She leaned further back on her desk, slightly lifting her feet off the floor, and gave me a small nod of her ancient head. Then sighed.
I shifted forward, propping my elbows on the hard metal of the chairs. “What happened?”
“Kade, nothing happened, she just refused it. You have to understand her position here, we don’t know if they’ll ever go away, and they haven’t gotten worse, but they would be a great liability to the hospital and she just doesn’t want to take the chance.”
“I’m bloody lost. What they are you speaking about? Who will go away, who hasn’t gotten worse?” I stammered, as a thick knot of something formed tightly in my chest, and shifted itself up into the back of my throat, making the taste of anger real and tangible to my tongue.
“Not who, Kade. What. Her tremors.”
“What tremors?”
Janet’s expression stilled and only the smallest intake of a gasp met my ears. “She hasn’t told you about her condition?”
“No,” I could barely get the word out. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Oh, darling, I’ve known you for so many years. You’ve given so much to this hospital and have healed so much. You need to speak with Samantha, Kade. I think there are things she hasn’t told you.” Her faded-blue eyes moistened and her eyebrows lifted together.
Samantha had a condition. The thought of her being sick made my fists ball.
“Is…is this condition…life threatening?” I spit out.
Please don’t say something that will make me fucking lose my shit on your old wrinkled ass.
“In my book, Samantha Tucseedo is a miracle. She shouldn’t still be alive,” she said, standing and slowly making her way past me. Her arm reached out to me, her hand neared my shoulder and paused. Frail fingertips brushed my skin. “Sorry,” she whispered, “I know you don’t like to be touched. She’s a strong woman, Kade, just keep that ex-husband of hers away from her.”
I was left standing in her office with more questions than answers about Samantha, again. “NO! You’re not leaving this office. Not until I know more. Give me her bloody files then, let me see all her files. Janet, I need to know what’s going on, and she won’t tell me anything.”
Spinning on her heels, she arched her brows at me. “You know very well that I uphold doctor-patient confidentiality to the highest degrees and…”
Staunch-holier-than-thou-bitch. She’d probably freeze a dick right off a man with just a blow of a kiss.
“I’m not asking you to go in front of a court of law and expel all her secrets, I’m asking you to give me something…fucking anything…” I wanted to wring her neck. Could just picture it, the way her eyes would bulge with thick bursting veins.
Janet just stared at me and blinked. “Ask yourself why she won’t let you in, maybe you need to ask yourself why she can’t tell you things, maybe she’s not who you really think she is. Did that ever occur to you, Kade? That maybe she is a criminal? I don’t know anything about her, Kade. All I know, is that she’s here because of you. She’s got sealed records of her entire career as a surgeon, what’s that say to people? It says to me that she was in some kind of trouble, bigger than what she’s telling everyone.” She walked away stiffly, the sharp click of her heels bounced off the walls, piercing my ears. That bitch just tried to redirect my anger from her to Sam; do I look like I’m five?
To hell with that, I looked down at my watch. Jen would still be at the hospital, so I’ll go get answers from her.
I stalked through the hallways, and stormed down four flights of stairs, because I was too impatient to wait for an elevator. Jen had been a nurse in the same hospital in New York City where Sam had worked, so it was easy to get her a job here in the hospital as well. It wasn’t as fast paced as what they were both used to, but it beat working in my brother’s strip club as waitresses.
I found her in the pediatrics wing at the nurse’s station, a bit out of breath and fuming.
The minute she saw me, her face blanched and guilt tore through me. “Kade? What’s wrong? Is Dylan okay?” A handful of loose papers slipped out of her fingers and fell like feathers to the ground. I should have realized she would have been bloody worried about seeing me, but I was never one to think about what other people might be going through, I was selfish that way. And apparently classy and personable, like you wouldn’t believe.
“Dylan’s fine. He’s still at home, probably in bed playing that X-box thing I bought him,” I said evenly. “Can I talk to you? Privately for a minute.”
Bending down, she kept her narrowed eyes on mine and quickly scooped up the papers that had fallen. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go into the lounge, okay?”
