by Vonnie Davis
“I see.” Her mom sat and pulled a paperback from her purse. “I’ll just read while you two talk. You won’t even know I’m here.” She held a hushing finger to her lips. “Quiet as a church mouse, just like I said.”
Jackson folded his long frame into the bedside chair and sighed. “What a week. Rachel, honey, I need to ask you some questions for your official statement.” He tugged a notebook and pen from his chest pocket. “Tell me what happened after you left Storm and went upstairs.”
She closed her eyes for a minute, drawing on inner strength to relive the horrific episode. “I started drawing water for a bath, got clean underwear out of my drawer, and when I opened the closet door to get some clothes, Kyle was standing there.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. Seeing him was the last thing she’d ever expected. The fear that shot through her, back at the ranch, had nearly buckled her knees. “He clamped his hand over my mouth to cover my scream.”
“So you did scream?” He glanced at her.
“Yes, for all the good it did me. I had the stereo up so loud the music drowned me out.”
Her mom was tsking in the corner, her head buried in her book. Jackson glanced at her mom, then at Rachel, and winked. “Go on.”
“I was playing a CD Storm had made for me. The song playing was Bonnie Tyler’s ‘Holding out for a Hero.’”
Jackson nodded. “Great drums in that song. No wonder we couldn’t hear anything.”
“She always did play her music too loud,” the church mouse in the corner remarked.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I fought, but he overpowered me and threw me on the bed.”
“Were you sexually assaulted?” Jackson looked at her, and his voice gentled. “Sorry, my friend, I have to ask.”
She shook her head. “No, thank God. He…he sensed … I’d just been with Storm. Storm and I had just made up after our argument…and…ah…”
The church mouse in the corner gasped.
“That’s okay, honey. Tell me about Kyle and his behavior.”
She shot her mom a look and breathed a sigh of relief. Sharing that Kyle smelled Storm’s sex on her was too embarrassing. “Well, he got angry and called me names. He hit me several times. He strangled me.” She gestured to her face and neck. Jackson’s jaw visibly clenched. “I was struggling, and that’s when he saw my new charm bracelet. He pulled a Bowie knife from a scabbard on his belt and cut the bracelet off me, but first he made sure he cut me.” She ran fingers over her bandaged wrist.
“Contemptible bastard.” Evidently the church mouse had no compunction about cursing.
Jackson hung his head, hiding a smile. “I heard you required sixteen stitches. I’m sorry about that, my friend. There was blood on the bedspread and floor. Storm nearly lost his mind when he saw it. I can’t recall ever seeing him like that.” He shook his head once. “There was also blood on the windowsill. Go on.”
The church mouse in the corner sniffed and blew her nose.
“He dragged me off the bed and kicked me in the kidney area several times. Then he held a cloth to my face. I smelled ether before I passed out.”
“That must have been when he carried you up to the attic. Best as I can tell, he smeared your blood on the windowsill to throw us off the track, so we’d think he carried you out that way.”
“I can’t tell you if he did or not. When I woke up, I was on the attic floor. Only at the time, I thought it was some kind of storage facility. It never occurred to me I was still in the house.”
“Did he say what he was going to do with you? Where he was going to take you next?”
“Nowhere.”
Jackson gaze shot to hers. “Excuse me?”
“He made a hammock out of old blankets or something and tied me to it so I couldn’t make any noise on the floor to alert people below. My sugar levels had dropped dangerously low. I was suffering mental confusion and having problems staying conscious. He gave me enough orange juice to bring them up long enough to tell me what was going to happen.”
“Which was?” His pen stilled.
“He was going to leave me there to die.”
“Heartless piece of monkey shit,” the church mouse chirped.
Jackson was obviously getting a charge out of her mom. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger while he grinned. “Now I know where you get that spirit.”
“You’re damned right.”
“Mom!”
“What? I’m being quiet as a church mouse over here.” Her mom shot her an indignant scowl. “See how I’m reading?”
Rachel chose to ignore that erroneous remark. “Kyle laughed as he bragged about Storm finding me in the attic—dead. Then Storm showed up.”
