by Erika Wilde
She settled back under the covers and quickly fell asleep again and he went back to his reading. A few hours after consuming the tea, just when Hunter decided that he would try and get some shut-eye, as well, since it was nearing eleven p.m., she started moaning and clutching her stomach and thrashing on the bed, piquing his worry all over again. Then, abruptly, she woke up and rolled herself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, and while Hunter was immediately behind her, he wasn’t quick enough to catch her as she fell to her knees in front of the toilet and began throwing up.
He knelt beside her, holding her hair back and feeling so fucking helpless as he watched her puke her guts out. There wasn’t a whole lot in her stomach, just liquid and bile, but violent shudders wracked her body, over and over again, leaving her gasping for breath and eventually shaking from the trauma of it all. She slumped against him for support, and he leaned back against the nearest wall and held her in his arms on the bathroom floor for a few extra minutes, in case another round of nausea hit her. Her face was buried against his chest, her fingers curled into his cotton shirt, and he felt her tense up as more pathetic, painful whimpers escaped her throat.
She looked up at him, her face abnormally pale with dark shadows forming beneath her normally bright eyes that were now a dull blue. Tears pooled and slid down her cheeks as she moaned, her features pinched in pure anguish as another wave of agony wracked her body.
“Oh, God, Hunter, it feels like there are a dozen knives inside my stomach, it hurts so bad . . . and my heart is racing so fast and . . . something . . . doesn’t feel right.” It took effort for her to speak.
Hunter’s decision to take her to the hospital right now was immediate, because his own gut was clawing at him that something was very, very wrong. And even if this was just the flu, it was getting progressively worse and there was no fucking way he’d be able to live with more regrets and what-ifs if something horribly bad happened to Elle. He wasn’t taking any more chances with her health.
He helped her up from the bathroom floor and made her sit on the bed while he rushed around the room to put his shoes on, pocketed his cell phone, and made sure he had his car keys on him. He put slippers on her feet, bundled her into the soft, warm robe he’d seen in her bathroom, and with his arm secured tight around her waist, he opened her bedroom door just as her legs seemed to give out on her.
“I can’t stand . . .” she whispered, her voice so weak Hunter could barely hear her.
She started sliding downward, and doing his best to keep a lid on the panic threatening to consume him, Hunter swept her up into his arms and strode toward the entryway, his fear climbing at a rapid pace. Helena was sitting at the kitchen table doing something on a tablet, and as soon as she caught sight of him power walking toward the front of the house carrying Elle’s limp form, she jumped up and rushed to block the path he was taking, forcing him to come to a jarring stop, which he didn’t appreciate.
“What are you doing?” she demanded haughtily.
Hunter found it odd that Helena hadn’t asked the more obvious question, such as What is wrong with Elle? or Is she okay?, when her stepdaughter was clearly barely conscious in his arms.
“Get out of my way,” he said, glaring at Helena. “I’m taking Elle to the hospital.”
The other woman rolled her eyes, though there was a nervous energy about Helena that Hunter didn’t miss. “She has the flu,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, her eyes blinking rapidly, anxiously. “She just needs to sleep it off.”
“Whatever it is, she needs immediate medical attention.” Elle tensed against his chest, then tiny convulsions shook her body, ramping up Hunter’s concern to the next level. “I don’t have time to argue with you, lady. Now, get the fuck out of my way,” he said in a low, rottweiler growl that had her quickly stepping to the side so he could pass.
As he headed into the living room, she followed close behind. “You’re overreacting.”
Ignoring Helena, because he had nothing left to say to her, he shifted Elle so he could open the front door, then passed through, not bothering to close it behind him. A few seconds later, he heard it shut hard, and he was grateful that Helena hadn’t followed him outside, because he was not in a benevolent mood when it came to dealing with her.
It took him a few minutes to maneuver Elle into the passenger side of his car and secure her seat belt across her body. Her arms clutched her stomach, and God, her tears and painful whimpers were going to destroy him, but he had to keep a straight head to get her to the emergency room as quickly as possible.
He closed her door and started around the vehicle to the driver’s side just as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, someone running out of the house. Thinking it was Helena, he glanced in that direction and realized that it was one of Elle’s stepsisters . . . Claire, if he remembered correctly from the night of the ball. She was wearing a pair of pajamas and was running across the lawn toward him barefoot.
“Hunter . . . wait.” For all the urgency in the other woman’s words, her voice was low and hushed, as if she didn’t want anyone to know she was talking to him.
Hunter’s jaw clenched in irritation. “I don’t have time to fucking wait,” he snapped, yanking his car door open as the other girl reached him. “There is something very wrong with Elle and I’m taking her to the hospital.”
Claire stopped a few feet away from him on the street, the light pole overhead illuminating the emotional anguish etching her features. “It’s . . . arsenic.”
Everything inside of Hunter froze, turning the blood in his veins as cold as ice as he prayed to fucking God that he’d misheard what she’d said. “Say again?”
“Elle’s been poisoned, with arsenic,” she repeated as she twisted her fingers together anxiously in front of her. “I saw my mother put it into her tea leaves and sugar jar this morning when she thought she was alone. I don’t know how long she’s been doing it, but I never thought it would come to this.” Legitimate tears filled Claire’s eyes. “I don’t want Elle to die, and the doctors need to know how to treat her.”
