“Help me! Please, help,” she managed to croak as she teetered toward the exit on her floor. She jiggled the handle on the door, but it didn't move. Locked. She knelt down and turned over her bag, scattering the contents, tossing her checkbook and makeup to the side. Where are those damn keys?
She glanced over her shoulder. A low groan floated up from the man below. She turned back to the personal effects strewn about her. She clawed at the bottom of the bag, tears stinging the back of her eyes. A small clink echoed from the pocket. She breathed a sigh of relief and pulled the keys from her purse.
As she stood, she felt a hand reach up, grappling at her weakened legs. He struggled for purchase as she kicked his hands away. His long fingers encircled her ankle. and he yanked her off her feet and tried to drag her down the stairs. She thrashed her legs, but it only seemed to strengthen his hold. With one strong yank from him, she flew down the stairs and struck her temple on the metal handrail, slumping to the floor.
* * *
Adam couldn’t believe the scene back at the restaurant. Allison blew everything out of proportion—it was just a meeting. It wasn’t like he and Ben were going to do business. Although she did look darn cute when she was mad, the drink in his face might have been a bit much.
Thank goodness for the rain. Although it was making it impossible to find Allison, it was Mother Nature’s natural washing machine for vodka-drenched hair and clothes. He raked his hand through his hair, trying to get rid of some of the sticky residue.
He just wished she had stuck around for an explanation. She would have understood if she had given him time. It was just like her, though, to shoot first and ask questions later.
This all started because of Dale. Damn him, Adam fumed. “How is it he always finds a way to screw up my life?” he mumbled, and then sighed in resignation.
Although it would be easy to blame Dale, he couldn’t place all the culpability on him. It was his own fault for agreeing to the meeting in the first place. He knew it was a bad idea from the start.
Although he understood where Ben Mooring was coming from, he also knew when it came to business Ben was a snake. Herb had mentioned that Ben worked his way up from nothing, and for some reason Ben was petrified it would be taken away. Apparently, his parents weren’t the loving, nurturing people that instilled inspiration.
No childhood drama gave Ben the right to be an ass, though. If that were the case, the jails would be empty. Everyone in a cell had some traumatic event that they swore made them the way they were.
Attending this meeting didn’t change his perception, nor did he expect it to change his mind about selling. He would never sell his father’s company to someone who so disrespected his father. Herb had long since forgiven the man, in fact, they had worked together recently on numerous occasions. Although Adam didn’t hold any grudges, he was not about to let the snake into his father’s office.
The rain began to pick up. Adam’s pace quickened as he headed for the Braelind condo. He had to catch Allison and make her listen.
He walked into the refuge of the building and headed for the penthouse elevators. An orange sign warned of the downed elevators. Adam searched the crowd for Allison. She obviously couldn’t get up to her condo.
As he contemplated where she might have gone, the doorman with the spiky hair and piercings walked up. “Good afternoon Mr. Byrnes.”
“Good afternoon, Matt,” he said as he searched the sea of faces. “Is there something I can help you find?”
“Yeah, actually, I’m looking for Allison Southby.” He looked at Matt, his red- tipped spiked hair a deep contrast to the slicked back look.
“You just missed her. She rode the elevator to thirty-five and took the stairs the rest of the way.” Matt pointed to the technician pulling down the orange sign. “But it looks like the penthouse elevators are fixed. You might just beat her up there.”
“Thanks.” Adam couldn’t help but think that Allison had no patience. Although that wasn’t Adam’s real problem—her stubborn streak was what he needed to overcome. She had to see reason. He ran a hand through his hair and fought his way through the packed lobby to the elevator bank.
* * *
Stars pranced in Allison’s eyes as she lay on the ground, dumfounded. A percussion solo thumped inside her head. She attempted to stand, but the fiend was on top of her, holding her arms with his muscular legs. Her lungs fought to draw in oxygen as two huge gloved hands wrapped around her throat. The necklace at her throat dug into her flesh as the hands squeezed tighter.
She reached for the hands, pulling ineffectively on the slick leather gloves. She didn’t have the strength to remove the death grip. Panic shot down her spine as her lungs begged for air. She kicked her legs, but all she managed was to knee her captor in the back.
“Back off, bitch!” A deep voice hissed in her ear.
Allison gasped. Her lungs burned. Her eyes widened as her body begged for oxygen. She waved her arms toward the vise at her neck. The grip only got stronger. Black swirled in her open eyes, invading the edges of her vision.
Then the pressure was gone. Flurries of oxygen flooded her lungs as she gasped in sweet agony. She whirled onto her side, and hot, wet tears fell down her cheeks.
The beast said through a hazy fog, “I don’t have time for your bullshit. You don’t belong here. Leave, or else.”
As the venomous words spilled from his mouth, a welcome voice was heard.
Her eyes closed as everything faded to black.
Chapter Twenty
“Allison? If you weren’t mad at me this would be a great time for an impatience joke. The elevator is fixed,” Adam yelled. Crunch. Adam lifted his foot. A crushed tube of lipstick lay on the concrete landing. He frowned at the other items strewn about. Allison’s key ring? Her purse?
“Allison?”
