“What exactly were the two of you discussing?”
“My inheritance. I received it on my birthday this year.” Guilt twisted her insides. The lies were beginning to eat at her, but she couldn’t tell Matt about the chain of events that led to his father’s attack, or that a very powerful man might be behind them. Matt was too impetuous and might take it upon himself to go after the Doyles. “Can you take us in to see him now?”
“Only you. He stays here.”
“I’ll see you in a bit,” Ashley whispered to Ron, then followed Matt and Lorraine. There were no more police officers outside Uncle Jerry’s room. Sonya was seated beside the bed when they walked in, one hand on her husband’s arm and the other on an open Bible. She greeted Ashley with a tepid smile.
“Hi, Aunt Sonya,” Ashley whispered, then walked to her side. Her gaze moved to Uncle Jerry as she stooped low to hug Sonya. He looked a lot better than he did the last time she saw him. The swellings on his face had gone down, leaving behind dark patches. One eye was swollen shut, the other one barely opened. He was still hooked to every machine imaginable, and his head was bandaged. “How’s he doing?”
“Much better now, praise be to God. He can’t speak yet, but he can move his fingers and scribble a little.” She indicated the piece of paper and pen by the phone. “That’s how he asked for you.”
“Mom, why don’t you go with Lorraine to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee? I’ll get you when Dad’s done with Ashley.”
“No, no, son, I need to be here. Your father needs me.” She wriggled her hands, her gaze darting to the machines monitoring her husband’s vitals.
“I know, Mom.” Matt moved to stand next to his mother and rubbed her shoulders. “But right now, Dad needs to tell Ashley something.”
His mother reached for one of her husband’s hands and gripped it. “What if something goes wrong while I’m gone? I’d hate for Jerry to think I was—”
“He’ll be okay,” Matt interrupted gently. He threw Ashley a glance. “Ashley will be here with him and I’ll be right outside the door. Nothing is going to happen.”
Sonya stared at her husband for a beat, then leaned forward and touched his bandaged cheek. “I’ll be right back, dear.”
Tears filled Ashley’s eyes. The wealth of love in Sonya’s eyes was so beautiful to watch. As soon as she left with Lorraine, Ashley sent Matt a weak smile. This time, Matt didn’t return her smile. His gaze was probing.
“Ashley, if you knew something about this Dunn guy or why he was after Dad, you’d tell me, right?”
He knew she’d lied. Her guilt skyrocketed. She was tired of lying to people she loved. But like a robot, her mouth opened and she kept at it. “Of course, Matt. Like I’d told you, Dunn must have thought that I overheard the conversation between him and your father.”
He searched her face. “Did you?”
“No.”
His expression said he didn’t believe her. “And the guy out there? Was he with you at the time?”
“His name is Ron.” She was getting tired of his attitude. “And yes, he was.”
Matt shook his head. “I’ll be waiting outside.” He glanced at his father, then pivoted on his heels, but not before Ashley saw pain cross his eyes and the determined gleam that followed. Stats on Ryan Doyle ran through her head. The man was ruthless. If he hired Dunn then got rid of him, there was no telling what he’d do to anyone getting close to the truth.
“Matt,” she called out. He stopped, but didn’t turn toward her. “Dunn is dead. Let this go.”
“Not before I know why he went after my father,” Matt said, opening the door.
A soft sound from the bed drew her gaze to Uncle Jerry. A sigh escaped her when the door closed behind Matt. She took the seat Sonya had previously occupied and reached for her uncle’s hand.
“Sorry about that, Uncle Jerry.” He appeared to be trying to communicate something with his eye. “I just don’t want to see Matt hurt.”
He closed then opened his eye.
Was that a yes? Ashley watched his functional eye and said, “If you agree with me, blink once.” He closed then opened his eye. Ashley smiled. “If it’s no, blink twice.” He blinked twice. Elated, she grinned. They could communicate.
“What did you want to talk to me about, Uncle Jerry?” His fingers twitched in hers. “Do you want a pen?” He blinked once.
