by Lilly Wilde
Someone behind me was describing the accident to the 911 operator as Aiden went silent.
“Aiden. Aiden! Can you hear me?” I asked, frantic for some type of confirmation that he was okay.
He looked up at me, drifting in and out of consciousness as I stroked his cheek. “Aria,” he said, his voice barely audible.
I heard sirens. “Help is on the way, sweetheart, just keep still.”
“Are you—”
“Shh. Don’t try to talk,” I said.
“Ar …” he started again. His eyelids fluttered and then he was out.
Chapter Thirteen
With my heart in my throat, I sat beside Aiden, clinging to his hand as I watched him skim along the surface of consciousness. He hadn’t said a word since before the ambulance arrived—no grunts or groans, not even a mumble. I was doubtful he was even aware of my presence. Or maybe he was suffering in silence to spare me. If he had the ability to protect me in any capacity, he would, even when he shouldn’t. But that was Aiden—thinking about what was best for me even if it meant inflicting pain upon himself.
I took in the paramedic’s expression as she checked the cervical collar on Aiden’s neck. “Is he going to be okay?” I asked, my voice streaked with panic.
She looked up at me with what I was sure was a practiced composure and said, “We’ve decreased the bleeding and he doesn’t appear to have any broken bones—both good signs. We’ll know more once he’s at the hospital and the doctor checks him out.”
Returning my attention to Aiden, I tightened my grip on his hand and offered a silent prayer. God, please let him be okay. Please. He has to be. If he’s anything less than okay … I couldn’t finish that thought. I mustn’t.
My gaze traveled over Aiden’s body, strapped to the stretcher. His head was secured so that he could only look up and a breathing tube was in his nose. His jacket had been removed and his shirt was mangled and blood-stained. There had been a lot of blood … so much blood. Why was he so quiet? Had the EMTs administered some type of medication?
The intermittent bleats of the siren, the chatter spewing from the radio, the clank of the medical equipment as we swerved around a corner—my mind darted to and fro as each sound heightened the fear that centered in my chest. I placed my palm against Aiden’s cheek, wondering if he could hear any of this, and realized it was best if he couldn’t. He needed to be in a calm place, somewhere in the recesses of his mind where he could concentrate on pulling through this. Following my thought process, I attempted to find my own calm place, but my eyes shot open when I heard the driver announce our arrival to the hospital, tossing me right back into the world of labored breaths and fluttering heart beats.
Everything fast forwarded, moving in warp speed as the ambulance came to an abrupt stop. The rear doors burst open and two men on the hospital staff appeared, assisting with Aiden’s transport. With ease and precision, they secured the stretcher, wheeled Aiden from the ambulance and rushed him toward the emergency room. I fell in line with them, meeting them step for step. I was so close that I was still holding Aiden’s hand.
A doctor met us at the entrance of an operating room. They moved Aiden along the halls as the paramedic briefed them on Aiden’s condition.
“We’ve got a twenty-nine-year-old male. Status post motor vehicle collision: blood pressure ninety over fifty, heart rate of one fourteen. Patient was found unconscious with injury to the head and possible broken ribs.”
The doctor placed his hand on Aiden’s forehead, pushing his eyelids open and passing a flash of light back and forth. “Let’s set him up for a trauma panel.”
Once they transferred his body to a different gurney, he was hauled behind the double doors, and having followed them inside, I was still with him. Our physical connection was short-lived, however; the nurse apologized and asked the orderly to escort me to the waiting area.
I was numb. I couldn’t say anything and I was afraid to think anything. As I stepped into the allotted space, I encountered the empty stares of hopeful people awaiting the same news as I—that their loved one was fine and would be going home soon.
A cold, foreboding area filled with strangers was the last place I wanted to be, so I decided to wait near the nurse’s station. Stepping from the waiting area, I discovered the rest of the Raine family had arrived. I quickly surveyed each of them, but my gaze settled on Sienna’s tear-stained face. I rushed into her arms, finally breaking down and letting out the fear I’d held inside my chest.
