by Julia Mills
With my back against the wall, I shuffled down the hall, constantly looking one way and then the other until I made it the next nook, where I ducked in and took a deep breath. My hands shook, sweat rolled down my back, and my head pounded from the overload of adrenalin, but I wasn’t giving up. I was sure I could help. Repeating my actions from before, I made it another door closer to the action and this time knelt to avoid being caught in the beam of an oncoming flashlight.
“Which door was it?” a young man with gold teeth that glowed in the darkness asked.
“How the hell am I supposed to know? It was your job to stay with her, not be out smoking a bowl,” another young guy, this one with a north-eastern accent and carrying the flashlight, chastised.
“How the hell was I supposed to know we were gonna be invaded. Who the hell are those guys anyway?”
“I don’t know and I don’t want to find out. G said if there was trouble, we were to take the bitch out in the woods, put a bullet in her head, and run.” He slapped the other guy on the arm, motioning with the flashlight to try the door ahead to my left. “And that’s what we’re gonna do.”
“Whatever you say, Jaz.” The younger of the two agreed, then added after looking through the window at the top of the door, “Not this one either.”
The sounds of gunfire grew louder. The guy with gold teeth turned and ran down the hall, yelling in a loud whisper, “Come on, Jaz. Let’s get the hell outta dodge. Let that bitch die on her own.”
The fight was moving toward us and the two guys in charge of Vanessa were not hanging around to be a part of it. I wanted to throw my fist in the air. Finally, a break. But then it dawned on me; if they hadn’t been able to find her, how was I?
Not a second later, the sound of metal scraping concrete cut through the gunfire. Holding my breath and listening for it again, I nearly cried when I heard it again. Vanessa! I shouted in my mind, following the direction of the sound back the way I had just come. Three doors down, I heard a muffled cry.
Trying the door, I was shocked to find it unlocked. Carefully pushing it open, I stuck my head in and blinked rapidly. I could see nothing. There were no windows and Vanessa had stopped moving. The only thing I could think to do was call her name.
Walking all the way into the room and leaning against the door, I whispered, “Vanessa! It’s me! Kat!”
A scrape sounded from the corner of the room followed by garbled speech that I followed with my hands out in front of me until I touched Vanessa’s shoulder. Pulling my cell phone, the one Roarke had told me not to bring, out of my pocket, I switched on the flashlight. Yeah, I was disobeying, but I had to see to untie her hands.
Shining the light in her face, I bit back the tears. My sweet friend had two black eyes, a broken nose, her lip bled from two different cuts, and her jaw was so swollen I doubted she could speak without sounding like a prize fighter.
Carefully pulling the dirty bandana out of her mouth, I couldn’t help but hug her when she croaked, “I knew you’d come.”
“Never leave a girl behind.” I repeated the line we’d used all during nursing school as I let go and moved to the back of the chair to untie her hands.
“We gotta move quick. Can you stand?” I asked when her hands were free and I was back in front, untying her ankles.
Nodding, she whispered, “Yeah, let’s just go.”
Up and on the move, I led the way while holding onto Vanessa’s hand for dear life. Sticking my head out the door, I made sure no one was in the hallway, pulled my best friend out of her prison, and took off running.
Reaching the cage Roarke had ripped open, I realized not only was there fighting behind us but also in front of us. Crouching in the corner with my arm around Vanessa, I peeked between two tall filing cabinets and looked for a way to escape without being seen or getting shot.
Pointing, I showed Vanessa a path to a back door that went through what must’ve been some kind of office with no door and all the windows broken out. Nodding that she understood, I counted down from three with my fingers the way Roarke had, and off we went.
Not looking back, just running as fast as I could and keeping a hold of my best friend, I ignored all the gunfire and shouts. I had made up my mind that I would stop running when we got to the SUV and not a step before.
Pushing open the door to the outside, I slammed it shut and smiled when a piece of the frame fell down and blocked whoever was trying to follow. Racing along the dark fence line, retracing the path Roarke had taken me to get into that hellhole, I kept pulling Vanessa along, and when we reached the hole he’d torn in the fence, I pushed her through and jumped after.
