Providence p-1

by Jamie McGuire

  Jared’s eyes grew soft and he took a few steps toward me. The warmth of his hands sunk into my shoulders, and his jaw tensed as a flood of emotion scrolled across his face. His eyebrows pulled in before he gingerly pulled me to him and pressed his soft lips against mine. He ran his hands up my neck to my face where he held my cheeks in each of his hands. My surroundings vanished; the only thing I could focus on was the breathtaking heat against my mouth. An entire lifetime could have passed and still the kiss ended too soon. He pulled me tighter to his chest and then wheeled around, disappearing down the hall.

  I walked a few paces backwards and fell against the seat. The gravity of the situation pressed down on me with renewed strength. The danger, my fear, and the confusion about what I’d seen — what Jared was capable of — were swimming around in my mind. I should have been insane with anxiety but I felt the same sense of calm I’d felt on the side of the road the night before last. Ryan was going to be all right, my hand was still firmly attached to my wrist, and Jack’s gift was safely around my finger.

  I felt a twinge of shame as I realized none of those things were the reason for my frame of mind. My lips still tingled from the warmth of Jared’s kiss.

  I melted into the sofa, turning my head to press my cheek against the cushion for support. I was so fatigued it felt like work just to breathe.

  My heavy eyes rose to the wall of windows along the waiting room. Cynthia’s heels were quickly clicking down the hall.

  Chapter Five

  Disclosure

  “Nina! For the love of Christ, why didn’t you call me?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I wasn’t hurt,” I said, swaying as she tugged and pulled on me to look me over.

  She clutched me into her arms tightly. “Nina Elizabeth Grey, if anything had happened to you, I swear to God… I swear to God, I would have never forgiven him.”

  “I’m pretty sure those men wouldn’t have cared if you forgave them or not, Mom.”

  She gave me a wry look and hugged me again. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. You’re safe, that is what’s important.”

  “Did Beth call you?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes open.

  “What do you mean did Beth call me?” Her voice raised an octave. “I’m not allowed to see for myself that my only child is safe after she is…is attacked in the street by some junkie? Nina, you infuriate me sometimes! What were you doing at a bar, anyway? On that side of town, no less, you could have been killed! And you have the audacity to ask—”

  “Okay, Mom! Okay! I’m sorry!” I pulled her to me. She was very near hysterics. Usually my mother didn’t go to such extremes, but she had enough to agonize over without me being assaulted in dark alleys.

  Cynthia pulled away and held me at arm’s length. “Well, that’s enough of that,” she sighed, her typical poker face back into play. “Come, Dear. I’ll send someone for your car.”

  I shook my head. “I’m going to stay here and wait for Ryan to wake up.”

  “But you’re exhausted,” she argued in vain. We both knew I wouldn’t change my mind.

  Cynthia patted my knee and stood. “I expect you to be in your bed resting in four hours. No excuses, young lady.”

  I nodded as she clicked down the hallway. I rubbed my eyes and leaned back against my seat. The television was on a medical channel, something about insurance and prescriptions. It didn’t take me long to lose interest.

  Three hours later, the ICU nurse stood at my side. “Nina?”

  “Yes?” I sat up and blinked my eyes.

  “My name is Jenny. I’m Ryan’s nurse,” she smiled. “He’s awake. He’s asking for you.”

  I stood up and walked with her to the double doors. Before we made it through, a disheveled woman scampered down the hall toward us. She wore a brown waitress’ uniform and her frizzy black hair failed miserably at staying in the messy bun she’d fashioned.

  “I’m looking for Ryan Scott! I was told he’s in ICU?” she puffed.

  Jenny looked at me and then back to her. “Are you his…?”

  “Mother! I’m his mom. He’s here? Is he okay?” she said, breathless. “I’m Callie Scott. I’d like to see him, please.”

  Jenny extended an apologetic smile and then turned to Callie. “He’s here, Ms. Scott. I’ll show you to his room.”

