“What’s so funny?” Becca whispers.
“Sorry, sweetheart, nothing.” I kiss her. I close my eyes and lay my head back down on hers.
I squint and look at my watch as the cabin lights come back on. We’re in Louisiana, getting ready to land and refuel. Derek informs me that Stacey was airlifted to Mass General Hospital in Boston, so now we’re flying to Logan Airport instead.
“Why was she airlifted?” Becca lifts her head and reseats herself back into the chair next to me. She buckles up.
“Um, she was very critical. The hospital she was at thought it be best if she was somewhere more equipped to deal with her injuries.”
I shoot Derek a nasty look for his lack of filter. I told them not to tell her anything that would upset her. It’s pointless, though—I know as soon as she’s with Stacey, I won’t be able to protect her from the grief of seeing her friend like that.
We have a smooth landing. As soon as we arrive at the gate, we all stand up to stretch and move about the cabin. Melissa pats Becca’s back softly, trying to comfort her, I’m sure.
“Grayson, does Ray know about Stacey?”
“How the fuck should I know?” I snap. Christ ... ugh! “Becca, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m not mad at you for asking.” I pull her into my arms. “I’m mad because I can’t protect you from anything you’re going through right now. I have no control over any of this and it’s driving me mad, darling!” She really doesn’t need this shit from me.
“I know, baby.” She leans up to kiss me.
“You hungry?” I wipe her tears away.
“No.”
“Becca, you need to eat. Do you want to stay on the plane or come with me?” Those are the only choices she is getting.
“Uh, sir?” Derek speaks up.
“Yes.”
“I’m going to advise that you and Mrs. James stay on the plane, sir. We would like to keep your whereabouts a secret for as long as we can.”
Derek’s right. Shit.
“Okay. Please call me and let me know which restaurants are out there, and I’ll give you our order.” I turn back to Becca. “Well, sweetheart, looks like we’re both prisoners.” I try to make her to laugh, but I get barely a smile. “Ugh, Becca, baby, c’mere.” I pull her back to me. Most of our staff gets off the plane to grab dinner. “Becca, sweetheart, it’s been almost six hours. How are you holding up?” I try again to lighten her mood.
“Six hours since what?” She looks up at me quizzically. I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, Grayson! Shut up!” She laughs and hits my chest playfully. Ah, there we have it!
Becca grabs the keys to the rental out of my hand and walks briskly toward the car.
“Becca!” I call after her.
“Grayson, I know Boston. I need to get to my friend,” she says, and unlocks the car.
“Okay.” This is not the time to argue with her, and she’s actually right. Becca has us at Mass General before I can mutter a holy shit! at her driving. Bite your tongue, Grayson, bite your tongue! I, along with Derek and Melissa, run after her. We head up to ICU.
“Are you family?” The nurse asks. Crotchety old bag, she is.
“Yes, I’m her sister and this is my husband,” Becca says frantically. All I can focus on is that she called me her husband. I think it’s the most wonderful sound in the world. Of course, it does not replace Oh God, baby! Never get tired of hearing that out of her lovely mouth. Lucille, the crotchety old bag, points us in the direction of Stacey’s room.
“What is it with old women dying their hair flaming fucking red? It’s a nightmare to look at!” I’m disgruntled by her goddamn attitude. We rush into Stacey’s room. Becca takes in a huge gasp and almost falls to the ground at the sight of her best friend. Her face is swollen and bruised beyond recognition, and there are bandages around her head. Her right leg is in a cast. Her arms are lined with bruises, and some of her fingernails are missing. She’s on life support. It’s quiet in the room besides the sounds of the machines and Becca’s sobs. Becca wipes away her tears and walks over to her comatose friend.
“Oh, no. No. No! This won’t do at all, Stace!” Becca pulls it together and takes her friend’s hand. “Really, sweetie, do you know how many good-looking unmarried doctors there are here? You need to open your eyes so you can win them over with your charm!” Her voice is adamant, but there’s a hitch in it as she despairingly adds, “Oh, Stacey, I’m so sorry!” Becca sits in the chair I have pushed behind her.
