by Lara Lacombe
The sirens grew louder, but Fiona kept her attention on Sal. His expression had shifted from shock to calculation, and she could tell he was trying to figure out how to gain the upper hand again.
She took another step back, out of his reach. He didn’t move, but his eyes followed her and it was clear he was planning something.
“You should go,” she said, proud that her voice was only a little shaky. “The police will be here soon.”
He nodded, but he didn’t seem concerned by that fact. “I suppose you think you’ve won?”
“It’s not about winning. I just want to be left alone.” It was the truth—she was tired of being a victim of circumstance, tired of being at the mercy of others. She just wanted to go back to her normal, safe life.
Sal shook his head, a cold smile curving his lips. “It’s too late for that. You’re involved now. I can’t just let you walk away.”
“Why not?” she cried. “It was just a bunch of pictures! Why can’t you forget about them and leave me alone? I wasn’t the one who took them anyway—this isn’t my fault.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
From the corner of her eyes, she saw a black-and-white police car tear into the far end of the parking lot, kicking up gravel as the driver skidded to a stop. When she turned back to face Sal, he was running in the opposite direction, heading back into the office.
Stupid of him, she thought, watching him enter the building. Where’s he going to go?
Fiona tossed the gun on the ground as the police officer approached. “He’s in there,” she pointed. “I’m fine.”
The man nodded at her and rushed into the building. Another car tore into the parking lot, the lights flashing so brightly it hurt to look at them. She turned her head and sank to the ground, feeling suddenly empty. The adrenaline that had kept her on her feet and functioning drained from her, leaving her shaky and uncertain. The pain from her ribs roared to life again, and she blinked back tears with every breath.
She should be thrilled to be free, but the situation felt wrong somehow, as if she was missing something. Sal’s parting words had been cryptic, and she struggled to remember them, to try to make sense of what he’d said and why.
You really don’t get it, do you?
What was there to get? What more was there for her to understand? He wanted the pictures back, but she didn’t have them. Why couldn’t he just let her walk away? Why keep targeting her?
Someone knelt beside her and spoke, but Fiona was too distracted by her thoughts to pay attention. She shook her head absently, the way she would brush away an annoying fly. She had to figure out what Sal had meant.
Her visitor spoke again, this time more insistently. Then he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Fiona instinctively shrank back from the touch, and the sudden movement sent fire down her side and into her abdomen.
“Did he hurt you?” Nate’s face filled her vision, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. “Did that bastard touch you?”
Relief surged through her, making her feel light-headed. She drank in the sight of him, the feel of him, and relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever.
But what was he doing here? How had he found her? She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Nate replied, “The receptionist called me. It’s a long story—” He was cut off by a series of loud pops that split the air.
Nate reacted instantly, pushing her flat on the ground and throwing himself on top of her to shield her with his own body. The sudden change of position and his unexpected weight made her ribs scream in protest, and she moaned. He lifted himself up a little, easing the painful pressure, and she sucked in a breath.
After a tense moment, shouts of “All clear!” came from the office. Nate eased off her. “We need to get you to a hospital,” he observed, frowning at the way she clutched her side.
Fiona merely nodded, not bothering to argue. Hospitals had pain medication, something she desperately wanted right now.
Nate gently helped her stand and started to urge her forward. She caught sight of the gun lying a few feet away in the gravel and stopped, a horrible thought popping into her head. She had touched that gun! Her fingerprints were on it now, which meant they might think she had shot Joey. The realization sent chills through her body and made her stomach cramp.
“Sal shot Joey,” she blurted out, pointing at the gun.
Nate nodded and gestured for another officer to mark it as evidence. “Okay,” he said. “You can tell me all about it after we get you checked out.” He tried to lead her away, but she dug in her heels. She had to make him understand, before they left the scene and the details of what had happened got jumbled in her mind.
“No, you don’t get it. I touched that gun. I managed to take it from Sal, which is why he let me go. My fingerprints will be on it, but I swear, I didn’t shoot Joey!” Panic made her voice rise, and she fought to control her emotions. The thought of going to jail for a crime she didn’t commit was terrifying, especially now that it seemed the nightmarish ordeal was over.
Nate bent his knees until his face was at eye level with hers. “I know you didn’t kill anyone,” he said softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The evidence will prove it was Sal who fired the gun, so I don’t want you to worry about it.” He put an arm around her and they started walking toward the ambulance, which had arrived shortly after all the police cars. “For now, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Fiona relaxed against his body, grateful for his support. Sal’s words still rang in her ears, but she couldn’t focus on that particular puzzle right now, not with her side crying out for attention and her mind distracted by Nate. His presence was soothing, the first comfort she’d had since Joey had taken her. There was just something about him that spoke to her and made her feel calm and secure, the very opposite of her time with Joey and Sal.
