Nerves of Steel

by CJ Lyons

  His fingers stopped their motion. "What is it? Who are you trying to protect? I know it can't be yourself, because you keep digging yourself in deeper with every lie."

  "You. Damn it, I was trying to help you."

  "Me? What the hell?"

  "When we kissed the other day in the trauma room, the day after Fran died--"

  "I remember." He wasn't going to soon forget. Her silent weeping in the dark had about broken his heart.

  "We tape all our traumas, for teaching purposes. A video camera is activated when you turn the light on in those rooms."

  Drake dropped her hand, broke the connection between them. Shit. "Who has the tape?" As if he couldn't guess.

  "Richard."

  "King," he almost spat the name. "That's why he was at your house this morning. He was blackmailing you."

  "You didn't think that he was there to rekindle our romance, did you?" Her voice was tight with fatigue. "I'm sorry."

  "What did you do to ensure his silence, Hart?"

  CHAPTER 56

  Cassie sat bolt upright, planted her feet on the floor. "I didn't kill Trautman and I certainly didn't poison Richard, if that's what you're getting at!"

  If Drake really believed she was capable of killing someone, then there was nothing more to discuss.

  She needed to go. Escape, return home to her life, her familiar ghosts. At least there she knew and understood what haunted her. Here with Drake she struggled through uncertain territory rife with danger--both seen and unseen. Best to run now while she still could.

  Cassie pushed past him, opened the door. He took her by the wrist and raised one hand, his eyes blazing with emotion.

  She couldn't help it, hated herself for it, but she cringed. The flinch lasted only a moment, but his hand flew off her, as if she had burned him.

  Swallowing back bile, she rocked onto the balls of her feet, ready now to do physical harm to him if he tried to stop her, block her escape. He met her gaze, and she felt a surge of shame. She'd give anything for a chance to erase the look of pity from his eyes. Pity and disappointment--his eyes reflected her own feelings back at her.

  "I was just reaching for the door," Drake said in a soft voice, stepping back so that her escape route wasn't blocked.

  Cassie heard a sound, a feral, inhuman whimper and realized it came from her. Her vision was blinded by tears. She slumped against the doorframe, shoulders bowed, energy sapped.

  "Don't you think it's time you told me about King?" Drake wrapped her in his arms. He held her for a long moment. Finally she looked up at him and nodded. He led her to the narrow bed, cradled her on his lap.

  "You can probably guess most of it," she whispered, her finger tracing up the inside of his arm. Touching him, feeling his strength, soothed the erratic pounding of her heart. She didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the comfort he offered her. "I'm sure it's a story you've heard often enough."

  "I want to hear it from you." He gently but firmly moved her hand away, held it within his. "King," he prompted.

  She sighed and nodded again, her head resting against his chest. Then she pulled away from his embrace, regretting leaving that warmth, fearing that after she told him her story, he would be gone from her life forever.

  "We met when I was an intern and he was a senior orthopedic resident," Cassie began. "It was an opposites attract kind of thing. He was handsome, rich, from one of the oldest and proudest families in Pittsburgh, raised with servants, while I'd worked my way through school as a waitress and hotel housekeeper." She faltered, the memory of that first look Richard had given her expanded in her mind. No one had ever looked at her that way before.

  "Our first date was something out of a movie. He took me sailing on a private yacht out on the river. We ate lobster, drank champagne, and watched the lights of the city. We danced until dawn." She sighed as she remembered.

  "Ella--Cinderella," Drake put in.

  "And he was my Prince Charming. A year later, after he'd finished his training and joined his father's practice, we were married. His parents gave us a house out in Fox Chapel as a wedding present.

  "Of course I still had my residency to finish, and that meant night shifts, trauma and ICU rotations with every other night call, flying with the helicopter to accident scenes. There was work and there was Richard, nothing else. My grandmother died a few weeks before we were married. So Richard became my entire reason for being."

  "He isolated you." Drake said, and she knew he recognized the classic pattern.

