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Pierre Jones checked the hospital hallway in both directions. He felt like a geriatric patient. His entire body was mostly a big bruise. The docs couldn’t believe he’d survived his low-altitude jump, never mind without serious injury.
No guards. Good sign.
He peeked into Rosa Cruz’s room—the number he’d gotten by total subterfuge from the nurses’ station…he’d asked.
She was awake.
Her smile lit brightly when she saw him in the doorway. It was a very powerful weapon on a lovely woman clothed in almost nothing and already lying in a bed. A sling held one arm, completely immobilized with a crossbody strap just below her breasts. That was something of a deterrent. And she wasn’t his lover, but rather Tango’s…and Gutz’s.
“What are you in for, Rosa?” He hadn’t heard she was injured.
Sh
