by Max Hudson
“No, not yet. Have you tried his cell phone?”
“Yes, and he’s not answering.”
“Odd.” There were the sounds of footsteps and then the rustling of papers before Sandy replied. “Oh, I know why. He left his phone on the desk.”
“Shit!” Then Chris winced. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about me. What’s wrong with you? You sound strange.”
“Just tell John to stay put when he gets back to his desk. I’m on my way up now.”
“Okay. Are you sure things are all right?”
Chris didn’t want to upset Sandy over something that was more than likely nothing. He hung up without answering and looked at the door. The numbers above the doors said he had only gone up to the second floor. John was on the fifth. The service elevator was incredibly slow. Chris kicked at the wall.
“Dammit! Stupid tin box.”
Chapter Nineteen
John could feel the sweat sticking his shirt to his back, more trickling down his brow. It had been a while since he had climbed the stairs up to his floor. After attempting that when he first started, thinking it would get him fitter, John had quickly discarded that. It was far too much effort, even if it was less crowded than the elevators. At least he wouldn’t look like he had been running a marathon by the time he reached his office.
How could the elevators had gone out of order in the five minutes John had been in the security office? They had worked absolutely fine on the way down. John hadn’t had any complaints. And yet when he went back to go up to his office, John had found the ‘out of order’ signs on both elevators.
There were no signs of any cleaners having come through. They always left the lobby until last, starting from the top and working their way down. So where had the signs come from?
John didn’t want to tempt fate by ignoring the signs and going into a suddenly defective elevator. Which meant going by the stairs. That he was not looking forward to. The stairs felt like an element of torture. Those who worked on the upper floors complained whenever the elevators were out of order.
At least the CEOs had had the forethought to put their offices on the ground floor. It was a shame everyone else didn’t have the same luck.
John took the stairs slowly and steadily, concentrating on his breathing as he climbed. He got into a rhythm and it was difficult to get out of it; he found himself stumbling at the top of each flight because his feet were looking for the next step.
His legs were screaming at him by the time John reached the fourth floor. Those stairs were awful. John was surprised he was still upright.
Chris had better be okay, and John hoped if he was that he would come upstairs to John instead of John going all the way back down. After his journey up, the journey down would be even worse.
Unless he took the service elevator. That was reserved for the catering staff and the cleaners. It was slow as hell, but it worked. John didn’t think anyone would notice or care if he used it after-hours.
John turned up to face the final flight. One more set of stairs and he would be in his office. And in need of a shower. John made a face. He could practically smell the sweat rising off him.
Maybe they should install an escalator.
Halfway up, John heard a loud bang. It sounded like a door opening and closing. He stopped and leaned over the banister, looking up the stairwell.
“Hello?” Then he looked down. “Is anyone there?”
But all that met him was silence. It was ringing in his ears. John waited a moment, but he couldn’t hear anything more. He shook his head and snorted.
“Get over yourself, you idiot,” he muttered. “You’re jumping at shadows now.”
Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, John took the stairs two at a time. He almost fell back down as his legs threatened to buckle, but he managed to get to the top. There he stood for a moment, hands on his head as he tried to get the air back into his lungs.
That was even tougher than a vigorous run with Walrider.
Then John heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned, and then he was shoved suddenly from the side. This caused him to stumble, but before John caught his balance, he was shoved again in the back. John’s foot missed the top step and he fell heavily down the stairs. Pain exploded in his arm and he heard a loud snap. His right arm starting flailing around like part of a rag doll as he went down.
He hit the turn and kept rolling, coming to a stop against the wall. His head hit the concrete, and John began to see stars. He could feel blackness descending on him, but the pain kept it back. It was so intense that John felt himself close to tears.
“John!”
A door opened and banged closed, footsteps running down the stairs. Then Chris was kneeling beside him, his eyes wide in shock.
“What the…?”
“My arm.” John gasped. He turned to move his right arm, but it refused to do as he wanted. “What’s happened to it?”
Chris’ face had gone white. Then John looked down and saw why. His arm was at a completely different angle. It was definitely broken, and the pain was white hot all the way up to his shoulder. His fingers had gone numb.
“Fuck! That hurts.”
Then the door opened again, and Sandy appeared at the top of the stairs. She paled and shrieked when she saw John.
“What the fuck?”
Chris stood. His expression had turned to stone as he took out his gun.
“Stay with John, Sandy, and call an ambulance. Make sure he doesn’t move.”
“Chris…”
But Chris was already charging back up the stairs and through the door.
Chapter Twenty
John’s arm was broken. In more than one place. Chris didn’t need to be a doctor to know that. It was a wonder he hadn’t broken his neck.
When Chris had finally got up onto the floor John worked at, he had seen someone running from the stairwell and down the hall. He had started to run after them, only to hear moans of pain coming from the stairwell. Then he had found John, crumpled at the bottom of the flight with his arm bent in a way it should never go.
