by Kylie Brant
She was tight, exquisitely so. He withdrew partway before giving a firm surge against her, burying himself deeply again. He wanted to watch her. Wanted to commit every change of expression to memory as he began to thrust into her with a slow heavy rhythm. But his own climax was rushing in on him, making restraint impossible. His pace quickened until he was pounding into her, her heels digging into his hips, her nails biting into his shoulders. And when his release came, in a sudden powerful explosion, he thought of nothing but her.
He lay there afterward, listening to her slow breathing, feeling his own return to a normal pace. His arm was draped over her waist, keeping her curled against him, his hand brushing lightly over the curve of her waist and hips. The night sky was studded with a million stars. He could see why she'd been reluctant to ruin this view with bars. It gave an illusion of freedom and of solitude. He knew Shae well enough to know that both were important to her.
Neither of them spoke, and he was content with the silence. His palm skated over the silky line of her back, feeling each vertebra, surprisingly delicate for a will so strong. And felt a sliver of peace, one that had been conspicuously absent for far too long.
He'd imagined all too often how it would be between them, all reckless need and explosive passion. But he would never have guessed at how easy it would be to hold her afterward. How right it would feel. And how quickly he could become accustomed to it.
He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. Long enough to begin the gradual drift into slumber. He'd have sworn she already slept. Her voice, when it came, sounded like it. "I have an early day tomorrow. How about you?"
Fogged by sleep, his answer was slow in coming. "Not bad. The usual." She said nothing else, but something in her silence brought him alert.
Shae rolled away from him, sat up in bed. The lace-edged covers bunched around her waist, highlighting her femininity. She pushed her hair back over one shoulder and smiled at him. And he wondered exactly what it was in that smile that felt false. "I'll never make it through my shift if I don't get some sleep."
He leaned over to brush her mouth with his, lingered a moment. "You're kicking me out?"
Her hands slid to his chest, kneaded gently. "I have to."
Maybe it was only ego that had him imagining the tinge of regret in her voice. Maybe he needed to hear it there. Although it was the last thing he wanted, he threw back the covers, went in search of his clothes.
She accompanied him downstairs, wrapped in a filmy invitation of a robe, and while he finished dressing, she loaded the videos back into the box. She stock a piece of tape on the one that had yielded the images of LeFrenz.
Sliding his arms into his jacket, he picked up his cell phone and put it in his pocket. Then he crossed to her, drew her into his arms and lowered his head to rub his mouth against hers. "Last chance," he murmured against her lips. "I'm not bad to wake up to and I make a mean omelette."
"I'll have to take your word for it." She gave his bottom lip a quick nip, then reached up to smooth the hair from his forehead. He could have told her the action was in vain. He'd never found a way yet to keep it tamed.
"Okay, then." Lingering wasn't going to strengthen his resolve, so he turned away and picked up the box. "Don't forget to call my cell if you need to." She nodded. "And set the alarm when I leave." Again she nodded, then reached for the door.
Something about her too-bright smile, her easy agreement, had his instincts heightening. Slowly he moved out into the hallway. "I'll call you to—" The door was already swinging closed after him.
And as he stood studying its raised panels; listening to the quiet snick of the lock engaging, he had the distinct impression that he had been neatly, efficiently dismissed.
* * *
Chapter 11
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Shae finished suturing the eleven-year-old boy she was treating and said, "There you go. You're going to have a real cool scar to show your friends."
"Awesome!" the boy said, bending his arm around, trying to see the stitches she'd put in it.
"Next time try wearing elbow pads and a helmet when you're skateboarding," she advised, picking up the clipboard with her patient's history on it.
"There won't be a next time if he doesn't," the boy's mother said.
"Oh, Mom."
Shae finished scribbling notes for his follow-up care and handed the sheets to the woman. "Bring him back in seven to ten days to have the stitches removed. Until then keep them dry and covered with a Band-Aid. Let us know if the wound gets puffy or red. That might indicate infection."
The woman rolled her eyes and nodded. "Believe me, with Evel Knievel here, I know the drill."
