Magda smiled. “You like him?”
God, yes. He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met.
“Yeah, he’s nice.”
Nice was an understatement.
“He’s an incredible surgeon. Watching him is like watching a maestro at work.”
“Speaking of maestros.” Magda often changed the direction of conversations on a whim, so Romy wasn’t fazed. “Your sister has a new job. She’s going to work for Livia’s foundation as a lecturer.”
Romy’s eyebrows shot up. “She is? Juno’s moving out?”
Her youngest sister, Juno, was the sister who most resembled their free-spirited mother. Tall and willowy, with a shock of messy blonde hair, and a confirmed tomboy, Juno Sasse had made music her first love and passion from a young age. She was the cherished baby of the family and Romy had half-suspected she’d never leave.
“She is,” Magda confirmed, a touch of melancholy in her voice. Eternally supportive of her daughters though she was, Romy knew her mother would struggle with empty nest syndrome. “Although I’m trying desperately not to think about that day. She’s starting in the New Year, so at least we’ll have Christmas as a family.”
“With Stuart’s family too?”
Magda shot her a nervous look. “Well, yes. If that’s okay with you and Arti.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Romy asked.
Magda sighed. “There is some, how can I put it, some unpleasantness with Stuart’s wife. Hopefully soon to be ex-wife, if she ever signs the damn papers. She keeps harassing Stuart, usually through her son.”
Romy raised an eyebrow, not liking the sound of that. “What’s the son’s name again?”
“Gaius. I’ve only met him once, but he seems friendly enough. Hasn’t Blue ever mentioned him?”
“We’re careful to keep family stuff away from work, and I don’t actually socialize with Blue Allende, remember? We’d never even met until today. He might be my brother soon, but he’s still in a league of his own.” Romy grinned as Magda rolled her eyes.
“You mean you don’t socialize at all. Romy, you’re beautiful, you’re young … don’t let what happened in New York stop you from living your life.”
Romy grimaced, feeling the familiar cold feeling at the memories. “Mom … Dacre doesn’t know I’m back home, and if he finds out, he’ll come here and … God, I don’t want to imagine.”
Her mother looked down at her hands as they continued to move swiftly, her knife skills in the kitchen as good as any surgeon’s were in an operating theater. “I hate that you were with him. You’re too young to have gone through a divorce or anything else he did to you.”
Romy marshalled her emotions, reminding herself that those days were long past. She was safe now, however much Dacre Mortimer was an animal. Her leg still hurt from where he’d stamped on it and broken it the previous year at the same time that he’d almost beaten her to death.
“Look, at least I learned a lesson,” Romy said to her mother now. “Don’t go on first impressions. Dacre was Mr. Charm until he wasn’t.”
“Was that a dig at me?” Magda didn’t sound upset, just sad. “Because I know Stuart and I haven’t known each other that long.”
Romy hopped down to kiss her mother’s cheek and gave her a warm hug.
“Mom, no, it wasn’t a dig at you, more one at myself.”
Magda smiled in relief. “Romy, I have never felt like this. Not even with your father,” she added apologetically.
“I figured, with Dad.” Romy nodded, unsurprised.
Romy’s father, a professor of Magda’s back in the day, had never been present much in his daughters’ lives. He supported them financially, but soon after Juno had been born, he and Magda had quietly and amicably divorced and James Sasse had remarried and moved to London. Being a single mother didn’t faze Magda and she’d somehow kept her girls clothed and fed as they grew, bringing them all up to be independent young people who never depended on someone else.
The loss of Remy, Romy’s brother, had shattered them all, but the four women were as close now as they had ever been. Artemis, Magda’s eldest, had followed her father into the teaching profession and now taught physics at the University of Washington. Romy had headed for medical school as soon as she graduated from Harvard, and Juno was a musical prodigy. The one thing James had provided was money for their education, and Magda was grateful for that, she often told Romy.
Magda had been brought up in a hippie commune and she’d carried those values her whole life, finally having reached a point in her life where she could sculpt for a living.
