by Vella Day
“Susan.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, her cheek, and then her soft lips. When her lids fluttered, his heart nearly stilled.
Her tongue peeked out of her lips. He sat up, grabbed the cup of half melted ice and pushed the button to elevate her bed. He held the cup to her lips as he squeezed her hand for reassurance. “Open up, please.”
Her mouth opened and a sliver slipped into her mouth. She coughed and her eyes flew open.
He'd never been so happy to see anyone wake up. “Hi.”
She blinked several times. “Jake?”
“That's me.”
He grinned, and then laughed. He would have danced, but he didn't want to let go of her hand.
She licked her lips, not to tempt him he was sure, but to wet her mouth enough to talk. “How did I get... here?”
“That's a question I'm going to find the answer to.”
“What happened to James? He saved me.”
His fingers tightened their hold. “What do you mean? The bastard kidnapped you.”
“Not him. He was so nice. He found me in the shed. I was so cold. The next thing I remember, I was in a warm, comfy bed. Then over breakfast, he told me Peter took me.” She licked her lips again and took a sip of water.
A bed? Over breakfast? How had she come to be into her current state then? “Peter didn't take you. Did you see actually him?”
She closed her eyes and he thought he'd lost her for a moment. Her lids half opened. “No. That's what James told me happened. But wait. There's more. Before I finished eating, a masked man came into James' house. He struck him, then jabbed me in the neck with a needle before I could even get off the stool.” Her gaze traced the ceiling. “Next thing I remember was waking up and seeing you.” Her trembling lips quivered.
The pain and torment Susan had gone through was enough to send the sanest person over the edge. Jake wanted to protect her for life, but his actions never seemed to be enough.
God, he wanted get this bastard, or bastards. There was no doubt in his mind that James had orchestrated the whole masked man thing. The needle to the neck was too coincidental. The action smacked of Joseph Francisco.
He kissed her hand. “I'm sorry. I should have done more. If I'd just winged Dominick, you might not have been kidnapped in the first place.”
“Shh. This is not your fault. I insisted on going into the warehouse alone.”
True. “Remind me not to let you out of my sight. James is still out there.”
“You really think James is behind this?”
He told he what happened at Peter's house.
“I wonder why he was so nice to me then.”
“To make you believe Peter was guilty. To add to the frame.”
“I can't believe I fell for it.”
“You'd been traumatized. It's not your fault.”
“I guess.” Her eyes fluttered. “I'm so tired.”
“Rest. We can talk later.”
She squeezed his hand hard. “What about Craig? Is he okay?”
Jake smiled. “He's fine and back home with your mom. He too remembers little.”
“Thank goodness.” Her mouth opened for a second then closed. She'd fallen asleep and he hadn't told her how much he loved her.
“Agent Yarnell?”
He turned. Peter's nurse held up a hand.
“Yes?”
“You wanted to know when Mr. Caravello awoke.”
“Thank you.”
He took another glance at Susan. She needed the rest. He wouldn't be long.
**
About time Agent Yarnell left Susan's room. The cop standing guard wouldn't be a problem. The officer never asked for any identification from any nurse or doctor who'd stepped in her room.
What was the FBI thinking allowing a hospital cop to stand watch? This would be way too easy. He walked past Susan's room for the third time and peered in. Her eyes were closed, but he had no idea if she'd come out of her stupor. The amount of drugs pumped in her system might have killed her or merely put her in a coma for a while. Either way, she didn't have long to live. The needle in his pocket would see to that.
31
Susan opened her eyes and was disappointed Jake was not yet back from wherever he'd gone. She missed his calm, his encouragement, and his safety.
Her head drooped. She fought falling asleep again and needed something to prop open her eyes.
It didn't work. Whatever pain meds they'd given her was causing fatigue to grab hold. She gave in and closed her lids. That was better. To test her body's rate of healing, she wiggled her toes. They were still cold, but the rest of her body had warmed, or so said the nurse. Maybe she'd recover after all.