Ashley retrieved the writing pad and the pencil from beside the telephone. For the next few minutes, she worked with him. The pencil kept slipping from his fingers and he needed a break every now and then, but he managed to write the letters D and O.
“Do…. Do what?”
He tried to write the next letter but couldn’t grip the pencil very well. Either fatigue was pulling him under or the sedatives were starting to kick in.
“You need a break, Uncle Jerry.”
He blinked twice, but with great deal of difficulty. Anger gripped her heart at seeing him, such a brilliant man, reduced to communicating with his eyes, and even that was proving to be hard. Fighting tears, Ashley placed his fingers around the pen and steadied his hand as he wrote the next two letters, Y and L. When his hand suddenly sagged against hers, she knew she couldn’t allow him to continue anymore. She removed the pen from his fingers.
“It’s okay, Uncle Jerry. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here until you’re ready to try again.” When he closed his eye, Ashley sat back and swiped at her tears with the heel of her hand. When she was in control of her emotions, she turned her attention to the scribbled letters.
Most of them were crooked and disjointed, but going by the order he wrote them…. Could he be trying to write Doyle? Her glance moved to Kirkland’s face. Should she ask him? She gnawed on her lower lip as she debated with herself.
Feeling terribly guilty at what she was about to do, Ashley tentatively leaned closer to him. “Uncle Jerry?” she whispered. “Can you hear me?” There was no response. Her gaze glued on his face, she took his hand in hers and squeezed gently. “Uncle Jerry?”
His fingers moved, then his eye opened. She leaned closer. “Uncle Jerry, were you trying to write the name Doyle?”
He blinked once.
“Ryan Doyle?”
His body started to twitch and the peeping sounds of the machines filled the room. Panic washing over her, she reached for the nurse’s button and pushed.
“Somebody help me,” she yelled, repeatedly pumping the call button until two nurses rushed into the room with Matt on their heels.
“What happened?” one of the nurses asked Ashley as she and her colleague worked on Uncle Jerry. Matt’s angry gaze was on his father, too.
Ashley stepped out of their way and leaned against the wall for support, her knees rubbery. “I don’t know. One minute, his eye was open, the next it closed and he started to convulse.” Too late, she recalled the partially written name on the pad. A fresh bout of panic pitched through her. She moved her hands behind her and scrunched up the page, ripped it from the book and slipped it in the back pocket of her pants.
Taking a shaky breath, Ashley leaned forward to check on Uncle Jerry. He was still and the machines had stopped peeping. “Is he going to be okay?”
One of the nurses looked at her. “He’s fallen back into a coma.”
Her throat closed, trapping air in her lungs. It was her fault. She shouldn’t have pushed him for an answer. When she turned her horrified gaze on Matt, he jerked his head toward the door and left the room. Ashley hurried after him.
“I swear, Matt. I didn’t do anything.” Her hand went to her chest. “I just needed to—”
“Come with me.” He gripped her arm and led her away from the doorway. When they were a fair distance away, he said, “Of course you didn’t cause him to go into a coma. You were here because he wanted to tell you something.” He searched her face. “What was it?”
Ashley sighed, relieved that he didn’t blame her. “Matt—”
“Don’t blow me off, Ashle
y. I know he wrote something down because the paper and pen weren’t where I left them earlier. If he gave you a clue to what Dunn was after, then I need to know what it is.”
Ashley shook her head. The last thing she wanted was for Matt to get involved in this mess. One injured member of his family was enough. “He didn’t write anything, Matt. He tried, but the pen kept slipping from his fingers.”
Matt took a step toward her, and from a man of his girth, the movement could be downright scary. But she knew he would never harm her.
He scowled at her. “The same thing happened when he wrote your name, but it didn’t stop him. He was determined to see you for a reason, Ashley. Why?” When Ashley just shook her head, Matt pressed his hands against the wall on either side of her, neatly blocking her exit. “Are you forgetting who I am? I’m his son, damn it. I have a right to know what’s going on.”
Ashley released a shaky breath. This could get ugly. To make matters worse, the nurses chose that moment to leave Uncle Jerry’s room. One went to the nurses’ station, while the other walked toward them.