Which was why Romy and her sisters had been astounded to hear that Magda was about to marry a multi-billionaire. Stuart Eames had made his fortune in tech and had such a large share of the tech market that no one could compete. Romy was looking forward to meeting the billionaire who had captured her mother’s laidback heart.
A random thought occurred to her as she reached for the salad bowl and started to assemble the various ingredients her mother had diced. “How come Blue has a different last name?”
Magda drained the pot of rice she was cooking. “He’s Stuart’s son from an affair.”
Romy’s eyebrows shot up.
“I think his mother was Italian,” Magda went on, confirming at least that suspicion, though Romy was far more interested in the other revelation.
“So … Stuart had an affair?”
Magda gave her a warning look. “Darling, if you had ever met his wife, you wouldn’t blame him.”
Though Magda was far from conservative, she was fiercely loyal and it was an unusual stance for her to take. Nevertheless, Romy decided to let it go, at least until she’d had a chance to cross-examine Eames and ensure that he wasn’t about to cheat on her mother. Because if he did, she and her sisters would have plenty to say.
“Mom,” she said, suddenly noticing how much food her mother was preparing, “you realize there’s only four of us, right?”
“Five,” Magda flushed bright red and ducked her head. “Stuart’s joining us.”
“Oh, getting in an introduction under the wire, huh?” Romy grinned. “I guess I should help you with the rest of dinner, then …”
Stuart Eames had the same bright green eyes as his son, but his hair was close cropped and white. He had an easy smile that Romy liked, and a friendly manner which made the party all feel at ease. He greeted them all with utmost respect. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Magda is so proud of you all.”
Juno, curling herself into a chair, grinned at him. “I assure you, we don’t deserve it.”
Artemis, her blonde hair falling gracefully to her shoulders, shot her younger sister a warning look. “Don’t tease, Juno.”
Stuart laughed. “No, don’t stop teasing. Blue and I are always busting each other’s chops. It’s what families are supposed to do. Speaking of which, do you mind if I just have a quiet word with your mom about something? I swear it’ll take no more than five minutes.”
“Sure thing.”
Left alone, the sisters looked at one another.
“He’s cute,” Juno decided, and Artemis chuckled.
“Can you call a sixty-year-old cute?” Artemis smoothed her skirt down over her long legs, crossing them elegantly.
Romy sighed. Of all the Sasse sisters, she was the odd one out, dark-haired, dark eyed, and small in stature, if not in figure. Where her sisters were all long limbs and athletic, Romy was curvy, full-breasted, and petite. She still worked out as much as her siblings, but her figure was always going to be soft instead of athletic like them. Juno and Artemis took after their mother; Romy didn’t know where she’d gotten her curves from. She barely remembered what her father looked like. Oh, she knew people considered her beautiful, but she never played it up. Slightly myopic from a young age, she wore glasses instead of contacts, and stuffed her long, thick chestnut hair up into a messy bun more often than not.
Juno poked her with a foot now. “Will you be com
ing to our traditional Thanksgiving run this year?”
Giving her sister a cheesy smile, Romy said, “Sadly, I’ll be working.”
“Roms!”
“Sorry,” Romy sang in a not-so-at-all voice. She loathed running, unless it was towards something. Like pizza.
Juno sulked while Artemis grinned at Romy. “Nice work, Romy. And what with my broken ankle …”
“What broken ankle?” Juno shot her eldest sister a confused look.
“The one I’ll mysteriously acquire on Thanksgiving.” Artemis laughed and high-fived Romy.
“Don’t blame me when the pair of you get old and fat.” Juno sighed dramatically, then, lowering her voice, she nodded towards the kitchen where Stuart and their mother talking. “What do you think?”
“Too early to say.”
“He looks like Blue a little. Same eyes.”
Juno grinned. “You got a little crush, Romulus?”
Romy threw a pillow at her. “None of your business, quisling.”
Dinner was a fun affair, and Romy decided she liked Stuart very much. He was charming, intelligent, and seemed to adore her mother. Romy noticed, however, that Artemis was a little quieter than normal and when she questioned her sister afterward, Artemis shrugged.
