“Just checking, hon. Have to make sure you’re okay.”
Well damn it. Searing her retinas wasn’t the way to go about it. She frowned as the unmistakable feel of a blood pressure cuff clamped down on her arm and the whuffling sound of pumped air tightened it snugly.
“Good, sweetheart. You’re doing fine.”
Velcro ripped and her arm was freed. “Where am I?” She opened her eyes again.
Okay. Stupid question. She should have opened her eyes first. It was very obvious where she was. Clinical white drapes surrounded her bed, generic sheets covered her, and some equipment was beeping quietly behind her.
The pain came again and she winced.
“Don’t struggle, Peta. Just rest. Your body needs time to heal.”
She turned her head and met the sympathetic eyes of a nurse.
“Is the pain bad, honey?”
Peta considered the question. “Only when I do something stupid. Like breathe, for instance.”
The nurse grinned. “You’re doing great. It will pass. We gave you a little pain medication but not too much. You had to wake up first.” The woman nodded to the IV drip that was attached to Peta’s hand. Funny thing, that. She didn’t feel it at all.
Memories came flooding back as she looked down to see her chest swathed in bandages.
“Oh my God. I was shot—” She looked at the nurse. “Max? Max Wolfe? Is he—“
The question trembled on her lips, and her heart rate made the monitor beep frantically.
“Whoa. Calm down, sweetheart. He’s fine. Although I must confess—“ She leaned closer. “Once I got a good look at him, my heart rate went up by twenty points, too.”
Peta managed a painful grin. “He’s mine. Sorry.”
The nurse sighed. “Yeah, he made that very clear. We had to sedate him to get him away from you. But he should be here any minute...aha. Speak of the devil.“
The curtains were swept back, and Peta’s eyes feasted on the sight of Max smiling at her. The bandage around his head gave him a rather piratical look, and although he was in a wheelchair and an ugly hospital gown, he still looked good enough to eat.
The heart monitor shrieked again.
“You’re out of here if you upset her,” warned the nurse. He smiled at her, and she melted. “Well, okay. Just for a little while. You both need rest.”
“Thanks honey. I need this woman a lot more than I need rest. And she needs me. You can just leave us if you want.” He rolled his chair up to the side of the bed and took Peta’s free hand in his. “We’ll be fine now.”
Oh yes indeed. Peta felt the warmth of his hand and saw it matched the heat in his eyes. They would indeed be fine now.
She smiled. “Hello handsome. Fancy headgear.”
“Hi yourself, babe.” He stroked her hand and played with her fingers. “You scared the life out of me.”
“Funny. I seem to remember a dream...” She blinked and the images were gone. “The head...what happened?”
He grimaced. “I fell down and hit it on the bureau. Pretty embarrassing, huh? Trying to be a hero, and you’re the one who took the bullet. I was fucking unconscious while you were getting shot.” He gritted his teeth.
“But what about Struthers? He was shot too...oh wait, Frank was there.” Some of the mists cleared from Peta’s memory.
“Yep. The cavalry arrived in time, thank God.” His grip tightened. “I won’t let myself think about what might have happened if Frank hadn’t come in when he did.”
“How did he—Max, I’m confused.” She wrinkled her brow.
“Perhaps I can help out.” Frank Summers peered around the curtains. “Okay if I disturb you two for a moment? I’ve got Doc’s permission.” He looked a little uncomfortable at the sight of the two of them holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes.
He cleared his throat.
Peta tried to ease her hand from Max’s, but he refused to let go. His fingers tightened as he nodded at Frank. “Come on in. We have a lot of questions.” He glanced over at a chair. “Cop a squat, Frank.”
Peta groaned.
“Sorry. No pun intended,” chuckled Max.
Frank ignored the by-play, sitting down and resting his forearms on his knees.
She thought he looked tired. “Frank, tell us. How did you come to be there? What happened?”
