“Okay, you’re all set. There’s a waiting room in Pediatrics. The doctor will come find you there when they have news.”
Jeff gripped the counter and nodded. He thought he’d felt impotent when Evan was missing?
“Mr. Patarava?” The man handed him a slip of paper. “If you’re interested, our hospital has a program where you can donate blood while you wait.”
Was his sense of helplessness written all over his face? Probably. And probably everyone felt the same way in this type of situation. He wasn’t unique in his fear.
Did that make it better or worse?
It didn’t matter. The guy had given him something he could do. Something meaningful. His type A blood wasn’t as useful as O-negative, but it could still be of value to someone. “Thank you. I’ll do that.”
Within an hour, he and Olivia lay on tables with needles in their arms. Jeff had told her she could leave, but she’d refused.
“You think I would leave you now?” she’d asked, twisting her plump lips into a scowl.
He’d been paying her to look for Evan, but after months of constant contact, she felt more like a friend.
As much as he’d like to blame her for what happened to Evan tonight, the rational side of him understood that she’d made the best decision with the information she had. Most likely the right decision.
“I never thanked you,” he said. “For all the time your team put into this. For finding him.”
She nodded. “Just doing our jobs.” But clearly it was more than that or she’d have left by now.
Maybe she understood that not being alone helped. Not just for moral support, but because he had to keep his shit together. Definitely a good thing.
Though, he’d much rather have Tara by his side.
She probably didn’t weigh enough to give blood, but he could use a heavy dose of her strength and optimism. It was his own damn fault she was gone. He hadn’t wanted to get too attached, hadn’t wanted to rely on her too much. Too fucking late. Only now could he see that she’d quickly become as necessary to him as the blood currently draining from his veins.
He would get through this, but it would be far easier if he could hold her hand, take the solace she gave so generously. See her reassuring smile.
Sighing, he watched his blood flow through the narrow tubing into a clear bag hanging below. Luckily, he’d been back from Afghanistan for several years now, so concerns about malaria hadn’t prevented him from donating.
Later—after he’d given his pint and was holding down a chair in the Pediatric waiting room, unable to sleep—a slim, dark-haired woman in rumpled scrubs entered the room and strode toward him, her expression carefully neutral. “Mr. Patarava?”
“Yes?” He sat up too fast and his head spun.
He’s okay. He’s okay. He has to be okay. Jeff’s eager heart bruised his sternum.
Her face gave away nothing. “I’m Dr. Kayani. I have news about your son.”
“It’s one a.m. This better fucking be worth it.” Rick sat up with the phone to his ear, his back turned to Sonya, who lay naked beside him, asleep. Or at least pretending.
“I found her,” Hyper said. “Is that fucking worth it?”
“You found Tara?” Rick stood and snagged his underwear off the floor, struggling into it while holding the phone with his chin. “Where is she?”
“She was in Wilmington, North Carolina, but then she rented a car—”
“I don’t give a shit where she was. Where is she now?”
“Chill, dude. The rental company tracks its cars, so I can too. She’s at an apartment building in Myrtle Beach.”
“Address?” he snapped, still trying to shake off the vestiges of sleep.
“Money?” Hyper shot back. “I’ve already sent the invoice.”
Shit. He couldn’t afford to piss off his best asset. “Sorry, I’m cranky when I first wake up. You did a good job.”
She sniffed. “I know.”
Rick shook his head. These hackers and their egos. But she had earned every ounce of arrogance. And every penny he owed her. “Hang on.”
Rubbing his face, he strode to where his laptop sat on the dresser and opened it, calling up his bank’s website. Hyper billed his legitimate firm as a computer consultant, and he paid her out of legitimate funds. Everything was aboveboard as far as the IRS and feds were concerned.
“Nice abs,” she said.
“What?” Rick stepped back. “How can you see me?” He donned the robe hanging on the hook just inside the closet door.
“You should cover your webcam with a sticky flag or something. A less scrupulous person might share pictures of you and your mistress with your wife.”
His fists clenched, but he tamped down his anger. He knew better, especially when dealing with people like Hyper. She’d even warned him that she’d done her due diligence on him before taking a dime. This was her way of pushing his buttons and reminding him that she could ruin him if he stiffed her.
“My wife wouldn’t give a shit.” He entered the transfer info and hit Send.
Hyper laughed. “I know. She has her own…side interests.”
Rick scowled. As long as Katerina was discreet, he didn’t want to know. “Money’s been transferred.” He read off the confirmation number.
The sound of tapping keys came over the phone line. Within minutes, she said, “Okay. I see it. Here’s the address.” She passed along the info. “I believe she’s on her own now, but you should know, the guy who lives there, Mick Fury, is a former Air Force PJ. Special operations. I looked them up. They’re like Navy SEALs but with medical and search-and-rescue training. He works as a paramedic for the fire department, and is probably armed when not on duty. His wife works from home as a database analyst. They have a three-year-old boy, and I’m ninety-percent sure she’s pregnant based on their recent expenditures. TL;DR, this guy’s a badass with things to protect.”
“Got it. Is Patarava with her?”
“Not sure, but if I get a hit, I’ll let you know.”