  I trudged back to my seat, glancing at my watch. According to Cynthia, I had less than an hour to make my way home to rest. Unable to comply, I pulled my phone from my pocket to call in an explanation.

  As I dialed, Jenny poked her head into the waiting room doorway. “Nina?”

  “Yes?”

  She smiled. “He would still like to see you.”

  “Oh!” I said, surprised. I followed quickly behind her through the double doors and we stopped three rooms down. When she pulled back the heavy curtain, the rings grated across the metal bar.

  She smiled to her left. “I found her. She didn’t leave.”

  I peered into the room and inwardly cringed at the tubes and wires leading from Ryan’s body.

  “Hey, Nigh,” he rasped.

  I managed a half grin. “Today is the only day I’ll let you get away with that.”

  Ryan laughed and then winced.

  “Take it easy, Baby,” Callie said, searching for a place to touch him that wasn’t attached to a monitor or IV pump. She settled on brushing back his hair.

  “Mom, don’t fuss,” he whispered, leaning away from her nervous stroking.

  “Chad, Beth and Josh were here earlier; they’ll be back,” I said, touching his foot.

  Ryan nodded. “Is Jared still here?”

  I shook my head, making the corners of Ryan’s mouth turn up. I wasn’t sure how much he had seen, or how much he remembered.

  “It’s a good thing he’s stalking you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s not stalking me.”

  “How else do you explain him showing up out of nowhere?” Ryan pressed.

  “Who’s stalking you? Is this the man that attacked my son?” Callie’s face compressed with concern.

  “No, Mom. He’s the guy that kept us all from getting killed,” Ryan said, watching my face.

  Callie looked to me, still wanting answers.

  I fidgeted under her stare. “He’s a friend of mine that came just in time.”

  “As usual,” Ryan frowned. “You look like hell. Get some sleep.”

  “I can sleep later,” I argued. Of course he would be worried about me while he was lying in a hospital bed.

  “You can sleep now. My mom’s here, I don’t need both of you whining over every little thing.”

  “I don’t whine,” I said, feigning insult.

  “You can be kinda whiny,” he smiled and tapped his cheek. I maneuvered around the tubes and wires to kiss the spot he had indicated. Being this close to someone covered in hospital paraphernalia caused my ribs to wrench in an all too familiar way. I bit my lip with apprehension.

  “Hey,” he reached up an arm to brush my cheek with the back of his fingers. “I’m going to be fine. I’d do it again if I had to.”

  My face fell at his words. I knew how he felt about me, and how it would end. I couldn’t stand it if I ever hurt Ryan enough for him to hate me.

  My hands grabbed his. “You just concentrate on getting well before you start planning more knife fights, all right?”

  He grinned. “Sweet dreams, Nina.”

  I walked into the dark, curtains drawn and all bulbs extinguished. Beth was still cocooned inside her comforter breathing heavily. I peeled off my coat and fell face down onto my bed.

  I tried to lay as still as possible; I didn’t want to let my mind wander. Allowing thoughts would mean envisioning the attack, the blood, the eyes of the man that would cut off my hand to take my ring; the chilling sound of Ryan’s cry when he was impaled and Kim’s horrified expression in the car. I didn’t even want to dwell on Jared’s lips. I just wanted to sleep.

  My eyes shot open to the sound of the door
quietly pulling closed.

  “Beth?” I called, listening for any motion from her side of the room. She didn’t answer.

  I leaned up on my elbows and blinked my eyes several times until I could see clearly that Beth’s bed was empty and made. A note was on the back of the door, so I pushed myself slowly from the bed and ambled across the cold floor.

  Went with Chad and Josh to the hospital. See you there. ~Beth

  Ryan wouldn’t be at the hospital alone. Of course his mother might still be there, but it was good that he would have his friends around him. Beth would be home late, I assumed. I looked at the clock.

  Six o’clock!

  Scrambling from the bed, I rushed to change and brush my teeth, pulling my hair haphazardly into a ponytail. Just as I grabbed my keys, my stomach growled. Going off campus alone immediately seemed like a bad idea, and hoping for something edible at the hospital was being overly optimistic. Dinner at the Gate meant a long walk in the bitter cold outside, which would keep my mind off more troubling circumstances. I zipped up my coat and locked the door behind me.

