Beautiful Collision

by T. G. Ayer

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Gray

  I'm pacing the floor of the hospital room. All I want to do is get the hell out of here but I can't. I have to suppress the feelings inside me, the ones that make me sick to my stomach. The ones that make me remember how pale Mom's face had been the day she'd slipped away from us forever.

  Dark blue curtains hide the next patient in the room, but they do nothing to silence the numerous medically related sounds, not to mention other more human ones. Each beep of the machines make me recall the sound of the heart monitor as it beeped slower and slower until all I can hear is the constant tone of the flat line. Hospitals take me back to the day we'd pulled the plug on my mother's life, the day that Anthony had argued that it was for the best, that we couldn't keep coming to the hospital to spend time with a vegetable.

  He'd been cold, unfeeling and stressed for some odd reason I was unaware of. I didn't think for a moment that it was guilt that affected his every waking moment because my brother was not capable of guilt or remorse. And now, alone in this room, as I sit and wait for them to return with Thane, all I can see is my mother's face, gaunt and wasted, and how Anthony had agreed to disconnect all the machines that were keeping her alive even when the doctors said there was a slim chance that she could come out of the coma.

  I believed in that slim chance, held onto it until the bitter end. But Anthony, he'd had a different agenda. And many times during the years I'd wondered if he'd done it for the money. The insurance on my parents was fairly substantial. Dad was always one to ensure everything was taken care of.

  ***

  Imagine our surprise when the will was read to find that Dad had split our inheritance three ways. Two portions in Trust that neither of us could touch until we turned twenty five, and with the stipulation that neither of us had access to or influence over the other's money.

  Although Dad had also provided us with tertiary study trusts, the final third of the actual inheritance was left to both Anthony and myself with equal rights to use of the funds. Not that I ever saw that money.

  Though I'd wanted to remain at Mom's side for a while after they'd turned off the machines, Anthony had dragged me home saying there was little point in wasting one's time staring at a dead body, that the living needed to get on with living and leave the dead to ashes and bones.

  Anthony had appeared to have no care for how I felt. He'd forced me to return to school the next day, much to the surprise and disapproval of my teachers. Then the next day he arrived in the middle the school day to take me to the bank. Apparently he'd been having a hard time drawing funds from our joint account.

  We'd sat before the implacable bank manager and I'd kept my mouth shut while Anthony railed on about how the bank was making money off our backs but when we needed help they were never there.

  The bank manager, Preston White from his golden name tag, leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. "Mr. Harper. I do understand your position but you must also understand ours. Your father left those funds in a joint account and from what we have seen there have only been withdrawals by one person. Yourself." Then he turned his serious grey eyes on me. "Miss Harper. Is there any reason why you are not using the funds provided for you?"

  I shrug. I hadn't thought about what to use it for. Five hundred thousand dollars was a large sum of money but it had been left to both Anthony and myself. I had very little needs while Anthony always seemed to need more than I did. I realized the silence in the room meant he was waiting for an actual answer. I cleared my throat. "I don't really need money right now. I have everything I could want. I suppose I will use it at some point."

  His eyes were even more serious now when he looked at me. "Young lady, I don't know if you are aware of this but almost half the money in the account is gone."

  I'm so shocked my mouth hung open for a moment. "How is that possible?" I asked looking from him to my stony-faced brother beside me, who refused to look at me.

  "Your brother has been making large withdrawals over the last few weeks. I understand it is difficult to make ends meet for the two of you but I need to make you both aware. Your father left the money in this account to both of you but he made a contingency stipulation. Each of you are only allowed to withdraw half the contents of the account. Which means each of you is only entitled to the personal use of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In your brother's case he has depleted his funds and in fact," he paused to pull a piece of paper toward him, "He only has the sum of ten thousand dollars left in his allotment."

  I gasped and glanced over at Anthony but when I saw the viciously cold look on his face I knew I would not dare to question him in front of White.

