“Joe,” she said tentatively, starting to worry that he’d rethought his phone call to her. But when he turned to look at her, the complete misery on his face made her run the last few steps, straight into his arms.
Joe held her close, his head bent to hers, his hands entwined in her hair. After a long time, she finally felt his hold lighten. She looked up at him, her hand automatically going to his cheek to brush away the tears. Joe’s eyes closed in response to her touch.
“How is she?” Randy asked softly.
Joe shook his head. “The same, I guess.” He allowed her to guide him to the couch just behind them.
“She’s going to be alright though, right?” Randy said, her voice tinged with an anxiety that Joe didn’t understand.
“Randy, they don’t know. She’s still critical and doctors aren’t saying anything right now. Which is good, considering they were predicting that she wouldn’t make it through the night less than twenty-four hours ago.”
“God,” Randy breathed, realizing there was no way she could stay with Dick a moment longer, knowing what they’d done.
Inside the room, Rick was sitting in the chair next to Midnight. Anabelle and Robert sat behind their son. Rick had reached over to brush Midnight’s hair back when he saw her eyes flicker. “Night,” he said. He wanted her to wake up, but knew that could still be hours away.
Midnight moved her head just slightly and let out a low groan. Rick immediately reached over and pushed the button for the nurse, who arrived a minute or two later, right as Midnight opened her eyes. The nurse checked her blood pressure and then the machines she was hooked up to. “Her blood pressure is better,” she said to Rick. “I’ll go contact the doctor. He should be able to tell you more.”
Midnight had been gazing up at the ceiling while the nurse worked on her, but had since closed her eyes, as if watching the woman’s quick movements was too much. When the nurse walked out, she opened her eyes again and looked at Rick. Her expression was blank and emotionless. It was as if she was trying to put everything together in her head.
When the door opened, her gaze shifted to it. Joe walked in with Randy trailing behind him. Midnight’s eyes went to Randy and narrowed. Joe assumed she was mad at him for obviously being weak and needing his cheating ex-wife. He didn’t see the terrified look on Randy’s face.
Midnight looked back at Rick, then behind him. Anabelle and Robert were standing now, and seeing them, Midnight gave a half-smile, almost a grimace. She started to move, as if trying to sit up.
“Don’t, Midnight. You need to stay down. You’ve been hurt pretty bad, and you can’t get up just yet. Okay?” Rick’s voice was firm but soft.
Midnight looked at him, as if wondering who he was to be giving her orders, but she lay back again.
Joe moved to the edge of the bed. He needed to see that she was awake and conscious of what was happening around her. Midnight stared up at him. His face was very solemn, and her eyes welled with tears at the sight.
“Hey,” Joe said, his voice deep with emotion and relief. “Knock that shit off.” He grinned at her, and she tried to smile too. He saw her right hand, the one without an IV in it, move to her stomach. She looked up at him; he shook his head sadly. She closed her eyes, and he saw a tear slip down her cheek. It tore at him, feeling helpless.
“Night,” Rick said, having watched the exchange between his wife and Joe. “What happened?” He was desperate for her to tell him—he was going crazy, imagining things.
Midnight opened her eyes again, the tears still evident in them. She looked at Rick for a moment, and then her stare moved behind Joe to Randy. Randy felt her heart flutter. She was sure Midnight was about to tell them that she and Dick had caused this, and Joe would arrest her, or worse. Midnight’s eyes took on a knowing look, but only Randy understood it, and then she looked at Rick again.
“I…” Midnight started, her voice a whisper. “I can’t remember.” Her glance flicked to Randy again, and she saw the relief evident on her face. It was a good thing that everyone in the room was looking at Midnight, because had they looked at Randy, she was sure they would have known everything.
“Don’t worry about it,” Joe said. “You’ve been through a lot—maybe it’ll come back later.”
