They trailed the medical team down the two flights of stairs and out onto the front lawn. He had no idea what Chase said to the paramedic—he didn’t much care, as long as the discussion reaped him a seat in the ambulance.
He couldn’t drag his eyes from Jayda. Her ashen face, her swollen skin a mottled purple and yellow. A large lump erupted from her temple, a large bruise spanned her cheek and split, bleeding lip. And then there was her hair—the rich red was matted and dulled with red of a different shade.
In fact, there was an awful lot of that. Blood. Smeared everywhere. Over her arms, her legs. The front of her t-shirt was caked, with barely any white remaining.
Thunder roared through his skull. Given another shot at Juz, he wouldn’t stop at a single punch.
He clambered into the back of the vehicle, taking the seat the paramedic indicated. The man opposite rechecked Jayda’s vitals before readjusting the flow of clear liquid into her arm. ‘I’ve given her a mild sedative for the pain so she’ll be in and out of consciousness for a while now.’
‘Is she going to be okay?’
‘Her doctor will be able to tell you more after a full examination.’
Seth gritted his teeth. That was the medical profession, infinitely reliable in their tight-lipped bureaucracy. God forbid they gave loved-ones a straight answer.
‘Can I hold her hand?’
‘Sure. Just watch the needle.’
As though I wouldn’t without the heads-up.
He cupped her icy hand between his palms and willed his own heat and energy to transfer. Then he began to talk.
He ignored the other man and talked as if nothing had happened since Richie’s call and the discovery of that damned scum article. He talked about the weather, his work, the times they’d share together when life was back to normal. He talked about how she was never allowed out of his sight again.
Then the words stuck in his throat.
Her eyes fluttered open and his heart stumbled.
Jayda blinked.
Even through a hazy cloud, Seth looked damned good.
His hair had that frazzled, windswept look and the shadow on his chin spanned way past five o’clock. His clothes were sooty and wrinkled, which made perfect sense considering what he’d been through.
‘You’re alive.’
‘Very much so.’ The hand around hers tightened as if to prove it.
‘Georgie was working with Juz. She loved him and he killed her. I thought he killed you too.’
His eyes widened. Then he shook his head, seemed to sense she wasn’t ready to delve further into yet another betrayal. ‘Juz won’t kill again.’
She swallowed, her throat like two sheets of sandpaper chafing. ‘He’s dead?’
‘He stabbed an officer and threatened Chase with a gun. It was self-defence.’
She couldn’t fathom the sadness that followed Seth’s words. Regardless of the monster Juz had revealed over the last few hours, he’d been a good friend for years before that. Difficult to believe it had all been lies.
Her mind felt woolly, the fight to stay awake like hacking through thick forest undergrowth. The world began to sway.
Confetti rained across her weighted eyelids, the world around her slipping. She clung to Seth’s hand and dragged deep breaths into her lungs.
No time for sleep now. So much more to know. To say.
She opened her eyes.
‘The officer. Who was it? Are they okay?’
‘The wound missed all vital organs. That’s all I know.’
She swallowed. ‘I saw the explosion. You escaped. How?’ Words so clear in her mind slurred thick and heavy as they left her mouth, but Seth seemed to understand.
He leaned in and she caught a whiff of pine and burnt carbon. ‘The blast you saw was more theatrical than functional. A whole lot of smoke and not much else, which makes sense, since Georgie was in the apartment at the time. I doubt she had any intentions of dying.’
‘Yet she died anyway.’
‘You can’t make a deal with the devil and expect to come out unscathed.’
He was right. But it didn’t make her any less sad. Emotions were beyond logic and a part of her knew she would always mourn Georgie’s loss. She’d wanted what Jayda had been lucky enough to find. If only Georgie had searched for it anywhere else but in Juz.
Her vision blurred and she blinked. ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’
‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’
Her head spun and she closed her eyes. The brush of his hand on her cheek was wondrous. Then his lips stroked her forehead. ‘Are you okay?’