Footsteps sounded on the tile floor. She lifted her lids part way and spotted a white doctor's coat. Dr. Dalton? Had he heard she'd come to? She raised her gaze to meet the face of the man who'd saved her life. Again.
Oh, shit! Panic prickled up her arms and legs. It was James. She closed her eyes in order to think and to keep from letting him know she recognized him. She let her mouth drag open a little to make him believe she was asleep. Forcing her muscles to relax took all her concentration, but she would be no match for him if he tried something.
The footsteps stopped. His raspy breath barely sounded above her heart monitor. He must be looking down at her, trying to judge if she was alert or out of it. Would he see her heart beating frantically in her chest?
“Goodbye, Susan.” His voice came out a whisper.
The deadly words nearly burst her heart. She couldn't die. Wouldn't die. Not without holding Jake one more time.
Summoning up every ounce of reserve energy, she forced open her eyes. Blood beat against her skull. James' back was turned. In his hand was a syringe that he was trying to put into her IV.
Dear God, no.
She sucked in a large breath, lifted both legs and swung them sideways. While she met with resistance from the tucked sheet, she was able to knock against his hard body, and the blow was enough to make him drop the needle.
He spun around. “You bitch.”
From the quick widening of his eyes, he hadn't expected her to rouse. As he stooped to pick up the fallen needle, she tried to scream, but all that came out was a weak eek.
She had to move, had to get to the closed door. Jake said an officer was stationed outside, so where the hell was he?
She ripped the IV needle out of her arm and grimaced from the sharp stabbing. The light sheet was easy to slip off, but by the time she maneuvered her legs to the side of the bed, James was on top of her. His hand was wrapped around her throat, his thumb cutting off her air. She couldn't breathe.
He pinned her legs with his knees while he grabbed one arm over her head with his free hand. She punched his hard shoulder with the arm he hadn't secured. As much as she'd wanted to scratch his face and claw at his eyes, she couldn't quite reach. Damn it. She drew her arm back for another attack, but he tilted him head back, causing her swipe to miss.
Air. She needed air. Black dots floated across her eyes. Light headed, she couldn't fight him much longer. She flexed her leg to lift it, but his heavy weight held her down. She wanted to yell, wanted to live, wanted to tell Jake she loved him. Her brain fogged and her eyes rolled back into her head.
**
Peter was too groggy from the anesthesia to be of much help. All he remembered was that James had forced him to make the phone call to Jake that morning. He told him how two men had beaten him unconscious while James watched.
Jake's patience was nearing the end. James had stepped over the line. He leaned forward in the seat. “I knew something was off. You never would have called that early.”
“You're right. James has Maria.”
“I know.”
“We have... to...find her.” Each word seemed to exhaust his friend further.
He didn't need to give Peter any more stress. “We're trying to find her now. Rest. I'll be back.”
�
�Find Ma...” And then he was out, blowing puffs in air into the room.
Good. Peter needed the time to recover.
Jake took the elevator down two floors. He slipped his arm out of the sling and tested the movement. It was stiff, but not bad.
He exited the elevator and glanced down the hall. His pulse raced. What the hell? No cop was in front of Susan's door—just an empty chair. Shit. Where the hell was he? Jake sprinted down the hall, narrowly missing an elderly woman holding onto her portable IV stand.
“Excuse me,” he yelled over his shoulder after he nearly collided with her.
A nurse shouted from the desk. “Sir?”
Susan's door was closed. His throat turned dry and the blood beat against the back of his head. He moved his legs as fast as they would take him, but he needed to limp to reach her.
He twisted the knob. Thank God the door wasn't locked. When he burst into the room, his breath became more ragged, and fear nearly crippled him.
Had it not been for the bed bouncing and the man's shoulders moving up and down, he would have stilled. Given the fact the man was wearing a white coat, his first instinct was the man was giving Susan CPR, but the moment he moved to the side, Jake knew he was wrong. Dead wrong.