Running full speed in the dark over rocks, debris, and fallen branches was way easier when I was being carried. Tripping for the second time, my blood ran cold when I heard several shots and felt a bullet whizz past my head. Pushing Vanessa into the tall weeds, I dove in behind, ordered her to her knees, and together, we crawled as fast as we could. Well aware that we couldn’t outrun one vampire, let alone a herd of them, I prayed the sounds I heard ahead of us were friendly.
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than Roarke’s harsh whisper called out, “Damn you, Katharine!” as his arm wound around my waist and he lifted me off the ground. Looking up, I saw Kristiyan had a shivering, panting Vanessa in his arms but before I could comment, we were speeding away.
Reaching the SUV, my feet barely touched the ground before I was forcing Vanessa into the back and quickly checking her wounds. I could feel Roarke seething behind me and knew there was going to be hell to pay when all this was over. But I would take my lumps as long as it meant having my best friend alive and away from those maniacs.
Moving down her body, I saw fresh blood staining the front of her torn T-shirt. Pushing the fabric up to reveal her stomach, I found nothing but superficial bruising and a few abrasions. At the sound of Roarke’s phone ringing, I spun on my knees to see who it was and my vision blurred. It felt as if the SUV was spinning and I was suddenly very cold.
Roarke’s eyes met mine then looked down my body just before he bellowed, “Katharine!”
White hot pain shot through my abdomen. Grabbing my stomach, I felt something warm and sticky as I started falling forward. Roarke’s hands slid under my arms and pulled me out of the SUV. Running around the vehicle, he jumped into the backseat, pulled the door shut, and roared, “The hospital, Jase! Now! Drive!”
His voice sounded far away. His face was out of focus and the movement of the car made it feel like I was flying. Laying across Roarke’s lap, he gingerly placed his hand on my cheek and begged, “Stay with me, Katharine. Stay with me. We’ll be there in a minute.”
My world was going black. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I wanted to tell Roarke that it wasn’t his fault, that I’d made my own choice and had saved my friend. I wanted him to understand that it didn’t matter and that gunshots hurt like hell, but I couldn’t speak.
My head became too heavy to hold up. My limbs felt like they were full of lead and all I wanted to do was sleep while Roarke kept begging me to stay awake. Finally, I had no choice. The darkness was taking me away.
The last thing I heard before my world turned black was Roarke whispering, “I love you. Damn you, Katharine, I love you.”
Chapter Eleven
I slowly drifted to consciousness to the beep, beep, beep of a heart monitor and the smell of fresh flowers mixed with a hint of antiseptic. Every bone, muscle, and cell in my body hurt, making me think it might just be better to stay asleep. But the sound of a man clearing his throat had my brain screaming Roarke! and my eyes popping open. Unfortunately, it was only Detective Taylor in his cheap suit and off-putting cologne.
“Hello, Miss Worthy, how are you feeling?”
The thought of telling him, “Like shit” and rolling over to show him my butt crossed my mind, especially after the way he’d treated me on our last meeting, but I didn’t really have the energy so I said, “Not sure. I just woke up.”
“Yes, I know.” He sounded irritated. “I’ve been waiting for three days to speak to you.”
Three days? Well, that explained how every flower in the Dallas/Fort Worth area got into my room. As far as I could see, it was a wall of blooms, buds, and blossoms. Then I thought, wait, he’s pissed that he had to wait to speak to me about only God knows what after I was shot and unconscious for three days? Okay, now I was irritated.
“Yeah, well a gunshot to the stomach will do that for ya’.”
I saw the flicker of something ominous in his eyes as he went on, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I tried to avoid bothering you, but your friends,” he looked at his notebook as if verifying something, and then continued, “A Miss Vanessa Espinosa, a Mr. Roarke, and a Mr. Kristiyan, were unable to give me any information?’