She felt the rush of moisture against her eyelashes. Before she could second guess them, she pushed the words weighing on her mind to her lips. ‘It hurt that you didn’t tell me about the promotion.’
The soot-stained lines on his face deepened. ‘I didn’t keep the news from you deliberately.’
‘You didn’t rush to share it with me, either.’
His eyebrows knitted. ‘No.’
‘Why?’ She held her breath. Did she really want the answer?
‘I thought it would change us.’
‘Not telling me did that anyway. When everyone was hiding something, you were the one person I thought I could trust. It hurt, Seth.’ She swallowed. ‘You convinced me to open up, to let you in. Then you shut me out.’
The ambulance stuttered to a stop. With the lack of motion, Jayda’s world began to spin.
‘Jayda?’
Dark spots eddied across her closed eyelids and it was harder to hold on. Everything stable slipped. Voices surged, then receded. Michael. Seth. Others.
Jayda?
She fought to focus, fought to open her eyes. Chase swam across her vision. He still wore the bandage. She clenched her lids. Juz’s taunts goaded her, then ebbed slowly away. Someone checked her pulse, ran their knuckles across her breastbone. She flinched, but her eyelids seemed glued together. That same person pulled her eyelid back and flicked a bright light across her vision.
She’s fine. Just the sedative.
Odd words and sounds. Echoes.
An abyss, dark and looming, rose before her. Her body suspended over the edge. Her fingers scrabbled, grasping, frantic. Nothing stuck.
Her heart pounded.
She stumbled, slipped. Then slowly she began to slide.
Cold air hit her face and her body dropped. Dream and reality merged.
Words wafted through the murk.
Sorry . . . never shut you out again . . . love you . . . marry me . . .
Then there was nothing.
Jayda allowed her gaze to roam.
She took in the whitewashed walls. The scrubbed-within-an-inch-of-their-life grey floors. The spotless over-starched bed sheets. And a needle stuck into her left arm that attached to a drip.
From somewhere nearby came distant clatters, muted footsteps and the occasional bleep of a machine—all signatures of a hospital environment.
How long had she been here? A day, perhaps? Difficult to gauge when she’d drifted in and out of a drug-induced haze for what seemed like forever.
She turned her head towards the cracked vinyl chair beside her bed. Her father sprawled awkwardly in the seat, his head tipped to the side, open mouth releasing deep breaths that bordered on snores. His hair, which had greyed more in retirement than it had through years on the force, was in dire need of a cut. It stuck out at all angles, a thick tuft flopped over one eye.
Deep lines cut shadows into a face that was haggard and pale. Even in sleep, his exhaustion was evident.
Her heart twisted. What hell he must have gone through in the past few weeks—losing one daughter, almost losing another.
Your very existence creates havoc for the people around you.
She flinched. No. Not true. This is Juz’s doing, not mine.
It didn’t change the fact that her father’s pain was due to her. The two chairs beside his sat empty.
He s
norted, opened his eyes. Their gazes clashed and the pinch around his mouth eased into a tight grin. He pushed himself up and moved stiffly towards her, negotiating the rolling stand and tubes trailing into her left arm. His fingers shook as he captured her hand and gently rubbed it. ‘How’s my girl?’
‘Tired. Sore.’ Her free hand moved to her face. The swelling had gone down, but her muscles felt stiff. Even talking hurt. ‘What day is it?’
‘Wednesday. You’ve slept for over eighteen hours. The doctor cleaned and taped your stomach,’ he winced, ‘and a CT shows your head is clear of serious injury. You’re going to be fine.’
He scrubbed at the stubble on his chin, every one of his worries etched deep into his expression.
She squeezed his hand. ‘How are you, Dad?’
‘Better now that you’re safe. You need to stop being so much like your old man and listen for a change.’ He snorted. ‘So much for promising myself I wouldn’t lecture.’ He shot her a sheepish grin.