I walked ahead of her, as she explained to the other nurses at the station that she needed to speak with me for a few moments, and then she started texting on her phone. Great, the twit was telling on me, as if we were bloody ten. I slammed open the door to the lounge, making two orderlies jump and gasp.
“Your break is up. Get out of here,” I hissed. I smiled when they left without questioning me, the pussies. They even answered me with a yes sir. I forgot sometimes that the townspeople here still think I’m more dangerous than the devil himself; it was good to know I still scared the crap out of people. I’ll save all the muscle flexing and gratuitous display of gun show until later; right now, I needed answers.
Behind me, Jen rushed in with her hands deep in the front pockets of her uniform, eyes wide. “What’s going on?”
Stepping really close to her, I tried to use my anger to show how very serious I was. I knew it was a douchebag move, but to hell with it. It’s what I was known for. When I was about a foot from her face, staring down at her, I snapped. “I was just informed that Samantha refused the head trauma position.” Jen opened her mouth to talk, but I shoved my hand up in the air to tell her I wasn’t finished speaking. “That’s not what I’m twisted about, so don’t say anything until I’m bloody well finished. Luger told me that the reason she said no is because of some condition she has; something about tremors.” I leaned my face in closer, “Start talking.”
“You and Sam should try having a lot more discussions and a lot less sex. And stop being all threatening to me too, Kade. I just texted her when you asked me to talk. She’s here at the hospital and she’s on her way up now.”
“Just fucking tell me if she’s sick! Or so help me God, I will get her medical files myself!” I screamed.
“Oh, Kade, no. No, she’s fine, she’ll be fine,” she whispered.
“Does this have to do with him?”
“Yes,” she whispered, just as if death sighed into the wind.
“I should’ve fucking killed him. Scratch that, I’m going to fucking kill him,” I roared, slamming my fists into the counter behind me.
If I kill him I’ll lose everything, but if I don’t, she’ll never be free. I’ve changed so much in the last few months since her mock accident. I’ve been through intense therapy; I’ve psychoanalyzed the shit out of myself, yet I’m still obsessed with her and with possessing her, consuming her completely. I know it’s not healthy, but seriously, from the dark reclusive corners I’ve reserved myself to, I find this to be a much more pleasant place. But, thinking that something is wrong with her and it has something to do with him is going to make me fucking go insane.
The lounge door opened and closed with a small bell-like sound. I didn’t know who had come in or left; I was blinded with fury, but I could hear her soft fluid movements and smell the cinnamon and apple scent of her soap. “Kade? Kade what’s wrong?” she whispered.
It took me a few minutes for my eyes to focus on her, for my head to clear itself of violent images, and for me to see her actually standing in front of me. We were alone in the room. I couldn’t even tell you when Jen left, or how long I stood there.
“You’re sick?” I whispered hoarsely. “You didn’t take the position because you’re sick.” Visions of hospital beds and breathing tubes, blood and stapled skin filled m
y vision. The sounds that my brain offered me were worse; gunshots, clicks, pleas, cries, and the never ending hiss and buzz of the ventilator. I hadn’t had a flashback in so long that I had to grip the edge of the counter to stop myself from falling to my knees.
Instantly, her cool hands were around my neck, her small frame pressed against mine, and the only thing I could do, was grasp on to her. “I’m fine, Kade. Why did you come here? You should have just asked me.”
“You’re bloody sick, Sam, and you haven’t told me.”
“Stop, Kade. I’m fine. I swear, I’m fine.”
“You’re bloody fucking lying to me. You have some sort of condition and tremors. DON’T LIE TO ME!”
She backed away quickly. Of course, she would. Who in their right mind would step on a landmine? I was about to explode. I’m positive that in her head, she heard a metallic clink and felt the vacuum of air, as I self-destructed like a forgotten pressure mine buried just below the ground that she stood upon.
Shoving her hands into the front pockets of her sweater, she stared at me with red-rimmed eyes. Her chest started rising and falling heavily, panting as if she’d just finished a bloody marathon. Hell, we were both breathing hard. “This is a hospital,” she hissed. “Control your emotions. This can wait until we get home. This is going too far, Kade. You DO NOT get to go through my private medical files because you have questions. And you don’t get to scream at me like that. What do you want from me?”
