by Vella Day
She inhaled and locked her knees. “I’m okay. I was a little light-headed for a moment.” She ran her hands down her thighs to dry her palms. “Thad was really shot? I thought he was wearing a vest.”
Why didn’t she remember him getting hit? Perhaps having the gun go off so close to her head had splintered her memory. Or else the event had been so traumatic, she’d chosen to block out the horror. She prayed once the adrenaline left her body, everything would come flooding back.
“He was.” Cade nodded to the padded bench across from the bank of elevators. “You want to sit down?”
“No, I’m good.” She drew on her professional demeanor and straightened her shoulders, but her neck sent out a rebellious ache. “How is he? Will he be okay?” She worked hard to keep her voice even, not wanting to admit she wasn’t in the best of shape.
“He should be out of surgery any time now.”
Guilt swamped her that he’d taken a bullet for her. “Where was he hit?”
“About here.” Cade placed a hand right below her elbow.
While an arm injury wouldn’t be life threatening, it could affect how Thad did his job. If the bullet hit his elbow, though, the recovery time could be long and painful. She prayed he’d heal quickly.
“Let’s find a seat in the waiting room.” Cade led her down the hall. “How about you rest here, and I’ll see if I can find out when Thad will be out of surgery?”
“Okay.” Her head pounded and chills raced through her as the images of what happened briefly surfaced.
Before Cade had taken more than a few steps, his partner Ethan, who she’d met once before, rushed toward them, waving something in his hand.
He handed her a folder—her folder—the one she needed back. If it meant Thad would be okay, though, she’d have traded it in a heartbeat.
“Dr. Donovan, I’m sorry I took so long to get this back to you. I was delayed.”
“That’s okay. Thank you so much for retrieving it.” She ran her fingers over the red streaks covering the outside of the Manila folder.
“I tried to clean it up.” Ethan looked sheepish, acting as if it was his fault he’d returned it in less than pristine condition.
She shook her head at his guilty response. “It’s perfect.”
Cade motioned with his head toward the two doors at the end of the hallway. “I’m going to check on Thad’s condition.”
Ethan stabbed his fingers through his hair as if he, too, was overly worried. “Hartwick just called. I’ve got to get back. Text me when you know something.”
“Will do. I’ll see you at the station as soon as I finish up here.”
Ethan nodded to her and then took off.
As Cade headed toward the nurses’ station, Zoey hugged her folder, more for comfort than anything. Her hands shook and a strong ache squeezed her chest. To keep her mind off poor Thad, she glanced inside to make sure all of her notes were there, but she closed it when it failed to hold her interest. Everything that had happened still hadn’t sunk in. Her foot tapped out a beat while she waited for Cade’s return.
She still couldn’t believe Thad had been shot. She’d never be able to live with herself if he didn’t fully recover. When Cade returned a few minutes later, she jumped up and searched his face for some answers. The tension around his eyes appeared to have softened. “How is he?”
“Thad’s out of surgery. I spoke with his doctor. He said nothing vital was hit, and that Thad is in recovery now.”
She blew out a big breath in relief. “When can I see him?” Zoey hadn’t socialized with him outside the hospital, but when they’d talked during his undercover work, she’d seen a good man, a man who cared. She needed to thank him for what he’d done for her. If he hadn’t taken down that horrible person, she might have died. Probably would have. Her head throbbed anew at the thought.
“In about half an hour.” Cade looked over at the snack machines. “Get you something to drink? I sure could use a coffee.”
That was sweet of him to ask. “A diet soda, please?” Even though she was jumpier than a fish out of water, she needed the caffeine.
Zoey was about to grab her purse to find some change to give him when she remembered she’d never made it back to her office to pick up her bag. Cade returned with not only a drink, but a pack of crackers for her. Amber was a lucky woman to have such a nice man.
“Thank you.” She glanced at the clock to see how long it had been since Thad’s surgery. He’d be groggy for a while, but she wanted to look in on him. After taking only a few sips, Zoey stood too quickly and her temple ached.