Shae smiled, checked the boy's history again. "Since he hasn't had a tetanus shot for a few years, we should probably give him one now."
"A shot?" The boy's earlier excitement melted into fear. "I hate shots."
Patting his shoulder, Shae walked by him and checked the drawers in the supply cabinet for some vaccine. "Not as much fun as stitches, I know, but that rusty wire you got caught on could do even more damage if we don't give you a shot to guard against it."
Finding no serum in the drawers, she excused herself and went to the door, leaving the woman to deal with her son's protests. "Jan." The head nurse was striding down the hallway. "I can't find any…" Her voice tapered off when she got a good look at the woman's harried expression. "What's wrong?"
"Wrong? Well, let's see. I've got three nurses out with the flu, another four I called can't cover because they have symptoms, and I'm starting to feel a bit nauseated myself." The woman bared her teeth. "Did you need something?"
The way she uttered the words sounded like a dare. Shae smiled in commiseration and held up her hands. "Nope. I can do it myself." Jan hurried on her way, muttering something about wishing the other doctors felt the same way, and Shae strode down the hallway to the drug closet.
She was waylaid by Tim Pearson, who fell into step with her. "We're going to be shorthanded today."
"I just got done speaking to Jan."
"Fowler and Kendall called in sick, too." He named two of the E.R. doctors. "I can't promise we'll be able to let you go when your shift is over."
Shae nodded. "I can help out."
"Good. That's good. You don't have any plans that'll be screwed up, huh?" He continued walking alongside her.
Her brows arched. "Obviously not."
When it was evident she wasn't going to be more forthcoming, he said, "I just thought … you and that detective seemed to be getting kind of chummy. Tremaine."
"I'm not sure where you got that impression," she said coolly, neither confirming nor denying his statement. The truth was, it was none of his damn business, and both of them knew it.
He shrugged. "Hospital talk, you know. Didn't believe it, anyway. He's not your type. I can't see you dating a cop."
She stopped and stared at him, before saying, "Really? But then, you never did have a clue about what my 'type' was, did you, Tim?" The man flushed and turned, walking stiffly away. For once she hadn't used diplomacy when dealing with him and she didn't much care about the fallout. If the situation hadn't been so annoying, she would have been amused. What Tim had really meant was that he couldn't imagine her dating a cop after turning him down.
She squirmed inside at the thought of being the subject of any hospital gossip. Her private life was just that. And the thought that anyone had linked her to Cade made her uncomfortable on several levels.
Chummy. The word didn't begin to describe her relationship with Cade. It couldn't come close to applying to their interlude last night, when they'd nearly burned up in a scalding inferno of desire.
A shiver skated down her spine at the memory. She hadn't expected the experience to be so shattering. Hadn't expected it to affect her emotions as it had her senses.
And she'd certainly never believed it would be so difficult to send him away afterward.
Shae dismissed the errant thought. She'
d done the right thing. The only thing. Her defenses had been constructed by design. And if they kept Cade Tremaine at a distance, as well—she shrugged off the pang that pierced her chest—then that was for the best in the long run. She wasn't a woman who believed in long-term relationships.
But a sly inner voice reminded her that it had been a long time since she'd needed to remind herself of that.
Stopping before the closet, she took a set of keys from her pocket and selected one. She fitted it into the lock and shoved the door open, then walked inside, stumbling to a halt as she realized two things. The light was already on and she wasn't alone in the space.
Recognition didn't come quickly enough to prevent reaction. One hand flew to her throat, and she couldn't prevent a startled gasp from escaping.
"Didn't mean to scare you, Doctor." Matt Brewer, one of the orderlies, gave her a reassuring smile. "Guess you weren't expecting anyone else to be here, huh?"
"No." It was maddening to discover that her heart hadn't settled back to a normal beat yet. And infuriating to realize that LeFrenz was the cause for her jumpiness. Brewer brushed by her, readying to leave, before comprehension kicked in.
