She hung up the phone with a crash.
It rang again, almost immediately.
"What?"
"Don't hang up," Muldoon said.
"Don't you sleep?" she asked. "Normal people don't call at 1:44 unless it's an emergency!"
"It is an emergency," he said. "It's your brother."
Joan sat up. "Oh, my God. Donny? What's wrong?"
"I don't know, exactly," Muldoon said as she fumbled for the light. "I got a call from Sam Starrett about two minutes ago. He said it might be Don's appendix, but Sam's not a corpsman—a medic—so he's just guessing. He and his wife are over there with your brother right now. An ambulance is on its way."
Joan was already out of bed and throwing on her clothes. "Donny's not going to go for that. He's not going to want to leave the house."
"Yeah, Sam's a little worried about that. He thinks Don definitely needs to go to the hospital. He thought maybe if you came—"
"I'm already dressed." She gathered up her handbag and her room and rental car keys. "What's the fastest way over there?"
"With me," he said. "I'm already on my way—I'm about four minutes from you."
Mike was already on his way. He was going to drive her over there. "I'm sorry I called you a jerk."
"Do you often have trouble falling asleep?" he asked. "I could help you with that, you know."
"Hey," she said.
"I figured I'd earned enough points tonight to toss in a mildly suggestive comment. But that's it. I'm done. I won't mention it again. I'll meet you out front in a few."
Crazy Donny the Nutjob was in some serious pain.
Mary Lou was kneeling beside him, on the closet floor, trying to teach him the Lamaze breathing techniques she'd learned when she was pregnant with Haley.
It would have been almost funny if Don hadn't been so upset. He was convinced aliens were inside of him and that it was only a matter of time before they came bursting out, like they did in that movie with Sigourney Weaver.
Sam had been on the phone pretty much nonstop since Mary Lou got that first call from Donny. He'd called 911 shortly after coming over here and seeing the Nutjob writhing on the floor. That got an ambulance on its way. He'd called Muldoon, who had Joan's number. And then he'd called Jay Lopez, the team's corpsman, who recommended Sam check Don's abdomen for rigidity—something that would suggest a ruptured appendix.
In theory it was a good idea. In practice it was something else entirely.
"I'm just going to touch you very gently, Don," Sam said.
"No," Donny sobbed. "No! Don't touch me!"
Sam did it anyway, but since he didn't really know what appendicitis felt like, all it served to do was get the Nutjob more upset. He sat back on his heels. "We should probably get him out of here," he said to Mary Lou. "It's going to be real close quarters when the EMTs come in."
"Let them worry about that," she said. "You don't need to save the world, Sam. We just need to keep Donny as quiet and comfortable as possible until they get here. And I happen to know he's most comfortable right here in this closet. There's no point in freaking him out." She leaned closer to Don, who was trying to speak. "Hush, hon. Just breathe the way I showed you. Through your teeth now. Little short exhales. That's right." She looked up at Sam again. "If it's too close in here for you, you could wait outside the house—guard against attack from, you know."
Aliens. He knew.
"Donny says he's seen 'em around lately—in our driveway, no less."
Way to go, Don. "I'll go stand guard," Sam said loudly enough for the Nutjob to hear, but he rolled his eyes when his back was turned.
"First could you run back home, check on Haley, and grab the baby monitor? And while you're there, there's a phone number pinned to the bulletin board in the kitchen. It's for Vincent and Charlotte DaCosta—Donny's grandparents. I think they'd probably appreciate a call."
And wasn't this a change of pace? Sam following Mary Lou's orders instead of the other way around. He went out the front, the screen door banging closed behind him.
The neighborhood was silent, lights off, shades down, sidewalks all but rolled up for the night. Everyone was sleeping.
Well, maybe not everyone. A car was parked out in front of the Bentons' house again. Sam had seen it there a few other times lately, when he'd come home late at night.
Kyle Benton traveled a lot—he was out of town right now, in Hong Kong, on business. And here was that car again. Shame on you, Mrs. Benton.
