Chapter 20
The urgent sound of a woman’s voice echoed throughout the hospital, "Dr. Vincent Wilder, stat, 525! Dr. Wilder, stat, 525!"
Dr. Wilder’s eyes jumped to the cold, impersonal box of plastic and metal parts that was mounted up in a corner of the doctor’s lounge. He threw his almost-full cup of coffee in the trash and ran down to the elevator. He pressed the up button, but too impatient to wait, he turned and ran to the stairwell and hiked up two steps at a time. When he burst in, he saw the nurse motioning for him to hurry. The two of them began a quick stride down to the room. "That's Kirk Grayson's room, what's wrong?"
"I don't know everything. Elaine is with him. She'll tell you."
He threw the door open. "What the hell’s goin’ on here, Elaine? What's wrong?"
"I don't know. His pulse has dropped radically, and he’s getting weaker by the minute. He pushes me away when I try to do anything for him, and he keeps mumbling Chyna's name."
He turned to the other nurse. "Nurse, get Chyna Marsh on the phone. She's staying with the Graysons. The number is on the check-in form." Turning back to his patient, he put his stethoscope to Kirk's chest. "Is he in any pain?"
"I don't think so."
"When was his last medication?"
"Only two hours ago."
The doctor reached up and opened his eyes through the small holes in the bandages. Shining a small light into them, he looked for signs of trouble.
"Let me die!" Kirk mumbled, the tortured words coming through the small hole in the bandage. Then his hands came up and began fighting the doctor.
"Elaine, get some orderlies!"
Almost immediately two burly young men came in and managed to keep Kirk down while the doctor sedated him.
Looking down at Kirk but talking to Elaine, the doctor spoke worriedly. "It's as if he's retreated back into his old shell."
"Surely he's not going to die!"
"No, but he's had some kind of emotional shock." The doctor continued examining him, then said, "Being in this state of mind, I don't know what he might do. There's only one thing I know of that could send Kirk back."
"What?"
The doctor glared at her. "What the hell do you think, Elaine? If he thinks he’s lost Chyna, that’s emotional suicide."
The nurse ran in. "Doctor, there's no answer."
"Keep trying,” he yelled. He looked at Elaine again. “When was the last time she was here? Was there an argument? What the hell did she say to him?”
“No…it’s been…I haven’t seen her.” Elaine was afraid to say anything, but thought back to the night Quinn was here, and wondered if he might have said something to upset him. Suddenly Elaine ran out of Kirk's room and told the nurse not to bother calling, that she would take care of it later.
* * * *
Chyna was just walking in from her New York trip and the phone was ringing. Quinn didn't seem to be anywhere around, so she answered it.
"Do you love Kirk?" the feminine voice on the other end rasped.
"Of course," Chyna answered, wondering what was going on.
"Then you'd better get down here quick."
"Who is this, and what are you talking about?"
"This is Elaine. It’s been days, why haven't you been in to see Kirk since his surgery?"
"You know where I’ve been, I've been in New York. I had to attend a funeral and take care of some business. I'm coming to the hospital as soon as I get cleaned up."
"Chyna, Kirk is in trouble. For some reason he thinks he's lost you. If I were you, I wouldn't wait around, I'd get down here before he does something drastic. He's already assaulted Dr. Wilder, and when he comes to, there's no telling what he might try. You're the only one that can help him, Chyna, and I don't think you have time for a leisurely shower. If you care about him, Kirk needs you now."
“Oh my God!” Chyna muttered, throwing down the phone. She left her luggage at the door and ran out to her car. She ran stop signs, red lights, veered around other traffic, arriving at the little hospital in half the time it would have ordinarily taken. Running into the hospital, she quickly made her way around old people, invalids in wheelchairs, patients in walkers, and those that seemed determined to keep her from Kirk. When she finally burst out of the fifth floor elevator, she didn't stop at the nurse's station, she went directly to Kirk's room. Stopping abruptly outside his closed door, she took a deep breath, then gently opened it. Her heart lurched when she saw him lying there so quiet and helpless. She walked over to him, and looked at his closed eyes.