Rick managed not to groan. This job should have been a piece of cake. Instead, it got more complicated by the minute. “Fine.” He ended the call and moved his laptop into the dining room.
He’d have to tell Hank to watch himself. And to make sure this Fury guy was out of the house, if possible. Except they didn’t have much time. Narwhal had been clear. Tara needed to be eliminated today.
After arriving just past midnight on Sunday morning to relieve Mick’s friend, Tara had curled up on Robbie’s bed with him and BooBear—his favorite stuffed teddy bear—until he fell asleep. But it was now two in the morning, and rest eluded her.
No news from Jeff yet.
Did that mean nothing had changed, or had he forgotten to text her? She couldn’t blame him if he forgot. She wasn’t part of his life anymore, and none of this was about her.
Feeling antsy, she entered the spotless living room, unplugged her cell phone from its charger, and settled on the couch to search the web for news about hostage situations in North Carolina. Turned out they were more common than she’d expected. She kept finding stories only to realize they were old. Maybe the local stations and papers didn’t report in the middle of the night. If she had to wait until morning, she was going to be a wreck, but no way was she going to bother Jeff.
Lying back on the plush sectional, she kept trying different combinations of keywords until she found it.
And gasped.
HOSTAGE SITUATION ENDS WITH ONE DEAD
Oh, God. She scrolled frantically through the article.
…gunman killed by SWAT…
Her heart finally restarted.
…unidentified child injured…stable condition…
“Oh, no.” Alive, but still… Tears rolled down her face. She wiped them and stood, kicking off her shoes before pacing back and forth across the pristine white area rug.
Jesus, Jeff had to be going out of his mind. If she were there, she could—
What? She could do nothing. Jeff was Evan’s dad. He would have to deal with the doctors and nurses and police. The most she could do was fetch coffee and be an unwelcome distraction, a drain on his energy.
If he wanted her there, he’d have let her know.
Maybe not, the treacherous, foolish part of her whispered to her soul. Maybe he didn’t want to make her choose between him and Robbie. Or maybe he couldn’t admit he needed her. Some men took stoicism to the extreme. Most men, in her experience. Especially those who’d been in the military.
The guys at Steele were a perfect example. The married ones had loosened up a little, especially after having kids, but every one of them could still take a gold medal in hiding his feelings.
Should she text Jeff? Let him know she was thinking of him and Evan?
“Arrrgh.” Why did this have to be so complicated?
What good would texting him do? The last thing he needed was more drama in his life. He didn’t need an ex— Ex-what? Hell, she wasn’t even an ex-girlfriend. They’d had sex a couple of times. End of story.
That didn’t confer any rights to his time or emotions upon her.
Besides, nothing here had changed. Jenna and the baby would be in the hospital for a day or two. Robbie needed someone to stay with him. Tara loved and owed Jenna. And Mick and Robbie.
She loved Jeff too.
And now that he wasn’t standing in front of her, blinding her with his presence, she could admit that he’d probably never love her back.
Up until now, she’d held out hope that she’d find a way to make things work with Jeff. Hope was practically her trademark. Optimism pumped through her veins. And yet, at this moment, she had none. Jeff was where he needed to be. With Evan. A weekend with Jeff didn’t suddenly make her part of his life.
Maybe tomorrow she’d be able to muster some enthusiasm for a future without him.
Maybe it was time to quit assuming that life would turn out, that she could push through anything if she just managed to keep smiling. A positive attitude wouldn’t bring back Emily, and it couldn’t make Jeff return her love. Maybe it was time to start assuming that nothing would work out.
Then, she couldn’t be disappointed.
Except…who could live like that?
She closed her eyes. Outside, ocean waves brushed against the shore, the restless sound providing a bit of white noise, blurring with the occasional passing car or siren from the street three floors down. Perfect.
But not enough for her to succumb to sleep.
She couldn’t focus on a book or magazine, and Jenna hadn’t even left her the option to stress clean. Despite having a toddler, the place was nearly spotless. Jenna had a hardcore cleaning habit, and on top of that, she’d probably been nesting the last few days.
Maybe part of why Tara enjoyed kids so much because they were often as loud and chaotic as she was. To Robbie, she wasn’t messy, messed up, or a total mess, she was just fun, playful “Tawa.”
Gathering linens from the cupboard in the hall, she tucked a sheet over the sofa, plopped onto the plush cushions, and snuggled under a blanket. Sleep or no, resting her eyes and body would feel good.
An hour later, the ding of her phone startled her awake. She rubbed her face and glanced at the screen. Jeff.
Sitting up cross-legged, her body buzzed as she read his text.
Evan is in stable condition at the hospital. Compound fracture to his upper arm, but no complications during surgery.
Jeff didn’t know she’d found the news article, so leading with Evan’s condition was thoughtful.
She tapped out a reply. Oh no! So glad he’s okay though.
Wish I could be there to hug you. I love you. She would not type that.
His response came quickly. Didn’t mean to wake you. I thought you’d see this in the morning.
Did he really not want to disrupt her sleep, or had he hoped to avoid a conversation?
No problem. I’d rather know now than keep worrying. Thank you for remembering.
