Every Breath She Takes

by Norah Wilson

  Serious tears threatened, but she blinked them back. Don’t think about it.

  The doors slid open on a handful of people waiting to board the elevator. Several of them stared openly at her as she moved past them. For a moment she thought it was because she was near tears, but sthen she remembered her face. She must look a fright.

  In the lobby, she stopped at the gift shop, bought a large pair of dark sunglasses, and slid them on her face. Better, she thought, regarding her reflection. Couldn’t be scaring her fellow passengers on the flight home.

  Home. She thought about her friends and family. The mother she had breakfast with every Saturday morning. The father she sat and watched baseball games companionably with while her mother got out for a bit. The sister whom she still hadn’t called and who was going to be so furious with her when she saw Lauren’s face and heard about all this, but who would eventually forgive her. Her big goofy Rotti cross and the Miniature Pinscher who bossed him around. Her really great house. The practice that sustained her.

  Instead of the satisfaction that usually filled her when she thought of these things, a deep desolation blossomed in her chest. Oh, it would get better with time. She knew that. If only the parting wasn’t so abrupt, so wrenching…

  No, this way was for the best. No point dragging it out. Much better to do it quickly, like ripping adhesive off a wound.

  Except this wound was on her heart, and it might just tear it right out.

  “Miss Townsend? You okay?”

  She glanced up to find Spider looking at her, concern furrowing his leathery forehead.

  “I’m fine. But I wonder if you could do me a favor? I need to arrange a drive back to the ranch.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, ma’am. Mr. Taggart sent me to fetch you whenever you were ready.”

  Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry, eh? She tried to laugh, but it stuck in her throat.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Thank you, Spider. I think I’m ready right now.”

  Eight hours later, Cal glared at the tubes running in and out of him. He felt fine. His stomach was a bit iffy, but otherwise he was fine. Well, some fever still. Apparently surgery with an unsterilized pocketknife tended to cause infection, but they’d jammed enough antibiotics into him to kill anything. His breath was coming easier too. There was no reason why he should still be tethered to this bed.

  Not that he wasn’t grateful to be alive. He thought he’d breathed his last on top of that ridge. But now he had to get out of here. He had to find Lauren, talk to her.

  He’d been in no shape to say what needed saying when she’d been here earlier. Hell, wasn’t sure he even remembered all of what he had said, but he did remember extracting a promise from her to come back when he felt better. That had been hours ago, and the need to talk to her was eating him alive. If it weren’t for the damned chest tube, he’d tear his IV out and go after her.

  Hell with it. He’d make them get a doctor up here to remove the chest tube. He’d never needed one for the full forty-eight with a pneumo.

  He’d just squeezed the call button when a knock came at his open door. He glanced up to see Lauren framed there. At last.

  “Lauren, come in.”

  She stepped into the room, letting the door fall shut behind her. His relief changed to panic as he really looked at her. She wore the same black dress she’d worn the day she landed at the ranch, but she’d added a scarf around her bruised neck and a wide-brimmed straw hat. Her travel outfit.

  “You’re leaving?”

  She patted her bag. “Got my ticket right here. Spider’s going to drive me to the airport when we’re through here.”

  The words he’d planned to say died in his throat. Dammit, how could she do this? “That was quick,” he said.

  Her gaze slid away from his even as she came to stand close to his bed. “It’s better this way, isn’t it?” When he made no reply, she lifted her gaze to meet his, her blue eyes empty. “I mean, that’s what we agreed, right? No strings, no regrets?”

  His very words. “But I thought…” What had he thought? That she’d hang around so he could woo her properly? Yes, he guessed he had. “I thought you’d stay until you recovered.”

  “Oh, that. I’m fine. Just a little bruising. The doctor cleared me to travel, though I think I’ll keep my hat on so I don’t scare my fellow passengers.” She said it jokingly, but her voice sounded brittle to his ears. “I have sunglasses too. See?” She slid them on. “You can hardly tell.”