Shuffling and the loud thump of feet echoed up the stairs. Confused, he walked a bit faster. He knew she was pissed, but running—really? His heart stopped in his chest when he found her lying on the next landing, motionless. He ran down the handful of stairs and knelt at her side. A stream of blood ran down the side of her face, pooling next to her head.
“Allison, can you hear me?” He reached for her wrist and placed his ear to her chest. He felt the faint beat of her pulse against his fingers.
He ripped off his soggy jacket and wadded it into a make-shift bandage, pressing it on the wound and reaching for his cell phone. The thick stairwell walls blocked any hope for a signal. He shook the phone in an attempt to magically produce some bars.
“Shit,” he growled in frustration. He hated to leave her alone since he wasn’t completely sure what happened and he didn't want some creep coming back to finish what he started.
He stroked the side of her face. The ghastly pallor of her skin, the shallow breaths she fought to take… shit. He might not be a doctor, but he knew that her pulse was weak. He needed to find help, soon. He opened the heavy metal door to Allison's condo and looked at the useless handset. Damn it! Apparently the signal needed more than just an open door.
He peered over the railing to check the stairwell for unwanted intruders. When it appeared to be empty, he ran back to Allison’s cold, motionless body. He whispered, “I’ll be right back, baby. You hang on.”
He moved into the condo and toward the nearest window. He said a prayer that his cell phone would work, and stared as the bars wavered in and out. Once he had a signal, he dialed emergency services, and then the front desk of the building. He wanted to make sure Matt brought the EMTs to the correct area in the stairwell.
When all the bases were covered, he headed back to Allison’s side and leaned against the wall. Misplaced adrenaline wrung his temples as his heartbeat pulsated in his ears. The fear in his heart was unbearable as he lowered himself to the floor. He lifted her hand, and a gold necklace fell onto the cement. He grabbed the intertwined ropes he was so used to seeing between her fingers and placed the chain in her palm, wrapping h
is hand around hers. “Hang on, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay.”
He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or if he was trying to convince himself. Either way, it was hard to watch her motionless body when there was nothing he could do. A tear threatened to fall down his cheek as he caressed her icy hand with his lips.
* * *
Allison stared at the stark white walls of the hospital. She wasn’t sure how she got there, but there was no mistaking where she was. She looked at the tubes attached to her arm, and the TV playing reruns of sitcoms. That explained the dream she remembered about that hot young star.
Not that the dream had been unpleasant, quite the opposite, but half way through the hottest part of the dream, the star morphed into Adam. She almost smiled as she tried to decide which part of the dream she liked best. Unfortunately, her grin was on hold, as she couldn’t quite shake the distress over finding herself in the hospital.
What was she was doing here? She lifted her left arm, and pain radiated down her body as she noticed the sling wrapped around the limb. The throbbing doubled as she attempted to utilize that arm to sit up. She wanted to take in her surroundings, hoping to figure out what had happened, but her other arm didn’t have the power needed to lift her torso.
In desolation, she slumped back on the bed, her head pounding from the exertion. She craned her neck and watched the rising sun spill red and gold into the room from the windows along the wall. The soft sunlight bounced off a slumbering Adam, breathing deeply on the bedside chair, his hair adorably disheveled.
Adorably disheveled? Ugh. She wasn’t even going to go there. She had more important things to contemplate, like, how long had she been in the hospital? Even better, what had happened? She remembered packing up her apartment and the trip down memory lane as she’d looked through all of her belongings, but after that, nothing.
A nurse carrying a new IV bag walked into the room, interrupting Allison’s thoughts on the day. He kneaded the bag and hung it on the stand next to the bed. Allison gazed at him with wide eyes.
“Good morning, sleepyhead. I’m Bill. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she croaked through the sandpaper lodged in her throat. She ran her hand up and down her tender neck. The raw pain made it difficult to talk. “I think I’m fine. Where am I? What happened?”
“You’re in the hospital. You had an accident. What is the last thing you remember?”
She gaped at Bill, racking her brain. What did she remember? Something must have happened. She looked at Adam, hoping to find the answer to the question in his face. He shuddered and his eyes opened.
She shrugged. “I remember cleaning my house, um, and then I went to Chicago Kitchen and Wine Bar for dinner. I remember walking home… and that terrible rain.” Adam grabbed her hand, startling her. “Do you remember the elevators were broken? You rode up to the thirty-fifth floor and walked the rest of the way.” “I was cold. The air conditioning and the rain did not mix well.”
“There was someone in the stairwell. You were attacked. Do you remember?” Bill asked as he checked her vitals and wrote them in her file.
Allison’s eyes grew wider as the events unfolded in her mind. Her pulse quickened as her memory placed the attacker in her sights. Fear overwhelmed her senses as her hands began to shake.
“It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re safe.” Adam caressed her fingers. “We’ll find this bastard. Do you remember what happened?”
Allison recounted her trip up the stairs and the words that haunted her, “Back off, bitch.” As she described the events, her heart tripped and her stomach clenched.
She stared at the sympathetic look on Adam's face. She started to remember other events of the evening. One by one. Adam and Ben sitting at a table flashed through her mind, and she pulled her hand away and glared at him. Fear morphed to anger as she pieced together the scene at Chicago Kitchen.