  "I didn't see it at first. I was like a drowning victim caught in the riptide, not even knowing they're in trouble until they're too far out to swim back to shore or fight the current." Cassie winced, thinking of her naive, younger self. "That's when I found out about his temper--nothing physical, not at first, but when I did something that pleased him, it was like a honeymoon all over again." She gave a small derisive laugh. "Classic Pavlovian conditioning, but I fell for it.

  "I told myself that I just had to make it through residency and everything would be all right. I'd find myself spending every waking moment thinking of ways to please him, to keep him happy so he wouldn't stop loving me. Then the drinking began to escalate, I blamed myself that I wasn't there for him and so did he. Then one night..." Her voice trailed off.

  Cassie closed her eyes as she remembered that night, dinner with his family and their friends at the Fox Club. It was past midnight and Richard was still regaling the table with stories, reaching for another drink. She was sweating, trying hard to maintain a smile on her face and keep up her end of polite conversation about topics she could not care less about.

  "Richard, don't you think you've had enough?" she'd asked quietly. "It's getting late."

  All conversation had stopped at her words, and she found herself the uncomfortable center of attention. Richard set his tumbler down with a bang and shot her a glare. His brother, Alan, had chuckled and broken the tension.

  "I'd say my brother's new wife has him wrapped around her pretty little finger," he said, lifting his own glass in a mock toast to Cassie.

  Cassie bit her lip, uncertain how to respond. Then Richard laughed as well and took her hand as he stood up. He slid her chair out for her.

  "What can I say?" he told the others as he lifted her hand to his lips. "We are still newlyweds, you know."

  That earned them another laugh, and she felt her ears begin to burn with embarrassment. Richard pulled her into an intimate embrace, kissing her in front of everyone. Cassie froze, and he quickly broke it off. He draped his arm around her shoulder, casually laying his hand over her breast and turned back to the table.

  "Thank you everyone. It has been, and it will continue to be," he winked at Cassie, "a wonderful evening."

  Richard was silent as he drove them home. Cassie stewed, still flushed with embarrassment by his public display of affection. How could he have done that to her? He knew how out of place she felt with his family and their rich, country club friends. She'd seen the knowing smirks the other women had given her as they left. But she said nothing.

  Once back at their house Richard followed her inside to the living room, then surprised her by pulling her into another embrace.

  She resisted at first, still angry with him, then forced herself to relax. Richard often told her that she was slower to respond to affection than other women, that she needed to stop competing for control and trust him.

  "I would never hurt you," he'd told her repeatedly when they were in bed together, and she believed him. She didn't understand why she couldn't respond the way he expected her to. "You'll learn," he assured her. "After all, marriage is a partnership. You just have to trust me."

  So tonight, she forced herself to swallow her anger and return his ardor. "Did you see the way they all looked at us when you kissed me?" she asked. "I'll bet my face was bright red, I was so embarrassed."

  He said nothing, but moved her back against the wall and began to slide his hands under her dress, his
fingers catching the waistband of her panty hose. He knelt before her, tugging at the clingy material.

  Cassie laughed, trying to maintain the romantic mood. "It's your own fault," she told him. "You're the one that insisted that no lady would ever dine at the Fox Club with her legs bare."

  His fingers stopped for a second, then he wrenched the stubborn nylons down to her ankles. "That's right, Ella," he smiled up at her, lifting one foot onto his bent knee and slipping her shoe and the stocking off with a flourish. "I did. Guess I keep forgetting that you're no lady."

  Cassie giggled again, shifting her weight to the other foot as he repeated his Prince Charming routine. His hands returned to stoke her inner thighs as he rose to his feet, and she felt her body begin to respond to his touch. He turned her to face the wall, his fingers teasing the zipper of her silk sheath dress down.

