“Grady!” Shane lunged toward the office, where two paramedics huddled over Grady’s limp form, their movements sharp and efficient.
This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t happening.
Jackson jerked to attention. “Damn, that was fast.” He cut the distance between himself and Shane in only a few brisk strides.
Shane met his friend’s eyes for less than a second before trying to elbow his way past in an effort to reach Grady, but Jackson reached around him and held firm.
“Dude, you gotta let them do their jobs. They’re trying to help him.”
“I’m all that man’s got,” Shane said. “And I’ll be goddamned if he doesn’t know I’m here when he needs me.” He struggled against Jackson’s unyielding torso. Why wasn’t Grady answering, damn it? “Grady!”
“Shane?” Teagan O’Malley, a tall redheaded paramedic who also tended bar at the Double Shot looked over her shoulder, but Shane was so worked up that it barely registered. “Shane!” she barked again, and the word sank in enough for Shane to hear her. Jackson’s hold weakened, and Shane took full advantage, pushing past him to answer.
“Yeah?”
“When was the last time you spoke with Grady?” Her hands moved in a flurry of sure activity over the older man’s body, and she leaned in to murmur something to him before glancing back at Shane. Grady looked so pale and fragile that Shane’s heart nearly exploded.
“This morning. He was…” Tired. Grady had been tired, and Shane had known it. “He was fine.” Shane forced himself to look at Grady’s face. “Hey, Grady. We’re gonna get you fixed up, okay? Just hang in there.”
The old man’s gray eyes flashed open at the sound of Shane’s voice, showing a mixture of fear and pain that made Shane’s blood turn to ice in his veins.
“Call…him…you have to call…make it right…”
Shane reached in to grab the old man’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Okay. Okay.”
Grady closed his eyes again, and Teagan cut in roughly. “It’s better if he doesn’t talk unless he has to. Do you know any of his medical history?”
Shane nodded, but couldn’t speak.
“Any drug allergies? Past history of heart attack? He had one last year, right?” More movement, and the other paramedic made purposeful strides with a wheeled stretcher. Oh, shit, this was bad. No, no, no, no.
Shane forced the answers from his mouth. “Uh, no allergies. But yeah, he had a mild heart attack fourteen months ago. His meds are in the cabinet in the office.” Both hemispheres of Shane’s brain were bound by a fog that made it difficult for him to think, and he felt as if his entire universe was crashing down over his head.
“I’m going to need those. Now would be good.”
Shane’s legs refused to move. He couldn’t leave Grady’s side, not even for the two seconds it would take to grab the medication bottles from the shelf in the office. “Teagan, you can’t let him die.” He’d meant the words to come out firm, forceful, but instead, they were a vulnerable plea.
She shook her head. “I’m going to do everything I possibly can to make sure that doesn’t happen, okay? But you’ve got to let us do our job.”
Shane caught a flash of movement, blond hair and plaid flannel, and someone handed the fistful of orange bottles to Teagan.
“Ah. Thanks.” She scanned them quickly and rattled off a bunch of medical jargon that made no sense to Shane. Bits and pieces registered in Shane’s mind, but nothing made any sense. Why was Bellamy’s car on the lift? And what the hell had Jackson been doing here?
“Grady’s stable enough for now, but we need to get to Riverside Hospital. They have an advanced cardiac unit, so they’ll be better able to diagnose and treat him than Pine Mountain’s medical facility.” Teagan paused. “Not to ask a stupid question, but is Grady his first name or last? I’ve never heard anyone call him anything other than just Grady.”
“First.” This couldn’t be happening. Why hadn’t Shane been there? Guilt pushed through him, relentless and fast.
He should’ve been there.
“You work with him,” Teagan said. “Do you know his last name? We’re going to need to find his family. If he’s got any.”
The male paramedic began strapping Grady to the stretcher with care, and Teagan aimed an expectant look at Shane.
His heart wrenched in his chest, his voice utterly cold as the words formed in his brain and forced their way from his mouth. “His last name’s Griffin, just like mine. The only other family he’s got besides me is his son, Charles Griffin, Esquire. My father.”
Bellamy blinked at Shane and took an involuntary step backwards as she reeled in an equal mix of shock and confusion.
Shane was Grady’s grandson? But why hadn’t he said anything to her?
Realization shot through her as she stood next to Jackson, who looked equally poleaxed at the news. No wonder Grady had seemed so familiar to her when she’d met him that morning. Shane’s mannerisms were an exact mirror of Grady’s, right down to the inflection in his voice when Shane had called her “darlin’” the other day. Even if the physical resemblance was only slight, they were definitely cut from the same cloth. How had she not seen it before?
“Jesus,” Jackson said, his chiseled jaw falling open. “Grady’s his grandfather?”
“I take it you didn’t know either?”
“No. Neither one of them ever said anything,” Jackson replied in a low voice, shaking his head. “After Grady had that heart attack last year, Shane just showed up. I always thought it was a stroke of luck for the old man, you know, that some drifter came along to save the day. But Shane never told me where he came from.”
Bellamy’s thoughts raced. Shane’s devotion was a little clearer, but still. Jackson was right. He had to have come from somewhere, left something behind, in order to help Grady out.
Wait a second…Charles Griffin, Esquire? Bellamy’s stomach dropped like a rock.
Oh, God. He couldn’t possibly be Charles Griffin, Philadelphia’s most prominent attorney, could he? Bellamy had heard the name in certain circles at the bank, and while his offices didn’t specialize in real estate, per se, everyone who was anyone in the world of business had at least heard of the law firm. His name was in the papers on a regular basis, in both local news and on the social page.
But of course she hadn’t connected the dots. Why the hell would she?
Shane’s voice, loud and argumentative, yanked her focus back to the garage. “I’m going with you,” he insisted, following the paramedics and the stretcher to the door.
“Standard operating procedure, Shane. No passengers unless the patient is a minor.” The female paramedic’s tone suggested zero wiggle room.
Shane didn’t seem to care. “Like hell, Teagan. I’m going.”
Bellamy sprang into action, shoving her fist into the pocket of her jeans where she’d stashed Shane’s truck keys, and they all moved toward the door in a bustle of movement and sound.
The paramedic stared him down. “What you’re doing is wasting precious seconds of my time. I get that you’re worried, but if you want me to save his life, you have to get out of my way and let me do that.”