A moan jerked his head toward hers even though he couldn't see her. The footsteps paused then quickly approached the bed.
"Samantha," a man's voice whispered. "Samantha can you hear me? It's Harold."
Another moan as well as movement of bed linens. Daniel imagined that guy trying to wake her up.
"Samantha, we hafta know what happened. Did they get the message out? Samantha."
Another moan, this time more vocal. Daniel realized the jerk was shaking her.
"Dumb ass. she's on more drugs than your local junkie," he thought as he pulled back the curtain for a better view. Harold's back faced him as did Cheryl or Samantha's bruised face. Harold gave up shaking her and pulled a needle from his pocket.
"That's all folks," Daniel mused as he pressed the nurse call button. Almost immediately two distinct knocks struck the door followed by a third emphatic one. Obviously this meant Harold should depart pronto. He shoved the needle back into his pocket and fled out the door.
Daniel stepped down and rubbed his scratchy face with his non-pistol hand. Cheryl/Samantha moaned again. He flicked the safety back on and placed the gun in his pants at his back. as the nurse walked in.
"Is everything alright?" she asked as she checked Cheryl/Samantha's pulse.
"She began moaning a few minutes ago. That's a good sign, right?" He knew her moans meant she was coming out of the coma, but he wanted to play the concerned husband role to the hilt.
"Oh absolutely. In fact, we were getting concerned about her. The broken ankle and busted ribs are one thing, but head injuries and concussions are another. Her vitals are strong. Don't worry, she'll be ok." The nurse gave him a reassuring nod and left the room.
"She'll be ok until those goons find out whether this "message" was sent or not," he muttered to the closed door. Time to plan his next move. Boy, Big Jim was sure going to be pissed at him this time.
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