“How is he?” Connor asked, his hand at my back. “What’s the doctor said?”
“Nothing. I mean, I don’t know. Aiden was only taken back a few minutes ago,” I said, sniffing.
Connor turned to his second-oldest child and said, “Nicholas, there’s a private waiting area on this floor. Go to the nurse’s station and have them lead you all there. I’ll get an update on Aiden.”
Sloan and Allison enclosed me in a hug as Nicholas stepped toward one of the nurses. No one moved—we held each other, sobbing and murmuring words of encouragement and hope. We were still in a huddle when Nicholas returned with a nurse, whom we followed down the hall to a room she unlocked.
“He’s going to be fine, Aria,” Nicholas said once we were alone. “Aiden’s one of the toughest people I know. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Aiden was as tough as steel, but in a time like this, it was difficult to keep that hard truth in the forefront of the fear. My mind fluctuated between knowing Aiden could beat anything, and accepting that he was as human as the rest of us—which meant there were no absolutes. I looked up at Nicholas, questioning his words, but his eyes were unwavering—as unshakeable as his brother’s—as if he knew there could be no other outcome. He pulled me close and with my head on his shoulder, we made our way to one of the small sofas.
The nurse allowed us a moment and then she asked if we needed anything. After a collective reply in the negative, silence filled the room. Once the nurse made her exit, everyone directed their attention to me, but I couldn’t meet their gazes. I didn’t want to see my fear mirrored in their eyes, so I looked down at Aiden’s jacket, haphazardly folding it in my lap.
There was a light knock at the door just as Tristan appeared with a tray of coffee for everyone except me. For me, he had my customary chai tea. After checking to see if we needed anything further, he offered his support, and then he excused himself. We resumed our state of quiet and I took a sip of the warm beverage, Aiden’s coat still nestled in my arms.
“Do you want me to take that?” Allison asked, her sympathetic eyes on the jacket.
“No!” I replied, my voice much louder than I intended. “I’ll keep it.”
The bite in my tone was startling. Not just to myself, but based on Allison’s expression, it was to her as well. Before she could respond, I placed my tea on the table nearest me and said, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she replied, an awkward expression on her face as she glanced at the others.
“Excuse me,” I said and rushed to the restroom. I couldn’t tolerate their cautious stares—gauging me as if I were going to fall apart at any moment. And to be honest, I didn’t know how long it would be before I did just that. But I had to keep it together—I had to stay strong for Aiden.
Closing the door, I placed Aiden’s jacket on the door hook and looked in the mirror at my tear-streaked face. I didn’t know how I could get through this, but I knew I had to. I took a few minutes to calm my breathing and my thoughts, splashing some cold water on my face, and then reaching into Aiden’s breast pocket for the handkerchief that I was sure to find. I dabbed it over my cheeks and thought back to the first time he’d offered his handkerchief to me. That seemed like ages ago. Returning the cloth to his pocket, I grabbed the jacket and lifted it to my nose, inhaling the richness of his scent. And then remembering my panties, I pulled them out of the pocket. Tears sprang to my eyes again as I recalled th
at barely an hour ago we’d been happy and playful. I choked back the tears and slid on my underwear. With one more pull of air into my lungs, I went back to join the others.
Scott and Tristan stepped into the room just as I closed the bathroom door. “Three witnesses from the scene were able to give us descriptions of the car. We were able to piece enough together to get a hit on the plates,” Scott said.
“And?” Nicholas asked, standing up and approaching the head of Aiden’s security team.
“The vehicle from the accident is registered to a Michelle Lane,” he replied.
“That can’t be right,” I said.
“The information is correct, Mrs. Raine. But she wasn’t in the car—a Ms. Nadia Lane was the driver.”
“No. She wouldn’t do that,” Allison said. “She couldn’t.”