“I’m just reserving judgement is all, Romy. We don’t know him that well yet.”
Romy went to work the next day, wondering if she should mention Stuart to Blue, but when she walked into the locker room, the place was in a chaotic state with people running every which way.
“What’s going on?” she asked, preparing herself mentally and physically for what would likely be a long haul.
“There’s been an attack at a sorority house,” Mac told her, his face pale. “Really nasty stuff. Eight girls, three dead. The rest are being brought in here. Allende is already operating.”
Every time she thought she was used to the darker side of her profession, Romy got a reality check. Because truthfully, there was no way to ever get used to innocents slaughtered.
Reaching for her scrubs automatically, she asked, “Does he want us in the observation room?”
“No.” They heard Blue’s voice behind them and turned. Clad in bloodstained scrubs, the handsome surgeon looked weary and grim-faced. “Romy, you’re with me in OR3; Mac, with Dr. Fredericks in OR7; Jim, Molly, and Flynn, emergency room until we can find theaters for the less injured girls. Come on, Romy.”
She changed and was back in under a minute. Blue briefed her on the way to theater. “Patient is Yasmin Levant, nineteen, multiple stab wounds to the abdomen, shattered left femur, looks like the killer stamped on it, possibly to incapacitate her. We’ve got Ortho coming in but her abdominal wounds are catastrophic, at least twenty-nine separate wounds.”
“God, poor girl.”
Blue nodded as they went to scrub. “Look, Romy, we’re going to do everything and anything to save her, but I have to warn you. The odds are against us.”
She’d expected as much, sadly, but appreciated the warning anyway.
After scrubbing, Romy followed him into the operating room where the victim lay on the table. She was covered in blood and barely breathing, blood bags and saline trying to keep her alive. Automatically, Romy avoided looking at anything but the injuries. Looking at the faces right off the bat when the situation was so dire … it didn’t help things.
For hours they operated, trying to repair the damage the knife had caused, pumping her full of blood, but at midnight, Blue called it. There was nothing else to do …
Yasmin Levant was dead.
Chapter 3
The adrenaline leaving her system, Romy felt weirdly emotional, horrified, and drained by the experience. She waited until almost everyone had left the room before walking up to Yasmin’s head. Finally looking at the young girl’s still, pale face, her dark hair blood-soaked to an auburn color, Romy saw herself reflected in the victim’s silent, still features. She whispered a silent apology for her failure and started removing the tubes from her throat.
“The nurses will do that,” Blue said gently, putting his hand on her back. Romy, unable to speak, just shook her head and eventually Blue began to help her, both working in silence until all the medical equipment had been cleared away and Yasmin lay on the table silent and still, but at least with slightly more dignity.
“Can I wash her face?” Romy found her voice breaking as she asked, but Blue, his eyes sad, shook his head.
“No, we have to keep her secure for the forensic team now. Even all of our equipment will need to be saved. The police will probably want a statement from all of us.”
Romy looked back down at Yasmin and a sob choked its way out of her. “Who would do this? Why?”
She felt Blue draw her away from the victim then and wrap his arms around her. It wasn’t what colleagues usually did, but Romy allowed it because she needed it. She leaned into him, tears filling her eyes.
“I wish I could tell you it gets easier in these cases, Romy, but it doesn’t,” he said softly, his voice achingly sad and kind. “The vile things people do to other humans—sometimes there is no reason why. Sometimes people are monsters.”
Romy nodded and looked up at him, wiping her eyes. “I know the type.”
Blue stopped, and his green eyes were intense on hers. For a long moment they gazed at each other before, blushing, Romy gave an awkward smile and stepped away. “I’m okay now. We’d better go talk to the family.”
“Of course.” There was pain in that beautiful voice of his and Romy wanted to hold him and comfort him as he had done with her, but Blue walked away. She followed him, running slightly to keep up with his long stride. He dwarfed her five-foot two by at least a foot, and suddenly he slowed down. “Sorry, piccolo, I’ll try not to walk so fast.”