That just sent Chris into a rage. Whoever had hurt John was going to pay for it. Chris was out for blood.
He ran down the hall, checking each of the offices and various cubicles. Accounting was a larger department than he thought, branching off into several different areas within the company. And Chris was getting dizzy getting each room. Nothing seemed to be out of place. Sandy and John had been the only people on the entire floor.
And now there was somebody else.
After checking every office, Chris then headed toward the restrooms. He was hoping that whoever attacked him and John wanted to fight because he was ready for one. His head was still hurting, and John was going to need a hospital. The bastard was going to pay.
Chris went into the men’s restroom first and checked the two cubicles. Nobody there. He left and went into the ladies. Still nobody there.
As Chris left the restroom, he then remembered another doorway at the far side of the office. It was an emergency exit in case the route to the stairs was blocked. It went all the way down to the parking lot. And recently, security had taken to locking it as people kept using it as a lazy way to get to their car and setting the alarm off. The designated key-holder, one of the managers, now kept the key in her desk next door.
From the muffled curses he could hear as he hurried down the hall, it was something the attacker didn’t know about.
Chris turned the corner and saw a black-hooded figure barging his shoulder at the door, letting out a grunt of pain as he bounced off. He pounced at the door with his fists.
“Fucking thing! Come on!”
Chris slowed to a sudden stop. He knew that voice. And it wasn’t one he had expected.
“Violet?”
He couldn’t believe his ears. And then Chris couldn’t believe his eyes as the figure spun around and he saw his ex-wife’s eyes widening as she stared back
at him. She was dressed in black sweats, black running shoes, and black gloves. Chris had never seen her like this.
What was going on?
“Chris.” Violet stepped toward him, holding up her hands to ward him off. “This is not what it looks like, I swear.”
“It looks like you’re trying to flee after whacking me over the head and pushing your brother down the stairs.” Chris advanced on her. “You’ve broken his arm, Violet.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him!” Violet protested. “I just wanted to warn him.”
“Warn him of what?”
“Warn him away from you.”
Chris thought he was going mad. The bang on the head seemed to have mashed up his brain. He rubbed his head.
“So, you bashed me over the head and pushed John down the stairs and for what? Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.” Violet said hurriedly. “I knew a guard would come and check the open door and I thought if I could get one out of the way, then by the time the other one went to check on him I wouldn’t be observed.” She grasped his arm. “I didn’t realize you were going to come and investigate. I would never have hit you had I known.”
“But you did.” Chris pulled his arm away. “What the hell were you thinking, Violet? This elaborate distraction and attempted escape? All this to hurt John. He could have been killed!”
“He wouldn’t have backed off unless something happened to him.”
“What are you talking about?”
Violet bit her lip as it trembled. But her eyes were starting to glow with her defiance. Anger was building. And pride.
Pride for what she had done. Chris felt sick at the sight.
“John’s always wanted everything that I had.” Violet sneered. “Even you. I know years ago that he had a crush on you, but I got you instead.”
Chris blinked.
“Are you saying that you got with me so John couldn’t? You wanted to make him jealous?”
“Partly, and partly because I wanted you for myself.” Violet pressed her hands against his chest. “You were what I wanted. Tall, strong and gorgeous. Passionate in the bedroom and you treated me like a princess.”
Chris slapped her hands away and stepped back.
“You got between us because you wanted to taunt your brother?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This felt like a bizarre nightmare. “And then when we finally got together, you got jealous and pushed him down the stairs?”
“Why do you think I kept coming back to you over the last couple of years? I wanted you back. I loved you, and John couldn’t have you. Not when I’d had you first.”
Chris wished he wasn’t here. This was too surreal.
“You didn’t want me back because you loved me.” He snapped. “You wanted me back so you could still wrap me around your little finger. I don’t do that, Violet. You cheated on me, that’s it. Gone.”
Violet shook her head. She was looking less angry, yet crazier.
“Not me, Chris.” She whispered. “I’m always going to be there. And I knew I was close to getting you back. Just a little more perseverance. Until my brother got in the way.” She shook her head. “You and he shouldn’t be together. You’re mine, not his.”
“I’m your ex-husband, not your plaything, Violet.” Chris shot back. “And I love John. I’m not going to throw him over to satisfy your selfish needs.”
Violet faltered, her mouth falling open.
“You...you love him? You’ve barely dated a week.”
“After knowing him for twenty years, I think it’s safe to say I know him well enough.” Chris reached for Violet’s arm. “Come on, we’re going to my office. By the elevator, which I suspect had something to do with you.”
“I put up the out of order sign so John would have to take the stairs.” Violet looked up at Chris. Her lower lip was still trembling. “John’s not having you. I won’t let him.”
Chris said nothing as he tugged Violet toward the elevator. He wasn’t going to argue anymore. How could you argue with crazy?
