by Carol Caiton
He slipped his arms around her and held her for a long time, felt her shaking with reaction. But he couldn't bring himself to say the words that would comfort and reassure her. She was gonna to ruin everything. She might not know it, but that didn't change the facts. RUSH would never be the same when Simon married her and had to leave.
He let her cry it out, holding her until she shuddered a few times before easing away. Her purse was on the ground and she bent down, pulled out a few tissues, and blew her nose.
"Okay?" he asked.
She tried to stuff the used tissue in her front pocket, realized her jeans were hanging open, and started to cry again while she fastened up.
Goddamn, she looked bad. The right side of her face was already swelling where he'd nailed her, and her other eye was puffy. Maybe from crying.
"You need a doctor," he told her.
She shook her head. "No. I'm okay." She sniffed. Blew her nose again. "Thank you, Michael. Thank you for helping me."
He frowned and pulled out his cell phone. "Want me to call Simon?"
Surprisingly, she shook her head. "No, don't call Simon." She wiped her face some more, then tucked the tissue into her pocket. "How did you know?"
He dialed 911. "I was in the mall," he told her. "The guy was scoping you out."
She stood quietly while he talked to the dispatch operator. When he disconnected, he asked, "Where's your car?"
"Right here." She gestured toward the one he'd thrown the bastard up against.
"Gimme your keys. No sense standing out here in the cold while we wait for the cops."
Obediently she reached into her handbag and pulled them out. "I wish you hadn't called the police. I don't even know what he looks like. It happened so fast."
"Maybe not, but I do."
She stared at him, but he didn't know how much she could actually see. Both eyes were pretty swollen.
"Soon as you get patched up, we're gonna go sit down with those chalks of yours and draw another picture." He unlocked the passenger door. "C'mon. Get in."
The police arrived as the mall was closing. She refused medical attention, so Michael told the cops he'd take her to get looked at. An hour after that, he bundled her into the passenger seat again, climbed back in the driver's side, and turned the key in the ignition.
"Where are we going?"
"Back to RUSH."
"But what about your car? Didn't you drive here?"
"Yeah. I'll get it tomorrow." He shifted into gear. "Buckle up."
She didn't say anything else until he pulled onto the highway. "Where will you sleep if you can't drive home?"
"All the beds at RUSH and you ask me that?"
"Oh."
He pressed on the accelerator. She didn't talk anymore and that was fine by him. If she talked he'd have to listen and then he might start to like her. He just wanted to get her back on property, have her checked out at Medical Services, then draw that picture. After that, so long, sweetheart.
He parked her piece of crap car in her R-link slot with a new appreciation for his own sporty Lotus. But hey, the Toyota was still running and it was older than she was, so maybe it wasn't such a piece of crap after all.
He got out and walked around to open the passenger door. "So we're even now, right?"
"Even?"
"Yeah. You and me. The picture you drew was right on the money."
She stood still, looking up at him, and he couldn't close the door. Then she grinned and it was the sorriest lookin' grin he'd ever seen.
"They got the murderer?"
He urged her out of the way. "Not yet. But the cops know who he is and they're looking for him."
"That's . . . that's wonderful."
"Yeah, it is. C'mon."
She kept her head down, searching for something in her pocketbook, so they got through the checkpoint with no questions asked. Then he realized she'd done that on purpose, using her hair to hide her face. Not that it would help tomorrow. She was still gonna look like she'd been in the middle of a brawl.
When they reached the main path he slipped a hand under her elbow and steered her away from the R-link complex.
"Where now?"
"Medical Services."
She faltered, so he tightened his hold.
"I'm really okay."
"Tell it to the doctor."
"We don't have a doctor on duty this late."
"Fine. Nurse practitioner."
She stopped arguing.
* * *
After only four hours of sleep, Nina fumbled for her clock and turned off the alarm. She cringed. The bandage on her elbow pulled at the skin beneath and the cut it protected felt as though it had opened up again.
Rolling over, she opened her eyes. Correction—she opened one eye. Singular. The right one wanted to keep sleeping.
Wonderful.
Maybe that was the reason Michael insisted on drawing that portrait so late last night. He probably knew she'd only have one working eye today. God, what did she look like?
Pushing the covers aside, she sat up. Then she moaned. Opting for a shower instead of a bath, she stood under the hot spray for a long time, letting it sluice over her from head to foot. When she turned off the water and reached for a towel, she had two working eyes and she didn't ache as much.
But her face was swollen. She could see it and feel it if she moved her mouth. Maybe she'd better start learning her way around the tunnels. The board of directors wouldn't want her out on the grounds looking as though she'd been abused. Again.
Dressed in gi pants and a T-shirt, she left her apartment at the same time Geneva stepped out of hers, two doors down.
"My God, Nina, what happened?"
Nina sighed. "I was attacked last night in a parking lot."
"Are you okay? You look like you've been in a fist fight."
Trying out a smile, right away she wished she hadn't. If the power behind Michael's fist had connected with that creep's face, he probably would have broken the guy's jaw. It sure felt like he'd broken hers with his elbow. "I'm okay," she said. "Just a little bruised."