Sam stood there a moment, wondering almost idly if there was a car parked out in front of his house when he was away.
He doubted it, although he wished it were true. It would make life a whole hell of a lot easier if Mary Lou was unfaithful.
He went inside his house, went into Haley's room.
She was doing what he'd heard Mary Lou call her angel imitation. She was fast asleep, her eyes tightly shut with those golden curls around her face, a picture of innocent serenity.
Sam stood there for a long time, his heart in his throat, thinking about sitting down with Mary Lou tomorrow night and telling her that he'd tried his best, but he couldn't do this anymore.
Telling her that their marriage was over—that it had been before it even started.
Things would be radically different when he moved out. Or maybe Mary Lou would move out. He hoped not. If Mary Lou left San Diego, he didn't have a prayer of seeing Haley more than a few times a year.
And he wouldn't put it past Mary Lou to do that, to leave town out of spite. And to make Sam out as the villain of the piece for the rest of their lives. Haley'd probably grow up hating him. Or at least disdainful of that loser who'd quit on her mom.
Maybe someday she'd understand that he had been tough enough to stick it out, but smart enough to realize that that wouldn't be best for any of them.
Especially Haley, who deserved to grow up surrounded by love, not obligation.
"I suck at being a father," he told her as she slept. "You'll be better off without me."
Well, hell, that sounded like something a pathetic loser would say.
Sam tiptoed out of the room, feeling like shit and knowing there were no easy outs, no easy answers.
Tomorrow night was going to be the pits.
The DaCostas' phone number was right on the board in the kitchen, in Mary Lou's loopy handwriting, just where she'd said it would be.
He dialed his cell phone as he headed back across their two yards, letting it ring and ring and ring.
Muldoon's truck pulled up, and Joan DaCosta came flying out. Her T-shirt was on inside out. Funny, that was usually Sam's MO when getting dressed in a hurry.
"Where is he?"
"In the closet." He followed her inside. "Are your grandparents hard of hearing, because they're not picking up." Of course, it was tricking late.
"They're already on their way," Joan told him before disappearing into the closet.
Muldoon was right behind her. "Thanks for calling me," he told Sam.
"No problem. Thanks for getting here so quickly."
Outside the house, the ambulance pulled up. And then, yes, there were six adults in Denny's walk-in closet.
Sam stayed out in the bedroom.
The conversation going on in there was like something from a science fiction movie, with Donny wailing about the aliens in his stomach and Joan trying to reason with him.
"Well, Don, if there were aliens in my stomach, I'd want to be taken to the hospital as soon as possible."
"No!" he cried. "No!"
Joan came out then, with the two EMTs trailing behind. Together, they discussed the pros and cons of sedating Donny. Mary Lou came out, too, and joined in the fray. She was on Joan's side—she thought the shock of waking up in the hospital would be terribly hard for Donny to deal with. They should—and could, as long as his life wasn't immediately in danger—try to talk him into leaving willingly.
Mary Lou said she knew that would be very hard to do. But wasn't it worth s
pending just a little more time? For Donny's sake... ?
She was in her pajamas—flannel boxers and a tank top with nothing underneath—and one of the EMTs was actually flirting with her. A breast man, apparently. She was giving them all quite an eyeful.
But that wasn't all it was that made those men look, Sam realized. She had color in her cheeks and life m her eyes and foe in her voice as she defended Donny with real passion.
Holy fuck, was it possible Mary Lou... ? And Donny the Nutjob... ?
No fucking way.
But God knows Mary Lou hadn't been getting any from Sam lately. And she looked...
Happy?
Or at least happier.
And Don was rumored to be some kind of stock market genius worth millions. He had hundreds of thousands in his chump change savings account. Maybe Mary Lou had discovered that the key to her happiness lay not in living with a Navy SEAL, but with a lunatic millionaire. Sam sure as hell wouldn't put it past her.
