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“It went in under the clavicle and exited without hitting the scapula. Yes, I stitched you up, including the chunk of flesh between your vest and your belt. Mr. Branson, know that if you’re leaving, it’s not with my consent,” the doctor said as he stood in the doorway holding the clipboard against his chest, blocking Cole’s exit.
“I don’t need your consent. You’ll get a full report documenting how I was shot, twice, for your records. But right now, I need to leave. He has Sam. I—”
“Excuse me, Dr. Slinger?” Ethan asked from the hallway. The white-coated doctor turned to look at Ethan. “Yes.”
“I’m here to drive Mr. Branson from the hospital.”
Cole swayed on his feet as he looked around the on-duty ER physician to Ethan. “I’m not going home, Agent Brooks. I’m going—”
“You are going,