  That was an overstatement, but with makeup, she did look almost normal. As if none of this nightmare had happened.

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

  “What for?” She removed the sunglasses.

  For everything. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you right away. If I had, you wouldn’t have those bruises.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Don’t worry about it. In your shoes, I don’t think I would have believed me.”

  “You could have tried me sooner.” Despite his efforts to keep his words neutral, they carried an accusatory note.

  Some emotion stirred in her eyes, then they went flat again. “I’ve been there before, Cal. Remember Garrett? My serious boyfriend? Well, he was more than a boyfriend. We were engaged. Well, until about ten seconds after I finally told him about my visions. After eighteen months of living together, that’s all it took for him to decide I was crazy. Why should I have expected anything different from you?”

  Why indeed? It hurt, but he forced himself to face the truth. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t her fiancé. He wasn’t even her lover in the real sense of that word. He just happened to own the body she’d wanted to get sweaty with while she’d waited for a killer to make his move.

  He thought of everything he wanted to say and his stomach hurt. “Anyway, I’m sorry. That’s really what I wanted to say. That, and thanks for looking out for Marlena.” He fiddled with the hospital bracelet on his wrist.

  “No problem.”

  “So.” He shifted his arm, rearranged the blankets. “You must be really anxious to get home after all this time.”

  A pause. “Yeah, I guess I should be going.”

  It wasn’t until his throat closed that he realized he’d been hoping she’d refute his suggestion. She captured his hand with her own. Cal wanted to grip it so tight and not let go. Instead, he clasped it loosely, casually.

  “We had fun, didn’t we?” she said, her eyes glinting. “Well, apart from the last bit.”

  Fun? He remembered burying himself inside her and thinking he’d finally come home. He remembered pillowing his head on her breasts and coming apart in her arms. Fun?

  She took a step closer, her body language shouting that she was going to lean over the bed rail and kiss him. A long, bittersweet good-bye kiss, no doubt. Jesus, he couldn’t bear it.

  “Yeah, it was fun,” he said quickly. “Maybe you even learned a thing or two to take back east with you.” His voice was harsh and far too loud for how close they were, but that seemed to be the only way he could make it come out. “Think of me when you dust those moves off with the next guy, won’t you?”

  She jerked back, as he’d intended her to, but recovered her composure quickly. Drawing herself up, she looked every inch the lady opting to ignore his crude lapse of manners.

  “Good-bye, Cal,” she said, giving his hand a last squeeze.

  “Bye, Lauren.”

  He watched her go, his heart slamming painfully in his chest. No score, cowboy. You lose.

  A dark head popped around the door. For a moment he thought it was Lauren, but to his crushing disappointment, it was only the nurse. He remembered then—he’d summoned her to insist she get the doctor in to yank the chest tube.

  “Did you need help with something, Mr. Taggart?”

  No, he didn’t need help. It didn’t matter how long he lay here now. “Sorry, no. Musta pushed the buzzer by mistake.”

  “You sure?” She looked skeptical, as though
he were harboring some pain he wouldn’t admit to. “It’s been six hours. You can have another shot of Demerol if you need it.”

  “No, I’m good.”

  Cal closed his eyes. The nurse fussed around him a moment, checking things, then went to leave.

  His eyes sprang open. “Nurse?”

  She turned back to him. “Yes?”

  “I’m awfully tired. Maybe something to help me sleep?”

  She smiled understandingly. “Of course. I’ll see to it.”

  Morning found Cal mean as a bear with a sore head. Bad enough he’d taken the coward’s way out with the sleeping pills, but the dreamless sleep they’d induced left him feeling lousy.

  So had the lecture he’d gotten this morning from his father for letting Lauren go. No matter what Cal said, the old fool wouldn’t believe it had been Lauren’s choice to leave. “Of course she left, you ass! You didn’t ask her to stay,” Zane had roared loud enough to bring the nurse.

  What he needed was to get out of this damned hospital bed and get back to the ranch. There was always so much to do there, a man could work himself into exhausted numbness.

