Nothing to Fear

by Karen Rose

  Max was staring at the phone. “Where did you get that?”

  She felt her cheeks heat. “It was kind of a gift. Yeah. How is Caro?”

  “Awake and demanding a chili dog. Go talk to her. She could use the company.”

  Caroline was flat on her back, staring at the ceiling.

  “Hello, darlin’,” Dana twanged and Caroline huffed a chuckle. Dana sat down on the edge of the bed. “So are they going to do the C-section?”

  “Doesn’t look like it. We’ve been stable since that little scare this morning, but they said they’d keep me another day. They may let me go home tomorrow, but I’ll still be on bed rest until the baby’s born.” She shrugged. “So we wait and see. I will tell you I’m tired of lying in this bed. I sent Max out for a chili dog. He may have to hide it, so cover for me.”

  “I heard that,” said Mia from the doorway. “Conspiracy to smuggle dietary contraband into a hospital.” She tossed them a saucy grin. “How are you, Caroline?”

  “Hungry, bored. My butt hurts. Oh, and I did all my Christmas shopping from QVC today. My charge cards are loaded, but I’m set for December. How about you, Mia?”

  “Not too bad.” She came into the room, a package under her arm. “I brought you something I hope you’ll like. Dana, you want to open it?”

  Dana ripped the paper off the flat parcel, revealing an oil painting of flowers dripping off a balcony. Sunshine was everywhere. It nearly made her feel better. “It’s wonderful.”

  “My partner’s wife paints in her spare time. I’m hiding her birthday present to him in exchange for a few paintings, so my Christmas shopping’s pretty well done, too.”

  “This painting is like having a window,” Caroline said. “What’s your partner’s present?”

  “She’s just fixed up their basement so she bought him a pool table. Fills up my whole damn apartment.” She squeezed Caroline’s hand. “I don’t have much news for you. We found the car that hit you. It had been stolen. We’ve got forensics checking it out.”

  Caroline’s voice was small. “So you haven’t found Lillian’s husband?”

  Mia shook her head. “There’s a rumor that he’s in Detroit. We’ll look till we find him. Until then, you ladies be careful.” She walked out but stood in the hallway, gesturing Dana to come with her. There was more then. More Mia didn’t want Caroline to know.

  Dana pulled her cell phone out of her pocket as an excuse to leave the room. “Caro, I need to give Ethan a call. Find out if we have plans for dinner.”

  Caroline’s eyes had widened. “You let him give you that? It must be serious.”

  “Oh, hush. I’ll be back in a few.” Rapidly she walked back to the waiting room where Mia paced. Her gut clenched. “What?”

  “I couldn’t tell you in there. I don’t want to stress her out. Dana, sit down.”

  Dana sat down, dread a palpable thing. “Who now?”

  Mia sighed. “Dr. Lee. He’s dead.”

  “Oh, God.” Her startled cry was followed by a breath that physically hurt. “Please, Mia. He was sweet and old. Who would hurt him?”

  “I’m sorry, Dana. Dr. Lee was found in an alley about two blocks from his house.”

  “Evie said he was at the House today, but that he left a note saying he’d gotten a call and had to leave.”

  Mia’s eyes were sharp. “It looks like he may have had some car trouble on his way home from your place and when he got out to check, he was robbed. But under the circumstances, we can’t ignore Goodman.”

  Dana’s mind was reeling, picturing the scene. “Did he suffer?”

  Mia shook her head. “No. The ME said he died instantly.”

  A thought struck, stealing her breath. “Mia, if it was Goodman, he followed Dr. Lee from the shelter. He knows where we are. I should evacuate. Where will I put them all?”

  Mia sat down next to her. “Now don’t panic. It may be this is totally unrelated to you and the shelter at all. And, anyway, if Goodman caught him coming out of your place, he would have killed him closer to the shelter, then gone looking for you. He didn’t. Dr. Lee was killed a block or two from his house. If Goodman was involved, it’s more likely he tracked Lee separately. Was there any way Goodman could tie Lillian to Dr. Lee?”