Three dots appeared on the screen, cycling over and over until she thought maybe he’d fallen asleep or decided not to respond. And then her phone dinged and buzzed in her palm.
Of course.
She waited, but that was it. Those two dry, detached words, so carefully neutral and dismissive.
She’d been right not to text him first.
Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. She’d slept with Jeff knowing exactly what he had to offer, and yet part of her had hoped that maybe, just maybe it could turn out differently. That by some miracle, Jeff would decide she was worth taking a chance on.
Her rational mind absolutely knew—had known from the beginning—that he was returning to Boulder with Evan and never looking back. But her foolish heart had stayed optimistic, even when her brain had begun to doubt.
She’d known the score ahead of time. Problem was, she hadn’t correctly calculated the pain.
Something scratched at the front door.
Tara sat bolt upright.
It was after three a.m. Could it be the neighbor’s cat? Maybe Myrtle Beach had rats. Heart thundering, she tiptoed to the foyer, tucking her phone into her back pocket. The alarm system console blinked red to show that it was armed. At least she’d done something right.
Scritch. The door handle rattled faintly.
She smothered a gasp. The sound was so quiet that she probably would’ve slept right through it if not for Jeff’s text.
Holding her breath, she peeked through the viewer. A slender figure stood under the porch light, face in shadow beneath the brim of a ball cap. Tara stumbled back and grabbed her phone. Wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of shortcut for the emergency number? Her shaky fingers wouldn’t cooperate and she nearly dropped it.
The alarm console. Of course.
Lunging toward the square panel installed next to the front door, she pressed the panic button.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BY FOUR IN the morning, the police were gone, and a trembling Robbie sat curled up under a blanket on the sofa with Tara and BooBear, after talking to his dad on the phone.
“Why would that man want to come into our ’partment?”
She stroked the boy’s hair. Her first thought had been that someone was still after her. But that made no sense. It was just residual jumpiness. “I don’t know, sweetie. Maybe he was hungry and out of money, and thought we might have food.”
Robbie’s brow furrowed. “Some people can’t buy food?”
Now was not the time for a lesson in socioeconomics, but she figured a hungry man was far less scary than the other options. Jenna or Mick might handle it differently, but Tara was the one here now and she had to deal with it her way. “Sometimes. Maybe they lose their job, or get sick and can’t work, and they don’t have friends or family who can help them.”
“Could that happen to us?”
Shit. How could she have missed that trap? “No, your mom and dad have saved up lots of money, so even if they don’t have a job, you’ll be fine. And you have of friends and family who would take care of you.”
He pursed his lips and finally nodded. “Maybe we could give some of our money to the hungry people.”
“That’s really nice of you, honey.” His sweet innocence made her long for her own. “You can talk to your mom and dad about it after they get home.”
“Okay.” He yawned and rested his head on her shoulder.
If only she could move on from her fear as quickly. Her brain spun. The police hadn’t found anyone hanging around the building, so the man had been scared off for now, but what if he came back?
If he was a burglar, he wouldn’t. He’d move on to a different location or call it a night.
But if they wanted her… She shuddered.
No. That made no sense. Where was the incentive? Greg was in jail now. She’d already given the police a description of her and Jeff’s attackers. Why would they risk coming after her now?
The p
olice officers had mentioned that there’d been a rash of break-ins in the area recently. Jenna and Mick lived in a nice part of town, but that didn’t make them exempt from crime.
Usually the simplest answer was the right one. Occam’s Razor and all that.
The guy had been nothing more than a common thief, and she hadn’t had enough time to fully process that she was no longer in danger. She let out a long sigh and sank into the sofa, too exhausted to think straight. No way would she abandon Jenna and Mick when they needed her most just because she was still feeling twitchy.
When Robbie started snoring softly, she carried him and his teddy bear to bed, then returned to the sofa. If she could get herself to relax, she might manage to get a few hours of sleep before the boy was raring to go again.
Was Jeff getting any sleep? She imagined him in one of those bedside recliners that was probably too short for his long legs. Instinctively, she knew he wouldn’t leave Evan’s side. Not after so many agonizing months apart.
He had his son back! How about that for something good to focus on? With a smile, she unlocked her phone, navigating to one of her favorite gift sites. Thirty minutes later, her special delivery was on order and guaranteed to arrive within two hours.
With heavy eyelids, she spread out on the sofa, pretending the cushion at her back was Jeff’s warm chest as he curled around her body and they fell asleep together.
It was still dark through the blinds when Jeff stretched his aching neck on Sunday morning, a huge yawn overtaking his face after getting a few hours of sleep in a squeaky blue recliner. The private room in Peds had a cot, but the recliner was a better fit.
The scent in the air made his nose itch. Pediatrics might be cheerier than the rest of the hospital, but it still smelled like urine and disinfectant. He’d never understand how people could work in a place like this, but thank God for them. The hospital staff had been almost as attentive to Jeff as to Evan.
Beyond the walls of the room, carts clattered, voices murmured, a child cried. Inside, the headache-inducing fluorescent light bar over the bed buzzed like a fly, the HVAC hummed at a low frequency.
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