“I can’t, Matt. Your father would not want you to—”
“You don’t know what my father would want from me,” he snapped.
“Is there a problem here?” the nurse asked when she reached them.
Matt glared at Ashley then dropped his arms. “No, ma’am. My cousin and I are having a little chat.”
“Then keep it low or take it outside. This is the ICU, you know.”
As soon as the nurse disappeared, Matt glared at Ashley. She winced at the anger burning in his eyes. She felt like a traitor. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. I cannot believe you’d hide something from me, Ashley. You’re like a sister to me, a member of my family.” He jabbed the air in front of her face with his forefinger and ground through his teeth, “Whatever information he gave you, you’d better put it to good use or as God is my witness, I’ll hold you accountable for this mess. All of it.”
Silence followed. Ashley’s heart threatened to leap from her throat. She sighed with relief when Ron appeared around a corner. Matt saw him too and dropped his arm.
“Are you guys done already?” Ron asked.
Ashley nodded.
Matt stepped away from her. He ignored Ron and snarled between his teeth, “Remember what I said.”
“What’s going on?” Ron’s gaze bounced between Ashley and Matt.
She didn’t answer him. Her eyes stayed on Matt, who threw Ron a mean smile.
“Ashley and I were merely discussing her options. From now on, she’s not to come anywhere near my father. And she shouldn’t call the hospital anymore either. I’ll tell the nurses she’s not a member of my family and therefore shouldn’t be given an update on my father’s condition.”
Ashley couldn’t believe her ears. How could Matt be so cruel? As he lumbered away, regret coursed through her.
“Sweetheart? What’s going on?”
The urgency in Ron’s voice reached her as though from afar and reason returned. It wasn’t Matt’s fault. He was acting out his frustrations because he couldn’t punish the person who’d hurt his father. And there was no way she would give him the name on the piece of paper.
Ron gripped her arms. “What just happened?”
Ashley blinked at him. She took a deep breath and tried a nonchalant smile. From the scowl on Ron’s face, she knew she hadn’t pulled it off. She started to explain, but her breath hitched.
He pulled her in his arms and held her tight. “Shh. It’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
She closed her eyes and squeezed him hard. The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart gave her the support she craved.
“Let’s go home,” she whispered when she had her emotions under control. “We need to discuss Ryan Doyle.”
***
“What happened with Hogan?” Doyle asked in a neutral tone. The only indicator of his anger was the twitch in his right hand.
Frankie shifted his body. “Ironside got careless.”
“No,” Doyle’s voice whipped out like lightning. “You got careless, Frankie. How could you use an amateur? No one was supposed to get hurt.”
“That’s where you are wrong,” Frankie retorted. “In our line of business, people do get hurt. Just because you choose not to deal with some of our business associates doesn’t make them choir boys.”
Doyle glowered, hating to admit that Frankie was right. After his stint in prison, he vowed to never to deal directly with criminals. The deaths at Carlyle House ten years ago should never have happened, but he’d accepted the incident for what it was, an accident, and moved on.
“Hogan’s death was a mistake,” Frankie continued. “He swerved too sharply and went over the embankment. As for Kirkland, things got a bit out of hand.”
Doyle studied the man. A master at reading body language, he knew that a person’s true feelings could be determined from subtle gestures. Was Frankie being deliberately careless? Could he be behind the letters Ron Noble received or was Doyle becoming paranoid?
“Did Ironside get anything from Kirkland?” Doyle asked.
Frankie shook his had. “Like Hogan, he had nothing to do with the letters. That leaves Nina and the Fitzgerald girl.”
Doyle tried to contain his annoyance. Frankie had never liked Nina Noble because of the way the actress had treated Doyle over the years. If it were left to him, he would have gotten rid of her years ago. Despite their shared history, Doyle would destroy Frankie if he ever hurt Nina. No one touched what belonged to him.
“Why would the girl send Ron Nobles letters and put her name on it?” he asked.