She laughed, and everything that hadn’t hurt while she’d floated in the clouds, hurt again.
He tensed. ‘Do you need something for the pain?’
‘I’m fine. A little worse for wear, but I’ll cope.’ Her eyes scoured the room, and then what she could see beyond the doorway. ‘Where’s Mum?’
‘I convinced her to step out for a few minutes. She’s barely left your side.’
Or yours. The thought gave her comfort. Bec should be here to see her plan working. The comfort waned.
‘It was good to see you each time I woke.’ Her gaze slipped beyond his to the black smear on the far wall. ‘And Seth.’
He nodded. ‘For a reporter, he’s not half bad.’
‘High praise.’
‘And it doesn’t come lightly.’ Her father’s stamp of approval. What more did she want?
Seth’s honesty. His trust.
She bit back the pain that accompanied that thought and his very marked absence now. ‘I guess he’s back at work?’
‘Don’t know much about that. What I do know is that Chase threatened to throw his butt behind bars if he didn’t get that same butt down to the station to make a statement. Doubt he would have left otherwise.’
Her heart pitched. ‘Why does Seth need to make a statement?’
‘He threw himself at Juz during the raid. I imagine Chase has a lot of explaining to do, starting with why he allowed a civilian to attend in the first place.’
Warmth fluttered its way through her stiff body. Seth had come through, like he always did.
Was it unreasonable for her to want more?
It shouldn’t have mattered that he kept his promotion from her. She’d prayed for this moment—to be free, to have the opportunity to be with him. None of that had changed. But reality always came at a price, and hers was doubt. He’d said so many things, before, while she’d been drugged to the eyeballs. Was any of it real?
‘Did . . . did he say much?’
‘He said a lot.’
‘And . . .’
Her father looked at her as if she were a soft drink short of a six-pack. ‘And what?’
And I think he asked me to marry him, Dad. Kind of, in a dream. Do you think he meant it?
Only she couldn’t say the words. And the question wasn’t one her father could or should answer.
‘And, when do I get out of here?’
His internal sigh was unmistakable. Dean Thomasz didn’t do D&Ms well. ‘Another twenty-four hours of observation just to make sure you’re okay, then you’re good to go home.’
Home. There was a time when she knew where that was. But now . . .
She nodded at the man who—melodramatic as it sounded—had saved her life. He’d given her a home, a family, a clean slate when he changed her identity, and for that she’d always be thankful.
Sagging back into the pillows, she closed her eyes. Deception had been intrinsic to the process, she could see that now. It didn’t mean she had to like it. Or that she was willing to continue living in the midst of half-truths and lies now that the secret was out.
Home.
Her heart said home was with Seth. Her head said slow down. Something had held him back from sharing his promotion with her. Until she knew what that something was, until she could make certain it wouldn’t wedge itself between them and fester, her heart would stand aside and allow her head to rule.
She loved Seth, wanted to share her life with him. That hadn’t changed. But after living in the shadow of a lie for the first twenty-seven years of her life, she needed truth and honesty before she could ever hope to leave the past behind and move on.
68
Jayda walked through the door past Seth and headed straight for the couch. It still looked like it just arrived from the warehouse, was stiff and cold and hard, but it was a wonder to her weary body.
Weary, relieved body.
Her stomach was healing well, the rope burns on her wrists and ankles fading fast. Even the worry of death by asbestos was moot. The gym was clear of the stuff. It seemed the scare was one of Juz’s many ploys to protect the scene for his final act. Proof again of his cunning in his plans to destroy her.
Those plans, it seemed, included abnormally high levels of potassium in her blood, explanation as to why she’d been spilling her guts so readily over the past weeks. Tests on the wine in her fridge revealed the source—Juz’s Christmas present, five bottles of which she’d already consumed. Luckily, blood tests showed her body had sustained no lasting effects.