  Dana’s pulse was thundering in her head. “Yeah. Dr. Lee had to relocate Naomi’s shoulder when she first arrived. Damn asshole father pulled Naomi’s arm out of its socket. He gave her something to help her sleep. Dr. Lee always paid for the prescriptions out of his own pocket, and the labels had his name on them.” And now that generous man was dead. Because he’d helped her. “If one of the bottles was in Lillian’s apartment . . .”

  “Then that’s most likely how Goodman found him.” Mia grimaced. “Look on the bright side. If Goodman’s gunning for anyone, it’ll be you and you’re not near the shelter right now. It’s unlikely he would come into a hospital, so maybe you should stay here tonight.”

  Dana just looked at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Mia shrugged. “No, I’m not. I’ve set up drive-bys at your apartment and at the shelter, just in case. And I’ll stop by there on my way home to make sure Evie’s got everything all locked up. You stay somewhere else tonight.” Mia gave her a hug, then left.

  Dana sat for a while, brooding. Dr. Lee was dead. Which may or may not be her fault. Caroline was hurt. Likely her fault. She felt unsettled, grim. Detached. Displaced. And she was alone. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted Ethan. Wanted the way he could settle her with just a look. The way he could tempt her with a different look. Just thinking about him made her pulse throb. Everywhere. But he hadn’t called.

  She could call him. He’d programmed his hotel into her cell phone. Summoning her courage she pressed the pretty numbers and heard the operator announce the Chicago Sheraton then hung up abruptly. She didn’t want to talk to him. She wanted to see him. Hold him. Have him hold me. She walked back to Caroline’s room to say good night and found her friend asleep, so she left a note. And made herself leave before she could change her mind.

  Chicago, Tuesday, August 3, 6:30 P.M.

  The kid was awake and alert. And cowering in the corner like a trapped animal. Sue held out a plate of chicken and a glass of water and a note. Eat slowly.

  He eyed the dinner for a long moment, then took it, proceeding to eat in small slow bites. All the while he looked at her and in between the cowering, Sue saw flashes of contempt so she pulled out the good doctor’s spectacles from her backpack and with great drama slid them on her face. She could see he understood right away.

  Smart kid. Sure as hell didn’t get it from his old man. The contempt in his eyes disappeared as if it had never been there. She took the note back and added a line. Leave this room tonight and I will kill you tomorrow. Another midnight stroll could ruin everything.

  She was safe here for the time being. Caroline and her suspicions had been taken care of. Dr. Lee’s death was being attributed to robbery. Vaughn had the account number and would be depositing a practice deposit of twenty-five thousand dollars in the next twenty-four hours, another five million in the next forty-eight. And the ID she’d use to get out of the country was sitting in the top drawer of Dupinsky’s desk.

  Things were going pretty well, all things considered.

  Chicago, Tuesday, August 3, 7:15 P.M.

  Another one. It was all Ethan could think as he sat at the little table in the front room of his hotel suite, looking at the video he’d obtained from the site of the latest e-mail, a combination Internet café and bookstore. He’d digitally remastered the video, analyzed it frame by frame, until he could clearly see the credit card she’d given the clerk to hold as she used the Internet café’s computer. Ethan picked up the photo, stared at the name on the charge card with growing despair. It belonged to Kristie Sikorski.

  He’d found that Kristie Sikorski was a pediatric nurse with three kids. Ethan didn’t have much hope that they’d find her alive. He didn’t have much hope perio
d. The bitch still wore that damn hat so they still couldn’t see her face. Once, she’d actually glanced up, enough to see the bottom half of her face, but the frame enlargements just showed a heavy layer of pancake makeup and dark red lipstick that all but hid the true shape of her mouth. They were no closer to finding Alec than before.

  She’d been bolder this time. Sitting, enjoying a cup of coffee before she sent her e-mail. She’d been reading a sign language book. The sight of it made his hair stand up on end. Ethan took the picture, stared at the book in the woman’s hands. She’d been studying sign language just minutes before sending a ransom note. How cold.