But Jesus. That meant Mary Lou could well be moving out of their house into this one. Haley, too. How weird would that be?
Sam flat-out didn't like the idea of Haley being raised with a freak for a stepfather. But on the other hand, she would be right next door...
Before he could speculate any further, Muldoon came to the door of the closet.
With Donny.
The Nutjob was bent over, clutching his gut, but he was on his feet.
"I'm going to ride with Don in the ambulance," Muldoon said as if he weren't aware he'd performed a major miracle. "We'd like to go to the hospital now, if that's all right."
Everyone stood there, staring with their mouths open for about two seconds. And then everyone moved at once.
Sam just stepped back and let 'em run.
"I'm going to the hospital, too," Mary Lou told him. "Will you stay with Haley?"
Sam nodded. "Better put some real clothes on."
"I will."
They were the last ones in the room, and he had to ask. "Are you actually screwing Donny DaCosta?"
She laughed—a loud whoop of surprise—as she turned back to him. But then incredulousness replaced the amusement on her face. "You're serious."
If it was an act, she deserved an Oscar. Especially when she shot him a look of pure disgust and headed out the door. "Fuck you, Sam. Would you even care if I was?"
No. Sam didn't say it aloud, but she glanced back at him
again, and he knew she saw it written clearly on his face.
* * *
Vince watched Mike Muldoon as Mike watched Joanie pace.
The hospital waiting room was crowded, as was the actual ER.
Don had been given a bed right away in a ward with four other patients. Charlie was with him, along with that nice little neighbor gal, Mary Lou.
Donny seemed to like holding her hand. And aside from her obvious physical attributes, Vince could relate. She had a sweetness to her, a childlike, almost angelic quality that contrasted sharply with that stripper's body.
The doctors were doing some kind of tests on Den to see if it was in fact his appendix that was giving him so much pain. Apparently they could tell enough from a relatively simple blood count to keep them from immediately diving in with exploratory surgery, although that was always an option.
As Vince watched, Joanie paced her way back to Muldoon and stopped right in front of him. She was not, as Charlie would've said, a happy camper.
"How could you promise him something like that?" she said loudly enough so that Vince could overhear without straining. Which meant she was talking pretty loudly. "Something you couldn't possibly deliver?"
Mike made room for her on the bench. She didn't sit
He sighed. "First of all, I didn't promise anything I couldn't deliver."
"So what are you going to do?" she asked. "You're really going to stay here all night?"
"Yes," he said. "If your father doesn't show—
She rolled her eyes. "Not if. When. Tony's official title in life is No Show."
"Actually—"Vince leaned over to interject."—your father's on his way. I spoke to him just a few minutes ago."
"Oh, my God." Joan pretended to push her hair back from her forehead. It was obvious that her real intention was to hold on to her head so that it didn't explode from the shock. She sank down onto the bench, next to Mike. "Donny's right. Aliens are invading people's bodies. That's the only reason I can think of for why he'd come—because he's not really Tony anymore."
"Very funny," Vince said. "Give the kid a break. He's trying, okay?"
She got all self-righteous—something she was very good at. "He's not a kid, Gramps. And he's had lots of breaks."
"Well, give him one more," Vince recommended, and snapped open his newspaper, pretending to read. He didn't want to argue with Joan about Tony. Not right now, with Donny maybe headed for surgery.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her turn to Mike. "If my father's really coming, you don't have to stay."
He nodded, obviously going nowhere because he was settled back in his seat. "I'm not here for your brother, Joan. I'm here for you."
Ah, it was beautifully said. Perfectly delivered with complete, baldly honest sincerity. If she didn't melt at that, Don was right. Aliens were invading people's bodies and this young woman was no longer his sweet Joanie.
She didn't speak, which was a pretty good sign that she was melting. It was rare indeed when Joan didn't have a snappy comeback line.
And then Charlie was there with some good news. "It's not Donny's appendix," she announced. "The doctor thinks it might be some kind of food poisoning, but nothing too serious."