Midnight nodded as her eyes closed again. She slept, and Rick’s parents basically threatened to drag their son out of the room if he didn’t go voluntarily. “You need to eat, Richard,” Anabelle said, sounding every bit the overprotective mother. “And some sleep might do wonders.” Finally Rick acquiesced. He knew he couldn’t fight both parents, and felt a lot better that Midnight had finally regained consciousness. They waited a few minutes for the doctor to arrive, and when he did he told them Midnight was seemingly out of danger. Rick was so relieved he felt like crying again.
“Now,” Anabelle said, “will you please let us take you somewhere and get some nourishment in you?”
“Okay, okay,” Rick said, holding up his hands.
Anabelle turned to Joe. “Joseph, Randy, will you join us?”
Joe shook his head. “Thanks, but I think I need sleep more than I need food right now.”
“Well, that’s probably a good thought as well,” Anabelle said, smiling. It made Joe feel good to have someone looking after him again. He hugged Rick’s mother and shook hands with Robert. He looked at Rick, who was watching him, obviously not sure what he should say or do. Then Rick put his hand out, and after a moment’s hesitation, Joe took it.
“Thanks for pickin’ up my parents. I’m guessing you’ll be checking in at the office and the like.” Joe nodded. “I guess I’ll see ya later then,” Rick said, obviously still uncomfortable with the situation between them.
“Yeah,” Joe said somberly. “I’ll be back.” He walked out of the room with Randy trailing him. She followed him out to the parking lot.
“So,” she said, feeling unsure of herself with him. It reminded her of when they had first met, when she’d been his shy secretary. “Where’re you going?”
“Home, I guess,” Joe said, reaching his car and turning to face her. “What’s on your agenda for today?” he asked, his voice overly casual.
“Home, I guess,” Randy said, staring up into his eyes.
Joe looked at her for a moment, as if he were searching for something. He went around to the passenger’s side and opened the door for her. Randy slowly walked around the car and, looking up at him, got in.
They were quiet on the way to the house. Randy looked over at her husband of over three years. He looked exhausted; she didn’t know he hadn’t slept in going on thirty-two hours. He hadn’t been able to sleep that morning, after the confrontation with Randy and Dickerson. He’d taken a shower, then sat on the couch for a while, staring off into space, not sure what else to do. He knew he should sleep, but had been unable to get the vision of Randy and Dickerson out of his mind. Not long after that, the Debenshires called.
As he drove up to the house, Joe wondered mildly what was going to happen between him and Randy. He had been so upset when he called her, and so relieved when she came to the hospital without arguing. Now here she was, with him. He wanted to talk to her; he wanted to understand what was happening with them. But he didn’t have the energy, nor the desire to change the quiet, comfortable mood between them to one of anger and fighting. Not yet, anyway.
As he got out, he noted that she was opening her own door. He wondered if Dick didn’t do things like open doors for women. Joe walked up to the house and punched in the code, then opened the door for Randy. His cell went off as he closed it behind them. It was Spider.
“I’ll take this in the other room,” he said, and walked down the hall to the bedroom.
Randy went into the kitchen thinking she would make something for him to eat. Eating was always a low priority for Joe, especially when there was a crisis. She found that there was practically nothing in the cupboards or the refrigerator. She remembered that Joe had been in Sacramento until the n
ight before. Using her cellular phone, since Joe was on the house phone, she called the local Chinese delivery place that they always used and ordered some of Joe’s usual favorites.
To her surprise, they were at the front door fifteen minutes later. She had been sitting at the kitchen table, reading over the newspaper that had been on the front step, not wanting to intrude on Joe. She paid the delivery boy and gave him a fair-sized tip for being so quick.
Going back into the kitchen, she reached into the refrigerator and pulled out the bottle of wine that was just about the only thing in the appliance. She walked over to the china cabinet, trying to ignore the Dresden set that they’d received as a wedding present from one of Joe’s many relatives as she reached in to get a wine glass. She looked at the elegant crystal in her hand. It was Waterford, a very beautiful glass, and Randy found herself thinking about the times that she and Joe had sat in this dining room. They’d had many meals at the table. They didn’t use the china that much; Joe said it was too uptight for his tastes, and Randy agreed with him. They had always used the crystal though—Joe said it made the wines he introduced her to taste truer.
