Ruthless(23)

I was struck speechless again. This woman thought she had to beg me for a life-saving drug for our daughter? I shook my head, realizing just how low her opinion of me must be. She must have thought I was the worst fucking bastard from the ninth circle of hell, someone who would withhold life-saving treatment from his own child.

But time was of the essence. Pernacular is most effective if taken sooner, not later during the treatment regimen. “Bring me to her,” I said roughly. “Take me to my daughter.”





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Tina
#p#分页标题#e#



I almost cried with relief. Although Jake had said nothing about actually providing the drug, his brusque movements and curt tone on the phone assured me that Janie’s illness was his first priority.

“Martin, fire up the bird,” he said. “We’re headed to Good Samaritan Hospital in San Jose. We’ll be at the helipad in five.”

And with that, he grabbed my arm and frog-marched me to a bank of elevators in a private hallway. I didn’t try to make conversation, Jake’s face a grim mask that I was almost afraid to look at. But when the elevator doors opened and I saw that we were on top of the building with a giant helicopter waiting, I almost sighed in relief. This would get us to the hospital in ten minutes flat where surely, Jake would meet Janie and provide a supply of pills. He could leave immediately afterwards if he wanted, I wasn’t going to make him be a dad if he didn’t want to.

The bird lifted off and soon we were whirring through the air, the strange beauty of the Bay below us, choppy grey waters surrounded by marshes and developed land. I heard the pilot call into hospital traffic control and soon we landed on a helipad near the pediatric wing.

“This way,” I said after we’d disembarked, my high heels long gone, my hair a mess from the wind, my complexion ruddy. But Jake didn’t notice. The grim look on his face was still there, the skin pulled tight across those razor-sharp cheekbones, his usually mobile, expressive mouth a tight line.

“Tina Walsh here, to see Janie Walsh,” I blurted to the woman at the front desk.

“Of course, Ms. Walsh,” said the receptionist. “But we don’t allow anyone but family into the NICU,” she said with a pointed glance at Jake.

“Th- this is Janie’s father,” I said shakily, with a hesitant glance at the big man. There was no change of expression on his face.

“Of course then,” said the nurse. “Please follow me.”

Our steps rang in the empty hallway, the polished floor a depressing green, the walls bare. The NICU was so institutional, I wished they would do something to make it better for families. I swore that if Janie made it out of this alive, I would do something, anything in my power, to make the ordeal more bearable for parents struck by tragedy.

Finally, we pulled up in front of a glass window.

“There she is,” said the nurse gently. “We turned up the heat in the incubator because her temp was falling, and we’re still pumping antibiotics for any secondary infections. I’ll leave you with her now.”

I pressed my nose against the glass, looking at our precious girl. Her body was so small, still under the bright lights, the wires wending their way in and out of her arms and legs, a breathing tube taped under her nose. I was miserable and a silent tear escaped from the corner of my eye.

It was only when I heard a noise that I realized Jake was crying too. I turned my head and the big man had tears on his cheeks, his eyes fixated on the tiny bump before him. Our baby … our baby was sick, and her father was devastated, a man so ruthless he’d made the front page of national media for his cold-blooded ways. But our tiny daughter had brought him to his knees. His hands gripped the window sill with white knuckles, his forearms shaking as he sought to steady himself.

“Jake,” I soothed. “Janie’s sick but you can help her,” I said. “You can do something for her that no one else can,” I continued.

“I know, Tina,” he ground out. “I have the drugs here.”

And with that, he produced a tiny pill pad from his pocket. It couldn’t have been bigger than a credit card, but in tiny transparent blisters were blue pills, small enough for even a baby to swallow.#p#分页标题#e#

“I’ll have a supply of Pernacular delivered to the hospital,” he said roughly, his voice breaking. “In the meantime, we should start her on these,” he said with a swipe at his eyes.

I almost collapsed with relief. Jake, someone I thought I hated, had come through. Maybe I could begin to trust him, begin to see him in a new light … as a pharma executive, sure, but also as a father, a man of feeling, and an indisputable part of my life.