by ML Guida
The officers released him but eyed him warily. Abigail hoped Brayden didn’t fly into one of his many rages and get himself locked up in juvie again.
Brian, a tall, burly counselor, gestured. “Over here, Brayden.”
Abigail always thought Brian was one of the tallest men she’d ever met, a former football player for the Denver Broncos, but compared to Blade, he was a foot shorter and more like the water boy than a defensive end.
Brayden stuck his hands in his back pockets and headed over to the other adolescent patients. His hair hung in his face and his mouth set in a tight grimace, Abigail’s heart pounded. She knew that look, the angry-I’m-going-to-get-even-look, which always led to Brayden wanting to get high. Why couldn’t she get Brayden to talk to her? The other adolescents would talk to her, but not Brayden, only if he wanted to humiliate or intimidate or hurt her.
Brian led the adolescents upstairs, his muscular body blocking their curious and worried stares as he fielded their questions.
Hamilton quickly brought the police officers up to speed. The paramedics brought in three stretchers. Callie was loaded onto one. She stared in horror as the paramedics chained Natalie’s wrists to a stretcher. Blood drenched Natalie’s chin.
“I don’t want to ride in the same ambulance with her,” Callie whimpered. Her lower lip trembled.
“You won’t,” a blond, male paramedic said. He and his partner escorted Natalie out of the treatment center.
Two paramedics, their faces grim, lifted the unconscious officer.
Blade rose, bringing Abigail with him. “There’s nothing you can do, Red. Let the paramedics do their job.”
Abigail glanced down at her blood stained hands and splattered shirt. Fear soaked her, smothering her, as if she’d been out in a pouring mountain storm. She trembled from her hands all the way down to her toes. Her teeth chattered. She tried to take a deep, calming breath, but only managed to suck in rapid and shallow breaths. She rubbed her cold, clammy hands. Her vision blurred and dizziness seized her. She knew she was in danger of going into shock.
She called upon her healing power. Tingles rushed over her chilled skin. Her breathing returned to normal, and her hands warmed.
Brian and Stephanie, another staff member, were trying to keep the other adolescent patients upstairs. Girls were crying and hugging each other. The boys kept stiff upper lips and arms folded across their chests, but they didn’t fool Abigail. They were just as torn up as the girls but refused to release those feelings, leading them to want another fix. “I’ve got to go and help the staff.”
“No, you don’t,” Blade said.
“Yeah, I do.” She braced her shoulders back. “You do too. Remember you took a job here.”
“Red, you’ve got blood splattered all over your shirt and on your hands. Do you really think you’re going to be able to calm those kids?”
She bit her lip. “I—”
He put his hand on her lower back, his touch firm, and hugged her close to him. Maneuvered her to one of the couches, and he pushed her into the cushions. “Now, sit.”
“Blade, I—”
He scowled. “Red, you’ll be more help to these kids when you gain your composure.”
She bristled, refusing to admit he may be right. “Excuse me? I’m a professional.”
“Then start acting like one.”
She pressed her hands on the sofa to stand, but Blade stood in front of her, put his firm hands on her shoulders, pushing her back down. “Seriously, Abby, you need to just rest a minute. Let me get you a clean shirt and something to wash your hands. You’ve even got blood on the side of your face.”
“I do?”
“Will you stay here for a minute?” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sure the cops are going to want to ask you a few questions. I'm going to get you a towel to clean yourself. Stay here.”
She nodded. Blade left. A determined bull, he wedged himself through the chaos of police officers, busy paramedics, and staff members into the bathroom.
“Miss, can I ask you a few questions?” Wearing a navy suit, a white shirt and a red tie, a man held a pad and pen in his hand. “I’m Detective Rafferty.”
Abigail hadn’t even seen him enter Buffalo Treatment Center.
With his wrinkled eyes, tan face and raccoon eyes, Rafferty must spend most of his time outdoors.
He sat down next to her without waiting for her to answer. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Abigail Malcolm. I’m a nurse.”
He scribbled on his pad. “So, you work here?”