“Hey.”
The man spun around, his eyes wide.
James faced Jake. “I see we meet again.”
Jake's weapon was in his room. Shit. James let go of Susan, whipped back his coat and pulled his semiautomatic from his side holster.
Susan made some terrible choking sounds, and his gut nearly exploded. Adrenaline fueled his hate.
The small room provided little room to maneuver. Jake was within three feet of James, so he kicked his leg outward and smashed against James' arm. Too bad the man held onto the gun.
James laughed as he swung the gun back at Jake. “You don't have any mace now, do you?”
Instead of answering, Jake launched himself at James. In the tight confines of the room, there was no place for James to fall but on Susan. The bed screeched backwards, crashed into the IV stand and sent the metal monster plummeting to the ground.
Susan screamed. Jake wrestled for the gun as James tugged his arms downward. The weapon wedged between them. Jake's left arm lost strength, but he managed to get his knee between them.
The semiautomatic went off, and both he and James didn't move, his heart catching in mid beat. Footsteps rushed behind them, and then someone pulled him off James. Blood shot out near James' groin.
“Let me through,” a male shouted from behind.
Stunned, Jake moved aside. He gaze shot to Susan who was rubbing her throat. Her face was blotchy and her breaths were too rapid. He wanted to comfort her, but the man's grip prevented him.
“Get her some help, dammit.” Jake pointed at Susan.
The next few minutes were a blur. Two nurses insisted he come with them as a young woman wheeled in a gurney.
“I need to stay with Susan.”
The nurses didn't seem to care what he wanted. “You're bleeding, sir. We need to patch you up.”
Had he been shot?
A wheelchair appeared under his butt a moment later. Whoever pushed him must have driven at the Indy 500 for he arrived at a small room moments later, where the nurse instructed him to wait until the doctor arrived. So he waited. And waited. The air conditioning clicked on and chills crawled up and down his spine. Blood trickled down his arm where he'd been shot.
He debated racing out of there to check on Susan, but the warden outside the door would probably object.
He found some gauze pads on one of the counters and held the cloth over his wound to stem the flow. Fighting had not been on the list of acceptable activities in his condition, but he had no choice. James was killing Susan.
Needing to find out about how she was doing, he stood to tell the nurse outside he was fine, and that the injury was on the mend. Halfway to the door, he staggered and saw white. Damn. He was leaning against the padded examination table when the door opened.
“Please lie down, Agent Yarnell.” A doctor, dressed in a green surgical uniform, frowned.
The kid didn't look older than twenty, but Jake obliged. He let the man clean and suture his wound again. Even though the doc had given him a topical anesthetic, the pricking irritated him.
Jake tapped the fingers of the uninjured arm. “Do you know how Ms. Chapman is?”
“No. Now don't move.”
Come on, come on. This wasn't brain surgery.
Instead of issuing a complaint, he followed orders, but the man took forever.
“All done. Don't get in any more fights.”
Jake sat up and winced. “I don't plan on taking up wrestling any time soon.”
“The nurse will be in shortly to give you instructions.”
He'd been through this routine once already. As soon as the doctor left the room, Jake snuck out. He had to find Susan.
The first stop was the registration desk. The woman sent him to the wrong place, but after a few more inquiries he eventually found Susan. The policeman who'd abandoned his position at Susan's room was back.
The guard stopped him as Jake tried to get past. “You can't go in, sir. Only doctors and nurses allowed.”
“Then how did that killer get to her before? He wasn't any doctor.”
The man's eyes widened. “I'm sorry about that, but I checked his ID and all seemed in order.”
“Well, check this ID. Jake pulled his badge from his pocket.”
He didn't wait for the man to answer and strode in.
Susan looked up and smiled. “Jake.”
A sweeter sound he couldn't imagine. His heart beat fast against his chest. He loved her, pure and simple.