He sighed and looked down. “What a damn mess. Not the sort of thing I’m used to, Peta, that’s for sure.” He moved a hand and it shook a little. “Never killed anyone before. Christ.” He tried for an awkward grin and almost made it. “I’ve never even discharged my weapon in the line of duty before. Except for the time that Mrs. Grunson’s dog went crazy, and even then I didn’t—“
“Frank?” Max gently interrupted Frank’s reminiscences.
Frank recalled himself. “Sorry. Yeah. About that morning. You can thank Phoebe.”
“Phoebe?” The word came from Max and Peta simultaneously.
Frank dredged up a smile. “Yeah, Phoebe. One sharp lady. Apparently, she felt that Struthers was acting kind of odd that morning. He dropped her at the library and couldn’t wait to leave her there. It was, according to her, out of character. And the other thing was, he was sweating.”
“Sweating? And that was enough to bring you to my house?”
“Well, given that it was a freaking cold morning, and Phoebe told me you had a book or something worth damn near half a million dollars sitting in your dining room, yeah. It was enough.”
“Oh shit, that book,” said Max. “Damned near forgot about it.”
“Well Struthers hadn’t,” answered Frank. “We did some backtracking, and it turns out he’d been obsessed with it for years. Thought it was rightfully his, or some such thing. He’d worked himself into some kind of madness over it. Never realized that a damned book could drive someone to murder, though.”
“You heard him? You heard him say he killed Sandra and Mike Dean?”
“Not all of it.” Frank winced. “But enough to know that he meant business. If I could have gotten off a shot earlier, Peta, I could have saved you this...I’m so sorry.”
“Frank,” said Max calmly. “If it hadn’t been for you, neither of us would be sitting here right now, and you’d be investigating what was supposed to be a murder-suicide. A crime of passion.”
“He’s right, Frank. We owe your our lives,” added Peta.
Frank blushed. “Just trying to do my job. But God above, when I heard that first shot...” He closed his eyes briefly.
“He is dead, then?” Peta couldn’t help asking the question. She had to know the threat no longer existed.
“Yeah. I may not shoot too often, but I don’t mess around when I do,” sighed Frank.
“Good thing too.” Max’s voice was firm. “He was as mad as the proverbial hatter. Probably even more so. He’d have killed us without a blink and most likely enjoyed it. The world is better off without him.”
Frank sighed. “I know. But the paperwork’s a bitch and a half.”
They both chuckled at the acerbic comment.
“I’ll bet,” said Peta. “So what about the book?”
“Oh yeah. Phoebe had some guy from a Boston museum in yesterday. It’s been taken over there and put into a safe. I guess it has to be authenticated or something.”
She smiled. “And to think we were lining up all kinds of suspects. I figured Edward was a good candidate. He needed money.”
“I was betting on Cary Stiles. He’s in debt to some rather nasty folks. He sure had the motive,” mused Max.
Frank’s tired face softened into a grin. “Doing my job for me, were you?”
Peta looked shamefaced. “Well, not exactly. But it was sort of natural to wonder. After all, Mayfield is a quiet town. This isn’t a big city where things like that happen every day.”
“And thank God for it.” Another voice chimed in and Phoebe peeked around the curtains. “How are you, darlings? Oh my goodness, you both look like war vi
ctims.”
Frank stood and offered Phoebe his seat. “Hello Phoebe.” He glanced over at the two patients. “It’s okay. I have to go. I’ll have some questions for you both later, but the Doc has given me strict instructions not to bother you with them right now. They can wait.”
He left with a nod, as Phoebe took his seat and leaned forward eagerly. “So dears, tell me everything.”
Peta gawped. “Good grief, Phoebe, it’s you who has to tell us everything. How did you know about Struthers?”
She hated to ask the question, since Phoebe had made her personal interests plain in that direction. But she didn’t look shattered. On the contrary, she seemed quite bubbly this morning.
“Oh, simple really.” She waved her hand airily. “He was just acting all wrong. Not like himself at all. I have no illusions about my charms,” she chuckled. “But this was the first time Struthers had ever acted like he couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”
Max opened his mouth.
