Page 6 of Endurance
“What’s your specialty?” Sedgwick asks.
I smile at his question. “Well, I was doing emergency medicine before, but I’ve recently started on neonatal surgery.”
“What’s that?” Tanner asks, interrupting my focus.
“You operate on tiny babies before they’re even born?” Sedgwick’s face is full of awe.
My smile widens further. “I do.”
Sedgwick has kind eyes. They’re the kind of eyes that make me think he only sees the good in the world and none of the evil, which seems impossible considering he was sleeping in a phone box just seconds ago.
He shakes his head in amazement and sits back in his seat like he’s getting comfortable. “What a night this has turned out to be.”
Tanner asks me if I’d mind driving over to Grosvenor Square—a rather posh area in London—and then asks to use my mobile. I still have no clue what’s going on, but I don’t have a chance to ask because Sedgwick is keeping me busy, chatting about my job and some of the toughest cases I’ve worked. Tanner remains talking on my mobile the entire time. I assume he must be cancelling credit cards or something because I can’t imagine what on earth could be so urgent that he’d leave me to tend to our rather interesting car guest. Regardless, Sedgwick and I come to find a lot in common when he tells me about his time selling medical equipment in the 90s. He actually seems quite knowledgeable about the medical field in general.
After Tanner hangs up, he instructs me through a couple turns. A few minutes later, we pull up to the valet line of the Grosvenor Hotel. A red carpet is stretched out below the warm bulbs of the awning. I’m completely confused as two men wearing formal suits come up to Tanner’s window as if they were expecting him. Tanner holds up a finger and then turns around. Sedgwick looks as confused as I do.
“Sedg, I’ve booked you a room here,” he says simply.
Sedgwick’s eyes go wide. “Boy! No, I couldn’t.”
“I know the owner. It’s all taken care of already,” Tanner replies firmly. “It’s nonrefundable.”
“You should have asked. This is not the proper way—”
“Sedgwick, you showed me a kindness and I’m showing you one back. That’s all this is. Repaying a favour.”
“A favour? You only used my mobile. You wouldn’t even take clothes from me.” Sedgwick looks at me like he needs to argue his case. “I tried to give him some clothes, I really did. He wouldn’t take them. Said he was getting what he deserved. I think the boy could do with some therapy, to be frank.”
Tanner turns a flat face on me that has me pulling my lips between my teeth to hide my amusement.
“There’s an incredible restaurant here. Order room service. Order laundry service. Go shopping in the stores. Put it all on the room bill. I mean it,” Tanner says. “Please, Sedg. I want to do this for ya.”
“I couldn’t possibly.” He shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest.
“You could!” I add with a smile and a nod. Sedgwick looks right at me as if he can’t believe I’m buying all of this. His brow is furrowed so deeply, it’s folding in on top of itself, so I add, “Do it. Tanner’s a pain in the arse most days. You should definitely enjoy a night on him.”
He harrumphs with a half-smile and eyes Tanner thoughtfully. “I suppose I could enjoy it for a night.”
Tanner beams at Sedgwick and then at me. “That’s the ticket. Now, I’d walk you in but as you can see, I’m a little skint on clothes.”
“No, no, you stay put. I’ve seen enough of you for one lifetime, boy.”
“Off you go then,” Tanner says excitedly as I pop the boot for the man standing at the back of my car.
Sedgwick lumbers out of my car. After he closes the door, Tanner rolls down his window. “Oh, and I’ve booked your room for five nights, not one. I’ll come by and visit while you’re here.”
Sedgwick’s face falls and Tanner swats me lightly on the arm, silently telling me to drive away. I almost feel bad as Sedg comes walking out after us to argue. I roll my window down and give him a jovial wave with a double horn toot that elicits a chastising shake of his head.
I stare into my rearview mirror for as long as I can and am happy to see the valet’s taking care of him. Tanner stares back longer as I pull out onto the road and head toward east London.
An aching in my stomach begins as I evaluate what just happened. Tanner Harris—the loathsome pig whom I’ve grown to detest—did something humane. Extraordinarily humane. I would have never in a million years expected that of him.
“Why didn’t you take any clothes from him?” I ask, unsure why it’s the one thing I have to know after everything that’s just happened.
He sighs heavily. “They smelled like piss.”
And it’s the first time ever that I’ve laughed with Tanner Harris.