Jake stepped toward her. The nurses attending her blocked his path. One turned around. “Sir, can you come back later?”
From the way her upper lip rose, Susan didn't need him to watch. “Sure. I'll be in room 304.”
“I'll call you,” Susan said.
As he stepped outside, he faced the cop. “Don't let anyone but Dr. Dalton in there. Okay? Especially an Italian man with gray hair, in his early sixties. He'll be dressed in a very expensive suit. He wants to kill her.”
The cop's mouth dropped open. “Yes, sir.”
Jake went to his room to retrieve his phone and then dialed Stanton's number.
“Lowry.”
“It's Jake. Anything on Maria?”
“Tom identified Francisco's real estate holdings as well as those owned by Caravello. I've sent my men to all three locations. I'll let you know what we find.”
“And Joseph Francisco? Has he shown up?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Thanks.” Jake clipped the phone on his waistband and headed back to Peter's room.
His friend was still asleep when he arrived. Needles and tubes were attached to his arms and nose, and the monitors showing his vitals were stable.
As he turned to leave, he came face-to-face with Joseph Francisco.
32
Jake's pulse shot up, and every expletive he'd ever uttered came to mind. He had no gun, no mace, and a bum arm. Francisco would have come armed. All Jake had was surprise on his side. The glint of a knife clutched in Francisco's hand caught his attention. He wouldn't get in the way of the blade this time.
Go.
Attack.
Now.
With Francisco's back to the open door, Jake used his shoulder to plow into the man, sending both of them sprawling onto the hallway floor. Francisco's head slammed against the tile floor, and he let out a curse.
Fury unleashed every ounce of Jake's energy. He pummeled his fist into the man's face for Susan, for Peter, and for orchestrating the jurors' deaths.
Blood spurted from Francisco's nose. The old man didn't fight back, couldn't fight back. One arm was pinned beneath his body, the other flayed against Jake's good arm. Jake wouldn't let up until Francisco passed out.
Two sets of strong arms dra
gged him off the killer.
“Sir, stop fighting us.”
When Jake saw the old man wasn't going to do battle, he relaxed. “Okay. I'm good.” He shrugged off their hold and stepped back.
Francisco's eyes went wild, darting right and then left. He expected the old man to jump up and come at him again, but he lay there, still as death. Jake hadn't hit him that hard.
The two orderlies called for a gurney. In his humble opinion, the bastard didn't deserve to be patched up.
Jake faced one of the orderly. “Don't let him out of your sight. He's wanted by the FBI for the murder of several people.”
The man's shoulders tensed, his eyes registering fear.
Joseph grunted something about not killing anyone. Right. Instructing his son to do the actual deed was the same as putting the knife in their chests himself.
Jake fumbled in his pocket for his phone. It wasn't there. Crap, he must have lost his cell in the fight. He didn't have time to search for it, so he stumbled over to the nurses' station where all eyes were on him.
“I need a phone.”
The nurse's wide eyes told him he must look bad, but he didn't remember Caravello hitting him.
“Here you go, sir.” She handed him the phone.
He called Stanton.
“Yeah?”
“Joseph Francisco came to the hospital with a knife to Peter's room. I happen to be there.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“I wish I were. I gave him a bloody nose though. That's all. Come pick up the scum.”
“On my way. And Jake?”
He leaned against the counter. The adrenaline rush was losing steam and the aches and pains were getting to him. “What?”
“Burroughs just called. They found Maria.”
Jake's knees almost gave way. “How is she?”
“Dehydrated, but otherwise fine.”
“Thank God.” Peter would need Maria to help him heal.
He handed the phone back to the nurse and headed to Susan's room, his head swimming. Was this nightmare really over? Could she get on with her life now?
He stopped in the hall and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. She could get on with her life. Would she thank him for saving her life, and then go back to work as if nothing had happened? Would she even think about the two of them—the amazing love making and the sharing of intimate details of their lives? Or their narrow brushes with death?