"You call that a little? Do you need help walking?"
"Heavens, no. Really. I'm fine. But thanks."
"You should have stayed in bed. Why are you even coming to class?"
"Because I'll probably feel better afterward."
Geneva gave a reluctant nod. "Maybe. Where did it happen? What parking lot?"
Nina had rehearsed the explanation she planned to give. It was only natural everyone would be curious. She told Geneva about the attack and that Michael Vassek had been there to rescue her. But she left out the part where he elbowed her in the face, deciding instead to let everyone assume the bruise on her cheek had resulted from the attack. And in a sense it had.
She repeated her story in the elevator and again to her tai chi instructor and the rest of the class. Then, finally, everyone took their places, ready to begin the day. Scarcely three minutes after settling into meditation, however, Avery crouched down beside her and placed a light hand on her shoulder.
"Nina, the police are here to see you." She nodded toward the door and Nina looked over her shoulder. Beside her, Libby opened her eyes as well and turned.
Two unknown men dressed in business suits stood just inside the room. Detectives? Behind them, in the open doorway, was one of RUSH's security guards. And beside them stood Mason Ingersol wearing jeans and a sweater instead of his usual business attire. He looked more approachable in casual clothing, she decided. But why was he here? It was Sunday and, like Simon, he didn't work weekends.
Briefly meeting Libby's eyes, Nina rose to her feet. She didn't want to think about Simon. She'd neither seen him nor heard from him for more than a week. Not since the night he'd kissed her. No phone call, no voicemail message, absolutely nothing. It was as though he'd tested the waters and decided he didn't like what he'd found.
Starting toward the back of the room, she spotted a gold shield attached to a leath
er belt and turned a questioning gaze to Mason. Maybe they wanted to talk with her about the sketch she'd drawn of Serena Mandek's murderer.
Both detectives stared at her face. Mason, too, stared at her, a hardness in his eyes she hadn't seen before.
Apprehension swept over her. Mason was angry. He looked relaxed, but his eyes said something else. Was he angry at her?
He waited until they stood in the deserted corridor then said, "Nina, the police want to talk to you about last night."
Confused, she frowned. How did Mason know about last night? She looked from one detective to the other. "All right."
"Let's take this to one of the empty classrooms," Mason said. Then he placed a hand at the small of her back and began guiding her toward the elevator, which was totally unnecessary. She knew her way to the elevator and she was sure Mason was aware of that. But his hand stayed where it was, open palm warm and . . . .
Several things occurred to her. First, the hand on her back conveyed protection. She didn't know how she knew that, she just did. For whatever reason, Mason had positioned himself at her side so she'd know his presence was for her benefit. Which meant, second, that he wasn't angry at her. So, third, it was possible he was angry with the two detectives. Was she in some sort of trouble?
She looked up at him. She knew he felt her eyes because his fingers squeezed in a small, reassuring gesture. But he didn't look back at her. Maybe because the two detectives followed behind them.
Something was wrong.
In the elevator his hand fell away. Typically, no one spoke, and her apprehension grew. When they exited on the third floor, the hand returned and she sidled a little closer.
She took a seat at the back of the deserted classroom and watched as the two detectives turned two of the desks to face her, then sat as well. Mason did the same, and the security guard closed the door from the other side.
"Why don't we start with yesterday afternoon, Miss Millering. Do you remember what time it was when you left RUSH?"
Nina glanced at Mason, then back at the detective. "Yes. I ate an early dinner, went back to my apartment to change, and drove to the mall just before five o'clock."
"Any stops along the way?"
"No."
"Did you buy anything?"
"Yes. Two blouses."
She didn't tell him why she'd bought the blouses. She didn't say anything about the job she'd applied for on Wednesday or the interview on Thursday, or the phone call she'd received Friday afternoon telling her she'd been hired. Nor did she tell him she'd gone to the mall for some retail therapy. She'd been feeling sorry for herself, hurt and confused by Simon's withdrawal. Getting away from RUSH and walking around the mall had assuaged some of that hurt.
She faltered when she recounted the attack in the parking lot. But she got through it, describing Michael's sudden appearance and the brief fight that followed. Only this time, she left nothing out. Touching the side of her face, she explained that his elbow had inadvertently struck her.
"Did Michael Vassek pursue the man who attacked you?"
"No." She offered a small smile. "I think he probably wanted to, but he knew I was hurt. I was about to fall down when he caught me."
The detective continued questioning her, focusing on what happened after the attack. She wasn't able to say what time it was when she and Michael sat in the car waiting for the police to arrive. She was, however, able to say it was ten-fifteen when he insisted on driving her back to RUSH. She told him Michael followed her into the examination room because he said it was his elbow that had caused the damage. And she told him it was eleven thirty when they walked out of Medical Services.
"Did Michael leave after he knew you were all right?"
"No." She wondered where this was leading, but continued with her answer. "He walked me back to my apartment building and waited while I collected some art supplies to sketch the face of the man who attacked me."
The detective nodded. "I saw that drawing. It's good."
"Thank you."