She was going to be fine.
Fists clenched, she pushed thoughts of Juz aside. He no longer factored in her life, so it followed he should have no place in her thoughts.
A yawn escaped her. She let her head fall back against the hard-as-rock headrest. After being pricked and prodded by a trail of doctors and nurses alike, she was ready for bed.
Seth shucked his jacket onto the back of an armchair and moved towards her. The lean fit of his tee and jeans suffused heat into every portion of her that until now had been suffering fatigue. Yep. Bed looked mighty fine about now.
He bent and lightly pecked her forehead. ‘I’ll make coffee.’
Her heart freefell. She bit her lip and nodded, closing her eyes.
Questions still hovered unchallenged between them. She’d been waiting for the right time, only the right time hadn’t come. And if she were honest, she’d admit she simply didn’t have a clue how to start.
It was four days since her discharge from St Vincent’s. Four days of pecks and pats and abject indifference.
Four days of limbo.
The consensus from her doctor and family was that she should take it easy for a while, avoid going home to her apartment, and even more, that she avoid going home alone. Seth had adopted his habitual role of protector. She hadn’t argued. Hadn’t felt the need. It was what she wanted, to be with Seth. And he wanted it too.
After all, he had asked her to marry him. Sort of. Then he’d never mentioned it again, making her doubt whether she ever really heard the words at all.
Since he’d taken her into his care, he’d been more the solicitous friend than the irrepressible lover. And it was driving her crazy.
Just less than a week ago she’d escaped death. If nothing else, the experience had taught her it was time to start living. Time to embark on her future. Not tomorrow or next week or even next month. Now.
That future included Seth. Didn’t he want it too? Why else would he insist she come home with him? It wasn’t so they could sit silently opposite each other at the breakfast table, each lost in thoughts the other couldn’t begin to guess. And it definitely wasn’t so she could sleep in the spare bed while he slept all alone in his room at the end of the hall.
That was the part that killed most. Agonising over whether he still wanted her. Whether his life-changing realisation did or didn’t mirror hers.
Whether he ever considered chucking gentle and caring to the wind in favour of tossing her onto the bed and
taking her with nothing less than abandon.
The coffee-making noises from the kitchen lacked the comfort of the past. Her gaze roamed the living room as if somewhere there she might find the answers she needed.
If only she could be more sure of his feelings. Then perhaps she’d find the words to start the discussion that even now slumped like avalanched rocks in her stomach.
Had he really proposed, or was it all part of a drug-induced dream? Did he want to share his life with her or was the part of him that cleaned her vomit and tucked her safely into bed just intent on completing its altruistic duty until she was well and they could both go their own separate ways?
Should she wait until he broached the subject, or bowl on in and force him to break the news to her now?
Was she ready to hear whatever he had to say?
Kneading the pressure points either side of her temple, she closed her eyes and willed the craziness to stop. If only the act of willing meant it would be done.
‘Drink it while it’s hot!’ The cushion beside her dipped and she opened her eyes.
He arranged two drinks on coasters on the coffee table before gently taking her hand. Her heart leapt. He was finally going to answer all those questions driving her on a one-way trip to Loonyville.
‘Here.’ He dropped two headache tablets into her palm and then passed her mug. ‘Okay?’
She dropped the pills onto the table. Turning towards him, she stared into grey-blue oceans devoid of even a hint of desire and gulped. ‘Do you still want me?’
His head jerked back as if she’d socked one to his chin.
Damn! Days of uncertainty had blocked the filter which allowed her to think the question without actually blurting it out minus an appropriate lead-up.
‘Why would you ask me that?’
‘In the four days I’ve been here, not once have you tried to kiss me properly, let alone . . .’ A slow burn rolled out over her cheeks as she spun her hand through the air.
The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Are you saying you want me to kiss you properly, as well as . . .’ His hand gesture mimicked hers.
Lethal in Love Page 47