“I WANT THE TRUTH!” I demanded, shoving one of the chairs over.
“Really, Kade? How are you going to handle that?” Her eyes were vicious and challenging. At least, I thought that’s what it looked like. A definite blur of thick-knotted tension between us fogged up the room. She pivoted and reached to open the door, and before I could think straight, I was grasping at her waist and pushing her against the wall. Pressing my body against her, she was trapped, her hands pushing against my chest, but not nearly hard enough.
“Truth,” I whispered into her ear, gripping her tighter. The tips of my fingers dug into her flesh.
She stood, eyes wide, and breathing heavy. One lone tear raged war against her eyelid and won, slipping down her cheek and dropping perfectly against the soft flesh of her chest. “He killed my baby, Kade. He killed my baby while it was still inside me. Then he killed me, literally, Kade. I died. He poisoned me over and over, until I died. Now, I live with the after effects. I’ll never be a trauma surgeon again. I have neurological damage that make my hands tremble all the time. Would you want me to cut someone you love open with twitchy fingers?”
Chapter 2
It had just passed midnight as I stood outside to wait for Kade on his flagstone porch, wondering where he’d gone, and what he’d done. A few hours before, when I finished my shift at the hospital, I had built a fire in the stone pit built into the middle of the porch. It was smoldering now, just a few small embers of wood left to help me stay warm. At eleven, it had started to hail. Icy cold cascades of marble sized sleet collided hard against the stones, creating a thunderous sound that drowned out even my most horrible thoughts with its echoes. I was certain that, as soon as he came home, things were going to escalate. I was positive that everything we had would go up in flames when his obsessive behaviors wouldn’t accept my past. Kade wanted to go back and change everything, but he couldn’t. He wanted to right every wrong done to me, and if I told him everything, and I gave him the chance, he’d kill David and my father. I couldn’t let him, not after all the violence that he had to live through in his own life. For that reason, in the last two months we’ve lived together, I have deflected most of his questions, only giving him a little bit of answers at a time. I knew it wasn’t going to last long, his patience, but his therapy was going so well and he’d changed so much. I just didn’t want to cause him any more hurt; he didn’t deserve it.
Fifteen minutes after the last embers of the fire died out, and there was nothing more than ashes, his figure emerged from the dense evergreen forest that surrounded the house. Slowly, with his dangerous eyes glaring their venom at me, he made his way up the path to the stone steps of the porch. Dark strands of wet hair were plastered to his face. His clothing was drenched, sticking icily to his body, and they made a theatrical sound as he moved.
“Where did you go?” my voice betrayed me, wavering and cracking with insecurity.
“I went for a run,” he hissed through clenched teeth. His muscles were taut and granite-like under the wet material of his clothes. His shirt, completely see-through, with rippling tendons and tissue just underneath, made my mouth dry.
“You’re going to end up with pneumonia, Kade…” I stood up to reach my hands out to him to try to warm him, but he stepped away.
“How would you feel, Sam, if everybody knew that fact but you? If I hid it from you, along with a whole closet full of bloody secrets. It makes me feel all bloody warm and cuddly inside when you lie to me, said no one, ever.”
I opened the patio doors of the house for him to walk inside, and watched in fear, as the warmth wracked shivers up his body so violently that he needed to lean against the wall for help. “Take off your clothes, Kade.”
Slumping against the wall, he stood watching me, his soaking clothes pooling a large lake of icy water around his sneakers. “You’ve gutted me with worry today, and you want to fuck?”
Idiot. I lunged at him, yanked the heavy wet material of his shirt over his head, and began pulling down his running pants, “Yeah, Kade. I cherish the idea of jabbing an icicle inside my body right now.” I tried to calm myself by taking a deep breath, but my challenging rage got the better of me, as it seemed to always do when I’m with Kade. “In all your glorious-brilliant-idiocy, did you ever stop to think that maybe I’m stripping you of your clothing because I don’t want you to freeze to death?” I finally got all of the sopping clothes off and dropped them heavily into the kitchen sink. I dragged him to the den where a fire was burning and wrapped him in whatever blankets I could find, and tossed a pair of warm flannel pants at him. I put on a pot of water for tea, and within a few minutes, placed a steaming cup of tea laced with a bit of his favorite brandy in front of him. “Drink it,” I whispered.