“Who fired their gun first?”
“Kyle fired twice at Storm. Storm collapsed in a heap on the floor. He fired once at Kyle before passing out.” She expelled a shaky sob and swiped at a tear. “Then Noella fired three times at Kyle. She saved my life. Storm’s, too. Will she be in trouble for shooting him?”
Jackson slapped his notebook shut and slipped it in his pocket. “Not if I have anything to do with it.” He stood and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Get some rest. I have a feeling one day we’ll be family. I’m asking Sunny to marry me soon.” He leaned in and whispered, “Already bought her a diamond. That’s between us, now.”
Rachel grinned. “I’m thrilled for you two. I’m so encouraged by how much stronger she is. She’ll beat this cancer.”
“Cancer or no cancer, I want her for my wife. Once Storm gets off his lazy duff and proposes, just think, I’ll be your big brother.” He grinned. “Kinda neat, isn’t it? The six of us—family.” He winked. “Can’t forget Sawyer and Noella.”
“Wish I could forget Noella,” the church mouse interjected.
At Jackson’s raised eyebrows, Rachel said, “Don’t ask. It’s a mother thing.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rachel had to admit she hadn’t been prepared for seeing herself in the mirror. Although most of the swelling had gone down in her eye, it was vividly purple. Most of her face was bruised. The whites of her eyes were bright red. She looked like a wild-eyed, raging purple demon. Thank goodness little Sawyer couldn’t see her. He’d have nightmares for a month.
After her shower, her mom combed her hair while she rubbed body lotion on her arms. “I like this shorter hairstyle. You know, I’d forgotten how curly your hair is. Your hair hasn’t been this length since you were in the eighth grade.”
“I have to admit, it takes some getting used to. My hair was long for so long, since high school. Storm says he likes it.”
“Tell me about Storm, this man who’s obviously captured your heart. You are on the pill, aren’t you?”
“My birth control pills!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no…”
Her mom’s hand stopped combing. “What?”
“I haven’t had a birth control pill for three days, no wait, five since I’ve been here for three.” Her voice was so raspy. “I also missed one the week before.”
Her mom came to stand in front of her. “Oh, honey!” She didn’t look pleased.
“Don’t lecture me, Mom. Once I found out Kyle knew where I was and he was coming for me, I forgot the pills. I went into panic mode.” She tried to mentally calculate where she was in her cycle. The timing couldn’t be worse.
“If you’ve missed that many pills, shouldn’t your period have started? I mean, even if it’s early, with no pills, shouldn’t it have started?”
She shrugged. “Under normal circumstances, yes, but with all the terror and pain and medications, I’m probably all screwed up schedule-wise.”
Her mom reached out and took her chin in her cool hand. “Jellybean, ‘all screwed up’ is a poor choice of words right now.”
“Mom!” She felt a blush rising on her neck and cheeks. She couldn’t be pregnant. She couldn’t be. Storm would probably be thrilled, but an unplanned pregnancy was not the way she wanted to
get married.
Her mom started combing her hair again. “Perhaps when you go see him tonight, you should talk to him about this. You are going to see him, aren’t you? I mean, that’s why the shower and lotion and new nightie, right?” Rachel shot her a surprised look over her shoulder. “What? You didn’t think your old mom could read between the lines?”
The quiet night ritual of the hospital had begun. Visitors left. Saying good-bye to her mom was bittersweet. She promised to travel to Las Vegas once she was up to it. Nighttime meds were given. Lights dimmed. She roamed her room, waiting for the right time to sneak up to the next floor.
Had Storm been serious about wanting to marry her? Did she want to be his wife? Her head nodded slightly. Oh yeah, she wanted that. She wanted to be the only woman in Storm’s life, to be his bride, his best friend, his lover, his partner. She wanted to carry his children and build a life with him on the ranch, a place where grandchildren would come for spoiling and lessons on life. A sigh escaped; she wanted to fall asleep in his arms every night.