  White cleared his throat. "We understand that the mortgage payments on the apartment have not been paid for two months now. You father's life insurances have paid off the bulk of the mortgage and it has brought the monthly amounts down to something both the bank and your father assumed would be manageable." I nodded as White spoke, well aware that our apartment, in a more expensive part of the city, with a concierge and underground parking, was on the expensive side. My father had come from money and though he hadn't been fortunate enough to benefit from a fat inheritance, he'd always ensured we lived well. Now, I forced myself to pay attention to the bank manager. "Your father wanted to give you both the freedom to have some money left after your monthly expenses. I understand that neither of you have well paid jobs which is why I suggested in the beginning that you use the funds to supplement the mortgage payments."

  I frowned. "And none of that money has been used to pay the mortgage?" I asked feeling Anthony's eyes on me.

  White shook his head. "Unfortunately, no." He kept eye contact with me, effectively ignoring Anthony which I knew would only enrage him further.

  I cleared my throat. "What do you suggest we do?" I asked not daring to glance at Anthony. I could feel the tension rolling off his body but I held myself rigid and stared only at Preston White's aging face.

  "I still feel it's best to use the money to pay towards the mortgage. It would mean that whatever income you both earn would only pay for utilities and other personal necessities." When I nodded both in understanding and in agreement the bank manager gave me an admiring smile. He could no doubt see what I was going through with Anthony as my brother. "So Miss Harper, I can get the papers prepared for you to sign. It will stipulate that your portion of the fund will be used to pay the mortgage installments until such time that you tell us to stop or that the money runs out. Which I doubt very much it will since there is only a small amount left to pay on the apartment."

  I merely nodded, worried about what Anthony would do to me when I got home but if he wasn't going to ensure we at least have a roof over our heads then I will have to do it and suffer the consequences.

  White got to his feet. "I'll just let Maggie know to draw up the papers. Would either of you like a drink in the meantime?" Anthony snorted rudely but I just maintained eye contact and shook my head. I glanced quickly at my brother. The bank manager must have seen something in my expression because he sat down slowly. "Why don't I get Maggie on the phone and maybe get you something to eat as well?" he said as he lifted his telephone to his ear.

  We sat in silence as he gave instructions to Maggie over the phone on what the papers needed to state and also to get us something to eat and drink. Mr. White was onto Anthony and at least then I felt a little safe. It wouldn't last though. We'd have to go home sooner or later, and that I did dread.

  A knock on the door and pretty brunette entered to take our orders. Anthony shook his head with an odious smirk at his lips, while I accepted a juice just so I didn't appear ungrateful. We didn't wait long as Maggie must have sensed the urgency of the situation. Anthony shifted in his seat as the door opened and Maggie entered with the papers. As shapely as she was, Anthony paid her no attention and that was an incredibly bad sign.

  White rose and brought the papers to my side of the table. "You are welc
ome to take the time to read it. Perhaps Anthony I can take a walk while you scan the fine print?" he asked, looking from me to Antony.

  "Er . . . No. That's totally fine. You knew my father so I'm trusting you not to screw me over."

  He nodded, his eyes seeming to say so much more than just yes. I held my hand up for a pen and he grabbed a gold fountain pen from his holder. I signed wherever the little red arrow stickers indicated and then closed the contract, handing it over to White in a movement that was a little too abrupt. But all he did was look at me with a little sadness in his eyes.

  He took the paperwork and sat back in his chair, scanning and signing as he went. Then he sat back and smiled. "Good, now you know you have a secure place to live."

  I wanted to ask him to calculate how long my half of the money would last but I didn't dare.

  I got to my feet, again the movement was abrupt. "Thank you," I said, keeping my expression clear and my voice cool. I didn't dare show any friendliness to the man in case Antony got any ideas. "I think we should be going now."

  "Do you need a ride back to school?" White asked, a kind smile on his face.