“Yes, part time.” Something brushed her leg. She jerked, her heart pounding overtime.
Detective Rafferty cocked an eyebrow.
She glanced down at her leg and put her hand on her beating heart. Mr. Tibbs swirled around her leg. She closed her eyes.
“Can you tell me what happened? Or do you need a minute?”
She opened her eyes and bit her lip. “No, I’m fine. I’m not sure to be honest. Natalie went upstairs to her room. A few minutes later, she came back down with a board game.”
“She, Callie, and my brother, Brayden, were sitting around the coffee table playing the game. They were laughing and joking around. I was typing a report into the computer when Natalie attacked Callie.”
He tapped the end of his pen on his notepad. “So, the girls were not arguing.”
She shook her head. “No. Natalie and Callie are very close. They both share a similar history and formed a strong bond with each other.” She pushed a lock of her hair off her face, wetness staining her cheek. “That’s what I don’t understand. Why would Natalie attack her best friend?”
“Here.”
Blade handed her a towel. He scowled at Rafferty and towered over him, a brooding statue.
“Thank you.” She took the towel, her hand shaking, and wiped her hands. Blood smeared onto the white towel like magic, and her stomach clenched.
Blade knelt and held a damp wash cloth in his hand. He clasped her chin, his thumb caressed the bottom of her chin as he dabbed her face. His gentle touch surprised her. Chills spread over her and she shuddered but didn’t know if it was from watching Natalie try to eat her best friend, then the police officer or Blade caressing her. It had been so long since a man had caressed her.
Mr. Tibbs jumped up on the couch and snuggled next to her leg. As she rubbed his soft fur, he nuzzled underneath her shaking hand. Taking a deep breath, she stroked the cat; silky strands brushed against her palm, the smoothness mesmerized her. With each pat down his back, she trembled less.
Officer Rafferty flashed an angry gaze over Blade. “Excuse me, sir, but you're interfering in this investigation. I need to ask her questions.”
She blinked and moved her head, but Blade tightened his clasp on her chin, preventing her from looking at Rafferty. “So ask,” Blade said.
His brown eyes held her gaze, and she remained still. She liked being taken care of for once, rather than having to take care of others. The feeling surprised her.
“She can’t answer questions with you cleaning her face.”
“Too bad,” Blade said. “She’s in shock and I’m taking care of her.”
Rafferty clicked and unclicked his pen repeatedly. “Who are you?”
Blade tilted his head and released her chin. “Blade Angel.” He gave her a winning smile. “Now, your face doesn’t look like something out of the Night of the Living Dead.”
Her chin was cold where his warm fingers had been and she shivered, her teeth chattering
Blade sat next to Abigail and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him, his body spreading warmth. His strength offered protection. Mr. Tibbs curled in her lap and purred. Blade squeezed her arm, and a wave of reassurance rushed through her.
“Now, Mr. Angel, how long have you worked here?”
Blade half smiled. “Can you believe this was my first day?”
“Your first day?” Rafferty raised his eyebrow. “Strange all this went to he
ll when you arrived.” He motioned with his pen. “You two appear quite chummy.”
“Chummy?” Blade asked. “What, you think we plotted this? Got some girl to try and eat her best friend? Yeah, you’re right, Einstein. It’s our idea of fun. You’re on to us.”
“Blade! Stop.” Abigail gazed back at Rafferty, who looked like he wanted to slap handcuffs on Blade. “You see, I was his nurse at the hospital. That’s all.”
Rafferty frowned. “St. Anthony’s here in Frisco?”
“Is there another one?” Blade growled.
Abigail shoved her elbow into his side. “Blade. What is your problem?”
He tilted his head at Rafferty. “Seriously?”
“You’ve got one hell of an attitude.” Rafferty chewed his lip. “Got a record?”
“No, I don’t.” Blade folded his arms across his chest. “Look me up, if you don’t believe me.”
“What’s your address?”
