn't kill him with a witness, but they would get him in the end, unless he could get the cop's gun...