  Soon I was within a dozen yards of my destination. I was right; shivering with every step had been the perfect diversion from the night before. I puffed out a steamy breath of relief as my mind concentrated on the warmth and subsequent thaw the doors of The Gate assured me.

  Before my hand reached the door handle, a man stepped from the shadows.

  I jerked to a stop. “Mr. Dawson?”

  “Do you have the file?” he asked, his eyes intent.

  Still on edge from the attack, my hands balled into fists and I shoved them in my pockets. I glanced at the door handle, seeing that it was just a foot or two from me.

  I forced my body to relax. “Mr. Rosen isn’t familiar with your transaction, but I could give you his number, if you’d like.”

  “So you’ll help me, then?” his eyes narrowed.

  “I’m not sure why you would think this incessant harassment would encourage me to be of assistance to you at all.” I was lying, of course. I knew how the intimidation game worked. I’d seen my father win it many times.

  “Nina, I’ve told you what I’m looking for. Your father and I—,”

  “Were involved in a property deal. You’ve said that,” I interrupted. “I’m his daughter, not his business partner. Please call Mr. Rosen.”

  I reached for the door, but Mr. Dawson grabbed my arm. With a quick jerk, he yanked me toward him. I gasped as he whispered in my ear with his guttural, growling voice. “I’m not playing games with you, little girl. Your father has documents and photos that I want. The last time I saw them, they were in a file in his office marked Port of Providence. I want that entire file, do you understand me? Unless you want mommy to have to deal with me later, I suggest you do as I ask.”

  Threatening my mother sent a courageous voice emanating from my throat, “Stay away from her!”

  Mr. Dawson snorted. “Just like Jack…never know when to back down.”

  “My father didn’t back down!”

  “And that’s what got him killed!” Mr. Dawson snarled, jerking my arm again.

  I felt my eyes widen in stunned disbelief. His reply didn’t make sense. My father died after his car accident.

  Mr. Dawson sighed and loosened his grip. “I’m doin’ you a favor, Peach. You don’t want caught within a hundred yards of that package. There are more dangerous things than me out there wantin’ it worse than I do. Bring it to me, and you and your mother will have a lot less to worry about.”

  His fingers slipped away from my arm, and he disappeared into the shadows of the neighboring building. I leaned my head against the frosty glass door, trying to gain the courage to move. Once the adrenaline absorbed into my body, I sucked in a gasp of air and slid to the ground.

  He didn’t come. I was in danger, and Jared didn’t come. I was surprised when the correlation hit me, and I wondered if I had just realized it or if I had known all along. The last time Mr. Dawson approached me, Jared was a no-show as well, but I reasoned that Ryan had been there. Ryan had controlled the situation enough so that Jared wasn’t needed. But this time I was alone. This time I needed him.

  Someone pushed the door open against me. “Are you all right?” A short, dark haired boy with glasses came into view, poking his head through the semi-open door.

  “Did you want to come in?” the boy asked, confused at his discovery.

  I pushed myself off the ground. “No, thank you,” I said, quickly turning toward Andrews.

  I didn’t look back to see his inevitable bewildered expression; I was too intent on my mission. I would return to my mother’s house and turn it upside down if I had to. I ran down the hall to the open elevator and tapped the button of my floor several times, leaning back against the rail. As the doors finally closed, my mother squeezed by them, causing them to jolt open once more.

  “I trust you’ve slept,” she said.

  “Is that why you’re here?” I asked, surprised.

  “Do I need a reason?” She was very nearly offended, but dismissed my question to address more important things. “Nina, honestly. You look frightful. How much sleep did you get?”

  “Enough,” I stepped out of the elevator and pulled her with me.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, reluctant to be dragged along.

  “I want to go home. Can I go home with you?”

  “Of course.” I was sure she was curious what had possessed me to make such an atypical request; I had treated our home like ground zero of a quarantined leper colony since the funeral.

