by Joya Fields
“Brooke,” he whispered. He held her chin and gently raised her face.
He left her no choice but to look at him now. She lifted her gaze and met his dark brown eyes. The emotions that flickered in his stare along with his heated touch made her head spin more than the drugs she’d had earlier.
In a flash, his expression changed, replaced with a business-like façade. “I’ll talk to the guys on patrol tonight. They’ll keep an eye on your motel through the night.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else.
When he didn’t add anything, she nodded. “Thanks, I appreciate everything you’ve done to help my friends.” She turned and started down the hallway.
She listened for footsteps. Any sign that he’d walked through the automatic doors. Instead, her body tingled with awareness and she knew he stared as she disappeared around a corner.
A tall African American man wearing green scrubs and an overgrown afro stood next to her as she waited for the elevator. He looked at his feet, whistling a song between his teeth. The sound reverberated around the deserted hallway.
She didn’t recognize the tune, but shivers traveled down her spine at the haunting noise. Jabbing the button again, he shrugged, then shuffled toward the stairs.
****
The man chuckled and took a seat in an old vinyl chair in the hospital waiting room. The lack of security at the hospital amused him. He found an employee badge in the break room. Sure, they kept the room locked, but he’d asked a harried nurse for the code and with one look at his scrubs, she’d relayed the information. He’d wait until the shift change, when everyone was preoccupied. Then he’d slip into Jeff’s room, add a little something to his meds, and be rid of one more pesky kid. One down, two to go. Half the fun was in the game.
He leaned back and took a sip of the soda he’d taken from one of the nurses’ bag lunches in the refrigerator. A few more minutes, then he’d make his move.
In the meantime, he’d keep himself entertained with the memory of the look on Brooke’s face when he’d stood close to her earlier.
She’d acted as if she could read his mind, as if she’d known he was thinking about how much fun it would be to kill her.
He wanted to kill her even more than the others. He’d overheard enough to know she thought she was smart enough to outsmart him.
****
The next morning, Garrett focused on the air filter in his hand and clipped it into place.
“Might end up putting the filter in the gas tank the way things are going today,” he mumbled to himself.
He couldn’t concentrate worth a damn. His mind kept wandering to a certain short-haired blonde with gray-blue eyes.
He gave up on the truck repair for now. He grabbed a rag, cleaned his hands and crossed the garage to the house. Time for a coffee break.
While the coffee brewed, he cast a glance out the kitchen window at the pouring rain and the water beyond. He’d always loved the view from his house—the canal had a calming quality on his nerves. But the marble-sized raindrops hitting the water made his frustration grow today. He wanted to be out there. He needed to find that box. The storm kept him ashore.
He also needed Brooke. And not just for her professional expertise. The thought bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Even a day later, his chest tightened when he remembered the taste of her mouth during their impromptu kiss.
The coffee maker beeped and he pulled a mug out of the cupboard, filling it to the top.
Brooke Richards. In just two short days, he’d gotten used to having her around. He leaned on the counter, hypnotized by the rain, and took a hot gulp of his brew. He could still picture her face as he left her at the hospital last night.
“Trying to get rid of me,” he mumbled again.
Why? His gut told him she needed to take care of things her way. That impressed the hell out of him. She had no parents or siblings…no boyfriend. He frowned when his mind registered relief at that last part. She took care of herself in spite of the prosthetic and all the barriers that were constantly thrown in her way.
But it didn’t stop her from moving forward. Hell yeah, impressive.
Last night, when he said good-bye to Brooke, he’d almost said “call me when you get home.” He’d been smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
She might have bolted the other way if he’d voiced the words.
He took another gulp of coffee and walked back to the garage. He’d been resisting the urge to call her all morning. He’d started dialing her phone number at least a dozen times. He’d stopped himself each time.
Shaking his head, he grabbed his rag and rubbed oil from the hood of his truck. He’d occupy himself with garage duty. A good way to spend a rainy Sunday morning before he had to report for work at ten.
No matter how much he needed Brooke’s ocean expertise, he wouldn’t let her put herself in danger’s way. Bait she’d said? Hell no, he’d make sure nobody followed through on that idea.
His heart squeezed at the thought of something bad happening to her. He’d protect her. This time would be different.
This time he would make sure nobody died.
****
The man pulled off the afro and hurled it across the hospital bathroom. He’d never been so insulted in his life. Instead of watching Jeff spasm and die from an overdose, he’d been forced to work as an orderly for the past hour.
He’d underestimated the staff’s distraction. The hospital was so damn understaffed that they saw him as relief from their workload. Two nurses had even fought over him. In the end, he figured it would be better to remain inconspicuous and do the work.
But now someone would have to pay for his dirtied hands. The work he’d been forced to do was so far beneath him, he couldn’t even think about it without shuddering.
He crossed the bathroom, picked up the wig and shoved it back into place. There were other ways to silence the three know-it-alls.
****
Brooke stood by the conference room window at the police station. Rain sheeted against the broad pane and blurred the parking lot outside.