He had introduced her to so many things. He’d taught her about wine, and elegant foods. She remembered the time she’d told him she was a Pepsi and Fig Newton kind of a girl, not a champagne and caviar kind. To her surprise, that night Joe poured a can of Pepsi into the Waterford champagne flutes and served her Fig Newtons on a crystal tray. She had thought she’d die laughing. Randy had told him she thought Pepsi tasted even better in the crystal, and Joe had laughed uproariously.
Later that evening they’d looked through the photographs that he’d retrieved from his parents’ home. She’d been so enchanted with the pictures of him when he was a baby, imagining what their own child would look like. She’d seen the pictures of his parents and had once again realized how different her and Joe’s lives had been, and had marveled at the fact that she was married to him.
Now, standing in the dining room, a bottle of wine under one arm, Chinese takeout in one hand and a crystal wine glass in the other, she looked around. Suddenly, everything seemed different. She felt like the woman in the movies who gives up everything she loves for all the wrong reasons. The woman people denigrate for her stupidity, the woman who dies alone and unhappy at the end of the movie. Randy realized at that moment that she had thrown her happiness away with both hands and had embraced something that she thought she wanted. She still wanted to be a police officer, but she also still wanted to be Mrs. Joseph Michael Sinclair. She wondered whether she was being superficial, trying to determine if it was the money and elegant lifestyle she missed or Joe.
She headed toward the bedroom and found Joe still on the phone. It was obvious it was the office, because he was delegating some of the routine work that needed to be kept up while Midnight was out. He looked up at her when she entered, noting her burden. He smiled at her, and Randy felt her breath quicken just a bit. As she had been weeks before, she was surprised by the effect his appearance had on her, and when he smiled at her, she felt a strong tug at her heart.
Randy set the bag on the nightstand, handing Joe the glass and opening the wine. She made a show of smelling the cork and fluttering her eyelashes as if the bouquet were overpowering. Joe watched her every move and grinned at her humor. Randy poured the wine into the glass and replaced the cork. She proceeded to pull out the little boxes of Chinese food, opening each and tilting them toward him so he could see the contents. Joe nodded, as if approving the menu. He motioned to his glass and then pointed to her. Randy reached over, took the glass, and, pretending to misunderstand him, lifted it to her lips and drank. She watched his eyes as she did so. He raised an eyebrow at her and grinned.
“Okay, Spider,” he said into the phone, having been half-listening to what the man was saying. “That’s going to be the drill for the next few weeks, at least. Yeah, she’s doin’ a lot better now. Maybe you guys can come see her later tonight.” He listened again. “You got it, I’ll see you tonight.” Spider had suggested that they all meet for dinner, so he could brief everyone on what was happening. Spider knew the members of FORS were reeling from Midnight’s brush with death, and they needed the reassurance of their second-in-command’s presence.
Joe hung up the phone and looked at Randy. “And what have you been doing?” he asked mildly, his grin back.
“Cooking,” Randy said simply, then indicated the takeout boxes. “I just put the food in those for convenience.”
Joe nodded. “Really now?”
“Yeah, I guess you didn’t know I could cook Chinese, huh?” She shrugged and, with a humorous glint in her eyes, handed him one of the boxes along with the chopsticks that had been in the bag. “I thought you probably needed to eat something.” Her voice was quiet; she was worried that maybe her concern for him seemed inappropriate, considering the situation.
Joe noted her change in mood. “You’re probably right.” He looked at her, his eyes trying to catch hers. “Somethin’ tells me I interrupted your lunch this afternoon, so you probably need to eat too.” He patted the spot next to him on the bed, and after a moment’s hesitation Randy sat down.
Joe ate a few bites and then held up the box, a shrimp between the chopsticks, gesturing for her to take some. Randy leaned forward, and Joe fed it to her. They ate the rest of the food in much the same manner. Occasionally, Joe would drink some wine and offer her the glass. By the end of the meal, they were feeling very companionable. Joe had switched on the television while they ate, trying to keep from having to talk, not wanting the spell to be broken.