  Sliding the dress over her head, he caught her wrists in one hand and kept her arms extended in the air as his free hand glided down her side, tantalizing her with light, feathery touches. Cassie sighed in pleasure and leaned forward. This felt so much better, she thought, enjoying the time he was taking to excite her. She wished he would always go this slow.

  She closed her eyes as he turned her to face him, arms still pinned over her head. His mouth closed on her breast. A shiver of passion swept over her. He moved his lips up her chest, and his free hand began to knead her breast. She could feel his erection through his clothes, and for once she was ready for him.

  Then a sharp pain shot through her as he pinched her viciously. Cassie's eyes flew open. Richard stood over her, an unfamiliar grin crossing his face, his eyes cold and hard. Before she could say anything he slapped her hard, bouncing her head off the wall. She struggled, but he held her fast.

  "You will never," he punctuated his words with a backhanded slap, "humiliate or contradict me in front of my friends and family again. I don't care how fucking drunk you think I am, you'll sit there and smile until I'm ready to leave." Without warning he released her, and she dropped to the floor.

  "Do," he aimed a kick between her shoulder blades, "you," another against her buttocks, "understand?"

  She'd scrambled away from his last kick, trying to regain her footing, desperately searching for a weapon, anything to defend herself with. He had chosen his battleground well, there was no place to hide, no loose objects she could reach.

  Then he was on top of her, pummeling her, forcing himself on her.

  CHAPTER 57

  Cassie opened her eyes, pulled her legs up and hugged them against her chest, turning away from Drake. God, this was so humiliating, but it also felt good to tell the whole story, it was something she had never done before. And Drake was a good listener.

  "I let him do what he wanted, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't perform. That made him furious," her voice caught as she remembered how surprised she had been that night. "And that's when he hit me for the first time."

  "For the first time?" Drake asked. "You mean there were more?"

  She couldn't look at him, merely nodded her head, too embarrassed to say the words out loud.

  "I know what you're thinking," she said. "I used to think the same thing myself about women I saw in the ER--that they asked for it, that it was partly their fault, that if they wanted to they could stop it. Until it happened to me.

  "I moved out, I planned on leaving him for good. But he wore me down, he was so sweet and kind and gentle. Sending me dinner when I was on call, presents waiting for me when I got back home.

  "He blamed it on the alcohol, and he quit, started AA--all for me, he said. He begged me to start over. By this time I only had a few weeks left in my residency and was taking some time off before starting my new job, so I let him talk me into it. I think I felt a little guilty. Maybe because of my long hours I hadn't seen the warning signs, hadn't taken the time to get him help sooner. And I still loved him.

  "It was a honeymoon all over. Life was wonderful." She stopped and brushed her hair back from her face.

  "He never acted drunk, not like he had before. But there were other things. Pill containers that weren't his. And he changed. He began to verbally abuse me, undermine my confidence, try to get me to have a drink so he'd have an excuse to join in.

  "I tried counseling, Al-anon, asked a few of the psychiatrists and social workers I knew for advice. Everything I tried seemed to backfire on me. I felt as if I was drowning. Finally I confronted him, told him I couldn't take anymore and that I was leaving.

  "He was furious. Slammed the door, told me I would never leave him. I got mad and began to yell that I could do as I liked, and he said hell no, and before I knew it, I was reaching for the doorknob, and he hit me so hard I literally bounced off the floor.

  "I lay there stunned. Part of me was scared to death of the look in his eyes, waiting for him to kill me, and the other part was waiting for him to apologize as he'd always done in the past." She stopped, unable to block the flood of memories she'd unleashed after burying them for so long.

  "What happened?" Drake's voice came to her, and she realized he had moved close to her, wrapping her once more in the safe circle of his arms.

  "I was lucky that time. He hit me a few more times and kicked me, but he passed out before he could do any real damage. I struggled to my feet and got my things together--"

  "And that's when you left," Drake finished for her.

  Cassie closed her eyes. It would be so easy to let it end there, to have him believe that. But she couldn't. Even if he would despise her when he heard the rest.

