by Suzy Shearer
“I was too upset. When Charlie rang me and told me what happened, I scooted there as fast as I could.” He squeezed my hand, his face serious. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
“Not at the moment, but I will be.”
Charlie finally reappeared. He had a funny look on his face, a cross between being angry and almost laughing.
“Where’s John?”
“On his way back.”
“Back?”
“Stupid guy. He thought you wanted him gone. He only heard half of the last thing you said. He heard you say he needed to go, so he went.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“He didn’t hear you say ‘go kill those fuckers,’ he actually thought you wanted him to leave you.”
I started crying again and couldn’t stop, despite Charlie’s attempts to make me. I had no idea how long I sobbed, but the next thing I knew John was there and I was kind of in his arms—that made me cry more. I wasn’t usually a weepy sort of woman, but today the dam had well and truly burst.
He was apologizing, I was bawling, and neither of us were making much sense. Finally, my wails turned to sobs, then the sobs to tears, and at last the tears stopped. I wanted to burrow myself in his arms but couldn’t. I hurt enough from being held and from crying. Justin and Charlie were nowhere to be seen. They must have left to give us some privacy.
“My dearest, darling woman, I’m very sorry. I never thought, I…”
“It doesn’t matter, but did you do what I asked?”
“I don’t know what you wanted.”
“Did you kill them?”
“Yes.”
I gave a very satisfied sigh. I never thought I’d ever wish anyone dead until today and now I was happy to know John had killed them. “Good.”
“I should never have put you in such danger.” His voice filled with misery, like he was punishing himself over this, blaming himself fully.
“How could you know?”
He shrugged. “I just should have.”
“Why did they want you? They said something about a brother.”
It appeared as if the weight of the world was resting on John’s shoulders, but he did answer. “You know the man who shot me?”
I nodded carefully because my head hurt.
“Well, he had a brother who I’d faced before. We had a knife fight when I tried to arrest him. I cut his face pretty badly.”
“Scarface,” I gasped, and he looked at me oddly. “That’s what I called him in my head.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, he actually got away and then a few months later, I killed his brother when he shot me. I guess he wanted revenge for both.”
“But how did he know you were here and alive?”
“That, my dearest, is the million dollar question.” I could hear a huge amount of anger in his voice as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be finding out.”
“I want to know what happened, but not now, not yet.”
“I understand. You know you have to tell the police everything.”
“Everything? Everything they did? Every…”
My tears filled my eyes, ready to pour out again, but John gave me a very soft kiss on my bruised and split lips.
“Yes, later, but I’ll be with you the whole time.”
“Promise?”
“Promise. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”
I thought that may prove difficult in the future, but at the moment it was what I needed to hear. I didn’t want to be alone either. The other two came back in and the three men sat. People kept coming in, poking and prodding, taking notes, checking dials and screens. They kept asking me if I knew where I was and who the Prime Minister was. They didn’t seem to appreciate me saying he was an arsehole, but obviously I passed all the other tests.
Becky and Cass turned up.
“Charlie rang. Oh, Belle, are you okay? What did they do to you?” Becky cried.
“I’m okay, sort of.”
Cass was speaking with John and the other two and I heard Charlie telling them what my injuries were. Becky brushed my hair off my face with her hand. Everyone settled down again, but then Grant came in with another man.
“Anabelle, this is Derek. He’s going to check your facial injuries.”
John moved away so the doc could get closer. Derek bent forward, his face close to mine.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said cheerfully, but didn’t seem the slightest bit sorry as he prodded my face, lifted each eyelid, and squeezed my nose. I was about to shout at him to stop when thankfully he stood up.
“I’ve studied all your scans and I think everything will heal nicely without surgery. There’s going to be more swelling and pain, but in a few weeks it should settle down. The break should be healed completely in a couple of months. I’ll need you to have a couple of follow up scans over the next few weeks to make sure it’s healing properly.”
“Okay.”
“You need to be careful blowing your nose and eating. Stick with softer foods for the first week, no biting into apples and such. The cuts on your lips and cheeks don’t require stitching. Anyway, they’ll heal quickly. I’ll get Grant here to put some reinforced steri-strips across the cut on your cheek. It will heal neatly. Leave them on until they fall off by themselves, and don’t get them wet.”
I gave a little sort of nod and he left. Grant took his place.
“I’ll get someone to clean up your and face then we can put the strips in place.”
“Thanks.”
He left too.
“I don’t want any more touching, I hurt,” I said with a sob. “Tell them no more.”
“Baby, I know, but you need to get better,” John told me.
“But they hurt me,” I whimpered.
Grant came back with a nurse in tow. Together, they inflicted more pain and punishment. By the time they’d finished cleaning my face, my feet, all my bruises, and my stomach, I was in tears again. I couldn’t believe how much I hurt, and I was a woman who got flogged hard during sex! Grant put some strippy things on my face and a waterproof plaster on a long cut on my hip. He jabbed me with a needle, telling me it was a tetanus shot, and then he asked my visitors to leave for a moment.
