Chapter Thirteen
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Thursday, 2:46 A.M.
JARRED HAD BEEN trying to get past security and the doctors and nurses. Only family was allowed into ICU and getting to Elizabeth had taken him several days. The guard outside the room had gone to the bathroom and asked a nurse to watch the door. A patient alarm drew her away.
He tried to find out what happened to Elizabeth, but the vague reports in the papers didn’t appease his need for details. They called her a hero. Each morning he checked the papers for any more information, and every night he watched the news, hoping they reported on her. The Judge must have shut the press up. The hospital refused to answer any questions. No one in her family returned his phone calls, and he’d worked himself into quite a rage.
After all the months he’d dedicated to her, showing her how much he loved her. They belonged together. He planned to tell her they were getting married. Then she’d gone and gotten herself hurt. When she became his wife, he’d make her leave that so-called house of hers. They’d buy a mansion in Marin and host lavish dinner parties, entertaining friends and rubbing shoulders with the many influential, rich, and famous people she knew and refused to discuss with him. Not anymore. They’d share everything and attend all the society parties she’d refused to take him as her date. He’d partner with her father and brothers on business deals and investments. They’d have a perfect life together.
Her father was behind the restraining order. She didn’t want it. She wanted him. Her parents might not approve of him yet, but that was why she pretended to go along with them. Eventually, she’d tell them she loved him and couldn’t live without him, and they’d have no choice but to accept him.
When she was out of the hospital, Jarred would make her stop playing these games.
Standing inside the door, he studied her through the dim light beside the bed. She didn’t look all that bad. Her face was scratched and bruised and she had a split lip, but nothing major. The machines gave him pause, but as far as he could tell she didn’t appear to be hurt too badly. Why was she in the ICU then?
He walked to her bedside, his back to the door. He doubted anyone would be in to see her until shift change at six. He had all the time in the world to look at and be with her. Her arm was bandaged. She must have cut it on some glass, or something, in the car accident. An oxygen tube ran across her face and into her nose. IVs and wires were attached to her and the equipment.
His heart beat faster just being close to her. She was so beautiful. Someone had brushed her soft hair back from her face. He remembered touching her hair when he’d put his arm behind her neck in the car as he drove her home. They’d spent only a short time together before she’d decided they should step back. She needed some space.
Yeah, right.
She wanted him. Jarred felt it in the shy way she kissed him. She may have pulled back before he’d wanted to end the kisses, but he sensed the passion under the surface. She wanted him to be the aggressor. No problem there. He enjoyed taking the lead, demanding his lovers gave everything over to him.
He grew hard thinking about kissing and touching her. She was right there in front of him. She’d never allowed him to touch her, except in the most innocent of ways, and having her in front of him now made him want to reach out and feel the softness of her skin. He ran a hand down her arm, over her hip and thigh. She didn’t move or respond. He kept his hand on her leg, stroking and squeezing, imagining all the ways she’d please him. The throbbing in his groin grew more insistent as he took her all in.
Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “Hello, baby. Did you miss me? I’ve missed you so much.”
Oh God. The pain. Someone was touching her leg and the pain shot up her thigh and hip and into her back. Please, stop! Oh, God, stop! Who was hurting her? Sam? No, he knew her leg was hurt, he wouldn’t touch her like that. Someone else, someone whispered to her.
“Come on, baby, wake up and look at me. You’ve been cooped up in this hospital room over a week without me. When you get out of here, we’re getting married. I’ll make you my wife. We’ll be so happy together.”
Jarred. How had he gotten into her room? Married. Over her dead body. Maybe his, if he didn’t leave her alone and stop pressing on her thigh.
Where are you, Sam? He said he wouldn’t leave, but she’d fallen back into the black ooze, and he must have gone home. Maybe it wasn’t even the same day. How long had she been under this time? Sam had told her she’d been asleep for a week. It could be hours, or days, later. She didn’t know.