A nurse comes in. Thankfully, without nasty nightmare hair!
“Hi, I’m Jen. I’m Stacey’s nurse until seven in the morning. You’re Stacey’s sister?”
“Becca. This is my husband, Grayson.” After a brief pause, she continues. “Jen, can you tell me exactly what her injuries are?” Instead of focusing on Becca’s question, Jen stares at me and licks her lips. “Yes, Jen, he’s very handsome and amazing in bed. Now, can you please tell me about my sister’s injuries?” Jen and I both look at Becca in disbelief. “Sorry,” she says, then adds, “but, my sister?”
“They performed a hemicraniectomy today to help with the brain swelling. That’s why she was brought here. We have the best neurologists and neurosurgeons in New England; third in the country. Um, she has four broken ribs, and her right leg had a compound fracture. She was, um, raped, and—” Becca puts her hand up to stop her.
“What is a hemicraniectomy?” I pipe up.
“They have removed and frozen part of her skull until her brain swelling goes down. This has already helped immensely.” She offers an encouraging smile. “Any known drug allergies?” Jen looks to Becca.
“No, but she does have the factor V gene. She has no history of blood-clotting issues, but our parents do, so she got tested for it. I don’t know if that will affect her treatment in any way, but I thought it would be important to let you know.” Becca continues to go over Stacey’s entire medical history. I’m in awe. She really is like a sister to her. Jen leaves and Becca takes her place at Stacey’s side. “Oh, Stacey, why did you drop the security? Grayson, why did he do this to her?”
“Who did this to her, Mrs. James?” I look up to find two detectives in the doorway. A middle-aged black man in a suit and tie, and a female—brunette, roughly around thirty. They both seem bone-tired. Becca stands up.
“You are?” she asks.
“Sorry. Detectives Williams and Cahill.” Detective Williams stretches out his hand first. We all walk to the opposite side of the room, out of Stacey’s earshot—just in case. “Mrs. James, who do you think it is that attacked Mrs. Bergman?” he asks Becca again.
“We’re going to need these.” I start pulling up chairs.
BECCA
“Okay, so, first of all, just so all records are correct—my name is Becca Campbell. I am Stacey’s best friend, not her sister. Please don’t tell them, because in our minds and hearts, we are sisters. Grayson and I will be married after my divorce. Now that we have all that out of the way, the man you are most likely looking for is George Campbell.”
“Your current husband?” Detective Cahill questions for clarity.
“Uh, yes. He was a military man. He was recently discharged. He was extremely abusive to me. Seven years ago, he went on another tour to Iraq and was declared dead from an explosion that took out several guys from his unit. According to all documentation, George was at that location at that time, although a body was never found. So, actually, he was not declared officially dead until one year later given the documentation.
“About six or seven weeks ago, I looked out the window of my store, which is adjacent to my bed-and-breakfast in New Hampshire. I could’ve sworn I saw him. Grayson had a security team put into place immediately. Within two days, he kidnapped me. My detail followed behind me. He took me up to an abandoned cabin and planned on keeping me there until my ‘rich’ boyfriends paid him eight million dollars. Melissa, my bodyguard, was able to catch him off guard and get me free. By the time the rest of the team arrived at the cabi
n, he had already escaped. The Ashland police can give you a full report, as can our security team. Grayson knows more about what they’ve been doing to track him down.” I glance over at Grayson, who nods his head in agreement.
“Since then, Grayson’s beefed up security for us and everyone we’re close to. Stacey, for some reason, told her security team she didn’t want their services. She moved out of the B&B without telling me, and I haven’t heard from her since a few days after we headed out to California. George always hated Stacey. Then again, George hated anyone I gave any of ‘his’ attention to. Unless this was random, I don’t see how it could be anyone else.” I rub my face.
“Where was George all that time he was MIA?” Williams flips the page in his notebook.
“My team can give you a full report on that. They have the files on everything you may need ready and available to you. I can write down the contacts for you,” Grayson says. Cahill hands him her notebook and he jots something down. “Gregory Thomas is the head of the team for our New Hampshire and California residences.”