“Anabelle, I’m going to put some antibiotic cream on the burns you have. It has an anesthetic in it as well. I don’t want them to get infected. We’ve given you some antibiotics intravenously because of the wounds and burns. This is going to sting for a moment, but then it should go numb.”
All along my pussy had been in such agony, but I wasn’t game enough to tell anyone. It was embarrassing as he spread my legs apart and then dabbed on the cream.
I screamed—loudly!
Okay, maybe it was a dumb reaction, but it was as if he was using the roughest food grater he could find or pouring acid on me. I couldn’t help it. Tears ran down my sore cheeks and I wanted to clamp my legs together while keeping them apart.
“Hold on, the anesthetic should kick in any moment.”
I thought it had been hurting before, but this was almost unbearable. My legs were shaking and the pain wasn’t going away fast enough for my liking. Then, maybe a minute later, the terrible agony began to ease off. Finally, it was numb and I blew a huge breath out through my mouth.
“All done. We’re sending you upstairs to a room. Try and get some sleep.”
Yeah, right. As if that was going to happen.
He pulled back the curtains and spoke with the others, telling them I was going to a ward and they’d have to leave. Naturally, John refused.
“Anabelle has been attacked, yes, her kidnappers are dead, but as a representative of the police, I am not leaving her alone.”
“Well, you’ll have to take that up with the staff on the ward.”
“I want her in a private room for her safety.”
“She will be.”
“Fine.”
I’d never heard such authority in John’s voice. It was even more forceful than
when we played. There was no way anyone would go against his wishes. Becky and Cass said goodbye, promising to see me in the daylight. Charlie and Justin left as well, with Charlie telling me he’d have everything running fine at the boutique. I watched them walk out and turned to John.
“I’m not in any danger anymore, am I?” I asked, a little afraid.
“No,” he whispered and winked. “But they don’t know that.”
A porter came and wheeled me off after the nurse unhooked all the gadgets. She walked beside the bed as we went through the hospital and into a small quiet room. Another nurse came in and they spoke quietly as one handed over my treatment notes to the other. After hooking me up again, the first nurse and the porter left. John came back to my side.
“You’ll have to leave, sir.”
“No. Miss Rowley was the victim of a vicious crime and I am in charge of her well-being. I will not be leaving.”
There goes that voice again.
The nurse smiled as if she was prepared to have his baby then she whispered, “Oh. Um … okay.”
Obviously, she wasn’t sure how to deal with him but left the room. A few moments later, she was back with a glass of water and some pills.
“The doctor asked if you would take these. They’re sleeping tablets. You need to get some rest and these will help you deal with the pain, but unfortunately, we’ll have to wake you a few times.”
“Why?”
“Because of the blow to your head, we have to make sure your brain function is normal. Hits to the head can cause amnesia, vomiting, or damage.”
“I wouldn’t mind a little amnesia, but unfortunately I can remember everything,” I told the nurse unhappily, my mind immediately flooded with images of Scarface and Mr. Knife.
I shuddered and tried hard not to scream or cry. Still, I took the tablets. I would have swallowed a whole bottle full if they meant the pain would go. As I gratefully took them, I managed to drink the water without spilling too much. She took my obs, asked the same silly questions, and then wrote on my chart and left the room, turning out the light as she went. John pulled a hospital recliner over to my side and settled in for the remainder of the night. He took my hand and kissed each fingertip softly, gently.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart, I’ll be here.”
“I will, but I want to know things. I want to know how come you were there, I want—”
He put a finger lightly to my tender lips. “Not now. Tomorrow, I’ll answer all your questions I promise. Just sleep now.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, everything. I told you months ago I would never keep anything from you.”
“Okay.”
“Good, now close your eyes and sleep.”
As my eyes were already half closed from my beating, it wasn’t hard to do. I hadn’t seen what I looked like, but judging from the reaction from people I knew, it couldn’t be flattering. I gave a little grunt and tried to settle. The last thing I remembered hearing was John’s voice.
“I love you, beautiful lady, my beautiful woman.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
John
I watched as Anabelle fell asleep, wondering if I’d ever come to terms with unknowingly putting her into harm’s way. My thoughts then turned to Riley. How did he know about Anabelle, but not know my new identity and address? There was something very odd about it and I intended to take it up with the agency. It infuriated me to know that somehow Anabelle had been linked to one of my old identities.
I decided to fill in the time writing out reports while Anabelle slept. I knew if I didn’t get a full incident report on the desk in the agency by noon I’d be in deeper shit. Clemson wanted his copy as well. I went out to the nurses’ station and cadged a pen and pad of paper from them.
Working through the events from when I’d gotten the phone call from Charlie until I’d handed over the weapon to Cooper, I made sure I crossed all the t’s and dotted all the i’s—except for one little gray area. I didn’t put that Cooper had to stop me from emptying my magazine into Riley. Of course, when they examined the body they’d know. Anyway, I wrote the report out twice, omitting a few necessary details like my phone calls to the agency. Clemson should be satisfied when he came in later.