  Just like Dad, a voice whispered in his head.

  “Oh, shut up, would you,” he muttered.

  “Mr. Taggart?”

  Cal glanced up to see an RCMP officer standing just inside his door. Of course. The debriefing. “Come in.”

  The Mountie, a tall, graying man with a lean build, took his hat off and moved soundlessly into the room. “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”

  “I can’t say I remember the occasion, Officer…?”

  “Corporal Beldan, and don’t feel bad; you were out cold.” He held out his hand and Cal shook it. “Is this a good time?”

  “Good as any.”

  The interview took an hour. Cal told his story, answered the man’s questions as best he could, and then they went over it again. Cal hadn’t been able to tell him much beyond what happened after he got to the ridge. When he finished, the detective with the serious eyes had a lot to tell Cal. It seemed in the last thirty-six hours he’d interviewed Lauren, Marlena, and Brady at length, as well as half of Cal’s staff and all of Harvey’s, to put the pieces together. And what a picture it was.

  According to Beldan, if Lauren hadn’t intervened, not only would Marlena be dead, but Brady as well, and the world—and the courts—would likely have believed their deaths were Cal’s handiwork.

  Harvey had stolen Cal’s work gloves, intending to commit murder with them and plant them as evidence. The Mountie produced them in a sealed bag and Cal confirmed they were the ones he’d lost. The cop then showed him other personal items Harvey’d been carrying that they suspected he intended to plant near the scene, including a cigarette butt, a book of matches, and some other stuff, but Cal couldn’t identify any of it as his.

  “No matter,” Beldan said. “My guess is that your DNA is all over those items. Lab’ll be able to tell us.”

  Beldan’s pen scratched over his notepad for a minute, giving Cal a chance to think about what he’d heard. His heart thudded heavily against his ribs as the full import of it struck him—without Lauren’s intervention, he’d have been on his way to prison and Harvey would be launching his development project.

  But she had intervened. She’d stayed on that ridge with Marlena and faced Harvey down.

  Cal broke out in a sweat. If he hadn’t turned Sienna around, Lauren would be dead now. As it was, he’d almost left it too late…Suddenly Cal was grateful for the support of the hospital bed he’d been so ready to abandon.

  He’d have gone to jail for Lauren’s murder too, he realized with a jolt. But if Lauren had died, he’d have deserved prison and worse. Her blood would have been on his hands.

  Finally the Mountie flipped his notebook shut. “Miss Townsend is one remarkable woman.”

  “I know,” Cal said, but he was listening with only half an ear, still grappling with the what ifs.

  “Do you really?”

  Something about the Mountie’s tone pulled at Cal. He looked at the detective sharply then. “Why do I have the feeling you have something more you’d like to say?

  The detective’s gaze was steady. “I first spoke to Miss Townsend while they were working on you. She was very upset.”

  What was he getting at? “It was an upsetting experience.”

  “I understand she baited Mr. McLeod to provoke that beating,” the detective continued.

  Cal paled, recalling her jibes. “I know. It’s the only thing that kept her alive long enough for me to reach her.”

  “She did it hoping it would give your former wife a chance to recover consciousness and get away.”

  Geez, what was the matter with this guy? It was Cal’s chest that had been injured, not his brain. “I know. That’s what it was all about. After having that vision—” He still felt strange saying that word, but it was getting easier. He cleared his throat. “Seeing that vision is what brought her here in the first place, for the sole purpose of saving Marlena.”

  Detective Beldan tucked his notepad into a pocket. “As I understand it, Miss Townsend had an extra incentive for wanting to keep Mrs. Taggart alive.”

  “Ex-Mrs. Taggart. And what do you mean, extra incentive?”

  “Mr. McLeod explained to Miss Townsend in some considerable detail his plan to frame you, Mr. Taggart. That’s how we unraveled it so quickly. She got it from the horse’s mouth.”

  Cal opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, without once making a sound. Beldan ignored his imitation of a fish.