Cade jumped up, concern lacing his eyes. “Are you okay?”
Not really. “Yes. I want to bring Thad something.” Her fingers worried the hem of her top. “What would he like?”
“I imagine you being there will be enough.”
That was nice of him to say, but she wanted to get Thad a thank you gift as a small token of her appreciation. No gift could ever be enough, though. The man had been a hero.
Think. He was a runner, so candy was out of the question. Flowers would probably be dumb. A macho guy wouldn’t want them. There had to be something she could find. “I’ll go check.”
She wanted to visit the store not only for the gift but because she was too nervous to sit. After a quick detour to her office for her wallet, she headed back down to the first floor. For a few minutes, she wandered around before deciding on a stuffed lion. It reminded her of Thad. He acted tough, but inside he was a softy.
As she stepped to the cash register to pay, she spotted an array of balloons. Zoey picked one that just said, “Get Well.” It wasn’t original, but it represented her wishes.
Armed with her gifts, she returned to the waiting room to find Cade on the phone.
As soon as he spotted her, he ended the call. “I just checked. Thad’s out of recovery and in room 609.” His lips tightened, as if he debated saying more. He then waved his cell. “Seems I’m needed at the station. Say ‘hi’ for me.”
She was a bit disappointed he wouldn’t come with her, but she understood duty called. “I will.”
Zoey made her way up to the surgical floor. Thad’s door stood open, so she stepped inside without knocking. His eyes were closed, but his breathing appeared even. An IV stand was next to the bed, and a tube containing saline entered his right arm. Considering he probably had lost a lot of blood, his color looked quite good though she might be comparing him to when he’d worn the stage makeup to create an appearance of looking near death. She debated dropping off her gifts and leaving, but she really wanted to speak with him.
Like she had a month ago when she was his pretend therapist, Zoey pulled up a chair near the bed. “Thad?” She kept her voice soft in case he was asleep.
He cracked open an eye. His lips lifted but not enough to make a smile. “Hey. You’re safe.” His voice sounded hoarse and a bit weak.
He was worried about her? “You’re the one who was shot.”
The ventilation clicked on and it sent the balloon bobbing. Only then did she remember she was still holding it, along with the lion. She pushed back her chair and stood.
“I, ah, brought you these.” She rushed over to the dresser across from his bed and tied the end of the balloon to the handle. She returned to the nightstand and placed the lion on top.
He glanced at the stuffed animal. “Roar.” He smiled and her heart pinged.
She laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly. Calm down. Zoey tried to think of him as another patient and not as someone who intrigued her, but she couldn’t. He’d been so strong in her time of need that she was drawn to him.
Thad closed his eyes, looking like he was fighting drugs and fatigue. Without the stage makeup, he was a very handsome man. His brown hair was cut military short, and his nose had a cute little bump in it. A one-inch scar sliced across his chin, which gave him a tough boy look that reminded her of Harrison Ford. What she remembered the most about the time she’d spent with him was
how much she liked his eyes. They changed color depending on the light—sometimes a sea green and at other times a warm toast.
He wet his lips and his breathing increased.
“Do you want some water?” The pitcher sat on a side table where he couldn’t reach it.
He opened his eyes and let out a breath. “That would be nice.”
Happy to have something to do, she poured him a glass. His bed was elevated, so he was able to drink without lifting his head. When she held the cup to his lips and tilted the straw, he took it from her, acting like having a nursemaid would be worse than another bullet. He groaned on the first sip even though he’d used his good arm.
Concern rushed through her, and she leaned forward. “Are you in pain? Do you want me to call the nurse?” She removed the cup from his fingers and set it aside.
He studied her injury. “What happened to your head?” He hadn’t answered her question, and the avoidance told her a lot.
“It’s nothing.”
“Garrett hit you. I remember now.” His brows pinched then he pressed his lips together as if he was working hard not to let the ache get to him.