I stood and went back to the nurses’ station, returning their things, and asked if there was anywhere where I could send a fax. The nurse on duty directed me to the NUM office where I sweet-talked her into letting me send the report to my old boss. Once it went through, I grabbed a coffee from the visitor’s lounge and a dried-out sandwich from a vending machine before returning to Anabelle’s side. The coffee was weak, the sandwich stale, but I’d had worse and it filled a corner. I think I’d only just shut my eyes when the overnight nurse came in to take Anabelle’s obs, waking her again. It was 6:35 AM.
“Sorry to wake you, Miss, but I have to check you everywhere, including your um … burns.”
“Oh,” Anabelle muttered as she tried to wake fully.
The nurse peered at me as if to say, “Leave the room,” but I ignored her and put on my “move me if you can” face. It must have worked because she made a little huffing sound but lifted the sheet to check Anabelle. I could see how embarrassed Anabelle was. She fidgeted and blushed, which was rather impressive given the bruising to her face. I took her hand and kissed it, trying to let her know I was here for her. The nurse checked her face and chest and then examined the burns, I couldn’t see them, but she seemed satisfied.
“I’m going to put the cream on now, Anabelle.”
“Again?” The fear in her voice cut me to the bone.
“Sorry, I know it hurts at first, but we can’t risk you getting an infection.”
“Um… I need to use the loo.”
“Okay, you go first then I’ll do the cream.”
The nurse helped Anabelle sit up. Then she brought the IV stand and got Anabelle onto her feet. The sound of Anabelle’s groan stabbed through me like a knife, settling in my heart as her wounded feet touched the ground. I watched sadly as she slowly staggered and limped to the bathroom, the nurse trying to hold her upright and Anabelle bent over like an old woman. I was determined more than ever to never let her out of my sight.
Ten minutes later, she made the slow return journey, flinching as she got back into bed. The nurse checked her feet. The walking had made them ooze a little. She put something on them and told Anabelle it was time to treat the burns. As she applied the cream, Anabelle grabbed my hand, squeezing it with a grip I never thought possible. Tears ran down her cheeks. She was moaning as the nurse finally covered her and stood.
“All done. Later this morning one of us will help you shower.”
“Thanks,” Anabelle murmured.
“Breakfast will be here anytime soon.”
With that comment, she left. Anabelle’s face was now pale among the swelling and bruises. I took her hand again.
“I want to go home.”
The pain in her voice tore shreds off my heart.
“Sweetheart, I know you do but you have to stay here until the doctors know you are okay.”
“But I don’t want to be here,” she almost whined.
“I know, but I’ll be here with you all the time.”
She seemed as if she was going to argue again, but I could see she knew I was right. A few minutes later, we heard the rattle of the breakfast trolley.
Anabelle studied her tray—Weetbix, milk, orange juice, and tea. She started to cry, and I leaped up, thinking something had happened.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“I don’t like Weetbix,” she sobbed as if it were the end of the world.
For the first time since she’d been taken, I smiled.
“You need to eat mushy stuff for a few days. Pour on the milk. It will be fine.”
She grumbled at me, “It’s all right for you, you like them.”
I smothered my smile as she angrily slopped the milk onto the two wheat bi
scuits in the bowl, covering them completely.
“They didn’t give me enough sugar. There’s only two for my tea.”
She sounded like a little five-year-old having a cranky attack and I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Would you like me to get you more sugar?”
“Can you?”
She finally gave me a smile as I stood. I grabbed half a dozen packets from the visitor lounge and took them back to her. Contented, she ate the cereal and drank the tea. I was relieved to see she ate without too much pain.
I studied her beautiful face. One eye had now closed but the other didn’t appear as bad, although it was swollen, red, and bloodshot. The nurses had been putting drops in them both. The swelling on her face looked extremely painful and the bruising was now striking. The dried blood on her had turned black, adding to my pain of knowing this was my fault. Anabelle pushed the over-bed table away and sighed.
“They really are dead, aren’t they? You didn’t merely tell me that to make me happy?”
“No, sweetheart, honestly they are dead. None of them can ever hurt you again.”
She was silent for a long while. “I was terrified. I knew they would kill me, but why did they have to do the things they did to hurt me?”
“They’re simply cruel, sadistic bastards, Ana, they enjoyed it.”
“I kept telling them I didn’t know anyone by the name they kept asking about and I didn’t but they…”
I could see her beginning to get frantic again and wanted to ease her mind but how could I? How could I take away her pain, her fear?
“Even if you had cooperated, they still would have hurt you, sweetheart. That’s how they got their kicks.”
There was silence as she digested this. I had to let her come to terms with things, and there was nothing else I could do. Finally, she nodded a little as if satisfied within herself and looked more at ease.
About a half an hour later, close to nine-fifteen, a woman came in, pushing a portable ultrasound machine.
“Sorry, Miss Rowley, is it?”
“Yes.”
“I have to do another ultrasound on your tummy to check the bleeding.”
“Okay.”
I stood and paced while it was done and paced some more when she left. Ten minutes later, a doctor came in.