The question remained. Did Storm truly want her? On one hand, he acted like it; on the other hand, he was still very protective of Pilar’s feelings. A very small part of her respected him for caring about an ex-fiancée’s emotions; most men wouldn’t. Still, a large part of her wanted to come before Pilar in all things, in all ways. What woman wanted to be number two on a man’s priority list?
He’d given her that beautiful charm bracelet and asked her to wear it until he could place a wedding band on her finger. She hoped the bracelet was still in her bedroom. She’d have a jeweler repair the delicate chain and wear it forever.
The quiet on the floor had deepened. Nurses would be doing paperwork. Slowly she opened her door and peered out into the dim, deserted hallway, taking note of the stairway exit light. In seconds, she’d scampered down the hall and onto the stairway.
When Rachel slowly opened the door to Storm’s room, blinking lights on monitors illuminated its dimness with an eerie glow. Heartbeat rhythms, blood pressure, pulse rates, oxygen levels and body temperature were all flashing and beeping in the quiet of his room. With a trained eye, she scanned all the numbers and registered their meaning before padding over to Storm in her new slippers.
She took his hand and felt for his pulse, even though she could see it on the monitor. He was sleeping, his pulse steady and strong just like the man it belonged to. His left arm was in a sling, no doubt to keep it immobilized after the surgery to his shoulder. The nurse in her had to look at his wounds. She gently pulled back the sheet and examined the bandages, wishing she could remove them without waking him, yet knowing that was impossible. Bending her head, she kissed the bandage on his shoulder and then the one on the side of his abdomen.
“I have a boo-boo lower, too. Much lower, mouse,” the patient whispered.
She smiled against his bandage. If he were stronger, she’d certainly oblige. She straightened and gazed into dark eyes. “Bet you say that to all the nurses, cowboy.”
“How are you?” His gaze was locked on hers, his black hair in stark contrast to his paleness and the white sheets. “Dear God, your face!” He reached out to touch her. “I hope the bastard rots in hell for hurting you.”
“I’ll be fine. Lots of bruises and stitches, but nothing serious.”
“Your voice.”
“Kind of raspy, isn’t it? One of the side effects of strangulation. Raspy voice, bloodshot eyes and broken capillaries under the eyes. Healing takes time. Kyle hurt you worse.” It would be a couple of months before Storm completely recovered. She felt a strong sense of guilt for his injuries. Because of her, danger had come to his home and into his life. “How’s your pain level?” She started to cover him again with the sheet.
“No.” Her hand stilled at his request. “Lie down with me. Get in, mouse. Rest with me for a while.” He pushed the button on his morphine drip.
“I’m sure that’s against hospital policy.” She almost laughed at the primness in her voice.
“The hell with hospital policy. Get in.” His eyes were starting to get heavy, and his voice thickened. The meds were taking him under again. “Please.”
She knew better, really she did, but she needed to be near him, too. She untied her robe as she walked around to the other side of the bed, the side opposite his injuries. Slipping her robe off, she lowered the railing, lifted the sheet and crawled in. She positioned herself on her side and raised the railing again behind her so she wouldn’t fall out if she fell asleep. Then she snuggled in beside him.
He was warm. Her eyes slid to the monitor, which indicated his body temperature was ninety-nine point nine. Low grade fever. Normal after the surgery he’d had.
“Kiss me, love.”
She kissed his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks and listened to his breathing deepen. He was asleep. She laid her head on his good shoulder, exhaled a contented sigh and drifted off.
A cool hand jostling her shoulder stirred Rachel from sleep. “Wake up. You can’t sleep here.”
“Hunh?” Rachel rubbed her eyes, looking into a pair of cold hazel eyes. “Oh, dear, I must have fallen asleep.” Embarrassed at being found in another patient’s bed, she started to sit up.
“Let her stay.” Rachel glanced at Storm. His eyes were open, lucid and determined. “I feel better with her here.”
“This is against hospital policy.” The nurse—Desiree Hackett, her nametag read—was obviously not pleased.