She glanced surreptitiously at him as they walked, tracing the bones of his cheek and jaw with her eyes. He hadn’t shaved since the attempted robbery at the store a few days ago, and his stubble was heavier, almost completely covering his cheeks. It made him look older and offset the normal playful twinkle he carried in his eyes.
“You look good with a beard,” she murmured.
He turned to her and smiled. “You think so? I’m not so sure.”
She nodded. “It suits you.”
He rubbed his bristled chin against her cheek in a soft caress. “You suit me,” he whispered.
A thrill shot through her at his words, but before she could determine if he was teasing her, they arrived at the ambulance and the EMTs pulled her away and helped her onto the gurney. One of the other officers approached Nate and spoke into his ear. Nate frowned and nodded, and the other man walked away.
Fiona tried to determine what the officer had told him based on his expression, but he gave nothing away. He stood at the end of the gurney, his eyes never leaving her as the paramedics performed their exam. She showed them where Sal had kicked her, and Nate sucked in a breath, his eyes narrowing and his fists clenching when he saw the dark red mark that was swiftly turning purple.
“You’re going to need X-rays,” one of the medics pronounced. “Is the scene secure?” he asked Nate.
He nodded. “Yes. There are no more injuries.”
The other EMT raised a brow. “I thought I heard gunshots earlier.”
“You did,” Nate said flatly. “The suspect committed suicide.”
Fiona’s stomach dropped at the news. How was she supposed to figure out what Sal had meant by his parting words if she couldn’t ask him about it? She had been counting on the police arresting Sal and interrogating him, but now that he was dead, she had no way to decipher his message.
But did it even matter now? Both Sal and Joey were gone—they couldn’t hurt her anymore. She had nothing to worry about. Right?
It was the logical conclusion. So why couldn’t
she shake the feeling that something was still off?
Her distress must have shown on her face, because Nate moved to her side and slid her hand into his. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” He looked at the medics questioningly, but Fiona shook her head.
“It’s not that,” she said. “I just can’t figure out why Sal killed himself.”
Nate shrugged. “Truth be told, I couldn’t care less about him. I’m just happy you’re safe.”
“But don’t you think it’s odd?” she pressed. The medics wheeled the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, and Nate climbed in after it, sliding down the bench so he sat by her head.
“I suppose,” he said. “Maybe he was freaked-out by the thought of going to prison. He decided he couldn’t handle it, so he killed himself rather than go through the experience.”
Nate’s explanation made sense, but it didn’t fit with the impression she’d formed of Sal. “He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would suffer much, regardless of the circumstances,” she said. “And I’m willing to bet he has the best lawyer money can buy on retainer. I doubt he would have faced a stiff sentence.”
“What’s this really about?” Nate eyed her thoughtfully. “Did he say something that has you worried?”
“Well, yeah,” she confessed. “Just before he ran inside, he told me that I was involved now and couldn’t just walk away. That sounds kind of ominous, don’t you think?”
He frowned, mulling over her words. “Do you think he was trying to scare you?”
Fiona shook her head. “Why bother? If he knew he was running off to his death, why go to the trouble of trying to scare me? That’s what I don’t get.” She winced as the ambulance took a bump particularly hard, jostling her against the rail of the gurney.
Nate squeezed her hand and leaned forward, his expression anxious. “Let’s talk about this after you’ve been seen by a doctor,” he suggested. He looked so upset that she said yes, if only to reassure him that she was fine. His concern was sweet, and she couldn’t help but smile. Her mom was the last person to worry about her, and while at the time she’d found her mother’s fears irrational, she now recognized them as an expression of her love. And while it was way too soon to be using the L-word when it came to Nate, the fact that he cared for her eased some of the loneliness she’d felt since the death of her mom.
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “We’re almost there,” he said quietly.
If only, she thought wistfully. But as long as Nate refused to make family a priority, she had to protect her heart. She couldn’t let herself fall for a man who didn’t share her dreams.
No matter how amazing he seemed.
* * *
“You’re very lucky.” The doctor held up an X-ray film and pointed as he spoke. “You have two cracked ribs and some extensive bruising to the surrounding tissue, but it could have been much worse.”
Fiona nodded, pretending to see what he was indicating. She could make out her ribs, but she didn’t see the cracks he was describing. Of course, this was her first time looking at an X-ray, so her lack of discernment was forgivable. She glanced over at Nate, who seemed to be having an easier time making out the details.
“How long will it take to heal?” he asked.
The doctor lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Probably about six weeks, give or take.” He turned and met Fiona’s eyes. “I’ll prescribe some medication to help with the pain, and I need you to take deep breaths as often as you can.” He saw her puzzled look and elaborated. “That will help prevent pneumonia from setting in.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Fiona replied.
“I’ll go finish up your paperwork, and I’ll have a nurse come in with your medication and an ice pack. We should have you out of here soon.”
“Thanks,” she called as he stepped out of the room.
She leaned back against the bed with a sigh, relaxing into the pillow. It was a far cry from the comfort of her normal bed, but compared to the one Joey had provided for her, it was pure heaven.