  The photo she’d attached to the ransom note showed Alec, lying on the same bed, curled into a ball. He had to be sleeping, Ethan told himself. But he looked dead and Ethan suspected their woman knew it. That she used it to manipulate the fears of a terrified mother. Ethan wished he could soothe Randi’s fear. Dana would be able to. Dana could tell Randi that it wasn’t her fault that her son was kidnapped and make her believe it, because in the short time he was with her, Dana made him believe things, too.

  He needed her, he thought. Needed the sustenance he got from just being with her. He’d call her. See if she was free for just an hour. An hour would be all he needed to build him back up enough to go out and look some more. For a child that could literally be anywhere in a city of three million people. Weary, Ethan rested his elbows on the table, his forehead on his clenched fists.

  The knock at the door startled him. Quickly he scooped the pictures into a stack, slid them under the large book that detailed the hotel’s services before opening the door.

  And he could only stare. Dana looked up at him, her normally calm brown eyes wide and turbulent, her lips firmly pressed together, her hands clenched at her sides. And inside his mind, his thoughts simply folded, like a house of cards.

  Dana could only stare. He stood there with red-rimmed eyes and tousled hair, his shirt hanging open, exposing yards of muscles and all that golden hair. Her eyes traveled down to the pair of faded jeans snug on his hips. Zipped, but unsnapped. His feet were bare. And everything inside her went liquid with longing. She licked her lips, tried to bring words from her throat. They came out rusty. “I woke you. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t asleep.” In a civilized move, he stepped back, allowing her to enter. In a civilized move she did so.

  But the soft click of the door closing ended all civilization as she knew it and she was in his arms, her hands in his hair, her aching breasts pushed hard against all those muscles, desperate for relief. He took two steps and she was flat against the door, his body thrusting against her. Then she was pulled closer as his hands closed over her butt, lifting her into him and she could feel him. Oh, God, she could feel him. Hard and throbbing.

  Greedily she met his mouth halfway and they devoured, consuming each other, and on some level she understood he needed this as much as she did. His lips were hot on hers, came perilously close to punishing in their intensity, then as if realizing his strength, he pulled back, ran his open mouth down the side of her neck, his breath coming hard and heavy, like he’d run a mile. Gently, he kissed the hollow of her throat. And pressing his face into the curve of her shoulder, he shuddered.

  “I needed you,” he whispered and sent her heart tumbling. “How did you know?”

  With trembling hands she stroked his hair. “I didn’t. I just knew I didn’t want to be alone tonight. That I wanted to be with you.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Sshh. No.” She could feel his sadness, stronger than at any time before. But not just sadness. It was desperation. Whatever had brought him here had become worse. Much worse. “What’s wrong, Ethan? Can’t you let me help you?”

  He straightened, pulled her away from the door and into him. Ran one hand up her back, cradled her neck. Pulled her closer so that her cheek pressed against his bare chest, the coarse hair tickling her skin. “Just be with me. Only for a little while.”

  Only for a little while? Dana wondered if that would be enough. For either of them. “All right.” So she stood there, brushing her cheek against his chest, her arms around his neck. Imperceptibly rocking. Slow dancing to no music. She pulled back a little so she could see his face. Saw the pain in his eyes, in the grim set of his mouth. And knew any physical release she’d hoped for would have to wait. “Have you eaten?”

  “No.” As he looked at her the intensity in his green eyes shifted. The pain was still there, but it was joined by the same awareness she’d seen every time they’d been together and deep down she felt the flutterings of a thrill. “I was planning to call you, take you out. Now I’m planning on ordering room service.”

  “We could just stay here until it arrived, couldn’t we?”

  “We could.” One corner of his mouth moved. It didn’t really curve, so it wasn’t really a smile. But the grimness softened. Dana leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth.

  “That’s a little better.”

  He sighed. “You don’t look like your day was any better than mine. Is Caroline worse?”