Someone help me. Please, someone help me.
She wouldn’t open her eyes, and it pissed him off. “You better wake up, you bitch. I want to talk to you about your attitude and these stupid games you’re playing.”
He leaned over her, his hands planted on the bed beside her, and yelled, “Open your eyes and talk to me.”
Sam had gone for a cup of coffee and spoke to Doctor Watts about Elizabeth’s condition. He’d filled the doctor in on the conversation he had with her earlier. The doctor said she was doing better and would probably be more lucid over the next day or so if she continued to progress at the same steady pace she’d kept so far.
When he got back to her room, he entered quietly so as not to wake her again, or startle her. He was surprised to find a man standing over her. Yelling at her.
Where the hell is the guard?
He thought about the message from Tyler. Elizabeth has a double threat. Maybe this guy was one of those threats. Or maybe he was the Silver Fox. Sam minded his back, used extreme caution and approached Elizabeth and the unknown man.
Stepping around the bed without making it obvious, he grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, and casually took a sip of the coffee in his other hand. He set the cup on the table and studied the very surprised man standing on the other side of the bed with his hand on Elizabeth’s thigh, resting right over where she’d been stabbed. Sam imagined she was in a lot of pain if he’d pressed on the wound, but he had to play this cool.
“Who the hell are you?” the guy asked like he owned the place. “You’re not a doctor.”
Sam wasn’t about to give anything away, until he got some answers of his own. “Who the hell are you? You’re not one of her brothers. I’ve met them. You must be a cousin.”
“I’m her fiancé.”
Well, that’s a surprise. Certainly unexpected, but Sam hadn’t heard a word about a fiancé from her parents or brothers. He’d met more than his fair share of liars over the years, and Sam knew a lie when he heard one. This guy was good though. He sounded convincing.
No, Sam. He isn’t. Don’t believe him.
Two moves. Not the fiancé. Jilted lover perhaps. Patrick had told him Elizabeth didn’t date anyone seriously, and usually not for more than a few weeks because they always turned out to be some bloodsucker trying to get something from her. This must be the head of all the bloodsuckers. The thought of this guy touching Elizabeth made his skin crawl.
Why the hell was he feeling so possessive? Maybe it was because she’d saved his life. He felt responsible for her. She was helpless at the moment, and the last thing she needed was some guy yelling at her and grabbing on her when she couldn’t so much as tell him to stop.
Maybe he was jealous. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman in his life. Although she was barely conscious, she was the closest thing he had to a friend besides his family.
“Fiancé, huh. If that’s the case, how come you haven’t come to see her in the last week?”
“I’ve been out of town on business. I just got back.”
“What exactly do you do for a living that is so important you can’t come to see your fiancé when she’s been critically injured and hasn’t woken up in over a week?”
Answer that asshole, because I know you aren’t the fiancé, and you sure don’t belong here. You better have a really good answer too.
“I’m an investment banker. Elizabeth understands my work is imp
ortant. I would have been here sooner, if not for work.”
Dickweed made a good show of looking concerned and rubbed his hand over Elizabeth’s thigh again. Sam read the possessive posturing. He felt he had a claim to Elizabeth and wanted Sam to back off. Not going to happen.
Asshole! Stop touching me! Go to hell! The only thing that’s important to you is getting to the people I know.
Two moves. Sam figured she either didn’t understand his need to work, or she didn’t care.
“You haven’t answered my question. Who are you, and why are you in Elizabeth’s room at this hour?”
Sam took offense to the tone, but let it slide. For now. This guy was too cool, or at least acting like it. He certainly wanted Sam to believe he had a right to be here.
“I’m a friend.” One move. Sam almost smiled, but he needed to keep his mind on the guy in front of him. “I could say the same thing to you, about the hour I mean. It’s a strange time to visit. What’s your name? I find it odd her family never mentioned she has a fiancé.”