“No, let me finish, dear.” She frowned him down, and he subsided. “I knew Struthers well enough—or I suppose I should say I thought I did—funny thing, isn’t it? You think you know someone and they turn out to be quite the opposite from what you imagined?”
“Phoebe.” Peta couldn’t help the exclamation. The nurse would be back dragging Max away from her before Phoebe had finished her story if she didn’t get a move on.
“Yes, sorry.” Phoebe sighed. “Well, it was just all wrong, you know? He kept trying to leave, to make me dig up all those names of people in Boston, and usually he didn’t let me anywhere near his computer. He was always so territorial with the darned thing. And then, when I kept asking him what was wrong, he started with this story about a touch of the flu. And I saw him sweating.”
She paused dramatically. “In all the time I’ve known Struthers, I’ve never seen him sweat.”
Max was staring at Phoebe. “That wasn’t much to go on, Phoebe. Calling Frank must have been a difficult decision.”
“Not when a book worth a cool half-million or so is lying around loose,” she answered caustically. “I know they say there’s no fool like an old fool, Max, but even I’m not that much of a fool.” Her lips pursed. “There’s something about a lure like that that exercises a kind of horrid spell on people. Greed, avarice, call it what you want.” Phoebe frowned. “Whatever it is, Struthers got that look about him as soon as he touched the blasted thing. I’m surprised you two didn’t notice.”
Peta remembered her state of mind as she’d watched Struthers and the Bible. It hadn’t had anything to do with books. It had all to do with Max.
She sighed. “Well, whatever it was, Phoebe, you do know that your quick action saved both our lives, don’t you?”
Max pulled his hand from hers, wheeled his chair awkwardly over to Phoebe and held out his arms. “Come here, you,” he said roughly.
With a giggle, Phoebe leaned over and allowed herself to be thoroughly kissed. “Oh my, Max. Don’t do that again. It’s not good for my heart at my age.”
Peta chuckled and watched as Max returned to her side, picking up her hand and twining their fingers together.
Phoebe sighed. “Well, all’s well that ends well, as the Bard so aptly put it. Now.” She stared at the two of them. “Am I to lose a couple of editors? Have you two finally sorted things out between you? Can I be step-grandmother to the kids?”
Peta choked back a gasp as Max laughed. “We’re working on it, Phoebe,” he grinned.
She flashed him a look and got one back that nearly blew out the monitors. She breathed deeply and told her errant hormones to back off. This was not the time or the place. Dammit.
Clearing her throat, she glanced down at herself. “I think you may be in for a bit of a wait on the grandchildren thing, Phoebe.”
Max frowned, as did Phoebe. “Well, darn it,” she said. “I forgot. You two just look so—so—glowing there, it’s hard to remember you’re both hurt. How bad is it anyway?”
“Good question,” answered Peta thoughtfully. “I don’t know yet. I’m sore, but I seem to be okay other than that.”
“You’re doing very well, my dear.” The quintessential medical face appeared around the curtains, sporting a stethoscope instead of a tie, and a white coat. He was also grinning, a fact which gave Peta a considerable amount of reassurance.
“I am?”
“Yep.” The doctor pulled her chart from the bed and ignored Phoebe’s snort of impatience.
“The bullet entered your chest, but whether it was the fact that you were moving at the time, or just sheer providence, it missed everything vital and lodged in a rib. Never seen anything quite like it, actually. Neither had anyone else. Had a lot of company in OR when we retrieved the bullet, I can tell you.”
She blushed at the thought of numerous faceless physicians watching as her chest was thoroughly investigated.
Next to her, Max bristled. “Well, that’s good to know, Doctor.” He emphasized the last word as he held Peta’s hand even more tightly. “When can I take her home?”
The power in his words took Peta’s breath away far better than some silly old bullet. He was claiming her. Talking about taking her home. And oh my, she liked it. She liked it a lot.
Unfazed, the doctor grinned at Max. “In a couple of days if she continues to improve and you show no signs of concussion. But rest is the order of the day for both of you for at least forty-eight hours.”
