Dr. Smitherson was the one who answered. “Not quite yet. We’ll start getting the weekend rush come eleven p.m. If this had happened then, I couldn’t have come up and Mr. Esera would’ve had to take his chances entering the public way.”

She rose from her examination of Danny. “His heart rate is a little concerning but nothing dangerous. I don’t like the fact he’s lost consciousness, however—I’m going to have the lab run his blood as a priority. He stays here with full monitoring in the meantime.”

Catie settled into the chair beside Danny’s bed after the medical staff vacated the room; prior to leaving, they’d drawn his blood, then hooked him up to various monitors. She was just pulling out her phone when Viliame walked in.

“I found Danny’s jacket in the car,” he said, holding it out. “I gave him a ride in tonight. Anyway, figured you might need it.”

“Thank you—you’re a lifesaver.” Shrugging into the fleece-lined corduroy jacket that Danny somehow pulled off, she was immediately overwhelmed by the warm, masculine scent of Daniel Esera. It was… comforting. Scowling at her own thoughts, she said, “I can hold the fort here. You okay to head back to the club, run interference so no one starts to wonder where Danny disappeared to?”

Lines forming above the dark brown of his eyes, Viliame folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t want you here alone.”

“I’m surrounded by doctors and nurses,” she reminded him. “And you know people will’ve noticed us cutting out. Better to head off the gossip or they’ll have us in a threesome and the Vilimaidens will murder me with a hatchet.” To say Viliame’s fan club was devoted was a vast understatement; his future girlfriend or wife would be in for a hard time.

“Seriously, Vili,” she added. “You know there are people out there just waiting for Danny to slip up, make an ass of himself.” Those hyenas, waiting for him to fall. “It doesn’t need to be true to stick—the worst would be if the person who dosed him takes advantage of his sudden exit to start a rumor about him doing drugs. Making him seem drugged out might’ve been the whole point of this.”

Catie’s anger was a hot blade, her need for revenge a cold determination. The latter had to be a genetic trait she’d inherited from Jacqueline; her mother was definitely one for revenge being a dish best served cold.

Viliame shoved a hand over his tight black curls. “Shit. Yeah, I see where you’re going.” Lips pursed and eyes narrowed, he said, “I have an idea that’ll blow all other rumors out of the water—I could make it sound like we were going to hit another club but then you two ditched me and went off together.”