“I’m Jarred Palmer.” He probably shouldn’t have given his real name. The Hamiltons were bound to discover he’d been to see Elizabeth, but he didn’t care. When he married her, they would have to accept him. All he had to do was ask her and they’d plan the wedding and the rest of their lives. She’d be his forever.
“You must not be close to her family if you’ve never heard them talk about Elizabeth’s and my relationship,” Jarred said defensively.
Jarred hoped this man wasn’t connected to the Judge and his wife. They certainly wouldn’t back up his claim to be Elizabeth’s fiancé. He’d been to a few parties with Elizabeth and her family, and he’d never seen this man, so he bluffed. Besides, this man was definitely not the type to attend a charity benefit or corporate party. His hair was too long, he needed a shave, and he was wearing worn jeans, scuffed-up work boots, and a black T-shirt. A worn black leather jacket hung over the chair beside Elizabeth’s bed. He looked like he belonged in a biker bar. The bruises on his face were probably from some bar fight.
Where had Elizabeth met him? Maybe he was a customer at her bakery, though Jarred doubted it. He appeared more likely to frequent some diner dive than an upscale café.
“I wonder if Elizabeth would say you two have a relationship.”
“Looks like she can’t say much of anything right now,” Jarred said.
Who the hell was he, trying to make it seem like he and Elizabeth didn’t have a relationship? It wasn’t his fault she was playing hard to get. When she woke up, she’d realize how much she loved him. After all, when people went through a traumatic time, they often realized what they wanted most in life. Elizabeth would wake up wanting him.
“You’d be surprised what she can say. For instance, I’ll give you two seconds to remove your hand from her thigh. You see, she’s telling me by her heart rate that you’re hurting her.”
Dickweed finally heard the heart monitor and understood its meaning. It had been a steady slow beat when Sam had left to get his coffee, and now it raced like she’d jogged a mile in a minute flat.
“She endured over eleven hours of surgery, and her thigh is still stitched up. I imagine it hurts like a son of a bitch with you rubbing and squeezing it each time you get irritated with me.” He glared at Dickweed. “I’m sure you agree, touching her thigh is a bad idea.”
She pressed down hard this time to let him know she was in a lot of pain. She hoped he would understand. Please, Sam, make him go. The dark is closing in, and I don’t want to pass out knowing he’s here.
Sam gave her hand a squeeze. She was either panicked about Dickweed being there, or in a lot of pain. He’d assume it was the pain, since she must know he would protect her if Dickweed tried something.
“Since you’re her fiancé, you’ve been in contact with her family and they’ve filled you in about her many severe injuries. Makes me wonder why you’d come in here yelling at her to wake up and grab her thigh when you know that leg’s been injured. Can’t you hear the heart monitor? It’s about to start sounding alarms and calling every nurse and doctor into this room to see what’s wrong with her.”
The threat sank in and Dickweed’s jaw clenched.
“Why would you do that to someone you’re supposedly marrying? Do you get off on hurting the woman you supposedly love?” One move.
Well, Sam hadn’t expected an answer from Elizabeth, but he’d certainly find out if the guy had hurt her in the past, or if he was just a jerk. Maybe he’d do some digging into the guy’s background and find out what kind of guy Dickweed truly was.
Sam wanted to rile the guy. Hell, he wanted to severely piss him off for touching Elizabeth and hurting her. She’d been through enough without Dickweed showing up and making things worse.
“There’s no supposedly about it. Elizabeth will be my wife.”
Well, Dickweed certainly thought so.
Two moves. She paused and made two moves again.
Don’t believe him, Sam. You’re with the FBI, check with the police. There’s a restraining order. Make him go.
“I didn’t realize this was the thigh they operated on, or I certainly wouldn’t have touched it.”
Yeah, right. Dickweed didn’t know anything about her injuries. He’d removed his hand, but uncertainty filled his eyes as they swept up from Elizabeth’s legs to her battered face. He’d given himself away in too many ways for Sam to ignore.