“I can tell you also what George said to me about being MIA.” I search my purse for a mint.
“Anyone?” I offer. Cahill takes one.
“Go ahead.” Williams nods to me.
“Oh ... sorry. So, while he had me in the cabin, I asked him what happened to try to calm him down. He told me that he was held captive until about five months before the day he took me. Then his captors up and left, leaving him to die. A local family found him and nursed him back to health. He was shipped to a hospital here in the states two months later. I don’t know anything else after that except he went AWOL.” I look over at Stacey as one of her machines beeps like crazy. Oh, it’s her IV; time for a new bag of saline. “Um, can I please go sit with her now? It’s taken me all day to get here.” My eyes fill up again.
“Sure, Ms. Campbell. Mr. James, we have a few more questions for you.” Detective Cahill glances at Grayson. He nods and kisses my forehead. I go back over to Stacey.
“Look at them over there. They are totally talking about you! I think you should wake up and tell them all to fuck off!” I bait her. Nothing. “Well, I brought you a People magazine to catch you up on La-La Land. Oh, sorry ... it’s two weeks old. Oh well.” I open it up, and there I am with Grayson and Morgan at Disneyland. Thank God it’s a good shot! “Stacey, you have to open your eyes and look at this! I am now a resident of La-La Land! Morgan too! Yeah, some guy is with us, I have no idea who that is.” I laugh. “Oh well, I’ll hold onto this for you and, of course, for me, too.” I continue to read her all the articles that would interest her. Grayson’s hands slide onto my shoulders as the detectives wish me a good night and head out.
“Sweetheart, it’s after midnight. Let’s go to the hotel. We’ll get here real early tomorrow morning, and Aunt Hazel will be with us.” He kisses the top of my head.
“Grayson, go ahead, honey. I can’t leave her. Besides, I’m still on West Coast time. It’s only nine o’clock.” I pat his hand.
“Becca, I’m not leaving you here by yourself!” He hates when I tap his hands to dismiss him. Grayson pulls a chair up next to me. We sit and talk for hours.
“Sweetheart, it’s three. You may be on Cali time, but the doctors here aren’t. Let’s go.” He rubs my back, hoping I give in this time.
“Stacey, you and I both know why he wants to get me to the hotel. If you’d wake up for a minute, I’d tell you all about how I became the newest member of the Mile High Club yesterday.”
“Newest member—she’s the fucking president of the Mile High Club! You would’ve been proud of her, Stace! Wake up, love; it’s worth getting jealous over! Maybe tomorrow then, doll. Becca, if Stacey were awake, she’d be telling you to get into bed with my hot British arse right now.” I giggle a bit and take his hand. I bring it up to my face and kiss his palm.
“Thank you.” I sigh, looking toward him.
“For what, love?”
“For being so very, very patient, kind, loving, and ... for making me president.” I flash him a huge smile. What a trooper to do all this with me. It’s moments like these where there are no questions, no doubts, no insecurities—you just know everything you need to know. I love him more now than twelve hours ago, when we were looking in the mirror together.
“Becca, what’s that look for? What are you thinking in there, sweetheart?” He taps gently on my temple.
“How in love with you I am. Come on, baby, let’s go. You’re right. Stacey would kick my ass for staying here all night.” I get up and kiss Stacey on the cheek. “I love you, Stace. Don’t give up, give them hell! See you in a few hours.”
“All right then, love, I’m gonna go shag your best friend now and I’ll throw in an extra arse slap just for you! You better open those gorgeous eyes tomorrow. I’m not going to sit here and fucking explain how hot I look! You need to check me out for yourself! I’ll even make sure you get a great view of my fantastic arse!” Grayson teases her before he kisses her cheek. They do have a funny relationship. Of course, that was before the whole weird Ray/Stacey shit. Hmm, I wonder if Ray knows what’s happened. I won’t dare ask Grayson again. I wonder if Steve knows. I will call him tomorrow, if he still has the same number. I take Grayson’s hand and we head to the nurse’s station to let Jen know we’re leaving and to please call with any changes. A very tired Derek and Melissa follow us to our rental.