The hard muscles of his jaw tightened and flexed beneath the skin, as he brought the cup to his lips. I watched his throat move as he swallowed, and found myself wanting to tangle my body with his and fuck this fight away. It’s what we always did when our emotions became too intense. When the truth of our pasts became to heavy to bear, we slipped easily into each other and blocked out the world. We couldn’t keep doing this to each other, could we? I felt the skin of my face burn when his eyes fixed unblinkingly on mine.
“Do you even understand how you make me feel when I see you blush like that? You need to tell me what’s going on. Tell me something, babe. I can’t do this anymore, this sick twisted worrying, I need more of the story.” The sad smile he offered me pulled at my insides, “I don’t want half of you, or bits and pieces, baby. I bloody want all of you.”
In the reflection of his smoky grey eyes, I saw myself surrender. It was bittersweet. I cherished being able to tell him my problems, to find comfort in him. I knew with every truth I would tell, it would become an open festering wound on him that would never heal. Kade had enough of his own scars to deal with, but I had to give him something, he was right.
It was hard for me to begin, hard for me to repeat. It was hard for me to believe. I was ashamed, because I never thought anything like that could happen to someone like me. It made me feel weak. I didn’t even know where to begin. There was no starting point, was there?
There was no point at all.
I could still feel the rope tightening around my neck. My husband David brought me to the gallows, carried me up and let the lynch mob have at me. He’d tied me to my own funeral pyre and set it aflame, all while laughing, as he watched the fire lick at my skin. He had signed my name to papers, and built an entire corporation that I would never ha
ve allowed to be in existence, setting up and framing me for something I’d never do. The bridal veil of my wedding day was a beautiful veil of illusions. He never loved me. Not ever. Not one ounce.
I tried to explain the experience of being married to David. It’s easy to remember too, because all I have to do is close my eyes, and my nightmares play as if there’s an IMAX theater behind my lids.
When I got home from my last deployment, my father pulled his puppet strings, and immediately, I was in the trauma unit at New York Presbyterian Hospital, where I met Doctor David Stanton. He was controlling, vicious, dangerous, sadistic, and extremely manipulative. Competitive with me and my career, but I didn’t see any of these things until later, until after. Until after the blonde in the hospital, the one with the blood red heels.
That day, when I found the note, what she had written and the things I found on the computer, it turned me into a stalker. I’m sorry. You may think it immature or infantile, but if the words that woman whispered in my ear didn’t suddenly make you an expert in reconnaissance on your husband and his mistress, you’re a better person than I am. I knew my behavior wasn’t normal. It wasn’t something an intelligent woman with a medical degree would do, but it was something that a broken hearted woman did, one that wanted the truth. So, in my crowning moment of most awesomeness, I hid behind the steering wheel of my car, jacket wrapped over my head and eyes peeking out, watching and waiting.
The blonde woman was so easy to find too. All I had to do was step foot outside the hospital and there she was, smiling and swaying her ass at one of the new resident doctors. Great, she’s a medical groupie, one of those nutrient starved minds who try to hook a doctor for the prestige and money they could gain, instead of working for it. Okay, maybe she wasn’t nutrient deprived, but the fact was, she wasn’t Mensa material, and that’s for sure. What mistress in their right mind would go and tell the wife all of their secrets? How would that get him back? Okay, let’s be honest here. Of course, I’m going to call her stupid and nutrient deprived, because she was telling me she was sleeping with my husband, and that’s not a person you’re going to think lovely-yay-the-world-is-so-beautiful things about. No, you’re going to rub their name around in the mud, sling it all over the place, and dirty it up to make you feel better about getting your heart broken. Truth. Right then in my head, she was an evil, sexual predator that sunk her gold-digging talons into my husband’s cock, and was sucking him dry.
Cold-Blooded Beautiful Page 3