Blade gave Rafferty his birth date and address. She jerked her head when he said Mountainside Condominiums. She lived there. This was getting way too strange. First, she met this man in the hospital with badly burned hands, and then he works here of all places and her patients change into hungry zombies. And now, he lives in her complex. A chill zigzagged down her back. Was he following her? Like Martin had?
She swallowed. Martin was way shorter than Blade and had a slimmer build. He had been so strong, so very strong, she couldn’t stop him. Blade would be impossible.
“Ma’am?”
Abigail blinked. “What?”
“Are you all right?” Rafferty peered at her with concern in his eyes.
Blade wrapped his arm around her and she tensed. His eyebrows knotted and his mouth set in a straight line. She didn’t understand her reaction. How could she tell him that she both craved and feared him? She’d learned her lesson. After Martin, she had trouble trusting men. She had slept with a couple of men, but the affair always ended abruptly. Her trust in men had vanished. Blade was no different. A tempting, beautiful man, but he could hurt her, terrify her, and defile her.
She picked up Mr. Tibbs and moved him to the side. She pushed off the couch and darted out of Blade’s reach, not an easy maneuver to do. Feeling Blade’s eyes on her back, she hurried over to where Brayden leaned against the wall. The paramedics had removed Callie and the fallen officer, but stains of blood marred the hardwood floor. A police photographer took pictures of the crime scene. Natalie was gone. Had the paramedics taken her to jail or to the emergency room to do a mental health evaluation? She wasn’t sane. Possibly high. But she knew of no narcotic that made the users act like a man-eating zombie.
Brayden glared as she approached. She braced herself for another insult, and he didn’t fail to disappoint her.
“What do you want? Going to have me arrested this time?” Under his breath, he whispered, “Bitch.”
She winced and sighed, wishing they could heal their relationship.
Firm footsteps came up behind her. Brayden’s eyes widened, and he uncrossed his arms. The smirk ran away from his face, and his lower lip trembled.
Blade stomped past her. “What did you call her?”
She tried grabbing his arm, but it was like trying to stop a runaway bulldozer.
“I…I…said…witch, I swear.” He looked at Abigail with a pleading puppy dog face.
“He did, Blade. He called me a witch.”
“Yeah right.” He loomed over Brayden and put his hands on either side of his face. “That’s two. Third one’s a charm, little man.”
“Okay, okay, okay. I get it. You don’t want me to call her any names.”
Blade removed his hands. “Good, I’m glad we understand each other.”
Brayden shuffled his feet and looped his thumps in the loops on his jeans. He shifted his eyes around the room. “What? I said I wouldn’t call her any names when you’re around.”
Blade took a menacing step. “Excuse me?”
Brayden glared at Abigail, and she lowered her eyes. She wished their relationship would go back to what it was before Mom had died and before her life went straight to hell.
He stuck out his chin and postured toward Blade. “You can’t do anything to me.”
Abigail sighed. Brayden didn’t fool her. He resorted to acting like a hoodlum when he was scared shitless. Couldn’t Blade see this was all an act?
“Blade, leave him alone.”
Abigail glanced at the other side of the room. The boys and girls from the house were watching Brayden, whispering to each other. He followed her gaze, and then puffed out his chest. In a loud voice, he stared at Blade and said, “I’m not afraid of him.”
Rafferty came over. “Is there a problem?”
Blade turned around and gave him a cold stare. “No. Why?”
“The boy seems—”
“To be acting like a jack ass,” Blade finished.
“Blade,” Abigail warned. “You’re supposed to be a professional.”
Rafferty took out his book and wrote something down. Blade swore under his breath, but his voice was too low. Rafferty snapped his little black book shut and stuffed into his jacket. “I’ll be in touch.”
“You do that,” Blade said.
Hamilton came over as Rafferty headed over to talk to the police officers. “The police wanted us to relocate to another residence, but I told them that there was no other place for the kids to go. Not here in Frisco. Let’s get the kids upstairs and debrief in the community room upstairs.”
Hamilton and Brian herded the adolescents to go upstairs and get their prying eyes away from the scene. Abigail went to follow, but she gasped when Blade clasped Brayden’s arm.
