She managed a raspy, weak “I . . .” and then she grimaced at her painfully dry throat.
“Shhh.” Luke lowered his head and kissed her head. “Don’t try to talk yet. The drug he gave you is going take a while to wear off all the way.” He eased her a little bit away from him, cupping her face. The robe covering her gaped a little, and gently, Luke tucked it back around her. “Does anything hurt? Can you breathe okay?”
Blinking back tears, she shook her head. “Not hurt. Breathing’s easier.” Her voice was still harsh, stilted, and sounded nothing like her.
“We’ll get you to the hospital.” He shifted around, reaching for his phone.
From across the room, the other one spoke up. “I already called nine-one-one. Cops and an ambulance are already on the way.” At his feet, the third man groaned, shifted around a little.
Devon involuntarily huddled against Luke, while the twin kicked the man on the floor and added, “Maybe we should tell them to bring a hearse, too. Save a trip.”
The calm, casual tone didn’t fool her one bit. That one could kill without blinking an eye. Then she glanced up, saw the look on Luke’s face.
No. Not so different. Luke had murder in his eyes. But then he looked down at her and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay, Devon. You’re safe now.”
Safe: it seemed like even more an illusion now than ever. But she nodded. A shiver racked her body. Without saying a word, Luke grabbed a blanket and added it to the robe she had tucked around her. “Will you stay with me?”
He threaded his fingers through her hair, cradling her head against his chest. “You know I will.”
EIGHTEEN
BUT for how long?
How long would she want him here? How could she even look at him again without thinking about the hell he’d brought down on her life?
Luke stood in the hallway, hands jammed into his pockets while one of the other doctors looked Devon over. So far, they’d run pregnancy tests, drug tests, checked for evidence of intercourse, checked for STDs.
Nobody knew what kind of drugs Tony had pumped through her system, and Luke knew Tony wouldn’t tell them. He’d like nothing more than to beat the answers out of his former commander, but he suspected he’d end up beating the man to death.
There had been a second vial in the duffel, another unlabeled one. It was probably the ketamine Tony said he’d dosed her with. Ketamine abuse was getting to be a big problem, very popular with date rapists. It distorted reality, could cause amnesiac effects. Because of that, nobody was taking a chance. They were treating her exactly as they’d treat a rape victim, and Luke couldn’t imagine the hell that was causing her.
So far, it didn’t look like she’d been raped, and in his gut, Luke suspected the same. Tony, whatever his fucked-up logic meant, wouldn’t have done it without either making sure she’d remember or that Luke was there to see it.
Although he didn’t hear Quinn’s approach, he knew he wasn’t alone anymore. Slowly, he turned and stared across the hallway at his twin.
Quinn’s hair was growing out. Wouldn’t be too long before it was as long as Luke’s, now, and there was a heavy growth of stubble on his face. Quinn’s features looked a bit worse for wear, haggard and edging on too thin, like he’d been eating a diet similar to Devon’s: a nonexistent one.
“Hell. I thought I looked like shit,” Quinn said.
Guilt choked Luke as he stood there and faced his brother. Dear God, how could he have thought . . . ?
“I don’t have the words to thank you enough.” Luke’s voice was harsh, hoarse.
Quinn shrugged. “Fuck that, man. You think I want thanks?”
No. Quinn wouldn’t want thanks. Wouldn’t want much of anything except just to get back to doing whatever it was he did with himself anymore. Luke realized abruptly that he didn’t even know. His twin had retreated so far inside himself that Luke hardly knew him anymore. “What were you doing around here? How did you know?”
“Jeb.” Quinn turned away, shrugging his shoulders restlessly and studying a big poster featuring a pregnant woman holding a pack of cigarettes in one hand while the other rested on the ripe curve of her belly. But Luke was under no delusion that Quinn was looking at the poster out of interest. It was just a way to keep from looking at his brother.
“When I called you last night, I was drunk out of my mind. Been drinking a little too much,” Quinn said abruptly. “Had a bad night. Bad few nights . . . a bad few months.”