Phoebe stood. “Wonderful news, dears. You just rest and get well again. Nothing that won’t wait until then. Oh, before I go...I hope you don’t mind, but I did drop in to see about that cat of yours, Max.”
He looked relieved. “Phoebe, You’re an angel, I swear. He’s okay?”
“Yep. Did you know he’s got a fetish for bacon, though? I gave him cat food, and he just looked at it. Wouldn’t touch it. I was afraid he was pining for you, so I thought I’d try and get him to eat something. Well, I mean, those eyes, you know? Anyway, he seemed to be okay with a couple of rashers. So he’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”
Max shook his head and grinned. “I’ll be in touch, Phoebe,” he called as she gathered her things. “I owe you.”
“We both do, Phoebe,” added Peta.
Phoebe smiled as she made her way from the room. “Just be happy, dears.”
The doctor hung the chart back up on the bed. “Five more minutes. Then it’s nap time for both of you.” He looked pointedly at their hands, still clasped together. “That’ll be nap time in separate beds, Mr. Wolfe.”
Peta blushed, and Max snarled at him. “Thanks. I think.”
The curtains swayed behind him, and Max leaned over to her. “Jesus. I didn’t think we’d ever be alone.”
His hazel eyes bored right into her, so full of emotions it made her shake. “I love you, Peta Matthews. I seem to remember saying that before, but I want to make sure you get the point. I love you. Totally. You’ve taken my world and completely obliterated it. You’ve given me a new world. And I want that world because you’re in it. For ever.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “God, I love you too, Max. So much I just want to burst with it.”
“How about bursting with my babies instead?”
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Babies?”
“Yeah. Babies. You know, little things that make a lot of noise and smell godawful on occasion. Small yous. And perhaps a small me. Grandkids for Phoebe.”
Peta’s brain tripped and skinned its knees, leaving her thoughts blinking on her mental sidewalk. “You want babies?”
Max gritted his teeth. “Yes. In my undoubtedly clumsy way, I’m asking you to marry me. To live with me, and Mr. Peebles, for better or for whatever, til death does its thing. To bear my children and let me love you until we’re both pushing up daisies.”
As a proposal it probably lacked a certain style, but to Peta’s ears it was greater than the most passionate love poem she’d ever read. It was about the future, th
eir future. One that would take them on their most thrilling adventure yet.
She raised her hand carefully to Max’s cheek, ignoring the trailing tubes across the white sheets and focusing completely on his handsome face.
“Yes.”
And she kissed him.
The nurse who answered the summons of the rapidly-beeping heart monitor took one look around the curtains and quietly turned the machine off. There was nothing wrong with Peta Matthew’s heart. Nothing at all.
Except for the fact that she’d given it to Max Wolfe.
Forever.
Epilogue
“Well, that went well.”
The raven-haired beauty sighed as she leaned back against her husband’s hard chest. “Everything is back on track with the timelines and their first child will debut exactly as planned.”
“And their world sorely needs him, too. The genetic advances he’ll discover…the illnesses that will be cured because of it…it’ll be a better world for him in it.”
“Like I said, everything went very well.”
“Indeed it did,” he murmured. “Although I am forced to point out that even though Peta was our first female genie, she didn’t really do the whole ‘genie’ thing.”
Neala laughed. “She didn’t need to. Women have different ways of going about things. A good fuck isn’t always the answer, you know.”
“Oh really?” The voice was low and deep, and a pair of strong hands slid around her waist and upwards to cup her heavy breasts. “Do you want to re-think that statement, my love?”
Neala sighed. “Cullen, my sweet, for us a good fuck was certainly one of the answers. But there were a lot more. Don’t you remember?”
Cullen’s turquoise blue eyes danced. “I remember the good fucking parts best,” he breathed.
Neala sucked in her breath as his fingers found her nipples. He knew so well how to love her to the edge of madness. He always had.
“And look at us now.” Her eyes closed as she rested her head in the exact spot on his shoulder that had always seemed made just for her.
“Yeah, just look at us.”
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