“Not that I agree with Allison, but how could that be?” I asked. “Nadia’s sentence was being extended. She’s still in a treatment center.”
“She was released from the institute two days ago. To the custody of her parents,” Scott added.
Two days! Nadia had been free to do whatever the hell she wanted for two days! The image of a delusional mess of a woman grasping a crumpled picture of my son crashed into my mind. “Where’s Lyric?” I asked. I had to get to my son, but how could I do that without leaving Aiden?
“He’s home with Dianna,” Tristan said.
The sensible thing was to keep Lyric tucked away safely at home. “Call her now. Tell her what’s happened. No one—I mean absolutely no one—is allowed into that house,” I said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Tristan replied as he pulled a phone from his pocket.
“Scott, get your people to our place,” I said. “Increase security on every entry, every exit until that fucking lunatic is found.”
Scott remained firmly implanted in his position.
“Why the hell are you just standing there?” I demanded. “Go!”
“There’s one more thing I should tell you,” he said, his eyes cautious.
“What?” What the hell could be more devastating than what we already knew?
“We have reason to believe Ms. Lane has a gun,” he said.
“Oh, my God,” I gasped, covering my mouth. As if my heart could take anymore. My stance faltered as my gaze fell to Aiden’s jacket and considered Scott’s words. The hit and run was not a random accident. It was planned. But I’d been the target, not Aiden. Nadia had actually planned to kill me. She hated me that much. How could anyone harbor that level of resentment toward a woman whose only offense was falling in love with a man? “How do you know this?” I asked, returning my gaze to Scott.
“I contacted her parents, as well as the authorities. Ms. Lane had somehow gotten a hold of her mother’s keys and walked out of the house.”
“With a gun?” I asked.
“I’m afraid so, ma’am.”
“So they just happened to have guns lying around,” I said. “Will this nightmare ever end?” I couldn’t take any more, I just couldn’t.
“I’ve also spoken with Dr. Ellison, and according to her, Ms. Lane had improved, even to the point where she was allowed out of her room to socialize with the other patients.”
“So just like that, she thought Nadia miraculously changed?” I asked. “Hell, when I first met her, I knew she was hip-deep in crazy. How could a trained professional not see that?”
“I’ve already taken care of the additional security,” Scott said. “I’m also leaving a couple of our guys here to keep an eye on you and your family,” he added.
“How could Nadia’s therapist be so careless?” Sienna asked.
“And no matter how much improvement Dr. Ellison supposedly witnessed, how could she possibly think Nadia was stable enough to walk out of that place? That she’d let go of her hatred of me? I don’t care how much therapy she’s had, what she feels toward Aiden, my child, and I will never go away.”
“I thought this was over. That this was at least one thing we wouldn’t have to worry about anymore,” Sloan said. She stepped closer to me, rubbing a hand over my shoulders. “And this doctor—what kind of quack would allow Nadia access to anyone?”
“Dr. Ellison is as good as fired. It was her responsibility to treat Nadia, to protect society from her. She failed at both,” I said, turning toward Tristan.
“Dianna and Lyric are safe at home with firm instructions to stay put,” he said.
“Good. Thank you. I need you to get with our attorneys and tell them to get on top of this situation with Dr. Ellison. I want her out of that facility. And tell them to look for any and every reason to petition for a revocation of her license.”
“I’m on it,” he said.
I paced a few steps and then voiced my thoughts. “Aiden tried to help Nadia! He spent millions to get her the help she needed. Millions! And for all of his good intentions, in the end, it meant nothing. He’s fighting for his life as a result.”
“I can’t wrap my head around this. How could she do something like this?” Allison asked in disbelief.
I shook my head, staring at Allison as she went on.
“I guess I didn’t want to think she would do anything worse than what she had already done,” Allison said as new tears streaked her sad face.
“I don’t understand how any of this happened,” I said. “Aiden assured me. He promised he had a handle on this—that she was being watched.”