“Because women do crazy things.” Frankie’s eyes flashed with hatred. “With the bugs removed from her loft, I can’t monitor the girl. The problem is Nina’s son. He keeps getting in the way and making my job difficult.”
Doyle stroked his chin, his gaze not shifting from Frankie’s face. “Are you sure the ex-firefighters are innocent?”
Frankie sighed. “I questioned them myself.”
“Where are they now?”
“On a fishing trip, but they won’t be talking to anyone when they come back. I made sure of that.”
Doyle’s eyes narrowed. “How?”
“I explained to them how they will lose everything if they didn’t cooperate with me. If we want to finish this now, we must get rid of the Fitzgerald girl and Nina’s boy,” Frankie insisted, leaning forward. “They’re sleeping together, so if we get rid of one, the other might continue with the investigation. The only solution is to get rid of them both.”
Doyle hated the thought of hurting Nina’s boy, but he believed in self-preservation. Someone was using the boy to destroy him. If one of them had to go, he’d rather it wasn’t him. Besides, Ron was already messing with his plans by financing Nina’s play, and killing him might just push Nina into his arms.
Doyle cleared his throat. “Okay. Take care of them.” His gaze went to the four panels on one of the security computer screens on his walls. His chest swelled with pride as Vaughn stepped out of the limo, a briefcase in his hand, and started for the house. “My son is home,” he added.
“Did you ask him about the incident with the Fitzgerald girl outside the hospital?” Frankie asked, his gaze also on the screen.
“It was a chance meeting, Frankie. Nothing else.” The first time Doyle heard about Vaughn talking to the girl outside his home, he’d become suspicious and asked Frankie to take over as his son’s driver. But after questioning the previous driver, Doyle realized there was no reason to suspect his son was involved with the Fitzgerald girl. He didn’t understand why Frankie mistrusted Vaughn. Perhaps it was jealousy. Frankie used to be his confidant, but not anymore. Soon, Nina would have that privilege.
Doyle got up and walked to the window. He ignored the secluded mansions and street lights dotting the road between his home and Nina’s. The clear view of her place from his den was why
he’d bought this home. She often stood on her balcony, not knowing he was watching. At times, like tonight, light blazed inside her bedroom, giving him an occasional glimpse of her silhouette as she prepared for bed. He must start courting her again.
“I’d better be going,” Frankie said from behind him.
Doyle turned. “Of course. How are things in Mexico?”
Frankie shifted. “Under control.”
Something in his expression had Doyle narrowing his eyes. “But?”
“There was an episode, but she’s stable now.”
“An episode?”
“A heart attack. They resuscitated her.”
He pinned Frankie down with a hard gaze, watching for any telltale signs of deceit. When Frankie’s gaze didn’t waver, relief surged through him. Even that made him angry. He was becoming paranoid. Frankie would never betray him.
As for the bitch, let her rot in the hell of her own creation. After two failed marriages and two daughters, Doyle had been thrilled to learn he had a son, a strapping young man whose brilliance was only matched by his good looks. The mother’s excuse for keeping them apart, that Doyle was a crime boss and unfit to raise his son, landed her in that sanitarium in Mexico. She got what she deserved. No one denied him what was rightfully his. She never even tried to get money from him for child support, yet he knew she wasn’t making much as an accountant. Pride had made her keep his only son from him. He hoped the same pride had kept her company these past five years while they pumped her full of drugs.
Doyle tightened the sash of his robe and walked away from the window. “When you get back, make sure she signs a DNR form, so if she gets another heart attack, I want them to let her die. It’s time to wipe the slate clean.”
“What about Nina and Carlyle House?”
“I have one last card to play.” Doyle smiled with anticipation.
CHAPTER 17
Ryan Doyle. The name kept repeating in Ashley’s head as she tossed in bed. Why was Uncle Jerry trying to write Doyle’s name? It only made sense if Dunn had mentioned the name while he was attacking Uncle Jerry. Unfortunately, there was no way to verify that. Matt was stubborn, and once he’d said she wasn’t to go anywhere near his father, there was no changing his mind. But at least they now knew the Doyles were involved in this mess. But which one?
Slow Burn Page 25