He looked dead.
"Kirk," she whispered, a sob in her voice.
Nothing.
She turned around, looking for a chair, then pulled it up and sat down beside him.
"Kirk. It's me, Chyna."
She sat in silence for a moment, then heard his raspy voice.
"What in hell are you doing here, Chyna?” Kirk said, barely mouthing the words. “Couldn't Quinn take care of you?" He paused, his voice breaking. "Well don't come to me. The doctor put you on my list of don’ts for a while." After a slight hesitation, he added, "But I've put you on there forever."
"Everyone around here is talking in riddles. What is going on, Kirk? Whey are you so bitter, and why is Elaine mad at me?" She looked at his fresh bandage and thought about the lip print she left on the other one. "Didn't Dr. Wilder show you the lip print on the other bandage?"
"Yeah, real cute. Just like the little mole next to the nipple on your left breast."
With a frown, Chyna glanced down at her left breast then up at him. "What is this all about, Kirk?"
"Hell, Chyna, don't act so fucking innocent. I know all about you and Quinn all alone in that big mansion together. Is that why you haven't been to see me? He's keeping you pretty busy, huh?"
"Me and Quinn? What do you mean?"
"I mean, he told me all about your night in front of the fireplace."
Chyna's eyes widened. "He told you about that?"
"So it's true, right?"
"Well, sure, but why are you upset with me?"
"What were you wearing?"
"Wearing? My little silk shantung robe."
"Yeah, and what was under it?"
Chyna suddenly understood. "Nothing," she whispered.
"Get the hell out, Chyna."
Tears began gathering in Chyna's eyes. "But Kirk—"
"Stop right there. I don't want to hear anymore of your lies,” he growled. “And I don't want to hear anymore about your little rendezvous with Quinn."
"But Kirk, it wasn't like that. Don't you see—"
"Goodbye, Chyna.” He turned away, mumbling, “Have a good life."
Those final words plunged deep into her heart like a knife. She felt so helpless. It would be useless to try and explain. He would never believe her about the night in front of the fireplace. Quinn had done too good a job of poisoning his mind against her. Without touching her, Quinn had cut her heart right out. He might as well have used the white-handled knife—she felt just as dead.
Kirk watched her get up and walk to the door crying. "Chyna!"
She turned and cast a hopeful look at him.
"Leave the ring on the table."
Chyna lifted her left hand and caressed the ring with love, then looked at him as if she were lost. He watched her as she carefully wedged it off, laid it down carefully, and walked out of his life. When she went through the door, she had her head lowered, dabbing at her eyes, and almost ran into Dr. Wilder.
"Chyna! We've been looking everywhere for you. We called the mansion and Quinn said your luggage was there, but he hadn't seen you." The doctor looked toward Kirk's door. "I see you’ve been in to see Kirk."
"Yes," Chyna sobbed.
He leaned down, trying to see into Chyna’s flooded eyes. "Hey, why the tears?” the doctor asked, lifting her chin with one finger. “Now that you’re here, everything is fine.”
"Kirk and I are through," she whispered. Hearing herself say it, new
tears began to cascade down her cheeks.
"What?" the doctor asked, surprised. He looked closely at Chyna and recognized the signs, and just managed to catch her as she collapsed against his chest. “Oh, jeez,” he said, looking around the barren hall for a place to sit down. Remembering that the cafeteria was only one floor below them, he put his arms around her and said, “Here, come with me. What you need is a cup of good strong coffee, and then you can tell me what happened."
After several minutes of navigating Chyna down concrete steps and through halls with a heavy antiseptic smell, the two were seated at the cafeteria table with a steaming mug of coffee in front of them. While taking short sips and wiping at the moisture beneath her eyes, Chyna haltingly told Dr. Wilder the whole story. She watched as the doctor sat there breaking plastic spoons in anger.
"That bastard. I can’t believe he would do something like that."
"I just don't understand why Kirk listens to him. Quinn has lied so much, you'd think Kirk would be wise to him by now."