Putting the last box on the nightstand, Joe leaned back against the headboard. Throwing caution to the wind, Randy sat between his legs and leaned back against him. Joe’s arms came around her, and she felt him relax. They continued to watch whatever was on the television. Joe had reached over to pick up the bottle and refill the glass. They sipped the wine and reveled in being close to each other again. Both of them were afraid to try to move beyond this, though, afraid the other would rebuff the advance.
After a while, it became obvious to Randy that Joe was indeed exhausted. His hands had begun to get a little shaky, and knowing Joe the way she did, that was a sure sign of fatigue. She sat up, turning to look at him. His eyes were indeed very bloodshot, as well as weary. She got up from the bed, shaking her head at him reproachfully. She reached over and pulled off his boots, and went to remove his ever-present shoulder holster. Joe made no move to stop her, just watched her. She laid his holster carefully on the chair next to the bed, knowing that he liked to have it close by at all times. With a mischievous grin, she grabbed ahold of his ankles and yanked on them, pulling him so that he was actually lying down. Then she picked up the remote and turned off the TV. She turned to him, disconcerted by the way he was watching her eyes, but determined to make him go to sleep.
“Now,” she said softly, “close those baby blues.” When he didn’t, she raised an imperious eyebrow, indicating that he was countermanding her order. Joe grinned tiredly, but refused to close his eyes. “Do it, Joseph Michael, or else.”
His grin turned mischievous, but his eyes were now half-closed, the wine starting to take its effect on him. “You know I hafta ask,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Randy replied, hands on her hips. She sounded a lot like Midnight when he didn’t listen to her. “Well don’t, because you won’t like the answer.”
“I doubt that,” he said, his voice still very low, but huskier.
“Well, don’t,” Randy repeated, trying to sound gruff but not succeeding. The tone of his voice was affecting her more than she was willing to admit.
“Will you be here when I wake up?” he asked, his words belying his concern.
“Yes,” Randy said, but she could see the doubt in his eyes. She realized that her leaving him had affected him more than she had comprehended. “I will be,” she said softly. “I promise.”
Joe still didn’t look convinced.
<
br /> Randy sighed. “Okay, what if I stay right in here with you. I’ll sit right here in this chair, and I won’t move. Will you go to sleep then?”
Joe grinned at her and nodded, looking very much like a child who wants another story read to him before bedtime. Randy couldn’t help but smile as she sat down in the chair, and he closed his eyes, the grin still on his face.
It amazed Randy how different Joe was with her. He was this big, tough, gun-carrying cop, and yet when he was with her, he was so sweet and funny, even cute sometimes, like now. Many people wouldn’t believe her if she tried to tell them how he was when they were alone together. She’d even tried to convince Dick when they’d talked about Joe. Dick had told her that he didn’t understand how she could be so sweet and be with a guy like Sinclair. “That guy hasn’t got a sensitive bone in his body!” he’d said when she told him Joe could be very sweet. She had tried to explain it to him, talking about Joe’s habit of sitting out on the deck with a glass of wine at sunset. “He doesn’t even take his gun out there, that’s how serious he is about trying to put a few minutes between himself and the job.” Dick had shaken his head, not believing her. He said she just wanted to romanticize Joe to justify her dependence on him. Randy had given up, feeling that it was a moot point anyway. How Joe had been and how he was with her at that time were two different things.
After fifteen minutes, Randy got up and crept out of the room. She went into the kitchen and picked up the newspaper. When she went back into the bedroom, Joe’s eyes were open, and he looked at her with a sardonic grin.
“I’m back,” Randy said, smiling. “You can go back to sleep now.”
“Thank you,” he said, still grinning as he closed his eyes again. Randy found it amazing that he had sensed she was out of the room.
Treachery Rising (MidKnight Blue Book 4) Page 12
