Explosive Attraction

by LENA DIAZ,

  A light knock sounded on the door. Before Darby could fully rise from her chair, Captain Buresh walked into the room, waving her back down.

  “Don’t get up.” His voice was pitched low, barely above a whisper. “What are you doing in here? You aren’t supposed to be roaming the halls.”

  “Since my room is next door, I don’t think you can accuse me of roaming the halls. There’d be no point anyway, since there’s no one else to talk to. What did you do, clear out an entire hospital wing just for the two of us?”

  “Moving the other patients to another floor was a security measure.”

  “For Rafe and me, or for the other patients?”

  He shrugged. “I’d feel better for everyone if you stayed in your room, under guard.”

  “I am under guard. I’m sure you noticed Officer Daniels outside.”

  He sighed as if he was too tired to argue, and stepped closer to the bed. “Has he woken up yet?”

  Darby pushed her aching body out of the chair and stood across from him, on the other side of the bed. In addition to the hospital gown she was wearing, she had a second one she was using as a robe. She self-consciously pulled it tighter around her. “He hasn’t been awake since I came in here. The doctor said he has a slight concussion, that he can go home tomorrow if all goes well.”

  Buresh nodded, reminding Darby that he probably already knew the details about Rafe’s condition. He was, after all, his boss. She glanced at the wall clock again. “Why are you here so late?”

  “I...ah...wanted to check on you and Detective Morgan before I went home. It’s been a long day, and I needed to put my mind at ease before trying to get some sleep.”

  Did the hesitation in his voice mean there was more to what he was saying—or rather, what he wasn’t saying?

  “Have you caught him yet?” Rafe’s raspy voice called out from the bed. His eyes were open now. He pressed the buttons on the railing, raising himself into a sitting position.

  Darby handed him the cup of water on the rolling tray, figuring he was probably as thirsty as she’d been earlier, in spite of the IV. She hadn’t given much thought to the heat when she’d been fighting for her life in the marsh, but afterward, she’d felt like a wilted flower, dry as dust.

  He gave her a grateful nod and took a long sip before handing the cup back to her. “Are you all right?”

  “The doctor wants me to stay overnight to make sure I don’t develop an infection from getting all that nasty swamp mud in my cuts, but overall, no worse for wear.” She studied him closely. “How do you feel?”

  “Fine for someone who can’t remember how he got knocked out. What happened? The doctor had no clue.”

  Buresh exchanged a startled glance with Darby.

  “You don’t remember?” Buresh asked.

  “I remember the boat, the alligator and some old man holding a rifle on me. Everything else is a big blank until I was in the ambulance.”

  “Retrograde amnesia,” Darby said.

  Rafe narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t have amnesia. I remember what happened...most of it.” His scowl was as fierce as Darby had ever seen it, which was saying quite a bit.

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she said. “It’s normal with head trauma. You forget what happened before the event that caused the injury. I’ve seen my share of clients in therapy with similar problems. Since you remember most of what happened before you got knocked out, you’ve got an excellent chance of regaining all of your memory.”

  He didn’t look as though he appreciated her analysis. He was a big guy, more than capable of taking care of himself and those around him—normally. It had to be a blow to his ego to think he’d been knocked out and unable to help her, especially given his past, when he’d been knocked unconscious, unable to protect his wife in a home invasion. That reminder had Darby groaning inside. Great. She should have just kept her mouth shut.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Buresh said, filling the awkward silence. “The few minutes you lost wouldn’t have added anything to the investigation. Dr. Steele gave a statement and a description of the bomber. She was an excellent eyewitness.”

  Rafe winced and pressed a hand against his temple.

  The corners of Buresh’s eyes crinkled with concern. “You need me to get the doctor?”

  “I’m fine,” Rafe gritted out. “You never answered my question. Have you caught the bomber?”

  “Not yet.” Buresh gave Rafe a brief summary of what had happened after Rafe was knocked unconscious, and the progress of the ongoing search. Buresh glanced uneasily at Darby, hesitating. “The envelope the bomber left at the warehouse had another timer and a photograph inside.”

  “Who was in the picture?” Rafe asked.

  Buresh looked at Darby.

  A shiver of fear sliced through her. This was what Buresh had been hiding earlier, why he’d hesitated when he’d first come into the room. “It was a picture of me, wasn’t it?”

  He sighed in surrender. “Yes.”

  She rubbed her hands up and down her suddenly chilled arms.

  “And the timer?” Rafe asked.

  “The timer runs out at midnight.” Buresh’s voice was awkward, low.

  Rafe and Darby both looked at the clock on the far wall. Ten minutes until midnight. Darby swallowed hard.

  “We’ve searched half the marsh,” Buresh continued. “But at this point, I don’t hold out much hope of finding him there. We’ve been performing door-to-door searches to rule out that he entered someone’s house or took hostages. So far, nothing.”

  “Loan me your gun while I’m in here,” Rafe said. “I don’t feel right without one.”

  Buresh was shaking his head even before Rafe finished. “I’m not leaving a gun with a man with a concussion. Who would keep an eye on it when you’re sleeping? And I’m certain the nurses wouldn’t appreciate finding it under your pillow when they change the sheets.”