“Where are we staying?” I put the key in the ignition and start up the car. Grayson looks down at the key cards Ryan dropped off earlier.
“Taj Boston,” he says. I put the car in gear and head out. We’re there in like three minutes—because it’s three-thirty in the morning, not because of my lead foot that Grayson yells about all the time.
We head up to the Presidential Suite. “Nice touch,” I say, and tap the key. He looks down and offers a slight chuckle.
“Well, you are the president, Madame.” We step into the foyer of our suite. I inhale deeply as we walk into the comforting golds and blues of the living-and-dining-room area. There’s a bar on the left side, which I’m sure I will put to great use given the circumstances of our stay. It’s spacious and beautiful; only a small step up from the luxurious inn I run ... ahem.
“Where is everybody else staying?” I glance up as I run my hand along the fabric of the armchair.
“With the exception of the two outside our door, they are in the room connected to this one.” He grabs my hand to lead me to the bedroom.
“Well, shouldn’t they stay in the living room so they are comfortable?” I mean, sitting out in the hall? That sucks.
“I pay them very well. They are quite comfortable.” He smirks as we are greeted by a four-poster, king-sized bed. There is a balcony on the right, outside the double French doors. The blue carpet continues in here and is met by soft, golden-yellow walls. The duvet matches the walls and complements the golden pattern in the blue plush armchair in the right corner.
“Money doesn’t turn an uncomfortable table chair in the hallway into a plush couch.” I roll my eyes at him.
“It’s their job, Becca. They work for us. They are not our guests, so stop acting as if they are.”
He’s right to a point, I guess. At least we’re nice to all of them. It could be worse. They could be protecting two people who treat them like shit.
“Ugh, what, Becca?!” He takes our coats and tosses them onto the armchair.
“Nothing.” I smile. “You’re right. I was thinking that we treat them well in general, whereas another employer might not.”
“Speaking of treatment, sweetheart—”
Oh no, he’s getting that look.
“—your treatment of me in the airplane bathroom was completely shocking!” He pulls me to him aggressively. “I was very turned on by the whole finger incident. You are becoming quite the naughty girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mr. James, thanks to you, I have become very naughty indeed.” I wrap my arms around his neck. �
�Take, for instance, a situation such as this, where my best friend is fighting for her life not three minutes down the road. Normally, the thought of sex wouldn’t cross my mind. But, alas, my best friend lives to hear about our kinky fuckery.” I pause for the smile he gives me at this reference. “How could I possibly go in there and tell her we went to sleep? She’d know if I lied. Therefore, I have no other choice than to be a very naughty girl with you. It just might be the thing to pull her out!” I smile at him through my tears and grab the hem of his shirt so I can pull it over his head.
“Becca, sweetheart, we don’t have to do this. I was just teasing you, love.” He cups my face and thumbs my tears away.
“I know, Grayson. I actually really just need to get lost in you. Please. Help me escape the horror of what I’ve seen tonight.” I lean up on my tippy toes and gently caress his lips with mine. He complies with my wishes and I am completely and utterly lost in him and our lovemaking for the next hour, I guess. I don’t even know what time it is anymore.
We fall asleep wrapped up in each other, in preparation for another long, hard day of waiting and praying.
GRAYSON
“Becca, sweetheart, wake up.” My fingers trace over the new welts on her bum. God, why can’t I stop doing this to her? It makes me feel so ...
“Good morning, baby,” she murmurs. “Mmm ... that feels good.” I can sense her smile as I kiss the marks.
“Becca ... I ...”
“Grayson, don’t apologize. It’s okay ... really. I’m not upset. It was delicious.” She turns to me and loses her hands in my hair. She brings her face to mine and I catch her lips.
“I’d love to stay here and revisit our earlier actions, but we should get to the hospital, love.” I hate myself for pushing my selfish tendencies away. I want her so bad, as always.
“Hmm, where is my selfish man?” She runs her hands down to my face and pulls me in for another kiss.
Goodbye Secrets Page 2