Shit. Luke narrowed his eyes and shook his head as Quinn turned to face him. “Don’t you dare apologize, Quinn. Don’t. I won’t hear it.”
That caustic smile appeared on Quinn’s face, but Luke didn’t know if it was directed at himself or at his twin. “I was in Illinois. Had been half thinking about going back to the ranch for a while. Stopped to get something to eat and saw a girl.” His gaze fell away, big shoulders rising and falling on a sigh. “She looked like . . .”
“Like Elena,” Luke said quietly when Quinn fell silent.
“Like Elena.” A snarl twisted his face, his hands clenching into fists. “Put me back. Saw her face again, saw what they’d done to her. I got drunk. So fucking plastered I don’t even remember how much I put away. First clear thought I remember was calling you . . . not sure why. Or what I wanted.”
“Quinn, stop.”
But Quinn didn’t listen. Of course, he never had. “Woke up thinking I needed to get here. I’d done something, said something. Needed to fix it. Jeb called. I didn’t answer. He kept calling.” Quinn’s eyes slid over, met Luke’s, and then slid away. “Finally answered, and he said something was up with you, but by then, I’d already started figuring that out.”
“He tell you—” Luke stopped in midsentence, uncertain what to say, how to say it.
“Didn’t have to,” Quinn said, his voice soft. “I don’t remember much of what I said last night, but I do know I’m a fucking basket case right now. Not that I’ve ever been a picture of stability.”
He rolled back on the heels of his feet, rotated his head. “I’ve done seriously fucked-up things, Luke. You know it, even if you try to excuse it or ignore it. Hell, I am fucked up.”
“No, you’re not.” Tears burned his eyes, and Luke averted his gaze. “Hell, you never would have thought what I was thinking.”
“You’ve never gone after a man and killed him in cold blood, gutted him in front of his mistress.” Quinn’s voice was emotionless, but the screaming hell in his gaze told Luke just how much torture that was. “I have.”
“I could.” Glancing toward the curtained window that hid Devon from him, Luke shook his head. “Maybe I haven’t, but I could. I’m tempted to do it right now. Doesn’t change the facts, though. There’s no excuse, and I can’t get—”
“Save it.” Quinn shifted around, leaning a shoulder against the wall. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and unconsciously, Luke echoed him. “I don’t need you apologizing to me. I don’t need you thanking me.”
A couple of residents passed by, and the brothers fell quiet until they passed out of earshot. “I can’t be okay with this, Quinn.” Shoving off the wall, he started to prowl back and forth across the hall. “I can’t. I was this close to losing her, this close to seeing her killed right in front of me—and I would have, if you hadn’t shown up. And I’d gone there thinking it could have been you. I’m not okay with this. I can’t be.”
Quinn reached out and grabbed Luke’s arm, jerking him to a stop. “Then that’s your problem, not mine. Shit, Luke. You remember how many fights I got into before we enlisted? A guy even looked at me wrong, and I put him in the hospital. I did it more than once when we were school. Dad spent half the time getting me out of trouble and the other half, he was trying to keep me out of trouble. If it wasn’t for the two of you, I probably would’ve done something bad enough to land in juvie after she died and gone on to only God knows what after I got out. Probably would have ended up in jail before too long, and don’t t
ell me that’s bullshit.” Quinn broke off abruptly and turned away.
Yeah. Quinn hadn’t been the ideal teenager, if such a thing existed. He’d come close to getting his ass locked up more than once. But a reckless, hotheaded boy with anger issues didn’t make for a killer.
He didn’t say it out loud. But Quinn heard it loud and clear. He turned around and faced Luke. His voice was a harsh whisper as he said, “Don’t you get it, Luke? I am a killer. And I’m not talking about the shit we had to do on the job. I can deal with that.” He closed his eyes, rubbed his hands against his face. “I can even deal with the fact that I killed that fuck in Colombia. He was guilty.”
Sighing, Quinn lowered his hands and met Luke’s eyes. A bitter smiled curled his lips. “He was. I saw it in his eyes. He knew why I was there, and he laughed, called out for his men. But I’d already killed them. Five men. In one night. When I went in there and he called for his men, and they didn’t come . . . he panicked. I grabbed him when he ran for the door, and right there, while she was watching, I killed him. She was so scared, terrified she was next. And I didn’t give a shit.”
Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Quinn gave Luke a baleful glare. “I’ve spent the past six months seeing a fucking shrink who keeps trying to convince me to get on medicine for depression. I killed a man in cold blood, and I wake up feeling that blood on my hands, and instead of being sorry, I wish I could do it again, and again. Anything to make him pay for what his men did to Elena. I deserted the team while they were trying to get Adam out of there. I was this close to deserting my team in the middle of the jungle a few months after that, even though I knew we had hell breaking loose around us. I got men shadowing me, making sure I don’t go crazy and kill somebody. And you feel guilty for wondering if I’ve lost it?”
Abruptly, Quinn laughed, a harsh bark of laughter that echoed down the hall. “Half the time, I’m pretty sure I have lost it.”
Through gritted teeth, Luke snarled, “That doesn’t make it right! Me thinking that. Me actually being so fucking stupid that I could think it for even a minute—” His voice broke.
Quinn reached out, hooked his arm around Luke’s neck, and hauled him in close, hugging him tight. “You need to give me some lame-ass apology, do it. It doesn’t mean shit to me, because I can see exactly why you might have thought it could be me. Hell, I can see me slipping over the edge. There have been times . . .”
His voice trailed off. “No. I’m not going there. You don’t need to hear that; I don’t need to say it. But it’s not like I’ve worked hard to convince people I’m even remotely steady. So say you’re damn sorry, if that’s what you need, but get it over with already.”
But the words lodged in Luke’s throat. Tears blurred his eyes, and for just a minute, he let them fall. Then he pulled back, rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. “I’m not much of a brother, am I?” he whispered hoarsely.
“Yeah, like I’m any kind of poster child.” Quinn smirked, but then it softened into a real smile. “You’re the best friend I have, Luke. Only decent thing Mom ever did was give you to me.”
Luke would have said something else. There were words he needed to say, whether Quinn wanted to hear them or not, but he couldn’t find them, couldn’t give them voice.
Before he had the chance to work at it, the door across the hall opened, and they turned as one to watch as the doctor slipped out of Devon’s room. A nurse followed a minute later, stripping gloves off her hands and disappearing down the hall, her shoes squeaking on the tile floor. Deb gave Luke a tired smile and gestured to the small waiting room across the hall. Luke didn’t want to follow, didn’t want to get that far away from Devon.
Deb gave him a weary smile. “Come on, Luke. Give me a break. I’m exhausted, and you don’t look too steady on your feet.”
If Quinn hadn’t laid a hand on Luke’s shoulder, urging him forward, Luke probably would have just stood there. Quinn shadowed them, and Deb paused, looked between them as though debating on whether she should ask Quinn for a few moments of privacy and then dismissing it. “You realize I’m breaking several major laws here, talking to you about this,” Deb said, settling on the chair in the small cube of a waiting room.
There were two other chairs, a TV, and a coffee table that had seen better days. Neither brother made an attempt to sit. Deb leaned back. She studied one face then the other before looking back at Luke. “Can the world really handle two of you?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, and Luke figured she hadn’t been expecting one, either. “Physically, Devon’s fine. So far, all of the tests are coming back clear, although some take longer than others.” She didn’t elaborate, but Luke didn’t need her to.
Something hot and sick settled in his gut, but he shoved it aside. Those tests would be clear, too. Tony hadn’t raped Devon. He would have—he would have done it right in front of Luke, but he never have the chance, thanks to Quinn.
The strength drained out of him, and he ended up dropping his butt down on one of the hard chairs and resting his head in his hands.
Deb mistook his relief for fear and rushed to offer reassurance. “From all our exams, it doesn’t appear that she was assaulted.” She shot Quinn another look, swore under her breath. “Damn it, Luke. Don’t ever think I don’t like you. I can’t believe how many ethical codes I’m breaking here, not to mention laws. From everything we can tell, she wasn’t raped.”
“I know that.” He lifted his head and looked at Deb, shrugging his shoulders. “He . . . he was waiting until he had an audience. He was after me the whole damn time. Devon was just the means to an end.”