  I tugged at her coat to quicken her pace and she abruptly stopped. “What is going on, Nina?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, pulling at her arm again.

  “This!” she said, motioning to my hand on her arm. “This is what I mean. What is so urgent?”

  I exhaled in a frustrated puff. “Beth is at the hospital and I don’t want to be alone. I’m sorry if I’m being overly enthusiastic.”

  “Enthusiastic? Nina, you haven’t tugged on my coat like that since you were five. Is there another reason you want to go home?”

  I stared at her blankly. I didn’t want to lie to her again.

  “All right,” she sighed. “Robert is waiting in the car.”

  En route, Cynthia fiddled with her carefully placed French bun and asked generic questions about school. She was suspicious of my behavior, but as was the norm with my mother, she insisted on overlooking the obvious to obtain a false sense of security. She didn’t speak for the rest of the trip home to keep from spoiling the illusion with trivial things like the truth.

  Robert slowed when he entered our long drive. My mother smiled at him when he opened her door, and I followed behind her to the house.

  Once inside, I peeled off my scarf, hat, coat, and finally my gloves. I rubbed the residual chill still clinging to my arms, methodically going over my plan in my mind.

  “Nina, don’t hover in doorways. It’s rude.”

  “I’m going upstairs,” I said in passing.

  I rushed to my father’s office, hoping my eyes would open to something I had missed before. I walked along the outer edges of the room and ran my hand along the surface of the wall, feeling the uneven texture with my fingertips. I tried not to concentrate on any one thing; I wanted to leave my mind open to any clues that I might have overlooked before.

  My fingertips grazed the spines of my father’s books. I pulled a few of them out and looked behind them, knocking on the wall they stood against. I crawled under his desk and felt for anything abnormal.

  When I found nothing, I returned to the walls, the cabinets, and then the bookcase. I went over them all again, trying to see them a different way, to touch them differently, to appraise them for anything that seemed out of place. As my patience waned, so did my objectivity. I began plowing through the cabinets as I had before, slamming them shut and muttering under my breath.

  I sat on the floor against the front of Jack
’s desk and stared across the room with my elbows on my knees. The answers were here; I was missing something.

  I lifted my chin in interest when my father’s favorite painting caught my eye. I scrambled to my feet and reached under the edges of the large frame. Determined, I reached closer to its center, knelt down and peered under it, and even pulled it a bit from the wall. I didn’t see anything remarkable, so I reached up blindly, hoping to find something that didn’t belong. There was nothing.

  I stomped in anger. “DADDY!”

  I looked around the room with my hands defiantly on my hips, blowing my bangs from my face. There were four other paintings in the room. I rushed each one, mimicking the sweep I’d just done with the larger painting. I ripped the fourth one off the wall and searched the backside of the frame. Looking at the now-empty wall, I felt another scream of aggravation coming on.

  How could there be nothing in his office? No safes, no secret doorways, no….

  Keys. There were keys in Jack’s desk. The first time I’d searched his office I assumed they were his car keys. But the car he drove himself — his Jag — was totaled. Scrap metal. What were the keys to?

  In my haste to get to the desk, my hip smashed into the corner with a loud crack. I stifled a cry and doubled over, using the desk to steady myself. I attempted to rub the sting away with one hand, and pulled open the drawer containing the keys with the other. I held the keys in my palm, trying to remember if I’d seen a lock that the keys might fit. I slowly turned my head toward the wall of cabinets. The center tower of files was locked.

  Surely, he wouldn’t be this obvious, I thought.

  I hobbled to the cabinets and tugged on the drawer. It was still locked.

  The first key only went in half way. I tried three more keys; the fourth easily slid in, but wouldn’t turn. Two keys later, I found myself cursing my father, Mr. Dawson, even the metal in my hands. I gripped the last key between my thumb and finger and closed my eyes.

  The key slid in, and I rotated my wrist. It began to turn, and then caught. None of the keys were to the locked file cabinet.