Chapter Twenty-One
John was aware of the pain first. His arm felt like it was on fire. He shifted, trying to get away from the heat, and then something tugged at his other hand. It was a sharp pain, more focused on one point than all over like in his other arm.
John managed to open his eyes. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was being slumped in the stairwell at work. Now he was in a bed, the lights dimmed and something was bleeping nearby. It was an incessant noise that made his head throb.
“Hey, sleepy-head.”
John could just make out a shape next to the bed. It was out of focus. He concentrated, and soon the shape turned into something sharper. A person. Chris was leaning over the side of his bed, smiling as he finally came into focus.
“Chris?”
“That’s me.” Chris was stroking his head. He looked like he hadn’t had any sleep. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t wake up.”
“Wake up?” John tried to look around him but anything beyond the end of the bed was still a little blurry. “Where am I?”
“The hospital. You passed out as the paramedics got you into the elevator.” Chris swallowed, his smile fading a little. “That was last night.”
“Last night? I’ve been unconscious all night.”
“And most of the day. It’s three in the afternoon.”
John groaned. He had been unconscious for close to eighteen hours, and it felt like he had only been asleep ten minutes. He looked down at himself. He wore a hospital gown and there was a thick plaster cast over his right arm, going from his fingers right up to above his elbow. An IV needle was stuck in his left hand, tugging at the skin and the skin tickling under the tape. His casted arm was throbbing like crazy.
At least it wasn’t hurting as much as before. But it still didn’t feel right.
“What happened to my arm?”
“Don’t you remember anything?”
“I remember how I hurt myself. But what’s the extent?”
Chris sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on John’s thigh. It was then John noticed that he was still wearing his uniform. He hadn’t been home at all. Everything was creased.
“Chris, what…?”
“You had a smashed elbow, and your ulna was broken in two places.” Chris sighed. “You had to go into surgery to put a metal rod into your arm. The doctor said you needed to have physio once the cast comes off.”
A metal rod? John hadn’t realized it had been that bad. He had thought it was just a dislocated elbow. He swallowed.
“Who pushed me? Did you find out?”
Chris was silent. He stared at a point over John’s head, his jaw tightening. John tried to sit up, only for Chris to ease him back.
“Don’t try and sit up. You’ll dislodge the needle.”
“Screw that. You’re not answering me. Did you find out who pushed me?”
“I’m afraid I did. And you’re not going to like it.”
“Chris, I’m lying in a hospital bed with a smashed arm that’s going to keep me off work for months. What else isn’t there to like.”
Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he opened his eyes, and John saw the pain in them.
“It was Violet.”
“You what?”
John thought he had misheard. Chris nodded grimly.
“She sneaked in and created a diversion, knocked me out and then made sure you would go up the stairs instead of the elevator. That way she could push you down the stairs.”
“Violet?”
John stared at Chris, but the man’s expression said he was serious. And he wasn’t happy about it.
“I don’t understand. Why would Violet go through all that just to hurt me?”
“The police said she was acting on impulse. No time to properly formulate a plan. All she wanted was to get you out the way.”
“I’m still trying to get my head ar
ound this.”
“She wanted to get back with me. Even after everything, she wanted to have the stable life she had with me while carrying on her antics. And I refused to let her have her way.” Chris shook his head. “Violet thought she was wearing me down, but then she found out I’d hooked up with you. And that made her flip.”
That was far too much for John to take in. He felt like his head was going to explode. John knew Violet could do crazy things, but he never thought she would do something like this. Then again, in Violet’s mind this wouldn’t have counted at crazy. It would have been her way of getting control back, back to how things were as she wanted it. And that meant getting John out the way so she could have no obstacles in the way for her final target, which was Chris.
It was ridiculous. It was pathetic. And it had sadly happened to them.
“I know she and I didn’t get along, but to do this so she could get you back…” John rested his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I feel like I’m in a bizarre movie.”
“That’s Violet for you. She’s the leading lady in her own movie.”
“And she was losing control of the plot.” John muttered. He looked at Chris. “Has it worked?”
“You mean am I going back with a crazy woman who pushed my lover down the stairs?” Chris shook his head and his hand squeezed John’s thigh. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”
That made John feel better than he expected. He covered his hand over Chris’, feeling how warm his lover’s hand was against his own. John hadn’t realized how cold he was.
“I’m so sorry, Chris.”
“What are you sorry about?”
“For having such a crazy family.”
Chris laughed. He lifted John’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, his rough jaw grazing against John’s skin.
“I think I can handle crazy.” He indicated John’s broken arm. “You know, you’re going to need someone to look after you. Tend to your needs.”
“I suppose I am.” John eyed the cast. It was bulky and looked very ugly. “I very much doubt Walrider is going to be a very good nurse.”
“Well, if you’re happy with it, you can come and stay with me. Only if you want to,” Chris added hurriedly, “That way I can keep an eye on you and look after Walrider. He’ll enjoy having long walks in the hills.”