“I wanted her to know I was here. Why are you here?”
“Like I said, I’m her friend. I think it’s time you left.” One move.
She wanted this to be over. Every once in a while she’d push down on his palm. She must have thought she was pushing hard, but actually it was a constant pressure, and each time she did it with less force. She was getting tired, and he needed to get Dickweed out of the room so he could talk to her alone.
“I think you need to leave. I’m her fiancé, and I want to spend some time alone with my future wife. I haven’t seen her since she got hurt, and she’ll be comforted knowing I’m here.”
Overly confident and assertive, something about Dickweed set off all Sam’s protective instincts and sent every nerve ending down his back into overdrive. Sam still didn’t know who he was, definitely not the Silver Fox. No. The Fox was meticulous in his planning and would never allow someone to see him and live. Dickweed was definitely a threat, but not a cold-blooded killer. Sam got a completely different vibe from him. This was something personal. And personal could turn dangerous.
I most certainly do not want to be alone with him. Sam, don’t leave me alone with him. Make him go.
Two moves. Rest. Two moves. Rest. Two moves.
The heart monitor picked up steam now. Elizabeth was about to panic. Sam needed to get rid of the guy and quick. She kept telling him no.
“Well, you see, I can’t leave her. She’s very important to me. I can’t stop thinking about her and what she did for me.” Dickweed had no idea what Sam was talking about, since the real details about what happened had been left out of the papers. “You are not her fiancé. I don’t know why you’re lying about that fact, but you can bet I’ll find out.”
Dickweed came around the bed and grabbed Sam by the front of his shirt and got right in his face. “She’s mine. You got that. When she wakes up, she’ll realize we belong together. We’re getting married.”
Sam had to give the guy credit. He had balls, but he was also about two inches shorter than Sam and not as big or strong. Dickweed wasn’t a threat to him, but he could certainly hurt Elizabeth. She’d indicated he had hurt her in some way, making Sam angry. His back spasmed and exploded with pain after Dickweed grabbed him. He did his level best not to show it. He clamped his hands over Dickweed’s wrists and got right in his face.
“Assaulting an FBI agent is against the law, number one. Number two, she’s not marrying you, because she’s marrying me.” He didn’t know why he said it, probably to piss the guy off, and hopefully make him u
nderstand Elizabeth certainly wasn’t his. He threw the guy off with little effort when his statements stunned Dickweed momentarily. “Number three, I better not find you in here again, or hear you’ve been here, or you’ll regret it.”
Elizabeth put her finger in his jeans’ back pocket and pulled. He turned and found her awake and looking right at him.
Elizabeth wanted to piss off Jarred. She managed to open her eyes and see Sam. A handsome man hiding under all that scruffy hair. His blue eyes were intense. Sam Turner, FBI agent, had a lot going for him, and all of it intrigued her. “You’ll do.” She gave him a warm smile before her lids fell closed again, too weak and tired to keep them open. She hoped Jarred got the picture and would finally leave her alone.
Sam’s heart stopped in that moment. Did she say he’d do? God, she was great. Her brother, Patrick, was right. She had a great sense of humor. For a moment there, when his heart stopped working, the thought of her marrying him had seemed like a great idea. He’d have to think about his reaction to her statement another time. Right now, she was awake, and he wanted Dickweed gone.
“Get out. Now.” His glare and tone left no room for argument. He turned back to Elizabeth and leaned close to her. “You woke up, sweetheart.” He kissed her on the cheek.
Jarred knew when to retreat. He’d get to Elizabeth another time. When she was alone. If she thought she could disregard him and marry this guy, claiming to be with the FBI, she was sorely mistaken. He wouldn’t be deterred so easily. He had plans for her.
“We’ll talk about this later, Elizabeth.” Jarred’s irritation laced through his clipped tone. “I knew you were faking sleeping.”
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