“What the hell is he doing here?” Ray muttered.
“Someone probably called him,” Luther said.
At the moment Ray couldn’t care less what Morgan said or did. The man was a pest, an annoyance, a flea. He turned around and watched the paramedics prepare to transport Grace to the hospital. They took good care of her, he knew. The best. That knowledge calmed him, a little.
He’d ride with her in the ambulance. He’d hold her hand and give her his strength, and everything would be fine. Just fine.
They strapped Grace to a board and lifted her, two paramedics carrying, another leaning over her and continuing treatment.
“Heartbeat’s thready, she’s not warming up like she should. She’s going into shock,” that paramedic barked as they hurried her toward the ambulance.
Ray took off running, determined to stay with Grace. No matter what. No matter what.
But he was stopped cold at the ambulance doors. There was no room, they told him as they shut the doors in his face. And they had no time to waste. They were working on Grace as they pulled away.
Ray stood there feeling, for the first time in his life, completely helpless. He’d been fine until they’d ripped her away, and now he shook as badly as she had, his heart beat just as thready and uncertain. Shock could kill her, her body could simply … shut down. He had to get to the hospital. Now.
“Come on,” Luther said, taking Ray’s arm and leading him to his car. “I’ll drive you.”
“I can drive myself,” Ray said angrily.
“Like hell you can. You don’t look any better than Grace did.”
Sam Morgan had apparently gathered enough information to know that Ray was directly involved in the afternoon’s excitement. He approached with the microphone held high and his cameraman directly behind him, the lens focusing on Ray’s face.
“Mr. Madigan,” Morgan called, a touch of false concern and sick excitement in his voice. “Can you tell us what happened here today?”
“Back off, Morgan, before I decide to break your nose all over again,” Ray said as he approached Luther’s car.
“Someone tells me the woman who was shot was a friend of yours, that you two arrived here together this afternoon.” A sick light of excitement lit Morgan’s eyes. “Was the bullet she took meant for you, Mr. Madigan? How do you feel about that?”
Ray took a split second to flick the microphone from Morgan’s grasp and toss it to the ground, and to grab the front of Morgan’s shirt and pull the man close so he was nose to nose with the detested reporter. “You say one more word to me and I’ll rip out your liver. Here and now, in front of all these people.”
Morgan trembled and cut a panicked gaze to Luther. “He threatened me, Detective. You heard it, he threatened to kill me.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Luther grumbled.
Ray released Morgan and sent the man stumbling backwards. “All I did was tell the man how I felt. Hell, he asked.”
There was no time for this, not a single moment to waste. Ray jumped into Luther’s car. Luther was right behind him. He threw a red-domed emergency light onto his dash and turned it on, and took off at top speed. Traffic parted and pulled to the side. The ambulance was already out of sight. Ray clenched his fists and forgot about Morgan and Potts and everything but Grace.
Shock. It could kill her. She could be dead or dying right now, and there was nothing he could do. He’d never felt so helpless.
“What am I going to do if she dies?” he whispered. “I screwed everything up, Luther. Everything.”
“You did the best you could,” he said, his eyes and attention on the road.
“It wasn’t good enough,” Ray muttered. “How am I going to survive without her?”
Luther shook his head. He tsked and grumbled and cursed. “Well, this sounds awfully familiar,” he finally said coherently.
Ray took his eyes off the road to look at his friend. “How?”
Luther kept his eyes on the road, hesitated thoughtfully.
“How?” Ray demanded.
“Every time I drove Grace to the hospital, when you were shot, she’d sit in the passenger seat and mumble the exact same thing. What if he dies? How will I make it without him? She’d sit there and shake and cry and talk to herself, even when I told her your injuries weren’t serious.”
A chill shimmied down Ray’s spine. She’d tried to tell him, hadn’t she? He’d realized for a while, that she hadn’t left because she didn’t love him, but because she loved him too much. Finally, he understood.
“I did this to her,” he said, his eyes intent on the traffic ahead. “Three times, I did this to her. She tried to tell me, she asked me to quit … and I just patted her on the back and told her not to worry.”
He shook his head. “No wonder she left me. I put her through this again and again and when she asked me to quit and I didn’t take her seriously … she had every right to walk out. Every right in the world.”
How could he blame her? The pain he felt at this moment was hideous, it was by far the worst pain he’d ever experienced. He’d rather be shot a hundred times than go through this again.