“Mrs. Raine,” said the muscled guy who’d recently joined us.
Was his name Brody? Yes, that was it—Brody.
“Ms. Lane was being watched,” he said. “I placed a call to Mr. Raine just as he was leaving the event, informing him of Ms. Lane’s departure from her home without supervision. We’d just locked in on her, but it was too late.”
Aiden had been aware of Nadia’s release. The call he’d received as we were leaving the event—it must have been Brody. I’d asked if everything was okay, and in typical protection mode, he’d withheld the truth from me. Could I blame him? He wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to have nothing more to worry about. “I told Aiden over and over that he couldn’t control everything. I told him. But he wouldn’t listen and now—now he’s fighting for his life.”
“Aiden’s going to come out of this just fine,” Sloan said. “We can’t forget who we’re dealing with here. I mean, come on, It’s Aiden Raine. Losing isn’t even on his radar.”
I took in the sheer determination of Sloan’s gaze. She, like Nicholas, was convinced Aiden would be okay. But he’d been hit pretty hard, and regardless of the calm resolve the paramedic had tried to convey, I knew Aiden’s condition wasn’t good.
“Aiden’s doctor will be here shortly,” Connor said as he entered the room.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“Nothing beyond what we already knew, but he’s optimistic.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” Sienna said as Connor reached for her.
“What’s going on?” Connor asked, as he took in Scott and Brody’s expressions.
“We know the identity of the driver,” I said.
“Is this person in custody?” Connor asked.
“The person is Nadia, and no, she hasn’t been found,” Nicholas said.
“Nadia? Nadia Lane did this to my son?” Connor asked.
“Yes, sir,” Scott replied.
“Use every resource at my disposal to find her,” he said, passing a business card to Scott. “Call the number on this card and tell them to get on this now.”
“Right away, sir,” Scott said, as he exited the room.
Connor assumed control of everything after that—placing a call to the chief of police and demanding an update on Nadia’s whereabouts within the hour. Next he was on the phone with the mayor. The room was quiet; everyone taking in Connor’s choice of words as he all but threatened the mayor whilst making his low opinion of the police department known. “If you don’t find her, we will. And this time, there’ll be no mercy,” Connor said,
ending the call.
That’s where Aiden got it from. The part of him that made you want to tuck your tail between your legs and run. Aiden didn’t like being compared to his father, but at times, the resemblance was hard to miss.
Connor’s last call was to his personal assistant, instructing her to locate physicians who specialized in trauma. As he returned the phone to his pocket, I took note of Sienna, noticing the comfort she took in her husband’s authority. Had Aiden wanted that of me? To sit quietly at his side and allow him to take over as the situation demanded?
My observations reached a halt when the door to the waiting room opened. Everyone’s attention turned toward the man dressed in the familiar greenish-blue scrubs.
“I’m Dr. Burgess,” he said.
“Is Aiden okay?” I asked. “I’m his wife.”
“He’s banged up pretty badly. He’s suffered a concussion, two cracked ribs, and there’s significant blood loss and some swelling around the spinal cord. The good news is there doesn’t appear to be any blood in the brain.”
Uncertain of what I expected to hear, I realized this was worse than I’d imagined. Anything dealing with the spinal cord was dangerous. “Is he in pain?” I asked.
“We’ve got him on a morphine drip, and he’s resting comfortably.”
“And the prognosis?” Nicholas asked.
“We’ve stabilized him for now. We were able to suppress the bleeding and swelling by way of a minimally invasive procedure. Given the amount of blood loss, that was the best route. The good thing with endoscopic procedures is there will be little to no scar tissue, low risk of infections, low blood loss, faster recovery and less pain.”
“Can I see him?” I asked.
“Not just yet,” the doctor replied. “He’s being moved to recovery.”
“But he’s going to be fine?” I asked.
“I’ll know more once I get the tests back. In the meantime, we’re keeping a close eye on his condition in the event something changes.”
“As in getting worse?” I asked.