  “Not really. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  She found she wanted to tell him so badly. To just let it all out, then put her head on his shoulder and have him tell her it would be all right. To not have to be the one to worry this time. But she couldn’t. Not everything anyway. It was funny, actually, and someday she might even be amused. She’d come here tonight with the full intention of pushing him into bed. She’d share her body before her secrets. I am one screwed-up woman.

  She sighed and told what she could. “One of my friends was killed tonight. Looks like he may have been robbed.” She hoped he’d just been robbed. She really hoped so.

  His hands instantly came up to bracket her jaws, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “Oh, Dana, I’m sorry. Who was it?”

  “A doctor friend of mine. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die that way.”

  He led her to the sofa, sat down, and pulled her on his lap. “Tell me about your friend. The one that was killed. How did you come to know him?”

  The whole story of her life was poised on the tip of her tongue. But that would put the secrets of others at risk and after only three days, that was not something she could do. So she found a tenable compromise. “I volunteer with runaways.” True in every sense of the word. It had been so long since she’d drawn a full paycheck she was more like a volunteer than an employee and every one of her clients was running away from someone. “Dr. Lee volunteered medical services.”

  “I am sorry.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder. Sighed deeply. “Me, too.”

  He kissed her hair. “I didn’t think you were really a photographer.”

  Her head snapped back, her eyes wide, her spine straight as a board. “I told you I only volunteered with the runaways. Taking pictures of babies is how I make my living.”

  Ethan let his head fall back to look up at her face, once again humbled and touched. She’d shared another piece of her life that he sensed was intensely private, although he wasn’t sure why. Her work with runaways was something she should be proud of. “You might make a living taking pictures.” Not much of one, he thought. “But which gives you the most ongoing satisfaction? Snapping pictures or helping runaway kids?”

  She never hesitated. “The second one.”

  “Then that’s the one you really are. It doesn’t matter how you make your money.” Lazily he trailed his fingertips across her stomach, felt her muscles quiver and flinch in response. Watched her breasts rise and fall in the sleeveless polo shirt that seemed to be her stock uniform. Watched the expression in her eyes go far away.

  “What an insightful thing to say,” she murmured. “What about you? What are you?”

  He considered her question. It was a good one. He considered his answer, because it was an important one. “I suppose I don’t mind being a security consultant, but I’ll always be a Ma
rine, because that’s where my heart is.”

  Her eyes were changing, warming. He thought he could sit and look at her eyes all day long. “You miss it,” she murmured. “The Marines.”

  “Every damn day.”

  “It must have killed you to walk away.”

  “It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. At first, when I was in Walter Reed I pretended to myself that I’d get better. Go back.” He closed his eyes, remembering.

  “But it got easier? Not doing what you love?”

  “Over time. I still wake up sometimes and think I’m in the desert. That it’s time to wake up and shoulder my pack and head out. Of course, the ceiling fan and the AC is always the first clue I’m in civilization.” He smiled. “And the lack of sand. Some of the guys filled little bottles of sand to take home with them, but I figured I had enough sand in my mouth and other vital orifices to last me the rest of my life.”

  She made a face. “Thank you for painting that picture for me.”

  His fingertips moved to the silk of her bare arm. He could feel her shiver where he touched her skin. “I really do not miss the sand. But the rest of it . . . the challenge, the excitement . . .”

  She met his gaze. “The accomplishment?” she asked quietly and he knew she understood. Just as he’d known she would from the moment she looked up at him from the bus station floor with her brown eyes, first assessing, then filled with calm acceptance.

  “I think that’s the biggest thing. I was part of something bigger than just me. I was doing something important. Using everything I’d learned to protect my country. To make a difference in the world. Some people think that’s old-fashioned and corny.”

  She swallowed hard, but didn’t break eye contact. “I don’t.”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  “So what makes you feel important now?”

  He drew in a breath that seemed to burn his lungs. Not much, he thought. Certainly not finding Alec. “I don’t know.”