Hunter was torn between the burning rage inside of him that Claire knew the cause of Elle’s illness and let it happen and gratitude that she’d stepped up and given him a vital piece of information that would possibly save her life. He had no time to act on the fury when precious seconds were ticking by, and unleashing his wrath on this girl would serve no purpose at this point, so he forced himself to give her a curt nod.
“Thank you for the information.”
Claire swallowed hard, her own misery over the situation real. “My mom . . . she doesn’t know that I saw her with the arsenic . . . or that I’m telling you. I’m so sorry.”
She turned around and hurried back to the house, clearly letting Hunter decide how to handle the issue with Helena now that he knew what she’d done. He had no time to confront her now, not when a deep-rooted fear was growing inside him at a rapid rate. His main concern was getting Elle to the hospital for immediate treatment, and he broke every speed limit and ran every red light to make it to the emergency room in record time.
When he arrived, he jumped out of his vehicle and left his car at the curb as he carried Elle’s shaking, shivering body into the building. As soon as he walked into triage and told the nurse that Elle had been poisoned with arsenic, the nearly unconscious woman in Hunter’s arms—the woman he’d fallen in love with quicker than he ever imagined possible—was taken from him, put onto a gurney, and rushed into a restricted area of the hospital surrounded by medical personnel . . . leaving him alone in the waiting room and scared as hell that he might lose her, that he hadn’t done everything he could to protect her. To save her.
Just like his parents.
Just like Natalie.
Chapter 15
After providing the hospital administration with what he could of Elle’s information to get her admitted, he spent the next three excruciatingly long hours alternating between pacing anxiously back a
nd forth across the waiting room floor, sitting down and berating himself for not bringing Elle to urgent care when he’d first suggested it, and trying his best to suppress the overwhelming fear and worry that kept his adrenaline at an all-time high.
Then there was the absolute rage simmering beneath the surface of all his emotions, that a woman like Helena could be greedy and coldhearted enough to poison her stepdaughter in order to gain control of everything. It was the only thing that made sense at this point, and as much as he wanted to confront the older woman, Elle was his first and only priority right now. He’d deal with Helena soon enough, once Elle weathered this ordeal—and he refused to consider any other outcome but a full recovery.
Shortly after Elle had been whisked away for a bunch of tests to confirm what Hunter had told the nurses and endure whatever treatment it required, he’d texted both his brother and sister, who’d told him that they were coming to the hospital, which he’d talked them out of. Not only was he not in the mood for company, but at this hour of the morning, there was nothing either of them could do to speed up the process. So, he promised to keep them updated as he was given news about Elle’s prognosis, though both Maddux and Tempest were quick to assure him that if he needed anything at all, they would be there immediately, which he appreciated.
Hearing the double doors leading to the restricted area of the hospital whoosh open, Hunter glanced in that direction, watching as a forty-something woman in scrubs walked into the waiting room area.
She glanced around the lobby triage, where about a half dozen people lingered. “Is there anyone here waiting on news for Elaina Darian?”
“I am.” Hunter immediately sprang up from his seat and strode over to her, trying to read the woman’s expression for any signs of how Elle had fared, except she wore an exceptional poker face.
“I’m Dr. Hansen,” she said, introducing herself. “Are you family?”
God, he didn’t want any of Elle’s family remotely near her, and knowing this doctor would probably only share imperative information with someone close to Elle, he lied. “I’m her fiancé. How is she?”
“She’s stable,” Dr. Hansen assured him. “Judging by her blood test results, she definitely suffered the effects of acute toxicity of arsenic, meaning she had multiple exposures to the poisoning in a short period of time.”
He swallowed around the thick knot of emotion gathering in his throat. “Is she going to be okay?” That’s all he cared about.
At the other woman’s reassuring nod, relief flooded through him.
“Yes,” the doctor said. “It’s a very good thing you brought her in when you did, because she’s still in a treatable stage and her kidney function is still sound. Luckily we found no evidence of hemolysis, which is blood cell destruction, so she doesn’t need a blood transfusion. However, we’ve started her on a high dose of chelation therapy, which is a drug that selectively binds and inactivates these kinds of substances, then excretes them through urine. If you had waited another day or so, the outcome might have been much more dire and deadly.”
The realization that he’d come so close to possibly losing Elle was the equivalent of a giant fist twisting his heart in his chest, and he focused on the fact that she was going to be okay, which was all that mattered to him.
The doctor’s brows drew together as she regarded him curiously. “Do you know how she came into contact with the poison?”
Hunter battled on how to best answer that question and ultimately decided to keep Helena’s involvement quiet until he had more concrete answers. And when he did, then he’d let Elle determine how she wanted to handle the situation with her stepmother, because pressing any charges against Helena was her choice to make.
“I’m not sure,” he said, shaking his head.
The doctor knew he was skirting the truth, and he was surprised she didn’t counter with Then how did you know it was arsenic that poisoned her? But Dr. Hansen didn’t push the issue. She wasn’t law enforcement and it wasn’t her job to investigate cases, but to treat the patient accordingly. As far as Hunter knew, this wasn’t a reportable issue.
