Forbidden (Southern Comfort) by O'Neill, Clark (free ebook reader txt) 📗

periphery of their vision, not worth the time or discomfort it took to actually take a good look.

“So I go to the Inn to tell Tate what’s happened because that’s just not the kind of news you impart over the phone, and my partner and about every other available officer in the department is busting their ass looking for Max.”

“Did anyone see him leaving the building?” Kim asked.

“No, but we have people reviewing footage from the aquarium’s outside cameras, as well as the parking garage which services that area.  As soon as we can get a better description on the woman, and an idea whether or not he was taken from the scene in a vehicle, we’ll issue an Amber alert.”

Clay nodded his head.  The sooner they could get that information out over the radio, the TV, and traffic monitors along the highway, the better chance they stood of locating Max.  “We’re here to offer whatever resources the Bureau has that you might need.  Just say the word.”

Tears, quickly dispatched, shimmered in her blue eyes.  “Since y’all are here with Tate, I’d like to get back to the aquarium.  Just sitting here’s making me crazy.  And when my brother wakes up – he was drugged by the way.  Damn, I forgot to mention that.  They found a puncture mark on his right buttocks and GHB in his system.”

“GHB?” Clay repeated.

“Yeah.  Gamma-… uh, what’s it called, Hydroxybutyric acid. The date rape drug?”

“Yeah, I know what it is.” He tightened his arms on Tate.  The fact that Rogan was drugged meant that the abduction had been planned, not simply a crime of opportunity.  “Did they say how long it would take for Rogan to come out of it?”  He really needed to question the man.

“From what I understand, it could normally take hours, considering the dose he was given.  But I think they were working to try to find a way to counteract the drug and get it out of his system.  Something about a stimulant, but I think it involves some risks.  I’ve been in here with Tate, so I don’t have the whole story.  But he’s down the hall in the recovery room, with my father and my brother.  My sister’s taking care of things at the Inn, and one of the managers is handling Murphy’s.  If you want to walk down and talk to either Dec or my dad, they might be able to tell you more.”

Clay nodded and Kathleen moved to leave.

“Keep us updated,” he asked plaintively.

“You can count on it.”

Kim shook the taller woman’s hand as she walked past, and then turned to look at Clay.  “I know you’re going crazy, and need to do something, but why don’t you let me go see about the cousin.  Just hold your lady for a little while.  You need each other right now.”

“Alright. But if Murphy’s awake, come get me.”

“Agreed.”

KIM left Clay in the ER and asked an orderly for the location of the recovery room, where a muffled “come in” followed her knock.

“Mr. Murphy?” An older man lifted his wet face from large hands.  “I’m Kim O’Connell, with the FBI.  I’m a friend of Clay’s.  Is it okay if I come in?”

After wiping one hand across his ruddy face, the man stood and extended the other.  “Ms. O’Connell.  Or rather Agent O’Connell.  Sorry. I’m not all together.”

The hand she shook trembled.  “In your place, I’d be in pieces also.”  Then she turned her attention to the bed.

Whoa.

The man was beaten up.  A broken ankle, a broken arm from what she could tell.  Bruises all over one of his cheeks.

His really attractive cheeks.

And okay, that was so not appropriate.

“How’s your son?” Hot.  She looked at his left hand.  Single.  Shit, she really had to stop this.

“Holding on,” his father said, gaze settling with concern on the bed.  “That drug in him, it’s bad news.  Convulsions, vomiting – even when he’s out of it.  I have to watch him to make sure he doesn’t swallow his own tongue.”

“Your daughter mentioned something about a stimulant to counteract the effects of lost consciousness?”

“Yeah.  They tried something, but it doesn’t appear to have worked.  The one that really works is apparently too risky, because it lowers the convulsion threshold.  So he still hasn’t regained consciousness.  Which, uh, might not be such a bad thing, I guess, because he’s gonna blame himself when he wakes up.  You know.  For Max.”  Choked up, he looked her way.  “You’ll be able to find him, right?  I mean, between Katie and the FBI, the bastards that took him don’t stand a chance.”

Katie was obviously his nickname for his daughter.  And if sheer force of will and desire could bring that little boy home, then yeah, the kid would be back by dinnertime.  “We’ll do everything we can.”

And as soon as she left this room, she was going to be on the phone with the local RA, pulling out every stop she could to suit action to words.

Behind her, the door opened, and…

She was pretty much struck dumb.

There were two of them, these gorgeous creatures, right here in the very same room.  One in front of her, one behind, like really nifty bookends.

“Oh, hey.  I didn’t realize we had company,” said bookend number two.  He jostled the drinks he was holding into the crook of his arm and flashed a hint of dimple her way.  His hair was shorter than his brother’s but it was obvious they were twins.  “I’m Declan.”

“Kim O’Connell.”

“She’s with the FBI,” said his father.

One masculine eyebrow arched skyward.  “Is that so?”

“I’m a friend of Clay’s.”

For a moment, the bookend looked blank.  But then comprehension dawned.  “Agent Copeland.  Got it.  I didn’t realize he was still around.”

Something about his attitude – a certain… nonchalance – turned Kim off.  She started to say something about Clay being right down the hall, holding his traumatized cousin, but a terrible noise erupted from the bed behind her, and she jumped and whirled around.

The man on the bed,