“You couldn’t have dinner with me, so what the hell were you doing with Ben?” she grumbled, pain shooting through her throat. Talking had an adverse effect on her already weak voice. Yelling was ten times worse. She really needed to rethink doing that again anytime soon.
“That is my cue to leave.” Bill placed her chart back in the holder at the foot of her bed. “Try not to use your voice too much. Let it rest.”
“That was a misunderstanding,” Adam started to explain once Bill walked out of the room.
“I don’t want to fight,” she cut in. She didn't have the energy to sort through his lies or listen to his excuses. She just wanted to move on. She was so tired of being hurt. All the anger and fight drained from her body. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”
Adam moved himself closer to her, grasping her hand. She pulled it from his grasp and attempted to cross her arms. The sling stopped any sideways motion.
“Then don’t talk, just listen. I met with Ben due to some misguided advice. We were only talking. Nothing more. I am not selling the company.”
Allison rolled to face the wall. She wanted to believe him, but she couldn't. He had a habit of breaking her heart. She knew he'd break her heart eventually, so maybe it was best if he just got it out of the way before she became more invested in the relationship.
Thankfully, Loraine’s singsong voice broke through the tension. “How is the patient?”
Loraine and Dale wandered into the hospital room. Her gray hair was pulled back in a bun, allowing a better view of her rosy, plump cheeks. She removed her brown cashmere coat and gasped in horror. She threw the coat at Dale and hurried to Allison’s side. Dale hung the jacket on a hook next to the bathroom and joined his mother.
A wince flittered across Loraine’s face as she stared at Allison. Given the pain she felt in her jaw and neck, and the hideous bruising on her arms, Allison could only imagine how bad she looked. Loraine’s horrified look spoke volumes, but just in case Allison wasn’t sure how frightening she’d become, Loraine added, “You look horrible, dear.”
“Mom!” Adam and Dale called simultaneously, their eyes widening in shock.
“I didn’t mean it like it sounded. I just don’t understand who could do this to you.” She frowned as she cradled Allison’s face in her hands. Silence filled the room as concern colored Loraine’s face. Only the sound of the morning news hung in the worry-riddled air.
“…Paul Mörder has made the news again, when he spoke out against the allegations of bribery and extortion…”
Loraine snatched the television remote and quieted the noise. “I’m sorry, but I’m so tired of hearing about that man. He’s obviously a cheat. Do we really need to encourage him by plastering him all over the daily and nightly news?
“Now, more important things, how are you feeling?” Loraine asked as she bumped Adam to the side, making room next to the bed. Adam and Allison smiled at each other. Loraine had always been like a mother to her. The joke was that Allison was always her favorite child.
Allison didn't think she was necessarily the favorite. The women were close because Allison liked girl stuff. They loved shopping together and hitting the spa. They did things that boys wouldn't do. It didn't hurt that the men moved away, leaving Loraine without a child to pamper.
“I'm fine.”
“Who would do this?” Loraine asked Adam, tears glistening in her eyes.
“I'm not sure, but I assure you I'm working on finding out,” Adam said through clenched teeth.
“You're a good boy.” She patted his cheek and turned back to Allison. She began to fluff the pillows and straighten the blankets. “So, when can you leave this place?”
“I'm not sure. I haven't seen the doctor yet.” Allison looked to Adam for more details. It was disconcerting to be looking to everyone to give her information. She was normally in control. She ran the show. She wasn’t accustomed to relying on others for anything.
“The doctor was by earlier. She said we needed to wait for Allison to wake up, and then they’ll run a few tests,” he answered,
his eyes fixed on Allison. Allison turned to Loraine and forced a smile.
“I'm glad they're being thorough.” The older woman looked suspiciously at her son and then at Allison. She reached out and patted her hand. “Well, whenever they decide to send you home, you're staying with me.”
“I couldn't...” Allison tried to argue, but Loraine interrupted.
“You can and you will. Don't argue with an old woman. It's not good for my heart. You will need someone to take care of you, and I need someone to take care of. It's a win-win,” she said as she fussed with the pillow again.
“Thank you.” Allison cleared her scratchy throat to stave off the incoming tears. She forgot how nice it was to have a mom, someone who doted and nurtured, someone who cared enough about you to use guilt to get their way. All these years of independence, she missed having the option to rely on someone. No matter how self- sufficient she might have become, she missed the support of family. A little bit, anyway.
“Do you need something to drink, dear?” Loraine asked as she placed a hand on Allison’s forehead.
“Actually, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”
Loraine patted her cheek and straightened the tray table over Allison’s legs. “Dale, get her a drink.”
Dale smirked as he got the plastic pitcher from the small cabinet against the wall. He poured a glass of water and handed it to Allison. ”Well, Ally-gator. I should go pick up Nadia. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and drop off your new day nurse.” Something between guilt and sadness was written all over his face. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“Thanks.” Allison smiled as Dale wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek. “Be careful. Don’t try to fight any more bad guys. If you are going to fight bad guys, make sure you can take’em.”
Second Time's the Charm Page 18