"What happened next?"
"We went to the conference room, inside the administrative building, and Michael described the man so I could draw him."
"You didn't see the man who attacked you?"
"Yes, I saw him. I was able to fill in a few of the details on my own. But it was dark and it happened fast. The back of my head hit the asphalt and I was crying and trying to get away."
"All right." He paused, then asked, "Do you know what time it was when you left the administrative building?"
She stared into his eyes. "It was two in the morning. It takes time to draw something somebody else saw. I only got four hours of sleep before I got up to go to tai chi class."
"Did you and Michael leave the building together?"
"Yes."
"Just one more question, Miss Millering. How would you describe your relationship with Michael Vassek?"
She blinked. Then she sat a little straighter and said, "Detective, Michael Vassek and I don't have a relationship. He would rather I fell off the face of the earth than say hello to me."
What the heck was going on? Why all these questions about Michael? She was pretty sure this interrogation wasn't about the attack on her. It was about Michael, only no one had told her so.
When the two detectives finally got to their feet and thanked her for her time, Mason rose as well and gave her arm a small squeeze.
Once again, they filed into the elevator and no one spoke. On the ground floor, Mason waited for her to exit, walked her back to class, then led the two detectives toward the lobby.
She stood for a moment staring after them. She didn't know what to do. Michael was in some sort of trouble, she knew that much. But she didn't know if she'd helped him or made things worse.
Glancing down at her watch, she saw that class had already ended. Libby would be back at her apartment now.
Whirling around, she strode back to the elevator, jammed her finger on the call button, and waited impatiently for it to arrive. When it did, she rode it down to the tunnels and hurried toward the R-link complex. She wasn't supposed to be alone, not even in the tunnels, but she didn't have time to wait for a security guard to come and escort her.
Dashing into her own apartment first, she grabbed her sunglasses, then hurried out again and rapped on Libby's door. "Come on, come on . . . don't be in the shower."
The door opened.
"Nina!"
"I need you to come with me." She reached for Libby's wrist.
"Why? Where are we going?"
Pulling her friend behind her, she dashed back toward the elevator. "Something's wrong."
"What do you mean something's wrong? Where are we going?"
"Over to Admin. I think Michael's in trouble."
"Michael Vassek?"
"Yes. Come on."
"Nina, what happened last night?"
Inside the elevator, Nina punched the lobby button. "I told you what happened," she said, sliding the sunglasses onto her nose.
"I know what you told me. But why were the cops here? What did they want?"
"I don't know."
"How could you not know? You missed the whole class."
"Let's go."
They rushed through the lobby and out the door.
"Oh, God, it's freezing! Nina, did the cops come here for Michael?"
"I don't know, Libby. I don't know anything. They asked me a lot of questions. They wanted to know where he was, when he was there, and what time he left." She slapped her hand onto the scanner and the gate opened.
"Can I at least go back for a coat?"
"No." Then Nina spotted the house phone embedded in the wall beside the gate. She opened the glass casing and grabbed it. "What's the number for Admin?"
Libby wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get warm. "Zero. Just press zero. But Denny's not there. It's Sunday, remember?"
Nina slammed the receiver back down on the cradle. "I'm going over to Admin. You don't have to
go with me—"
"Don't even think it."
"Okay then. Let's go."
She grabbed Libby's arm and tugged her along, exhaling little puffs of mist as they half walked, half trotted along the pavement. Midway between Checkpoint 2 and the administrative building, they encountered two uniformed police officers accompanied by another of RUSH's security guards. Why? Had all these law enforcement officers come here to arrest Michael?
None of the lights were on inside the lobby, but Nina was able to see through the doors to the shadowy group of men congregated around the reception desk. Hurrying up the front steps, she and Libby headed straight for the doors. Normally they slid open on approach. But nothing happened as they crossed the loggia.
Frustrated, Nina once again slapped her hand onto a scanner, mentally daring it to refuse her handprint. But the doors whooshed open. Several pairs of eyes turned to watch as she and Libby crossed the threshold.
Whipping off her sunglasses, she spotted Simon among the men and forced her gaze to move past him without stopping. Six. There were only six of them. She locked onto Mason. "Where's Michael?"
A short echoing silence followed her question. Then all eyes shifted to Ethan and Michael stepped out from behind him into view.
Nina drew a shaky breath. He was here and the rest of the board of directors surrounded him. She tried to calm down. "Are you okay?" Her voice was a little thin, but she didn't care.
He had a cup in his hand and turned to set it down on the counter. "Yeah. I'm okay."
"What did they want? The police."
He scowled. "Somebody stole my car out of the parking lot last night." He raked one hand through his streaky blond hair. "They crashed it and somebody got killed. But whoever was driving my car took off."
"The police thought it was you?"
"Yeah."
She stared. God, she'd been his alibi, and she hadn't even known it.
Somewhere inside she was sorry about his car. And she knew she should feel something more for the person who had died. But at that moment she couldn't move past the fact that Michael could have been taken off to jail if she'd said the wrong thing.
"So I covered you okay," she asked, her tone still wispy.