“Maybe I should leave. You need to rest.”
He grabbed her hand. “No.” His response came out quickly.
Okay. He wanted her here. She wanted to be with him, too. “Did the doctor say how long you had to stay in the hospital?”
“Too, ah, long.” He winced and blew out a breath.
“You sure you don’t want me to call the doctor?” Had his wound reopened? No blood appeared on the bandage.
“No.”
She wouldn’t do anything against his wishes. Perhaps she brought him comfort. Being alone after the shooting had to be terrible and talking about it might help him heal. It’ll help me heal, too. “I’d like to hear what really happened in the hall. My memory’s a bit fuzzy.”
He grunted again, either from pain or for having to relive the moment. “I’m sorry you were caught in the middle. Garrett McDonald is an unstable man.”
“The way I look at it, being there was bad karma.” She’d often spoken to her patients about how bad things happened to good people. It was the way of the universe.
Then why do I feel that if I’d been less self-absorbed in my work, I would have seen what was going on and been able to react?
He glanced down at their entwined fingers and shook his head. “When I saw you, my heart dropped to my stomach. I could only imagine what went through your mind.”
Speaking seemed to require too much effort for him. He probably wanted her to talk, but she wasn’t used to being on the patient side. It didn’t feel right, but she owed him. “Can I just say that when that McDonald person grabbed me, sheer terror filled every crevice of my body? I couldn’t breathe. I mentally raced through every psych book I’d read to come up with what to do, but I blanked.”
“You had every right to be scared.”
She was happy he didn’t dismiss her anxiety. “When I saw you, it was as if the world slowed. I couldn’t figure out why you were in this standoff with this man.” A tear brimmed on her lid, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat. Her chin trembled as the horror came back in full force, and the skin around her neck tightened at the memory of her captor’s callused hands on her throat. “Scared didn’t come close to what I felt. Losing that much control petrified me.”
Thad released his grip but kept his hand on top of hers. “Being overpowered can give even the strongest person a feeling of helplessness.”
Helpless. Powerless. Total fear. He understood. “Yes. I wanted to do something, but the more I struggled, the harder he choked me.”
“You were brave, Zoey. You kept your cool. That was what saved you.”
He had it all wrong. The words seemed to rush out before she could contain them. “No. You saved me. I was terrified when the shot rang out and felt warm liquid all over my arm and down my back. I thought I was hit.”
A small smile appeared but only briefly. “You are something else, Zoey Donovan. Something else, indeed. Most women would have screamed and done something that would have set McDonald off. But not you.”
His compliment had her face heating. “Inside, I was anything but cool. Trust me. Having you there gave me hope. I’ll never be able to repay you.”
“Aw shucks, honey.” His eyelids fluttered close and he panted out a few breaths. “Some things are worth fighting for.”
Her pulse soared. Did he mean it? She didn’t dare ask. When they’d spoken every day for those ten days at the hospital, she’d felt this intense connection, but he’d never followed up, and she chalked it up to wishful thinking.
Zoey closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure. Her body kept switching from being too hot to being chilled, making it hard to think. She forced herself to don her professional demeanor to keep on an even keel. In that space, she was safe.
She returned her thoughts to his needs. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need me to feed your fish while you’re here or take your dog for a walk?”
He winced as if there were a lot of things he’d need to take care of but didn’t dare ask. “No. Don’t have time for animals. My roommate will see to every…”
His lids finally gave up the fight and slid closed. A soft snore escaped, and she had this insane urge to touch his face. But she didn’t. She feared he might wake and ask her why she was caressing him. For that, she’d have no answer. So she watched him sleep instead. As much as she probably should go home, being with Thad was helping calm her. For more than half an hour, she stayed while he rested, absorbing his strength.
Finally, she accepted it was time to go. It wasn’t because she didn’t want him to find her there when he woke, it was because a powerful fear was building inside her. She had no doubt that as soon as she walked out that door, the memory of what happened would come back and strangle her.