“When can I see her?” he asked impatiently. He didn’t want her to be alone any longer than necessary.
“I can take you back to her room now. We just got her settled. She’s under sedation for the pain and probably will be for the next twenty-four hours. We’ll also need to keep her a few days for observation and repeated blood tests before releasing her.”
Hunter followed the doctor down the long hallway until she indicated a room near the end. He stepped inside and the sight of Elle lying on the hospital bed, eyes closed and completely still, hooked up to IVs and other monitors, sent shock waves through his system at the realization of what could have happened if he hadn’t insisted on staying with her last night. He exhaled a deep, stressed breath, and reminding himself that she was going to be fine, thank God, he approached the side of her bed. She looked so pale, so incredibly frail and defenseless, and all those protective emotions inside of him clamored to the surface. As far as he was concerned, no one would ever hurt Elle again.
He dragged a chair over to the bed, picked up her hand in his, and prepared to keep vigil over her for the rest of the early-morning hours.
Elle gained consciousness in slow, gradual degrees, as if she was coming out of a deep, hibernating kind of sleep. Her eyes remained closed as, one by one, her senses woke up, too, subliminally cataloguing all the discernable information filtering its way through her system. First, she heard the soft beeping of a machine, then the scent of disinfectant tickled her nose. She tried to swallow past the medicinal taste in her mouth, which was difficult since her throat was so dry, and she felt the slow, rhythmic stroke of someone caressing the back of one of her hands.
With a soft groan, she lifted her heavy eyelids, and the first thing she saw was Hunter, who quickly popped up from the chair he’d been sitting in at the side of the bed and loomed over her, his handsome expression a combination of concern and profound relief. A day’s growth of stubble covered his jaw, his hair was a tousled mess, and he looked utterly exhausted.
Despite all that, he clasped her hand tighter in his, a smile finding its way across his lips. “Hey, it’s nice to see you awake, sleeping beauty.”
“Cinderella. The crystal shoe, remember?” she automatically corrected him in a teasing raspy voice. “You’re mixing your fairy tales.”
He laughed. “You’re right. How are you feeling?”
“Okay, I think?” She wasn’t sure, considering how fuzzy her mind felt, but that awful pain she’d experienced in her midsection was now gone, thank God. “I could use something to drink, like water.”
Hunter sprang into action. He pressed a button on a side panel that lifted the upper portion of the bed so she was sitting up a bit more, then poured water into a cup and brought the straw to her mouth for her to sip. The liquid was delicious, so cool and soothing sliding down her parched throat.
When she was done, she glanced around the room as he set the cup back down on the side table. She felt so confused and disoriented and couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten to where she currently was.
She met Hunter’s gaze. “Why am I in a hospital and hooked up to all this stuff? And how long have I been here?”
Surprise flashed across his face. “You were admitted about twenty-four hours ago. You don’t remember what happened last night?”
She searched her memory bank, which took effort. “The last thing I can recall is me throwing up in the bathroom and feeling like I was going to die.”
Hunter’s lips flattened into a look of barely leashed rage. “That was most likely Helena’s plan.”
His harsh comment startled her. “What?”
“Sweetheart . . . Helena was putting arsenic in your tea and sugar. It’s a poison that’s odorless, colorless, and tasteless, so you had no idea you were consuming it, which is usually the point with arsenic poisoning. But if I hadn’t brought you to the hos
pital, you could have . . . died.” The last word left him on a choked sound, and the look in his eyes was pure torment.
Shock rippled through Elle as she stared at Hunter in disbelief, but she didn’t have to ask him why her stepmother would do something so evil. Without a doubt, Helena’s motives were somehow tied up into the house equity she wouldn’t budge on, the business, and just plain greed.
“How did you find out she was poisoning me?” Elle couldn’t imagine that Helena had divulged the information herself.
“Your stepsister Claire told me last night right before I brought you to the hospital. She saw your mother putting it into your tea and sugar.” Hunter scrubbed a hand along the dark stubble on his jaw and sighed. “Claire came by today because she was legitimately worried about you . . . and because Helena had sent her to find out if you and I knew about the arsenic poisoning. I asked her not to tell your stepmother anything until you and I talked and you decided how you wanted to handle the situation. Because if it was up to me, she’d already be arrested and sitting in a goddamn jail cell.”
Elle tried to wrap her mind around everything Hunter was telling her, but for as vindictive and cruel as Helena was, Elle had never been the spiteful type. “Can I think about it?”
“Not for long. Something needs to be done, one way or another,” he told her, his fingers feathering gently over the back of her hand. “The doctor said if your test results come back tomorrow with everything in the normal range, you’ll be discharged and you are not going back to your house. You’re coming to my place and staying with me until everything is resolved with Helena because I don’t trust her to be anywhere near you.”
“Okay,” Elle agreed softly.
Then a surprisingly pained look passed across Hunter’s features, and genuinely distraught emotions filled his eyes. “God, if anything happened to you, too, I don’t know that I’d ever be able to forgive myself.”