“That doesn’t make this your fault,” Deb said gently. Her brown eyes were soft with compassion, and she leaned forward, looking like she was going to offer some comforting touch or gesture, but then she stopped and decided better of it.
Settling back in the seat, she sighed. “You know the story about my daughter. It was her boyfriend, you know. I’d always liked him, and when she told me she was breaking up with him, because he was too jealous, too controlling, I tried to talk her out of it.” Cocking her head, she asked him, “Does that make what he did to her, what he tried to do, my fault?”
Scowling, Luke shook his head. “I don’t need any psychobabble shit, Deb.”
“And I don’t have any for you. The answer is no. You know it as well as I do.” Then she shrugged and added, “But knowing it and believing it, we both know those are two very different things. But don’t let this eat you up inside, Luke. She needs you—not your guilt, not your regret. But you.”
With a sigh, she stood up and smoothed a hand back over her graying blonde hair. “Considering we still don’t know enough about the drug he gave her, it would be best if she stays here for twenty-four hours.” She paused, gave Luke a measuring gaze. “Is there any way you can find out if he gave her anything besides atcatamin?”
Luke curled his lip. “I was willing to beat it out of him, but that idea got vetoed.”
“You aren’t going to be much good for your woman if you’re stuck in jail for murder,” Quinn said.
Something about the way he said it sent a ripple of foreboding down Luke’s spine. He shot Quinn a look, but the other man’s face was smooth, blank; even his eyes reflected nothing back. Not his normal cynicism, not humor, not boredom. It was disconcerting. Like looking into a doll’s eyes and then having that doll speak to you.
Luke narrowed his eyes and wished he did have some genuine psychic ability that would let him communicate silently with his twin, so he could tell Quinn to stop thinking whatever he was thinking.
A predatory smile lit Quinn’s face, his teeth flashing white against his golden skin, and for just a second, the hot light of anticipation lit his eyes. Then it was gone.
Deb, unaware of the silent tension between the brothers, sighed. “He does have a point,” she murmured.
It took Luke a minute to figure out what she was referencing. “I wouldn’t have killed
him.”
“Uh-huh. I’d practice saying that in front of a mirror if I were you.”
When he said nothing, Deb smiled and shook her head. “All in all, I have to say that physically, she’s fine. For whatever reasons, her attacker didn’t physically cause her any harm. In most assault cases, the lingering damage tends to be emotional, though.” She made a face and added, “And you know that as well as I. I do have to say, emotionally, she’s doing a lot better than I think I’d be doing in her place. She’s an amazing woman, Luke.”
“I know.”
Deb passed by him and patted him on the shoulder. After checking her watch, she glanced from one brother to the other. “I’m having her moved up to the third floor here in the next few minutes. Luke, you’re welcome to stay, but . . .”
Her gaze slid over to Quinn, and then she glanced back at Luke with a shrug. “Probably not the best place for a visit.”
“I don’t plan on visiting.” Quinn barely glanced at her as she nodded and then walked away.
Moving in tandem, they crossed the hallway, stopping just outside Devon’s door. Angling his chin toward the door, Quinn asked, “Is she going to be okay?”
“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer and then looked back at Quinn. “I hope so. Pray she is. But . . .” His voice trailed off, and he realized he couldn’t find it in himself to say it.
Saying it made it real—a mantra from childhood. Acknowledging a monster might live in the closest, bringing it to life within nightmares. Giving voice to his fear that Devon would be better off without him in her life would make it so.
Bitter, he let himself admit, in silence, whether he said a damn thing or not, it was probably going to happen. At this point, it should happen.
“You’re not helping things.”
The words were quiet, spoken with a compassion Quinn rarely showed. Sliding his brother a glance, Luke said sourly, “At this point, there’s nothing I can do to help things.”
“Sure there is.” Using a booted foot, Quinn nudged the door open a little more, keeping his body off to the side so the wall prevented him from seeing inside, or Devon from seeing out. Lowering his voice, he said, “Go on. You really think she wants to be alone right now?”
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