Nate sat at her side, staring at his hands. He was quiet, but not in a relaxed way. His shoulders were tense, and he looked like a man who had a lot on his mind.
“Everything okay over there?” she asked.
He cocked his head to the side, considering the question. Then he lifted his head and met her gaze, his eyes a deep, soft green in the overhead fluorescent lights. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “This never should have happened. I should have done a better job of protecting you.” He reached for her hand, his touch warm. “It’s my fault you went through all this.”
“Nate, you can’t blame yourself. You had no way of knowing Joey was in my house, waiting for me. And if you had been there, things probably would have escalated and he’d have gotten violent.”
“But I would have stopped him from taking you,” he argued.
“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe not. There’s no way to know what would have happened if you’d been there. He might have killed you to get to me!”
Nate didn’t seem too bothered by that possibility, which made her shake her head in dismay. “What’s done is done. You’re going to have to let it go and move on. That’s what I’m trying to do.” It was the only thing she could do if she wanted to carry on with her life. She couldn’t dwell in the past and focus on the bad. She had to pick herself up and think about her future—finishing her thesis, graduating, her career. It was a lesson she’d learned the hard way after her mom’s death but one that had stuck with her.
Nate smiled at her. “That’s what my dad said, too.”
Fiona’s eyebrows shot up. “You spoke with your dad?” When had that happened? The other night he’d seemed completely indifferent to his family’s phone call. Had he had a change of heart? She sat up a little, hope dulling the pain of her injuries somewhat.
He dropped his head, looking sheepish. “I called him earlier. I was so upset about your abduction, I didn’t know where else to turn.”
She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in her throat. “Did you talk long?”
“Long enough,” he said. “I think I just needed to hear his voice, if that makes any sense.”
“It does.” She squeezed his hand, happy he had reached out to his family and found comfort in them. “I’m glad you reconnected.”
Nate shrugged. “I don’t know about that,” he replied. “I think my mom is still mad at me over missing Thanksgiving. But my dad seemed to understand, once I explained everything.”
“It’s a start,” she said. “Maybe he can work to soften your mom up.”
“Maybe.” He paused for a moment, then glanced up, his gaze filled with vulnerability. “Would you like to meet them?” he asked shyly.
An electric tingle ran through her, making the fine hairs on her arms stand at attention. “You want me to meet your family?” she said, a little hoarse. Did he really mean it? That was such a big step, especially for someone like Nate who had trouble connecting with his relatives. The fact that he wanted to take her home to meet his parents and sister made her feel special, as though she occupied a significant place in his life.
Her earlier resolve began to crumble in the face of his offer. Maybe, just maybe, she and Nate did want the same things in life—a family, a home. A place to belong. Could she really refuse to take a chance on him if he was trying to change?
He nodded. “Yes. I think you’d like my sister. And my mom—she’d be nice to you. My dad, too, for that matter. They would make you feel welcome.” He studied her carefully for a moment, then added softly, “I think you miss that.”
His observation hit her like a blow, knocking the breath out of her. Was she really that transparent? Did her yearning for her parents come across in everything she did, everything she said? It was a depressing thought. She’d worked so hard to overcome her grief. The idea that she hadn’t really made progress after all was discouraging, and made her feel like a failure.
Or, her mind said, maybe he just sees it because he’s looked. Nate wasn’t like anyone she’d met before. He took the time to really talk to her, to go beyond superficial topics and get to know her. They’d spent a lot of time together over the past few days—was it any wonder she’d opened up to him and revealed things she hadn’t shared with anyone else? He had truly listened, a rare quality these days. And one that she appreciated.
“I do,” she replied. “I would love to meet your family.”
He grinned and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good. We’ll get the investigation wrapped up first, and then I’ll make the arrangements. It’ll be nice to have you there. You can protect me from my mom. She wouldn’t dare kill me in front of a witness.”
Fiona shook her head, smiling at his flippancy. Maybe this upcoming visit would convince Nate his mother truly loved him, and that if she nagged him it was only because she cared.
A nurse entered the room, her hands full with paperwork, pills and an ice pack. Nate gave Fiona’s hand a final squeeze and stepped back. “I’m going to call Owen. I’ll be just outside—it won’t take long. Then we can get your statement, and you can put all of this behind you.”
“That sounds nice,” she said with a sigh. The idea of moving on with her life was so appealing, it was almost intoxicating. Especially now that she knew Nate was trying to reconnect with his family. His apparent change of heart gave her hope that they could have a future together, something she had thought was out of her grasp. The possibility made her smile and sent tendrils of warmth through her limbs. But the moment was bittersweet, as well. What she wouldn’t give for her mother to meet Nate! She would have loved him, that much Fiona knew. It made her a little sad to think the man she was growing to love would never meet one of the most important people in her life.
“Name and date of birth?” the nurse asked, jarring her from her thoughts.