  "No, that's when the phone rang," she continued, her voice a low monotone. "There was a patient who needed him."

  "You told them that he was passed out drunk, you told them the truth, didn't you?" Drake asked, his arms falling away from her.

  She shivered, wrapping her arms around her chest and keeping her eyes closed as if she could pretend it had happened to some other woman. "No," she whispered. "I told them Richard had a bad case of food poisoning. I didn't plan to say it, it just came out and once said I couldn't take it back--I just couldn't hurt him no matter how angry I was.

  "I sat there staring at the phone, and I never felt so low in my entire life. I left all of my things, walked out into the street in the clothes I had on. Somehow I found myself back at my house, body aching and bruised from head to toe. It took me two days to build the courage to call Richard and tell him I was filing for divorce. Before I could hire an attorney, his lawyers served me with the papers, and it was over. I started my new job and a new life."

  He moved off the bed, away from her, and her shivering grew in intensity. "And you never told anyone?" His voice sounded distant.

  Cassie rested her head on her knees, hugged herself tighter. "Never."

  Drake stood with his back to her, shoulders slumped. "So it wasn't you that reported him to the medical board."

  "No," she admitted, her fingers digging into her calves. Someone else, Ed Castro, she suspected, had already done it before she could find the courage. But she wished she had. Wished she'd been the kind of person strong enough to do the right thing.

  "Shit," the word came with an exhalation as if it were forced from him. His body grew rigid. Drake turned and looked down on her, his face expressionless, hands knotted into fists at his sides.

  "I already told you I was sorry. What more do you want from me?" she demanded, angry that he seemed to resent her actions so. Did he think she'd planned it this way? "I'll go talk to Miller in the morning." She got to her feet. "I'll explain everything, tell her it was all my fault."

  She ached to have his arms back around her, felt so desolate without his body near hers. Drake sank into the chair, his back to her, head cradled in his hands. Disappointed. In her. By her.

  Cassie could understand why. She was disappointed in herself--had been ever since that night last year when she had protected Richard. Rosa and her father had not raised her that way. All she could claim was a temporary insanity. Bereft b
y Rosa's death, dazzled by Richard's attentions, she allowed herself to be lured into a world foreign to her own.

  And had paid dearly for the trespass. But not enough. It seemed she was still paying.

  If Richard King wasn't already lying down the hall in a coma, Drake would have been happy to put him there. Damn the consequences. The sound of her voice cut through his fury, and he turned to Hart as she was reaching for the door.

  "Don't go." He took several deep breaths, forced his anger aside. "Please."

  She looked up, but kept her hand on the doorknob.

  "Neither of us is in any shape to drive tonight," he went on. "Stay here. Stay with me." The words came in an uncontrollable rush. "There's nothing to be scared of. And," he took a step toward her, reached for her hand, "the only time I don't have nightmares seems to be when you're near."

  "Me too," she said, her voice low, as if ashamed of her admission. She held her ground, considering his offer.

  When she didn't come into his arms right away, he stepped forward into hers. He swept her up and carried her the three steps back to the bed. Tugged her shoes off, his hightops following right behind, and settled back on the noisy mattress with her on his lap.

  "It's all right," he told her in a low voice. "I'm not going anywhere. Just sleep."

  Hart said nothing as he turned the light off, but he felt her slowly relax in his arms. She turned onto her side, curled up into his chest as if burrowing into a warm, safe place, her head cradled against his neck. And, finally, she slept.

  Drake wondered at the feelings that simple act of trust brought. Who would have ever believed that sleeping with a woman--his arms wrapped around her, offering her his strength, his comfort--would be as stirring as making love to her?

  He eased one hand free to wedge the skimpy pillow between his head and the wall. Hart whimpered as if afraid he was leaving her. He tightened his arms around her, leaned back, allowing all of her weight to fall on him, and closed his eyes.

  Drake woke to a loud beeping. Hart leapt off him and before he could blink twice, she had the light on and the phone in her hand.