“She stays.” Storm extended his good arm, drawing Rachel next to his body again. “Now, do what you have to do, nurse, and get out.” He pushed his drip button, obviously in pain.
“I simply must insist. Are you Rachel Dennison? The missing patient in two twenty-seven? Security’s looking for you. I’ll have to notify them of where you are.” The attractive brunette pulled a cell from the pocket of her purple scrubs. “This is Desiree Hackett in room three-twelve. Rachel Dennison, your missing patient, is here. Please send security.” She snapped the phone shut and slipped it back in her pocket. She raised an imperial brow over those cold hazel eyes. “As soon as you’re gone, I’ll tend to my patient.”
“She stays.” Storm’s hold tightened.
Rachel rose onto her elbow and peered into his determined eyes. “We’d both rest better in separate beds. I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“We were resting quite well before Nurse Godzilla stormed in. Lie down, love, and sleep.”
Caroline McBaine, Rachel’s nurse, pushed an empty wheelchair into Storm’s room. “Here you are. When I came on duty ten minutes ago, the whole floor was in a tizzy.”
“I’m sorry for all the trouble.”
She tried to get up, but Storm’s hold held her to his side. “She stays.”
Nurse Desiree put her hands on her hips. “This is a hospital, not an open pajama party where folks can sleep together willy-nilly. I need to change your bandages and your IV bag.”
“Work around her. She’s small…she’s staying.”
Rachel noted on the monitor his heart rate and blood pressure had increased dramatically. Perhaps her staying and all the drama that would create might harm him and impede his recovery in some way. “Storm, I have to go. I’ll be back later. I promise. Let’s not make trouble.” She kissed him, crawled out of the bed, and slipped on her robe and slippers.
She could sense his eyes on her when her nurse, Caroline, wheeled her out. She felt bereft of his presence and warmth. He’d been right. They’d both slept better snuggled in the same bed.
Caroline pushed Rachel’s wheelchair onto the waiting elevator. The doors whispered shut, and she pressed a button. “Your man is quite commanding. Those eyes of his are something else. He devours you with them. Lucky you. My Harold quit looking at me like that years ago.”
“Does he really look at me like that?”
“Oh, honey, that man’s got it bad for you.” The elevator doors opened, and Caroline pushed her down the hall. “If he’s as virile as he looks,
you’ll be in our maternity ward next year.” The nurse curved the wheelchair into Rachel’s room. Sooner than that if she didn’t have her period in the next few days. Rachel crawled into bed, and Caroline proceeded to take her patient’s vitals. “Looks like your little late-night rendezvous didn’t hurt you. Need anything?” She fussed with Rachel’s covers and lifted the security railing. “Now, the next time I pop my head in here, you’d better be in this bed. Hear?”
Rachel smiled. “Yes. Sorry to be a bother.”
Caroline waved her hand. “Oh, honey, we’ve come across worse things than two people sleeping in the same bed.” She leaned in and wiggled her eyebrows. “You were sleeping, weren’t you?”
Rachel could feel the heat of a blush dance across her face. “Of course.”
Jackson strolled into Rachel’s room shortly before noon, carrying a bag of clothes. “At last I get to break someone out of a joint instead of putting them in. Like I said on the phone, I figured the doc would want to keep you in here for another day after all you’ve been through.”
“Doctor says I’m fine. I’m healing. No signs of infection and my sugars are down. Are those the clothes you bought me?”
He laid the bag on the bed. “Yep. Don’t know if you’ll like what I gotcha, but you’re lookin’ at a man who’d sooner take a beating than set foot in a store. Sunny talked me through the process over the phone.”
Rachel laughed. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. Thanks for doing me the favors. Buying me clothes and taking me home…er…to the ranch, I mean.” She cast shy eyes on him. She’d had to give him her sizes and everything.
Jackson scratched the side of his face. “Buying a bra turned into more of an embarrassment than I care to admit. Was my first time. Never knew it was wires that held those things up.” A blush crept up his neck. “Sunny liked to die laughing on her end of the phone.” He gathered her flowers in his arms. “I’ll take these down to the car while you get dressed.”