"Matt?" He turned to look quizzically at her. "What were you doing in here?" Only medical personnel had keys to the drug cupboards, theft being a primary concern, and both the closet door and the cupboard door storing the drugs were kept locked.
He looked uncomfortable. "I don't want to get anyone in trouble."
"If you don't want to be the one in trouble, you'd better tell me."
He sent a quick glance at the door, as if contemplating escape. "The head nurse sent me in here to do the inventory. You know they're shorthanded and all." He shrugged, clearly ill at ease. "I was just helping her out."
Shae felt a quick surge of irritation. However pure the intention, the scenario was a minefield of legal and ethical implications. Jan had taken a huge risk sending an orderly on such an errand. And it was going to fall to Shae to tell her so.
Scowling, she unlocked the cupboard and withdrew the tetanus serum, wishing futilely that she'd sent the nurse after it so she could have avoided what promised to be an unpleasant encounter.
It was another hour before she sent her eleven-year-old patient on his way and then helped take care of the new patients that had come in. Seeing Jan stride by the exam room lit her memory, and Shae excused herself from her patient to step outside the room. "Jan? Can I have a word with you?"
The woman stopped, clearly impatient. "Yes?"
"In private?" Shae led her to the nearest lounge area and, finding it empty, picked out a corner where they wouldn't be overheard. "I know you're busier than usual today, but I think you'd be wise to consider the consequences before you cut corners," she began.
Jan shook her head. "What are you talking about?"
"Matt." When the nurse still looked uncomprehending, Shae went on, "I caught him in the drug closet taking inventory for you. You know better than to give your keys to an orderly."
"Matt Brewer?" Jan's dark eyes snapped with anger. "Why the heck would I let Matt Brewer take inventory for me? I'm shorthanded, not short brain cells."
Her vehement denial took Shae aback. For some reason it hadn't occurred to her to doubt the orderly's story. "He wasn't helping you out?"
Jan shook her head. "Are you crazy? I could lose my job for pulling a stunt like that. Did he really say I'd sent him there?"
Shae's tone was grim. "Yes, and the door was locked when I walked in on him, which means he has a key. You'd better check the inventory, see if anything is missing. Then let me know."
The woman heaved a sigh. "This is all I needed to make the day complete. I'll be right back." She hurried away.
Two patients and fifteen minutes later, Jan motioned Shae into the hallway. "I've got two bottles of Darvocet unaccounted for. Should I alert security?"
It was on the tip of Shae's tongue to say yes. Then a thought made her hesitate. "Not yet. Let me check into something first. Then I'll take care of it." She went in search of Tim. When she found him at the admissions desk, he didn't appear all that happy to see her. But when she told him what had occurred that morning, his expression turned serious. "I'll report it."
His hand went to the phone, but she stopped him. "Before you do, could you find out if Matt was working the night the prisoner escaped from I.C.U.?"
Tim stared at her, comprehension dawning in his expression. "That's quite a conclusion to jump to. From stealing drugs to killing a cop."
"The epinephrine was stolen from the E.R. drug closet. Matt has keys to it he shouldn't have. Not to mention the fact that the inventory is off since he was caught in there today." She worked her shoulders, not totally comfortable herself with what she was accusing the man of. "Maybe it's farfetched, but we owe it to that dead cop to check it out, don't we?"
Without another word, Tim dialed a number, spoke a few terse sentences, then waited. Moments later he hung up and punched in a new set of numbers, then said to Shae, "He wasn't scheduled to work that day, but he came in to cover for one of the other orderlies. I'm alerting security first, then administration."
Shae nodded shakily and moved away, drawing her cell phone from the pocket of her white coat. Tim could call security. She was calling Cade.
Josh Birtch walked to the window of the empty hospital office they were using and lifted the shade to look out. "I don't know, Matt, to me your story just doesn't seem to hold up. Does it to you, Tremaine?"
Cade shook his head, watched as the man they were questioning took out a cigarette with shaking hands and attempted to light it. Reaching forward, he flicked it away. "Trying to light up in a hospital? What are you thinking, Brewer?"