“About the gunshot or my stomach?”
He obviously didn’t like my sense of humor. I almost laughed out loud when the muscle above his right eye started to jump and he gritted his teeth so hard I wondered if he should be calling his dentist, but Detective Taylor powered on. It seemed he was on some kind of mission.
“I’m here to ask you about the shooting at the old Hamilton warehouse and the disappearance of Mr. Monroe,” he paused, raised an eyebrow, and then added with a healthy dose of sarcasm, “your attorney.”
As a nurse, it has always been my job to listen to not only the words that people are saying but, more importantly, the ones they aren’t, and to take cues from the look in their eyes during those seconds of silence when they are thinking of what to say next. Inevitably, someone who is trying to deceive will give it all up in that tiny span of time. They don’t even know they’re doing it, but there’s a look in their eyes that says, “I’m lying to you and want you to just go along with it.” Detective Taylor had that look combined with a healthy dose of anger and a great big bunch of malicious intent. All I had to do was figure out why. It was time to ask a few questions and play the I’ve just been shot card.
With wide eyes and a little cough, I replied, “I haven’t seen Mr. Monroe in a few days.” It wasn’t a lie because, well, I’d been unconscious for three days according to the good detective.
“You’ve had no contact with him at all?”
“No, not at all.” I shook my head.
“And about the shooting at the abandoned Hamilton Casket Works…”
He let the question hang to see if I would bite. Thankfully, there were still a lot of drugs running through my system that kept my heart rate from jumping as I lied, “I have no idea what happened there. I was shot during a mugging outside the Adolphus.” My only hope was that I could get to Vanessa, Roarke, and Kristiyan to have them corroborate my lie before the flatfoot did.
“But the police weren’t called?”
“I most certainly didn’t call them. To the best of my recollection, a crook tried to take my purse, shot me when I wouldn’t give it him, I fell to the ground bleeding, and he ran off.” I maintained eye contact and tried my best to control my breathing but to be honest, all of this stress was pushing the pain meds out of my system way quicker than normal and I felt like my body was about to break apart.
“And who called the ambulance?”
Thankfully, I didn’t have to answer as the door burst open and in walked Vanessa with a nurse, a doctor, and hospital security. The doctor, who I’d seen but couldn’t remember his name, immediately went after Detective Taylor. “Did I not tell you that when and if Miss Worthy was healthy enough to speak with you one of my staff would call to set up an appointment?”
“Yes, but…”
“And did I not make it abundantly clear that she had coded twice during surgery and it could be weeks before she was well enough to answer your bothersome questions?”
Detective Taylor’s eye was twitching double time, his jaw was clinched, and he had thrown back his shoulders as he took a step forward and accused, “Dr. Thomas, are you trying to impede a police investigation?”
With a smug look that only an experienced physician can get when you challenge him on his turf, Dr. Thomas stepped forward and, with a sarcastic smile, replied, “No, I am telling you that my patient is not well enough to speak to you now and that this officer,” he pointed at hospital security, “will be escorting you to the elevator.” He took another step forward, crowding the detective and pressing in on him with his two-inch height advantage. “Furthermore, if I see you harassing Miss Worthy again, I will be filing a complaint with your superiors.”
Detective Taylor turned a brilliant color of red but knew he’d been beaten; at least for the time being. Taking a deep breath, he plastered on an evil smile, turned and looked me in the eye, and growled, “I will get my answers,” then left with hospital security.
Letting out the breath I’d been holding as soon as the latch on the door sounded, I let my head flop back on the pillow and stared at the plain white ceiling tiles. Never one to miss an opportunity to give me hell, Vanessa touched my hand and chuckled, “So, you’re awake and already making friends. That’s good.”
Raising my head up, I rolled my eyes at my best friend, saw Dr. Thomas reading my chart at the end of the bed, and then noticed there was a vampire missing from the room. “Where’s Kristiyan?”
Vanessa shrugged, “No clue. He moves too fast for me.”