She’d spent the day at the hospital running back and forth between Linda’s third floor room, Jeff’s fifth floor intensive care unit, and the cafeteria, getting coffee for Mr. and Mrs. Yi.
She glanced at her watch and willed the police to hurry. When Deputy Cooper had phoned saying she had some information, Brook had raced to meet the deputies at the police station.
But she had to get back to the hospital soon. Linda was still under doctor’s orders to stay in bed. Mrs. Yi was by her side, but Brooke had promised Linda she’d return to check on Jeff. The doctors believed his coma was the result of an allergic reaction to something he’d taken. Or been given. Brooke’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be the same drug she’d been given yesterday.
Soft footsteps behind her jolted her from her thoughts. Brooke turned away from the window and faced Deputies Cooper and Fisher.
Cooper offered her a friendly smile and moved to sit in a cushioned chair by the small conference table.
“Ms. Richards,” Fisher said in a gruff voice, “have a seat.”
Brooke slid into a chair near Cooper and pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off another headache that started to hammer at her brain.
Fisher remained standing and opened his notebook.
“Before we start, I’d like to say something,” Brooke said.
“What’s that?” Fisher clicked his pen.
Brooke pressed her lips together, unsure about how to phrase her idea. “I want to offer to go out on a boat again, alone. Maybe I can pretend I’m hunting for the box by myself. It might flush out whoever is doing these awful things.”
Fisher narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “You think your friend’s vessel explosion and your kidnapping are connected?”
Brooke nodded. “And the attack on Jeff. I’m sure somebody knows that the three of us have knowledge of underwater excavat
ion techniques and they are trying to keep us from finding that box.”
Cooper cleared her throat and Brooke glanced at her. “Let’s explore other options first. How’s Jeff doing?” Cooper asked. Her cloudy eyes showed genuine concern, but Brooke wondered if she was trying to change the subject.
“Not good. Still in a coma.” Brooke hadn’t been able to get close, but the nurses let her look at him through the glass doors. He still had stitches on his face from the accident, and now he had a huge bump on his head. His swollen face was almost as pale as his hospital bed sheets. “He had an allergic reaction—probably to a drug—and they think he had seizures before he passed out.”
Fisher narrowed his eyes and stared at Brooke. “We got the lab results for the drug used by the old man on the boat.”
“And?” she asked, leaning forward.
“Propofol.” He let the word hang between them as if it might mean something to Brooke. It didn’t.
“What is that?”
“It’s a sedative…works quickly.” Fisher crossed his arms and stood tall. He was building up to something.
Brooke decided silence might be the best way to get him to continue.
The conference room door opened with a loud squeak and Brooke’s stomach pitched when Garrett walked into the room. Everyone else in the room faded from her view when she took in his black t-shirt and jeans, a holstered gun, and a badge clipped to his belt.
Brooke hated it, but she felt suddenly safer.
“Miss Richards.” Garrett nodded at her. He pulled out a chair, turned it around, and straddled it.
Hal Fisher cleared his throat, and then continued. “Ms. Richards. You said yesterday that the old man was very strong for someone so old.”
Cooper turned to face Brooke. “And that he was almost six feet tall.”
“Right,” Brooke said.
“Here’s the thing.” Cooper took a look at Garrett, then back to Brooke. “Jeff was injected with the same sedative. Like you, the drug was shot into his neck. He’s almost six feet tall.”
Her last sentence fell between them like a rock.
Brooke shifted in her seat. “He didn’t try to commit suicide. He wouldn’t. I know him better than that.”
Cooper nodded and kept her gaze on Brooke. Fisher glared at her.
Garrett raised both palms and wiggled his fingers. “Out with it, deputies. What’s your theory?”
“Okay. Let’s assume Jeff didn’t try to commit suicide,” Fisher said, his voice even. “We found gray hairs on Jeff’s clothing.” He paused, as if he wanted to dole the information out a little at a time.
“And?” Brooke’s frustration grew. She had to get back to the hospital before visiting hours ended. At this rate, she’d never make it.
“They match the gray hairs found on Garrett’s boat. The gray hairs of the old man who drugged you.” Fisher walked closer to the table and leaned on his palms.
Brooke shrugged and looked to Garrett for help. He narrowed his eyes at Fisher, then raised a brow at her.
Her gut lurched, and the headache kicked in. “You think Jeff came out on a vessel disguised as an old man and attacked me?” This was crazy! Her mind raced as she thought of a way to explain it couldn’t have been Jeff.
Cooper stood, pocketing her hands in her khaki uniform pants. In spite of the plain tan color and stiff masculine fabric, the uniform didn’t hide her curves and beauty.
“There’s another theory.” Her eyes flashed with compassion. “Jeff could have been attacked by the same person who attacked you.”
Brooke let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. A reasonable supposition. But her happiness was short-lived.
“Don’t act so relieved. That only means someone is after both of you,” Fisher said.
Brooke shuddered. “Who is the old man?”
“That’s exactly what I’d like to know,” Garrett said.
****
Brooke stabbed the elevator button again, willing it to come faster.