*
Chapter 17
«^
Grace opened her eyes to see Ray pacing by her bedside. It was dark outside, and the room was lit by a low-watt lamp directly above her hospital bed. The only sounds she heard were Ray breathing and muttering low to himself and the occasional squeak and swish of a nurse passing in the hallway.
The events of the day came back to her in a flash. Telling Ray she loved him. Getting shot. Hearing him tell her, at last, that he loved her.
Ray spun around and his eyes lit on her face; he seemed surprised to find her awake. He pulled a chair to the side of the bed, sat in it and took her hand in his. He looked haggard, plumb worn-out. The lines around his face deep, his eyes red.
“How do you feel?”
“A little dopey,” she said with a smile.
“It’s the pain medication,” he explained.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her shoulder ached and her head was spinning, a little, but she felt better than before. Stronger. She shuddered, remembering the way Potts had fired his gun at her and at Ray.
“That man … Potts…”
“He’s dead,” Ray whispered.
“You killed him.”
He nodded once.
It was finally over. Potts was dead, she was still alive, and Ray was with her. For how long?
She wondered if he thought she’d forgotten that he’d told her he loved her, when he’d thought she might die. She wondered if he hoped she’d forgotten. He’d confessed a lot to her as he’d held her. More than he was comfortable with, surely.
A thin nurse who probably didn’t stand a full five feet tall opened the door and stepped in with an air of unmistakable authority. “You’re still here,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Ray. “I told you the last time, visiting hours are over.”
“But this is my wife,” he argued, snapping at the nurse. “You can’t expect me to just leave her here.”
Ray narrowed his eyes and glanced down at her, perhaps waiting for her to contradict him as she usually did with an insistent or muttered “Ex-wife.” She didn’t say a word.
“That’s exactly what I expect,” the nurse cracked back.
Ray ignored the nurse and smiled at Grace. The smile was tired, and weak, but it was a Ray Madigan grin just the same. The new, easier expression on his face wiped away some of the tiredness there.
“It’s going to take someone a lot bigger than you to drag me out of here,” he said softly. “Several someones.”
The nurse snorted, checked Grace’s pulse and rolled her eyes. “All right, stay. But if you give me any trouble I will haul you out of here myself. I’m stronger than I look.”
When the nurse was gone, Grace squeezed Ray’s hand and gathered her own strength. Now or never. “Ray, you asked me this morning what I would say if you
asked me to go to Mobile with you.”
“Gracie, don’t…”
“I’d say yes,” she said quickly, before he could stop her, before he could take back his offer. “I won’t lie to you. Watching you put yourself in danger won’t be easy, I won’t enjoy going through that again. You may have to comfort me now and then, and you may have to remind me why you do what you do … but living with the uncertainty of what each day will bring is better than living without you. I found that out the hard way.”
He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
Her heart sank, and the unpleasant chills that worked through her body had nothing to do with being shot. Ray didn’t want her with him. He’d rather go on alone. She shouldn’t be surprised.
The least she could do was to let him go without tears and recriminations. He had been completely honest with her, telling her again and again that all they had was a physical connection. Hadn’t this been a part of her plan? To let him be the one to do the walking away, this time.
“I understand,” she whispered, determined to make this as easy for him as she could. After all, he had never promised anything beyond today.
Ray threaded his fingers through hers, and she took a good hard look at his face. Even though his short-lived smile had eased the weariness there, he still looked drained and years older. In truth, he could probably use a hospital bed of his own.
The hand that held hers tightened. “I was thinking maybe I’d stay here,” he said lowly. “And I was thinking maybe you’d like to quit working for Dr. Doolittle altogether and come to work for me.”
She smiled softly, afraid to hope, afraid not to. “Really?”
“My own hacker,” he said with a forced grin. “What more could I possibly ask for?”
The offer sounded good, truly wonderful, but she wondered if Ray could really let his crusade go, if he could forget about his sister’s death – the death that had driven him all these years.
“Can you be satisfied with that?” she whispered. “Can you live with the knowledge that there are bad guys out there someone else is bringing down?”
He hesitated, but nodded once and then leaned over the bed rail to kiss her, gently, lovingly. “I think from now on I’ll save all my adrenaline for you.”
“I’d like that.”
He brushed her hair away from her face and laid his palms on her cheeks. “Marry me again?”
“Ask away.”
“I just did.”
“No, the Lyle Lovett trivia test,” she whispered. “I’ve been studying up.”
“When?”
She laid one hand over his, rested it there. “This morning, on the Internet, while you were asleep. I probably know more about Lyle than you do.”