"C'mon, guys, cut me some slack." The orderly's face wore a light sheen of perspiration. "I lifted a couple bottles of pain medication, okay? Didn't think it was serious enough to bring in the cops."
"You have a cell phone, Matt?" Cade leaned back in his chair, watched Birtch roam the room. They'd agreed how to play this on the way over to the hospital. Light. Friendly. Guy-to-guy. The last thing they wanted to do was give the guy a reason to lawyer up before finding out what, if anything, he knew.
The question took the man by surprise. "Yeah. So?"
"Did you happen to leave it anywhere recently?" Birtch asked from the window. "Lose it, maybe?"
Brewer looked from one of them to the other. "No, it's in my locker here at the hospital. In my coat pocket. Is that why you guys are here? Someone lost a cell phone?"
"What's your cell number?" Cade asked. "Maybe we can get this whole thing cleared up right away." He slid a tablet of paper and a pen across the table to the man. "Write it down for me."
Brewer appeared eager to do just that, quickly jotting the digits down.
Cade reached for the tablet, glanced at it and then handed it to Birtch. The other detective pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and began scanning the list. In a moment he looked up, caught Cade's gaze and nodded.
Tone hardening, Cade leaned toward the orderly. "I think we have a problem here, Matt. You were working the night Jonny LeFrenz was broken out of I.C.U., weren't you?"
Brewer stared at him. "Hey, what's a couple boosted bottles of pills got to do with that, huh? I already talked to some detectives about that. Everyone on shift that night did. They cleared me."
"No one was cleared," Cade corrected. "We just didn't have reason to talk to anyone again. Now we have reason to talk to you."
"What?" Brewer's gaze darted from side to side. "Why?"
"'Cause we're thinking you had reason to help your friend Jonny get out of here, Matt." Birtch strolled over, braced his palms on the table and shook his head pityingly. "Just your bad luck that a policeman was killed while you were doing it."
The man nearly came over the table. "No way! You can't prove that!"
"I'll tell you what we've got, Matt." Cade kept his voice matter-of-fact, hinting at none of the adrenaline spiking i
nside him. "We've got you at the hospital that night. Weren't even supposed to be working, were you, but you were here, anyway."
"I … a friend of mine was sick. I was just filling in for him. Nothing wrong with doing a favor for a friend."
"Is that what you did for LeFrenz that night? A favor?"
Sweat rolled down Brewer's face. "Not LeFrenz. Mason, another orderly. I filled in for him 'cause he wanted to go to a Saints game."
"But you didn't do a favor for LeFrenz?" Birtch questioned, his face close to Brewer's.
"No! I didn't even know the dude!"
Birtch slammed the table, making the man jump. "Then how come your cell phone number is listed in his book of contacts?"
The man looked dazed. "I don't know. I'm not … hey, do I need a lawyer here?"
The two detectives looked at each other. "Does he need a lawyer?" Josh asked.
Cade shrugged. "Beats me. We haven't taken him downtown." His gaze went back to Brewer. "You agreed to talk to us, right?"
"Is there something you're afraid to tell us?" Birtch asked. "'Cause maybe then you do need a lawyer."
"No, there's nothing like that," the man muttered.
"Look, I'll tell you what we're going to do," Cade told him, leaning back in his chair. "You play straight with us, tell us what we want to hear, and we'll write down that you were cooperative. That goes a long way when sentencing rolls around."
"Sentencing?" The man tried for a laugh and failed. "Sentencing for what?"
Birtch looked at Cade. "Accessory to murder?"
"Definitely. Aiding and abetting. Plus, my guess is he supplied the murder weapon. Could go down as the killer. I'm betting that's the way LeFrenz will tell it when we catch up with him."
Brewer crossed his arms and tried for bravado. "If you were going to catch LeFrenz, you'd have done it already."
"Want to play those odds?" Cade gave him a chilly smile. "Maybe you think he'll leave your name out of it when he's cutting a deal with the D.A. He'll be facing the death sentence. You can't believe he won't use everything he's got to save himself."