Her leg throbbed from being on her feet so much these past days. She needed to reschedule her appointment with Dr. Merrick for a new prosthetic first thing in the morning. She hoped he was still in town. According to tabloids, he spent a good deal of his time in Hollywood. He hung with famous people who’d been plastic surgery patients.
A dinging alerted her to the elevator’s arrival.
She couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital tonight. The smell of pine cleaner and bleach gave her the full-force headache she’d been trying to avoid. The elevator reached the lobby and she resisted the urge to run to the front door.
Outside, the cool night breeze erased the feel of the hospital. The rain had finally stopped, leaving a fresh, clean scent in the air. She inhaled deeply, letting the atmosphere calm her nerves.
She pulled out her cell phone and stared at it. After seeing Garrett this afternoon, she hadn’t been able to get him—his funny lopsided dimple, his deep brown eyes and most of all, the taste of his lips—off her mind.
Could a man like him ever step back enough to let a girl take care of herself? He had a good heart and meant well. But his protection might lead to over-protection.
She scrolled through her phone contacts and found his name. Just because she wanted to be with him didn’t mean she depended on him.
With shaking hands, she dialed his number.
Chapter Eight
Garrett couldn’t believe his luck. Just as he’d stepped out of the shower, she called.
And to think he’d almost missed it.
He grinned at the memory of her voice on the phone. She’d almost been shy in her invitation.
Garrett pulled his old pickup into the tavern parking lot. He spotted her rental car and maneuvered into an empty space near her.
He couldn’t have gotten out of his truck any faster if he’d tried.
“Hey!” Her blonde hair blew into her eyes when she stepped out of her car and into the evening breeze. The gentle wind made her ankle-length deep blue sundress cling to her body.
He moved fast to close the distance between them. He didn’t care if she knew he’d been anxious to see her. He’d been thinking about her all day. After she left the station, he spent a good ten minutes picturing her full lips and sad gray-blue eyes.
“Glad you called. I didn’t feel like sitting at home after a twelve-hour shift, and I can never sleep right after work—too riled up.” He stood close enough to smell the fruity scent of shampoo on her hair. “Rough day today?”
He dated often enough—party animal Connie who could dance and have fun till dawn or super-sexy bartender Annette who made heads turn wherever they went. But Brooke was different. And if the way she was there for her friends was any clue—a good friend. His gut stirred at the thought. But he had something else he needed to discuss with her, too.
“Yeah, rough day.” She leaned against her car, looking sexy and tired at the same time. “Thanks for the beer idea.” Her lips curved into a slow smile. A sultry, seductive smile that made him want to pull her against him, kiss her all night.
“Let’s get that drink.” He offered his elbow and moved them out of the dimly-lit parking lot and into a crowded bar as quickly as possible before he acted on his impulse to kiss her breath away.
He knew he needed to find Tessa. He wouldn’t forget that for a minute. But maybe he could get to know Brooke better while they worked together. What better way to keep her safe than to keep her close? His only obstacle would be to keep his feelings at bay.
He glanced at her tanned shoulders, guided her through the door, and wondered how much control he had over that situation.
They had their pick of almost any table in the roadside bar. Maybe if they sat in the middle of the room, where the six or eight people in the place could see them, he’d be able to keep his mind off kissing her. But the waitress waved at them from the back, beckoning them to a corner booth. The rest of the dining room was closed for the night.
>
“What can I get ya?” the waitress asked. She sported two long gray braids and a gap-toothed smile.
Garrett slid into the booth across from Brooke. When his leg brushed against hers, heat soared through his veins. He concentrated on the gap in the woman’s teeth to keep his mind off the woman across from him.
“Beer or wine?” Garrett asked, turning to Brooke.
“Beer. Light beer.”
“Two drafts—one light, one regular,” he said.
“You got it.” She crossed the room and disappeared behind the bar.
How could he concentrate with Brooke’s body so close to his? He shifted his legs to the side and leaned back, thinking that would put some distance between them. All it did was put him directly in front of those gray-blue eyes of hers. His mind struggled to make sense of the feelings that battled inside. He wanted her more than any woman he’d wanted in a long time. But his brain blasted warning signals.
Everything about her screamed “take care of me.” But he knew she didn’t want that. The urge to protect her overwhelmed him. It had nothing to do with her disability and everything to do with what he’d been through years ago. He wouldn’t bring that kind of baggage to Brooke’s doorstep.
He liked her way too much to do that.
He also liked her way too much to let her endanger herself. “I heard about your offer to the sheriff’s office.” He let his words hang in the air between them without further explanation.
“Oh…uh, yeah.” She picked up the salt shaker and turned it in her hand, stared at it as if it were fascinating.
He put a hand over hers. “It’s too dangerous. And there are other ways.”
She glanced up, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she looked over his shoulder, or somewhere beyond. “Yeah, well, that’s pretty much what they told me.”
“Good. So it’s settled.”
She shrugged, but he took it as a positive sign that she didn’t argue the point. Time for a change in subject.