“God damn it!” Hawk flipped his cell phone shut and tossed it on the couch. Zoe’s refusal to answer hers was driving him crazy. It had been hours since she’d left. He needed to know she was all right. Needed in a stomach clenching, head pounding, throat aching bad way. A hollow feeling had settled in his chest that refused to let up. As he slumped on the couch and cradled his head in his hands, he had, for the first time in years, an urge to--no he wasn’t going there. Men didn’t go there.
His phone rang, and he snatched it. Disappointment punched through his system as he read the number on the screen. “Hello.“
“You need to get over here to Scripps Mercy,” Bowie said, his tone terse. “Zoe’s been checked out, and they’re trying to talk her into letting them admit her, but she’s determined to leave.”
Hawk leapt to his feet, every muscle tensing for action. “What’s happened? Is she hurt?”
A beat of silence followed and when Bowie spoke his tone was subdued. “Yeah, she’s hurt.”
“I’m on my way. Keep talking.” Hawk grabbed his keys from the dish in the hall, the phone pressed to his ear. He slammed the door behind him and stalked to the car. His heart beat in his ears so loud he had trouble hearing Bowie as he continued.
“Some asshole broke into Brett’s apartment. She walked in on him. He flipped her over a chair, and she hit her leg, the one that’s--you know. They’ve x-rayed it, and it’s not broken, but they still want her to stay overnight, just to be sure there’s no further damage.”
“Did she get a look at the guy?”
“No. He’d pulled all the drapes, and it was a total blackout in the apartment. The cops were there when she left in the ambulance.”
“Fuck!” Hawk backed out of the driveway. “Keep her there, I’m on my way.”