He grinned crookedly. “I doubt that.”
“I’ll need a little time to learn a song in its entirety, though,” she said. “I think I know most of the words to ‘She’s No Lady,’ but I wouldn’t want to make a mistake.”
“I’ll be happy to tutor you,” he moved in for another soft kiss, touching her as if he was afraid she would break if he kissed her too hard.
“You knew I would ask,” he said as he pulled away, sounding content and a little puzzled. “Why else would you study for that silly test?”
“I didn’t know,” she said, lifting her hand to touch his rough cheek. “I hoped. I really, really hoped.”
The nurse breezed back in, a paper cup in her hand. She cast a sharp glance at Ray as he reluctantly returned to his seat. “Time for your sleeping pills,” she said enthusiastically.
“I don’t want any sleeping pills,” Grace said strongly. “I think I have more than enough drugs in my system at the moment.”
“If this man is going to keep you awake…” the nurse began to reprimand.
“This man is my husband,” Grace snapped. “If he goes, I go.”
The nurse harrumphed and left the room, sleeping pills in hand.
Ray gazed at her with a sinfully satisfied expression on his tired face.
“I love you, Gracie.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
He took her hand again, made himself comfortable at her side, and by the time the nurse came around again they were both sound asleep.
*
She should’ve known that Ray would not be able to completely let go of his crusade. They’d been married two months, and already he was doing his thing.
Ray had somehow convinced Beatrice Reed to start a drug rehab program at the Children’s Hospital. As a former narcotics officer, he would be instrumental in the fund-raising activities that were scheduled for the next year. He had lots of ideas about the way the program should be run, who should be involved, how they could get the kids who really needed help into the program.
At the end of a long day at the office, they lay together in their bed. They lived in a new house in the same neighborhood they both loved, and the place was a marriage of her snow globes and soft colors and Ray’s sound system and Lyle Lovett collection. It was perfect.
“I found Timothy Reynolds,” Grace said softly. “He’s working in Houston. Making good money, dating the boss’s daughter, just bought a new car. Will Mrs. Reynolds be pleased?”
Ray pulled her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder. There in just the right spot, where she fit so well.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “She just wants to find him and make amends. Five years is too long for a mother to go without seeing her son.”
She agreed with a contented murmur. Working with Ray was a never-ending adventure. Business was going so well, he was already talking about hiring another investigator. Doris thought she needed her own secretary.
“Is Luther coming for dinner tomorrow night?”
“He said he would. He also said that if you tried to fix him up with another bimbo he would never forgive you.”
Grace smiled. “Tara is not a bimbo.”
Ray groaned, then laughed lightly.
They snuggled in the dark, fitting together as easily side by side as they did sexually. Ray was her place in the world, and she was his.
“You never did ask me to sing that song for you,” she whispered, laying her hand on his chest and rocking her fingers there.
“I tutor you on a regular basis.”
“Just about every morning,” she said with a smile.
He rolled on his side to face her, propped himself up on his elbow, and grinned. “I take it you’re ready?”
She nodded. This was not a song Ray normally sang in the shower, but she’d heard it on the CD several times. Enough to get the first part right, which was all she’d need.
Grace placed her face close to his, almost nose to nose, and broke into a soft, hesitant, slightly off-key version of “Fat Babies.”
She hadn’t gotten far into the song before Ray laughed and rolled her onto her back, laying his hand over her still flat stomach. Of course he knew exactly what she was trying to tell him.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Happy?”
“Deliriously.”
Ray placed his face against her stomach. “Me, too,” he said softly.
She cupped his head while he kissed her belly gently, just once.
“God, Gracie. A baby,” he whispered reverently as the news sank in. “A baby.”
He rose up, hovered above her and looked down. “I love you.”
She touched his jaw with tender fingers. “I love you, too. I always have.” When he smiled at her she took his face in her hands. “Being the first Mrs. Madigan was pretty darn good most of the time,” she confessed. “But, Ray … I dearly love being the last Mrs. Madigan.”
Ray kissed her briefly then returned to his original position with his mouth against her belly and his hands on her hips. He started off talking to the baby, cooing sweet words against Grace’s skin. Holding her close as he kissed her stomach, stroked her there with the palm of his hand, then rose u
p slowly to take her mouth with his, deep and gentle and all consuming.
He made love to her, a slow, sweet, delicious joining of hearts and bodies.
As always, he was a very nice guy.
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