  Rafe didn’t look happy with his captain’s refusal.

  Darby tapped the bed rail. “You’re sure the bomber’s not...in the hospital, right?” She let out an uneasy laugh.

  Buresh gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re completely safe here, Dr. Steele. I’ve got an officer posted in the emergency room. That’s the only access to the hospital this time of night. And Officer Daniels will stand guard until morning, when another officer takes his place.”

  Her doubt must have shown on her face, because he gave her an admonishing look, as if he was disappointed that she didn’t trust him. “Half the police force is looking for the man who abducted you. He’s on the run. He wouldn’t have a chance to follow through on his ‘midnight’ threat, even if he knew where you were—which he doesn’t.”

  “It can’t be difficult to figure out where I am, Captain,” she said. “There’s only one hospital in the area, and he knew I was hurt.”

  The captain’s face reddened. “Not true, Dr. Steele. We could have taken you into Jacksonville. Baptist Medical Center South is just a short drive up the interstate.”

  Darby regretted her reply. She hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic, but obviously Buresh had taken it that way.

  “Regardless,” he said, “you’re safe here. What I’m worried about is what happens after you leave the hospital. Until we catch this man, we have to assume you’re still a target.” He glanced at Rafe. “You’ll need to be on light duty for a few days, so I have the perfect assignment for you. I want you to watch over Dr. Steele until we have the bomber in custody.”

  Rafe shook his head. “I’m not a babysitter, and you can’t afford to have your best detective on the sidelines right now.”

  Darby tapped her nails on the railing again to get Rafe’s attention. “I don’t need a babysitter. But I would appreciate having an experienced police officer nearby. It would make me feel much safer. And I promise I won’t get in your way.”

  “This isn’t a debate,” Buresh said. “When you’re both discharged tomorrow, you’re going into
hiding, together. End of discussion.”

  Darby wrinkled her brow. “Into hiding? Wait a minute. I thought I’d have police protection, but that I’d be able to go back to work. My clients book appointments months in advance. I can’t just cancel without notice.”

  Rafe frowned at her. “If you go back to your office, you’ll put your clients—and Mindy—at risk. Buresh is right about one thing. You do need protection.” He turned back to Buresh. “But I’m not the one who’ll be protecting her.”

  “We’ll talk more about this in the morning,” Buresh said. “I suggest you both get some sleep. Dr. Steele, would you like me to walk you back to your room?”

  “No, thank you. I’d like to talk to Detective Morgan before I go.”

  “All right. Good night, then.” He turned and left.

  “It’s not personal, you know,” Rafe said.

  Darby tightened her fingers around the bed railing. “You sure about that?”

  “I wouldn’t want to pull guard duty for anyone, regardless of my opinion about what they did for a living. I have more important things to do, like finding the man who killed the A.D.A., the man who almost killed you.”

  Her stomach tightened at the reminder that someone she knew had actually been murdered today, and how close both she and Rafe had come to being the bomber’s next victims. “I know you aren’t exactly a fan of mine. I can live with that. But I still wanted to thank you. You saved my life. You were almost killed.” She swallowed hard. “No one has ever...” She was about to say cared, but that wasn’t the right word.

  She cleared her throat and tried again. “No one has ever fought for me like that. And you shouldn’t have had to. If I’d followed your instructions, stayed at my office, none of this would have happened. You wouldn’t be lying in this bed right now.”

  Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she reached out and put her hand on his. His face mirrored his surprise, but when she would have snatched her hand back, he entwined his fingers with hers. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was just that she was tired of fighting and was tired of feeling so alone, but when his hand wrapped around hers, she held on tight.

  “If you’d followed my instructions, you’d be dead,” he said.

  She blinked in surprise. “What? What do you mean?”

  “If you’d stayed in your office, the bomber could have abducted you out the back door. We only had one policeman watching your building, from the front, because none of us really thought the bomber would strike again so soon. I thought one cop was enough of a deterrent, but I don’t believe that now. Not after everything that happened. The only reason you’re here right now, alive, is because you were too stubborn to ‘stay put.’ So, no apologies necessary. I’m glad you didn’t do what I told you to do.”

  She drew a deep breath to hold off the unexpected rush of moisture in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. But, for the record, if I tell you to do something again, I expect you to do it.”

  Now, this was what she’d expected. She tugged her hand out of his grasp. “For the record, since you’re refusing to be my ‘babysitter,’ I don’t guess it matters what orders you give me, does it?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

  She twisted her hands together, feeling the loss of his warmth far more than the air-conditioned room warranted. “Well, thank you again, for everything.” She glanced up at the clock and grinned. “It’s midnight and nothing happened. I guess your boss was right.” She covered a yawn. All the stress of the day was catching up to her, and she was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. She gave him a wave and headed toward the door.

  The lights flickered, followed by a dull boom in the distance. Darby froze and whirled around to look at Rafe.

  He was already sliding out of bed when the lights went out.

  Chapter Four

  The emergency lights popped on, casting a dim yellow glow through Rafe’s hospital room. He ripped the tape off his arm and pulled out the IV needle that anchored him to the pole beside the bed.