“Piccolo?”
“Little one,” he explained, the tenderness in his voice tugging at her heart as much as the hint of a smile. Then as they neared the relative’s room, his smile faded. “Is this your first one?”
“First murder.” Romy’s heart began to beat out of her chest.
Blue nodded, squeezing her hand. “Just follow my lead.”
They knocked and walked in. A middle-aged woman, terrified, was sitting down, her arms wrapped around herself, and when she saw their faces, she moaned. “No, no, no, no…”
A man, her husband, his face etched with pain, stood. “Doc? Please don’t tell me …”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Levant. Despite our best efforts, Yasmin’s injuries were too severe and she died a short time ago.”
The woman collapsed in a sobbing, weeping huddle, and Blue kept talking to her husband as Romy moved to try and comfort Yasmin’s mother.
“There are no words for the regret I feel, we feel, at your loss.”
Trying futilely to soothe the mother’s unsoothable grief, Romy listened to Blue talk first to Yasmin’s father, then watched him take a turn gently addressing her bereft mother, comforting both as best as he could, answering all of their questions patiently and as fully as possible. But the truth was the one question would never be adequately answered.
Why?
Romy’s chest was tight with sorrow but she maintained her composure. Afterward, they talked to the police, those questions prolonging the endless night even further. Finally, as dawn began to break over Seattle, Romy went back to the locker room to change out of her bloody scrubs. The room was empty and echoed with each footstep and slam of the locker door.
Somehow managing to drag on her jeans and shirt, Romy slumped onto a bench afterward and put her head in her hands. The adrenaline from the surgery was long gone and now she felt wrecked. Her hip and leg ached from standing too long but she ignored the pain, trying not to break down. She failed, and silent, hot tears poured down her face. She buried her face in her hands to cry, her entire body trembling.
She heard him come in; it was impossible not to in the silence, but she didn’t expect to feel his arms go around her for
the second time that evening. Gently, he drew her head to his chest. His clean soap-and-spice smell was familiar now and Romy pressed her face into his sweater, breathing him in. He stroked her hair and whispered soft Italian words, resting his chin on her head and just letting her weep.
When she finally stopped crying, she looked up at him. His eyes were sad, but he held her gaze for a moment before brushing his lips against hers just briefly. It was clear from the look on his face that he’d intended it as no more than a reassurance, but the heat that instantly flared between them changed those intentions. They both felt it, so there was not even the slightest chance of denying the chemistry.
Blue framed her face with his big hands. “Are you sure, Romy?” His voice was low and sent shivers of desire through her body.
“It is wrong?” she whispered, looking up into his intensely compassionate eyes. “She just died. How can we …”
“Life has to go on, piccolo,” he said softly. “We honor those who go before us by continuing to live fully. But if you prefer not to, I understand absolutely—”
“No. Yes.” Romy slid her hand into his dark curls and kissed him hard, needing this. Needing him. Their mouths moved together hungrily, and when Blue stood and picked her up, it was like she belonged in his careful embrace. He carried her as if she weighed nothing, kicking open the door to the on-call room and locking it behind him.
He set her down on her feet and gently pulled at the drawstring of her pants, drawing them down her legs then pulling her top over her head. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said softly, and she could see the lust and admiration in his eyes. Her own hands went down to his groin, cupping his hard-on through his jeans. Damn, he was huge …
Blue pulled down the lacy cup of her bra and fixed his mouth on her nipple as he slid her panties down her legs, then expertly flicked her bra clasp open, letting her full, ripe breasts fall into his hands. The feel of his skin on hers was sending tingles racing through her body and she pushed his sweater over his head and ran her hands over the hard planes of his chest. Naked, Blue Allende was even more godlike, tall, broad-shouldered, and slim-hipped. He swept her onto the small bunk, kissing her as he kicked off his pants and underwear. Romy reached down to stroke his cock, the skin so silky, the hard, hot length of him filling her hands.
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