  "Schools out in ten minutes, but thanks for asking." I moved and White rose, following me to open the office door. Anthony rushed past me, and crossed the threshold first. He was a few yards away when I heard White say softly, "If you ever need any help call me. Give Maggie your name and she'll put you through immediately."

  I smiled then shook his hand. I heard Anthony bark my name and I let Preston White's hand go before hurrying after my brother.

  The evening did not look promising.

  And with Anthony it never did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Gray

  I shift in my seat wondering what the hell I am doing here. I don't know Thane well enough to be haunting his hospital room. I stretch my neck and shoulders, feeling the uncomfortably thin layer of cushion beneath my butt. I am just getting to my feet when the nurse rushes inside and begins pushing cords out of the way to make space for a bed.

  "Are they bringing him back?" I ask, fearful she will say no and that he's died and they need the bed for another patient.

  She gives me a brisk nod, her black eyes flashing with irritation. "You need to stay out of our way or we will have to ask you to wait outside."

  I move to the far wall and watch as they push a long bed inside and set everything up. Thane lies there, silent and unmoving, a sight that turns my stomach and threatens to bring tears to my eyes. It doesn't take long before they're all gone and I'm left alone again with the surly nurse. She's heading out the door when I ask, "Is he going to be okay?"

  She stops in her tracks and turns to me. "He's one lucky guy. The bullet went right through him, just below his clavicle and just above his scapula. Through and through with barely any long term nerve or muscle damage." She narrows her eyes at me. "Try not to disturb him. He needs his rest and he'll wake in his own time." I nod again and then she's gone. She doesn't say how long I can stay, nothing about visiting hours either. I decide it's better not to ask.

  It's beginning to get light outside. Then I stiffen. Morning and lectures. Damn. I'm going to miss my first lecture of my first year at college.

  Just perfect.

  I shake my head and glare at the sleeping Thane.

  Stop being selfish Gray. You aren't the one shot and having to go through surgery. Not to mention the fact that you are the one that shot the guy in the first place.

  I'm sitting hunched over when a voice filters through my self-pity.

  "Excuse me, Miss?" I glance up to find a police badge in my face. I'm startled but I keep my cool.

  "Yes. Can I help you?" I ask, injecting a little authority in my voice. I'm supposed to belong here and he certainly doesn't.

  "I'm Detective Hamlin. I need to ask you a few questions." He's young, white shirt rumpled, no tie. His hair is neatly combed, swept back from his dark face in a low widow's peak. And he's staring at me, fixing his pale blue eyes on my face. When I nod he asks, "Can you tell me what happened?"

  I flick a glance at my sleeping intruder. Can I tell Hamlin that Thane had broken into my apartment and shot someone and I'd shot him in return. As much as it is the truth I just can't tell this policeman the truth. Not until I get an answer from Thane.

  I clear my throat. "There was an intruder in the apartment," I say speaking slowly. I am at a loss as to how to explain this to Hamlin, to save Thane from a charge of breaking and entering and myself from being charged with possession of a weapon without a license, not to mention for shooting Thane. And what do I say without Thane telling them something totally different when he does finally wake up.

  "And?" the detective prompts.

  "I woke up and went to see what it was." My words are jerky and from the gentle look he gives me I assume he is trying to be understanding.

  "There was a man with a gun and he shot me. Then I shot him." Thane's voice is raspy and dry and he coughs as he finishes his short speech. I am speechless. Thane had woken in time to save me from incriminating myself.

  Hamlin frowns but his eyes light up with suspicion. "Do you have a license to carry a firearm, Mr Blackwell?" he asks tentatively, but there is a smugness to his tone that makes me want to slap him. My nerves and patience are clearly shot. Hamlin looks pretty certain that he'd be arresting Thane soon for possession of an unlicensed weapon.

  Thane nods. "Wallet," he manages to whisper.