Chapter Four
Before Zoey even stood, a tear leaked out. Zoey Elizabeth Donovan. Do not cry. She was a grown woman for goodness sake.
As she swiped away the moisture, Thad’s hospital door squeaked open, and Zoey smacked a hand on her chest.
A nurse she didn’t recognize came in. “Excuse me. I need to check Mr. Dalton’s vitals.”
Thad opened his eyes, but they didn’t appear very focused. “You’re still here.” Only one side of his mouth lifted.
“Yes, but I need to go. Your nurse has big plans for you.” Zoey almost smiled when he grunted. “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
When she squeezed his hand, grief welled inside her at seeing him this way. Even when he’d been doing the sting operation, underneath all that makeup, and despite the moaning and groaning he’d been required to do, he’d been vital, strong, in command. Now he was in pain, and it hurt to see him work so hard to deny what happened.
As if chased by demons, Zoey rushed out. Once in the hallway, the walls pressed in on her. She had to get out of the hospital, even if it was only until tomorrow when she returned to work. Her goal right now was to soak in her new tub while drinking a glass of wine, and then cook a feast for one. Without a plan, she’d crumble.
One stroke of luck was that after weeks of having a crew in her house, Banks Construction had promised all the work would be finished by today—work that included a new master bath and a state of the art kitchen.
As she headed home, she repeatedly checked the rearview mirror, praying some cop didn’t pull her over for speeding. She slowed a bit, and the image of Garrett McDonald surfaced. Her throat constricted. She’d been scared. Bad. Even after that admission, she didn’t feel much better, in part because she still ached for Thad.
Zoey took a corner too fast and the blood-streaked folder she’d been carrying bumped against her leg. It contained her session notes with Kara Molloy, a cardiac surgery physician assistant, whose story had deeply affected her. Too bad Kara’s tale made Zoey feel helpless, too—similar to when Garrett McDonald was choking her. That was why
she hadn’t been paying attention when she walked through the halls this morning. Zoey had been trying to find a way to tell Kara’s tale to the hospital authorities. If it didn’t violate her therapist’s code of ethics, she would have run to HR herself and insist someone investigate her patient’s claim of another doctor’s misconduct. The dilemma of confidentiality and ethics still tore at her.
Zoey stopped for a light that remained red forever. She tapped her fingers on the wheel. The traffic was bad already, and it wasn’t even rush hour yet. “Change, light!” Christ. She was never edgy, but the attack and Thad’s injury had shaken her.
Kara Molloy had painfully and tearfully told Zoey about the bullying that went on in the operating room. While Zoey had heard rumors, no one else had ever given details.
Someone behind Zoey honked, and when she moved her foot to the accelerator, the car lurched forward with more power than she’d intended. Damn. When the entrance to her neighborhood came into view, she blew out a breath and turned onto her street. Zoey was dirty, tired, and hungry—a bad combination, especially since she’d only eaten those crackers Cade had bought her. No wonder she was at her wit’s end.
As soon as she pictured relaxing in her tub, the tension in her shoulders lessened—that was until she spotted the construction truck in her drive. “Are you kidding me? You’re supposed to be done! Why can’t you people do what you claim?” Her knuckles gripped the wheel so hard her nail beds turned white.
Her outburst almost scared her. She never should have had the kitchen and bathroom done at the same time. The delays had been a nightmare, but that was what she got for buying a really old home.
Be honest. She was distraught over the attack, and merely disappointed the renovation hadn’t been done.
After cutting the engine, she grabbed her purse and folder and got out. The key snagged in the front door lock, and she was tempted to just ring the doorbell instead of dealing with it. Just then, the key slid in and she pushed open the door. Instead of hammers pounding and noisy nail guns reverberating off the walls, silence met her. Someone had to be here. That truck in her driveway and her alarm system glowing green confirmed it. “Hello?”