“Let go of me, dude.” Brayden pushed on Blade’s fingers.
Abigail hurried after Blade, his broad back blocking her view of her brother. “Blade, what are you doing?”
Blade shoved Brayden into Hamilton’s office. Abigail rushed inside, not wanting to leave Brayden alone with Blade. What if he hurt Brayden? He could break Brayden in two. “I mean it, Blade. Don’t hurt him.”
“I won’t.” Blade released Brayden. “So long as he tells me what I want to know.”
Brayden rubbed his arm. “I’m not going to tell you shit.”
Blade took a step closer, and Brayden skidded over to Abigail. He hadn’t reached out for her for so long. Her heart swelled with hope that perhaps their relationship could heal. Perhaps.
“Oh, really?” Blade asked, his voice slow and droll.
Brayden glanced at the door and at Blade.
Blade followed his gazed and half grinned. “You’ll never make it in time, boy.”
Brayden’s brows furrowed, indecision crossed his face. “What do you want?”
“I want to know about the board game you, Natalie, and Callie were playing.”
Abigail put her hands on her hips. “Why do you care about the game?”
He didn’t even look at her. Instead, he scowled at Brayden. “Don’t try my patience.”
“Blade, he already told you he didn’t know where it was.”
Brayden moistened his lips. “I told you I don’t know where it’s at.”
“I heard you the first time.” Blade edged closer to him.
Brayden stepped closer to the door.
Blade cracked his neck. “Don’t do it. You can walk out of here in one piece or in two. Your choice.”
“Okay, if I don’t know where it is, then what else do you want to know?”
Blade lowered his voice, “Who gave it to you?”
Brayden shrugged. “It’s not my board. It's Natalie’s. I don’t know who gave it to her.”
Blade studied him. “You’re lying.”
“I don’t know the guy. She said just that the dude was hot.”
Wariness flashed in Blade’s eyes. His lips turned white. “Hot, how?”
If Abigail didn’t know better, she would think that Blade was scared. She must be mistaken. “Blade, what differenc
e does it make?” She tried to keep the hysteria out of her voice.
“Brayden, who?” Blade asked.
A tremor echoed in his words. Something was wrong. What had Brayden gotten himself into?
Brayden ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” He shrugged and rubbed the side of his face. “Giant tall. Rock and roll star with long black hair and red eyes.”
Blade’s cheek twitched. “Red eyes?”
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. Natalie said it, not me.”
Blade tilted his head. “Go upstairs with Hamilton.”
Brayden hurried over to the door.
“You’re ass better be up there when I come up,” Blade warned.
“I know, I know. My ass is grass and you’re the lawn mower.”
A slow smile spread across Blade’s face. “Good lad.”
After Brayden shut the door and left, Abigail glared at Blade. “What the hell was this little interrogation about?”
He stared at her for a long minute and his scowl turned into a teasing grin. “You’re so beautiful when you’re angry, Red.”
“Flattery will not get you off the hook, Mr. Angel. I want to know why you’re obsessed over a stupid Ouija board.”
The merriment in his eyes faded. “You won’t believe me.”
His sinister voice sent dread tapping down her spine. “Try me.”
“It’s not a Ouija board.”
“Then what is it?”
He stepped over to her and ran his palms over her trembling arms. She wanted to move away but couldn’t take her eyes off his lips. His leather scent turned her legs to jelly. She wanted to strip his shirt off and rub her hands over his naked chest again. “Tell me now.”
He leaned his forehead on hers and slowly lowered his warms hands. “Fine. You won’t believe me.” He walked over to the door and stood guard like a prison warden.
Martin locking his bedroom door and trapping her inside flashed in her mind. Her heart raced. Not again. He couldn’t possibly be planning on assaulting her. She’d scream bloody murder this time as she battled tooth and nail. She glanced at Hamilton’s desk. A silver letter open lay on some envelopes. She edged closer to it.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
“So, why are you blocking my way?” She moved her fingers along the smooth desk until the tips caressed the letter opener.