“Too late,” James pointed out.

“You both can sort all this out once he’s released.”

“Fine,” James said, “I’m getting out of here.”

The nurse shook her head. “Not before you’re released; not without the doctor’s permission.”

“With or without. I don’t care.” He was sick of all the bull.

“That’s it.” The RN started punching buttons on her cell phone, but Rebecca was already heading for the door and sending James a final scathing glance over her shoulder.

“This isn’t over,” she said.

“You’re right about that.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sucked in his breath as the pain in his chest jolted through him.

“This time, James, you’re not going to get away with it.” Then she was gone, her footsteps fading in the hallway, her threat still ringing in his already pounding head.

This time?

Jesus-God, what had he done?

Rictor stepped closer to his bed, but sent a scathing look at the still-open door. From the hallway, the elevator call button dinged. “She should never have gotten in here.”

“It’s all right,” he said, though nothing was right. He doubted it ever would be. But his memory was returning, in frustrating bits and pieces, and he was encouraged. “Where are my clothes?”

“You need to talk to the doctor.”

“Then call him.”

Her lips pursed for a second. “I’ll talk to Dr. Monroe and let him know that you’re insisting on being released, and we’ll get the paperwork in order. But until then, just wait.” Her eyebrows lifted over the tops of her rimless glasses.

“How long?”

“I don’t know.” At least she was being honest. More than he could say about himself. “But I’ll do what I can to speed up the process since you’re so gung ho to leave. Now, please, just lie back. I’ll put in the call, check your vitals again, and see how you’re managing your pain.”

“I’m managing it just fine.”

She pulled a face suggesting she didn’t believe him.

He pushed himself a little more upright. “And if you don’t mind, can you get the TV to work?”

She hesitated.

“I’ll turn it on the second I’m outta here.”

“Doctor Monroe thought it would be best if . . .” Her voice faded.

“We’re past that now, aren’t we?”

She hesitated, then said, “Okay, give me a sec.” She left for about three minutes and came back with two batteries, which she slid into the remote. Once they were installed, she pushed the largest button on the face of the remote. The television blinked to life, the flat screen offering a commercial for a local mattress shop. She handed him the remote.

As he switched channels, searching for the local news, she left again, then returned to unhook his IV.