Walking to the other side of my bed, Dr. Thomas checked my IV then my sutures and asked, “Did you want the whole doctor speech or would you rather just read your own chart? I remember you from my rotation in the ER when I first started here. I have no doubt you can diagnose and probably treat yourself, but I appreciate you letting me do the surgery.” He smiled and I had to snicker even though it made my stitches pull and my stomach feel like it was on fire.
“If you don’t mind, just bottom line it for me.”
After listening to all that they repaired inside of me and how much blood I’d lost, there was no doubt I was lucky to be alive. I had a feeling Roarke had something to do with that. Our blood bond was stronger than before. I couldn’t hear his thoughts, it felt as though they’d been blocked, but his emotions were broadcasting loud and clear. He was cranky, tired, and doing something he didn’t want to be doing.
I tuned back to Dr. Thomas just as he said, “You will need to be here at least another week. That nick in your liver was significant and I want to make sure there are no complications before I sign off on your release.” He smiled. “Any questions?”
“Yes, can you hand me the control for the morphine pump?”
Winking as he placed the handheld device on the bed, he said, “I wondered how long it would take.” He patted my shoulder. “Don’t be a hero. Take the medicine when you need it. Sleep, eat, recuperate, you know…do all the things you tell your patients to do.”
Giving a lazy salute, I agreed. “You got it, doc,” as I hit the button for my pain meds. The warm fissure of morphine filled my veins and spread throughout my body, making me feel like I was on a cloud where nothing would ever hurt again.
Vanessa’s face blurred. I heard her laugh and felt her pat my arm. “I’m gonna let you rest. You need it. I have an appointment to have my tooth fixed anyway.” Kissing me on the cheek, she added, “That bastard broke it when he hit me. But your vamp and his scary friend fixed him.” Squeezing my hand, she promised, “I’ll be back in the morning and if you’re good and don’t give anyone a hard time or try to be your own nurse, I’ll sneak you in an asiago bagel with veggie cream cheese.”
I wanted to beg for that damned bagel, ask her what she was talking about when she said ‘they fixed him’, and find out where Roarke was, along with a million other things, but I couldn’t get my mouth to work. My body was demanding rest now that the pain was gone and that’s all there was to it.
The next time I opened my eyes the room was dark except for the nightlight in the corner by the bathroom that all patients’ rooms were required to have. My mouth was dry, my butt was asleep, and I wanted to s
ee Roarke. Slowly rolling to my side to get a drink of water, a long, tall shadow moved against the far wall. The beeping of my heart monitor went nuts as I snapped my head around to see who was in my room and got a pillow shoved in my face.
My head crashed onto the bed as my attacker pushed the pillow against my nose and mouth with incredible speed. Trapped between the bed and the pillow, unable to breathe, I scratched at the gloved hands attempting to end my life while kicking and flailing about.
Nothing I did helped. My lungs burned with the need for oxygen. My heart pounded against the confines of my ribs. I felt the impending darkness closing in all around me but still, I fought. I wouldn’t die now, not after everything I’d survived, not after finding Roarke.
Deciding on a new approach to my losing battle, I had just twisted my shoulders in a last-ditch effort to get free when an inhuman roar shook the walls of my room. The pressure on my face immediately disappeared, the pillow was ripped from my face, and my attacker flew over the end of my bed.
Gasping for air, trying to catch sight of both the assailant and my savior in the shards of light from one tiny nightlight, I pushed the emergency call button on the side of my bed for help. When nothing happened, no red light, no voice over the intercom, I pushed again. Still no answer. It was then I realized that my bed had been unplugged. Smart killer. He made sure I couldn’t call for help.
Watching as again, my attacker went airborne, this time landing in the corner on his head with a nauseating crunch—the unmistakable sound of a neck breaking—I cringed. Looking at the foot of my bed, I saw the outline of a tall man with glowing blue eyes. “Kristiyan?” I asked in shock.
“Yes, madam, it is I.” He moved to the side of my bed. “It would seem that you are not safe anywhere.”