  With Thane so eager to show his license the detective seems to dispense with the need to see it for himself. He seems flustered and looks down at his notes flipping pages for a bit. Then he says, "So let me get this straight. You were awakened by an intruder. You both got up to check. The intruder fired on you, Mr Blackwell, and you shot him, then the guy ran off. Did you consider going after him?" Hamlin asks, his expression odd.

  "Even if he wanted to chase after the creep I wouldn't have let him, Detective," I say coldly. I am beginning to really dislike the man's superior attitude. Not to mention the fact that he seemed a bit useless.

  "Why is that Miss...?" He faces me, pencil poised for my response.

  "It's Miss McAllister. And I wouldn't have let him go running off in the middle of the night after some criminal when he had two holes in his body. Holes, I might add, that were leaking blood like faucets." I spoke crisply, not bothering to hide my dislike. My fear of policemen leaking my whereabouts to Nikolai seems to have transformed itself into attitude.

  An odd sound comes from the bed and when I turn my head I see Thane hiding a smile behind his hand as he pretends to cough. I give him a glare then move to the side table where a water-filled jug sits beside a glass. I fill the gladdy for him and move over to the bed to help him drink.

  Behind me, the detective clears his throat. I turn and look over my shoulder at him. "I don't suppose you could give me a description of the perp?" he asks and I stare at him as if he is stupid.

  "No, Detective Hamlin. It was dark. He was a shadow. He was kinda gray. And shadowy." My back is still facing him and my neck is beginning to hurt but I refuse to turn and face him

  "Did you not put any lights on?"

  "Why would I do a stupid thing like that?" I snap.

  "To see who is in your house," suggests the now irritated detective, raising his voice a little. The tension in the room is rising.

  "You mean, to show him exactly where I was so he could shoot me?" I ask with an arched brow. I feel the bed shaking beside me and I swear silently. What the hell is Thane thinking is so damned funny?

  The detective flushes, then hesitates before saying. "Well . . . thanks for you help. I might be back later in case I have any other questions."

  I nod, tempted to tell him to ensure he has intelligent questions to ask next time.

  Then he is gone and there is just Thane and myself, alone in the room. I meet his amused eyes, "What's so freaking funny?" I snap again. I'm hungry and tired and in no mood for his silly amusements.

&
nbsp; "You are," he rasps. "You're so sexy when you're angry," he says then his smile disappears as he realizes what he's just said. I try to make it easier for him by pretending I haven't heard. I take his empty glass away and then sit on the chair slowly.

  "Do you need anything? Can I call anyone for you?" I make the offer, and I find I do actually mean it despite wanting to dump the jug of water all over his head. I don't take being laughed at too easily.

  He shakes his head. Then he shifts and groans. "We have to get our stories straight." Then he looks at me long and hard. "Who did you tell them you were?"

  "Your girlfriend. Otherwise that bat of a nurse wouldn't have let me within a mile of you. The woman is rabid," I say knowing I am exaggerating.

  "Okay," he says with a sigh. "We are dating, I came over. We were asleep in the main bedroom. You heard a noise and woke me up. I went looking and found a stranger in the living room. He shot me in the shoulder and then I shot him. I don't know if I hit him or not. Too dark to see."

  I nodded. The story is simple and makes sense. I clear my throat. "That's rather slutty of me," I say nonchalantly tapping a finger against my lips.

  "What do you mean?" His forehead is adorably scrunched but he still looks incredibly pale. I don't like the color of pale.

  I clear my thoughts and answer his question, "I'm only a day in town and suddenly I have a boyfriend staying the night? The cops will buy that one in a flash," I say dryly as if fold my arms.

  "Sure, they'll buy it. Plenty of girls would." He shrugs.

  "Would what?" I ask raising an eyebrow fiercely.

  "Sleep with a guy the first night," he says with a second shrug and a cheeky smile. I make a disgusted face and he says, "You're a prude." Then he begins to laugh which turns into a harsh barking cough which in turn brings in the nurse from hell. Even her heels clack hard and angry on the lino like an approaching pair of hyenas.