"It's easy to plant doubt in someone's mind, and naturally Quinn mixed the truth with lies which is a hellish combination. When Kirk questioned you, he was looking for just one little thing that didn't line up with what Quinn had said." The doctor shrugged. "When he didn't find it, he had no choice but to believe him."
"Do you think I should have tried harder to explain?"
"I don't think so. After all you had the right answers, he just asked the wrong questions. No, you can't just sit down and tell him and expect him to even listen to you, much less believe you. We have to think of another way." For several minutes Chyna and the doctor sat there thinking, and saying nothing. Then he turned to her, an idea floating around in his mind. "Chyna, if I asked you to go back to the mansion and not come back until I call you, would you?"
"I hate to go back there, but if it’ll help I suppose I can."
"I have an idea, and if Kirk loves you, it's the only way I can think of to break down his defenses."
Their heads hovered together, the doctor explaining what he had in mind.
Chyna brought her hands up to her face. "But what about his…"
"That's why you have to wait until I call you. It’ll be a while, but if I can give the healing process a little boost, maybe it’ll be sooner than we think. It’ll also give Kirk time to miss you real bad." The doctor winked. "And I'll make sure he does. After all, Quinn Grayson isn't the only one who can plant ideas in someone's mind."
When Chyna left, Dr. Wilder went looking for Elaine. When he found her, he told her in detail what he was planning, and gave her instructions. She nodded her head, making a beeline for the elevator that would take her to the newsstand, then Kirk's room.
* * * *
When Chyna got back to the mansion she looked around for Quinn, but luckily, he wasn't there. She noticed her luggage wasn’t where she left it. Quinn must have taken it upstairs for her, and that made her suspicious. As she ascended the wide staircase her eyes darted around, thinking he might be hiding in some shadow. When she finally entered her room she saw her luggage, and laid out on the bed was a tantalizing black babydoll nightie made of totally sheer lace netting with a floral motif. It was edged in narrow off-the-shoulder ruffles. Alongside it were fishnet hose, a garter belt and a brief thong. She looked down, and on the floor were black satin mules with four-inch heels and fur fringes. She stiffened, and snatched up the note laying on the nightie.
Wear this tonight.
She angrily crumpled it in her hand, and threw the little ball of paper across the room. She grabbed up the scanty little outfit he had spread out, and put it away. Then she picked up her suitcase and started out of the room. She didn’t care what Dr. Wilder said, she wasn’t staying here another minute. When she thought of the number of times she had started to leave and hadn’t, she cursed herself.
Suddenly Quinn stepped from behind the door. "Where are you going?"
"You creep! Hiding behind a door spying?"
"Not really, you just came in before I had a chance to get out."
"For your information, I'm going to a hotel. I don't intend to spend another minute here with you being tricked, lied to and harassed."
"All right,” he said, raising his arms in surrender. You win. I won’t bother you. Remember the cup of tea? By the next full moon, you'll be looking for me."
"In your dreams, Quinn. Now, let me through."
Instead of getting out of her way he walked toward her, threateningly. “I told you,” he said, his voice raspy. “I won’t bother you, now put your suitcases down like a good girl.” When she didn’t move, he looked at her questioningly. “Would a promise do?"
"A promise?” she snickered. “From you? Your promises are made of smoke, Quinn. There one minute, gone the next."
His eyes became hard. "If you leave, Kirk may not get out of the hospital…alive.”
She looked up into his mad eyes as they flashed down at her. She was trapped. She couldn't leave, but she couldn't stay.
"Now, get into your little nightie and let's see how you look."
"You said you wouldn't bother me."
"Did I say that? I don't remember saying anything like that. You didn't happen to get it in writing, did you?"
“I can’t believe you,” she whispered, the sound of unbridled hate in her voice. “You’re low, corrupt, and totally mad.”
“Stop, your turning my head,” he said, flashing his famous lopsided smile while his eyes smoldered with a dark look of desire. Slowly he reached out and gently pulled her to him. As he pressed her close to his body he covered her lips, parting them in an exploratory kiss. She didn't move, or struggle in any way, but stood in his arms stiff and cold. He stepped back, looking down at her and frowning. "What in hell do you think you're doing?"