Joan stood up. "Can I go in and see him?"
"Of course," Charlie said.
Joan looked at Muldoon and opened her mouth to speak.
He didn't give her a chance. "I'll be right here," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Did you know your T-shirt's on inside out?" Muldoon asked as he and Joan walked all the way back to hospital lot C, where his truck was parked.
Man, he wanted to put his arms around her and kiss the heck out of her. All night long, he'd been aware of every move she made. Every time she stretched out her legs, every time she started to pace, every time she so much as took a breath.
She looked down at her chest in the dim light. "Inside out and backward," she said. She laughed. "No wonder I spent the entire night feeling like I was choking. God, and I thought it was psychological."
"I know that was rough for you," he said. "Watching Donny hurting like that, and then seeing your father. I'm sorry, I can't even offer to take you out and buy you a stiff drink. Nothing's open."
"What time is it?" she asked. "And please God, let it be before three..."
He glanced at his watch. "Uh-oh."
"Don't tell me," she said. "I don't want to know."
She looked beat. Without any makeup, she looked almost sweet. She looked younger. Innocent, even.
She'd talked briefly to her father, who looked quite a bit like a younger version of her granddad. She'd even hugged the guy. But Muldoon knew just from watching her that this was only a temporary truce, not a real peace settlement. Still, it was a start. Life was too short to carry grudges, but now was not the time to start preaching at her.
"I don't know how to thank you for this," she said as he unlocked the door to his truck and helped her up and inside.
"You don't have to thank me." He closed the door, then crossed around the front and climbed in.
"Let's just sleep here," she said. "It's so quiet and dark and perfect and I'm so exhausted..."
"The seat reclines," Muldoon told her. "Why don't you push it back as far as it goes? I'll wake you when we get to the hotel."
She reached out her hand, stopping him from putting the key in the ignition. "Don't you ever get tired of being so unbelievably nice?"
He laughed softly. "I didn't realize I was doing anything unbelievable."
He looked up to fi
nd her gazing at him, her expression such a mix of emotions he couldn't read her at all.
If it had been any other woman in the world looking at him like that, he would have taken a chance that all that emotion was a good thing, and he would have kissed her. But Joan didn't want him to kiss her.
Or did she?
He moistened his lips and her gaze dropped to his mouth.
And stayed there, for a good long time.
Okay.
When she looked back into his eyes, he knew he was completely unable to hide his desire for her.
"Aha," she whispered. "You're nice to me because you want to get laid, am I right?"
"No. I mean, yes, of course, I want us to ... but..." He shook his head.
"What you said to me in the hospital was..." Joan cleared her throat. "It was very sweet. I haven't been very nice to you these past few days, and—"
He cut her off. "It's okay. Look, I've decided that I can wait until you figure some stuff out, you know, that you need to get figured cut. Take as long as you want. I'm just... I'm just going to be here. But I'm not going to let us not be friends, Joan. I'm going to fight you for that. I'm not going to go away, even when you go back to D.C. I'm going to call, I'm going to write, and I'm going to visit. So you better get used to me hanging around."
She was silent for a long time, just gazing at him. Then she said, "We're going to make love again, aren't we?"
"Eventually," he said, his pulse kicking up a notch. He was beyond glad that she recognized that as a universal truth. "Yeah. We are."
"Tonight," she said. "I meant tonight."
And that was what that look on her face meant. She wanted...
"God," he said, "I hope so."
He kissed her. Hard. With absolutely no finesse. One minute they were talking, and the next he was on top of her, kissing her more deeply than he'd ever kissed anyone without a lengthy warm-up.
Except he wasn't really on top of her. She was as desperate for him as he was for her, and she had met him halfway.
He had her shirt pulled up, her bra unfastened, and her bare breasts in his hands within a few short seconds.
She laughed. "Whoa, Mike, we're in the parking—
Troubleshooters 05 Into The Night Page 42