  Darby rushed to his side. “What are you doing? You’re bleeding.” She grabbed some tissues from a box by the bed and pressed them against his arm.

  He grabbed her hands and tugged her to the bathroom doorway beside the bed. “Wait in here,” he whispered.

  “It’s just a power outage, right?” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip while her eyes practically begged him to agree with her.

  He wished he could. He wished he could erase the fear in her eyes. But he already knew the worst had happened.

  The bomber had found them.

  “Hide in the bathroom, Darby. Please.”

  She looked as though she was about to protest, but instead, she ran into the bathroom.

  Rafe moved to the main door as quietly as he could. He started to bend down to look under the door when a wave of dizziness forced him to brace his hands against the wall. He closed his eyes and willed the room to stop spinning.

  “It’s the concussion.”

  His eyes flew open. Darby was standing beside him in her cleverly constructed outfit of two lime-green hospital gowns, one tied in the front, one in the back. He hadn’t even given a thought to the flimsy gown covering him. Darby had probably gotten a generous view of his backside when he’d jumped out of bed. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so worried right now, and if it wouldn’t make his head hurt worse.

  “I told you to stay—”

  “In the bathroom, I know,” she whispered. “But then I thought about your concussion.” She glanced at the closed door, her face pale. “Do you want me to open it?”

  “No.” He winced at how loud his voice sounded in the quiet room. “No,” he repeated, in a quieter voice. “I need to know what’s on the other side of that door without opening it, just in case...”

  She visibly swallowed, and nodded, letting him know she understood.

  “Unfortunately,” he continued, “since I don’t have a mirror, I’m going to have to bend down and—”

  “Wait.” She put her hand on his, stopping him when he started to lower himself to the floor to look under the door. “Give me a second.” She hurried to the rolling tray by the bed, the one that held the water pitcher and plastic cup she’d given him to drink out of earlier. She pressed something on the sides, and the tray rolled back to reveal a compartment. She reached inside, tugged on something he couldn’t see, then snapped out a rectangular mirror attached to a piece of plastic the same color as the tray.

  She held up her prize and hurried back to him. “Voilà.”

  He squeezed her hand in thanks and took the mirror. “Remind me to arrest you later for destruction of hospital property.”

  The answering grin on her face faded when he crouched and placed the mirror flat on the floor, sliding it just under the edge of the door. The dim emergency lights in the hallway showed no one was standing outside. What he could see of the hallway was deserted.

  It shouldn’t have been.

  Officer Daniels should have been outside.

  A nurse should have been sitting at the nurses’ station.

  The phone by the bed rang. Darby let out a startled yelp. Her eyes widened in dismay and she clapped her hands over her mouth.

  Rafe pulled her to the bathroom again, pushing her inside. He grabbed the phone before it could ring again. “Detective Morgan.”

  “It’s Buresh. Dr. Steele, is she—”

  “She’s fine. Daniels isn’t here, though, and the power’s out. What’s going on?” He stretched out the phone cord so he could stand closer to the door and watch for any movement reflected in the mirror.

  “Something happened to the power transformer. I’m downstairs with Daniels, in the emergency room. He came down to check on the noise. Keep Dr. Steele with you until we get this figured out, okay? SOP, you got that?”

  Rafe’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Got it. SOP. Call me back once you have more information.”

  “Will do.”

  He pressed the button to end the call. Then he dialed 9-1-1. He gave his name, location, and told the operator that an officer needed assistance. Without waiting for a reply, he pitched the phone on the bed, grabbed Darby’s hand and pulled her toward the door at a near run.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped as he tugged her into the hallway. “What’s going on?”

  “Be quiet.” He squeezed her hand to soften his words. The neon green emergency-exit sign glowed at the end of the hall, drawing him forward like a beacon. All he had to do was get through that door and down the stairs. From there he could get Darby out of the hospital and take her somewhere safe.

  A muted noise sounded behind them. Footsteps, coming toward the double doors that blocked off this wing. The exit was still thirty feet away.

  Too far.

  Rafe shoved the nearest door open and pulled Darby inside the room with him. A brief glance at her face had him wincing. Her complexion was ghostly white, her eyes wide and searching. With good reason.

  They were in a world of trouble here.

  Easing the door shut, he dropped her hand and did a quick survey of the room. It was another patient’s room, thankfully empty because—as the doctor had told Rafe earlier—Captain Buresh had cleared out the floor to keep Darby safe.

  Not that his plan had worked.

  Footsteps sounded down the hallway again, quiet—as if someone was trying not to make any noise—and stopping and starting, like someone was searching each room, one by one.

  Rafe had to do something, fast. He ran to the window and looked out. A three- or four-story drop to the parking lot. No balcony. And there weren’t any other exits from this room. He did what he’d been trained to do long ago at the police academy—look up—because most people don’t. When he spotted the acoustic tiles in the ceiling above him, he realized exactly what he had to do.

  “Rafe,” Darby whispered, “what’s going on? Wasn’t that Buresh on the phone? What did he say?”

  He let out a quick breath. “A transformer blew. The captain said he and Daniels were in the E.R. He said we should stay in my room and wait for him to call back.”