"I’m a victim, not a lover," she said through clenched teeth. "You leave me cold, Quinn. I love Kirk, and he's the one I want to feel deep inside me. I want his hands on me, caressing me. I want to marry him, and I want to have his children."
"Well, get over it, bitch. It'll never happen."
"No, maybe not. Especially since you went to the hospital and poisoned his mind against me." Tears began falling down her face. "You took a savage act of intended rape, and twisted it to make it look like a perverted act of seduction. Quinn Grayson, you're a black-hearted demon straight from the pits of hell."
"So, I'm a bad boy, right? If it gets me what I want, who cares?"
He pulled her to him again, and began nibbling her neck.
She was stiff.
"Well, move, do something."
She looked at him with mocking eyes, enjoying his struggle. She stood unemotional as he began unbuttoning her blouse, and leaned down and kissed the fullness of her cleavage. As he reached around and unfastened her bra, Chyna had to bite her tongue to stay still and keep quiet.
Her breasts bloomed before him, and he began kissing and drawing on her nipples, breathing heavily. Then his mouth covered her lips and kissed her deeply. Suddenly he lifted his head and looked at her. “Are you just going to just stand there?"
With no emotion in her voice, she said mockingly, "Oh Quinn, I want you so. Hurry, oh hurry and make mad, passionate love to me."
He looked down at her smirking face, realizing what she was doing. "You cheap little piece of trash, you won't get away with this. I'll make you sorry you turned Quinn Grayson away."
He released her roughly, looked down at her half naked body and yelled, "I can't believe you want to give all that to a friggin' beast. A freak that doesn't appreciate it. Or maybe it turns you on to make love with a monster."
"If it did, I wouldn't look any further than you," she said sarcastically.
"Oh, very funny. Tell me, what are you going to do when the novelty wears off for God's sake, when the thrill has ended, huh? Go out and find yourself another monster? Or do you go on to something a little more sensational to satisfy your perverted lusts and fill another book with you filth."
"If I can somehow mend my relationship with Kirk after what you've done to it, I'm going to marry him and show him more love than any man has ever had."
Quinn turned, and was silent as he walked casually to the door. When he opened it to leave, he hesitated, then turned back, his hand on the knob. "I wouldn't rehearse those wedding vows just yet, my dear.” Chyna's eyes widened in fear when he continued, venom dripping from every word. “The groom that comes down that aisle may not be breathing.”
Chapter 21
Since Reyna's death, Chyna had been communicating directly with the publisher of her books without the aid of the Lovelines Literary Group, and found it a tedious task.
"You understand that the deadline isn't for some time yet,” said Harper Wilcox of Luster Publishing. “Are you sure you want to submit it this soon? You certainly got this book done in record time. Can we expect this kind of speed in the future? Perhaps we should think about revising your contract.”
You mean like five books a year instead of three? Chyna thought, but didn’t say anything. “I don’t think that’s necessary Mr. Wilcox.” She looked down at the stiff cardboard package that held her computer disk. "I know it’s much sooner than expected, but it’s done, and I want to get it out of my hands."
"What do you mean?"
"Because if I don't, I may change my mind.” She began pacing and raking her hands through her hair. “What I'm trying to say is, it's different, not like the others. I don't even know if you'll like it."
"Is it good?"
"It's very good, but if you can't handle it, let me know as soon as possible so I can submit it to another publisher."
"Doesn't it follow the usual guidelines?"
"No, it doesn't." She looked over at the package. "It's the story…" Chyna sobbed, her eyes filling with tears. "of a very special man." She lowered her head in her hand and began crying.
"Can you tell me something about it?"
Instead of giving the publisher a story line, in between sobs Chyna began angrily accusing herself. "You want to know what it's about?" she sobbed loudly into the phone. "I'll tell you what it's about. It's about a man whose most intimate thoughts I've casually written down on paper for the world to see."
Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 23