  “Miss Townsend’s first priority was to buy time for your ex-wife to regain consciousness and hopefully get away. Plan B, in case that didn’t work, was to generate enough forensic evidence to refute the frame job.”

  His stomach churned violently. The thought of Lauren out there, despairing of rescue, prepared to die hard…

  The Mountie carried on, oblivious of Cal’s nausea. “She scratched his face to mark him as the assailant and to capture evidence under her nails. And by inducing that beating, she ensured his blood wound up on her. Lots of it.”

  Cal swallowed. Steady, man. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Beldan fingered his hat. “After that first interview, she closed up about all that. Her official statement says she was only trying to buy a few more minutes.” Beldan stood, replacing his hat. “I had a hunch she wouldn’t mention it. But I figure if a woman does something like that for a man, he oughta know.”

  The Mountie left the room as soundlessly as he’d come.

  Cal sat there motionless. Why hadn’t she told him? He owed her so much more than he thought. Not just for dragging him back up that cliff. Not just for the lives of Marlena and Brady. He owed her his ranch, his reputation, his freedom, his very life.

  He felt something tear away in his psyche like a piece of burlap being rent. He’d needed her. Cal Taggart, the man who needed no one, had needed Lauren Townsend. She’d saved them all, never mind that none of them deserved it, except maybe Brady.

  The really scary thing was he needed her still.

  He needed someone he could trust his heart to.

  He needed someone who could look on his impoverished soul and not turn away.

  He needed Lauren.

  He groaned. Once upon a time, he’d thought she might be beginning to love him, at least in a vacation-fling kind of way, before he’d let his insecurities run wild. And now…

  Well, she must feel something for him, to have done what she did. Maybe it wasn’t too late to fan that spark of desire into something that would last in the real, everyday world.

  You don’t deserve her, cowboy.

  The thought whispered in his head, subtle and persuasive as ever, but this time he silenced it. Not yet, maybe, but I will. If she valued him enough to have done what she’d done, he was just going to have to learn to deserve her.

  Starting with getting out of here so he could go after her.

/>   CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Lauren, I think you better come see this.”

  Heather’s voice pulled Lauren out of her daze. She was supposedly researching new treatments for hyperadrenalcorticism, but she’d been staring blankly at the computer screen. Again. She’d hoped that coming back to work this week would snap her out of these funks. Sighing, she went off-line. “Coming.”

  She joined Heather in the reception area. “Okay, what is it?” she asked, striving for good humor. “The snake owner with the bifurcated tongue? The rat girl with the body piercings?”

  “Even weirder.” Heather gestured toward the window. “A cowboy in our parking lot.”

  Lauren blanched. “Where? Show me.”

  “Last car. He’s helping Mrs. Foster unload her poodles.”

  For a moment Lauren saw no one, but she could see the door on the passenger side of the sleek sedan stood ajar. Then a man backed away from the car and stood. It was Cal.

  Gesturing for Mrs. Foster to precede him, he stepped around the car, a small cage in each hand, and strode toward the clinic.

  Lauren drank him in. He wore a beige straw Stetson, what looked like brand-new jeans and boots, and one of those soft blue chambray shirts she’d come to love. Heather emitted a wolf whistle.

  A fierce longing blocked Lauren’s throat. “Cal.”

  Heather looked at her sharply. “You know this guy?” Lauren made no reply, but her assistant’s eyes widened. “He followed you here, didn’t he? Followed you all the way from Alberta!”

  The reality of his being here hit her and she started to shake. Just in time for the front door to open.

  Mrs. Foster entered first. “Thank you so much, young man.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  He placed the cages where Mrs. Foster indicated, but his gaze had already found Lauren’s. He straightened, removing his hat. “Lauren.”

  “Cal.”

  Heather cleared her throat. “Mrs. Foster, you’re right on time. Let’s get the girls into the exam room.”

  “What are you doing here?” Lauren asked as soon as Heather and Mrs. Foster disappeared. “Is everyone all right?”