She slid from the car and lifted the trunk lid with her right hand.
She reached inside, but he stopped her. “I can get that.”
“I’m hurt, not invalid.” Irritation swelled from weariness.
He tightened his grip, which sent a glow of warmth up her arm. His dark eyes probed hers. “Just… let me help you for once, okay? Can you do that? Because when that Lidocaine wears off, your arm’s going to start hurting like the dickens.”
She huffed out a sigh. “All right. Fine.”
He loaded himself up with his backpack, hers, and her two suitcases. Guilt assailed her for biting back at him. He’d saved her life. If it hadn’t been for him… She shuddered at the thought of what could have happened. With a sigh, she grabbed the bag holding the items they’d picked up at the drugstore after leaving the hospital
David paused at the check-in counter. “I called earlier for two rooms. The name’s David Shepherd.”
The clerk smiled at them. “Of course. Yes, I have the two rooms ready that you requested. With an adjoining door.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard. Then she winked. “Are you sure you need two?”
“Yes,” they chorused.
“Okay, then,” she drawled as she handed over the paperwork.
“I can pay for—” Abigail began.
“I’ve got it.”
“But—”
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.”
She shrugged and promised herself she’d square up with the hotel later.
David signed where needed. His phone chimed, and he stepped away to take the call.
Abigail wandered to the elevator and rested her back against a column. Her arm began aching, a harbinger of what lay ahead as the Lidocaine wore off. She gritted her teeth. She’d handle it. She didn’t need the Tylenol with codeine the doc had prescribed, and she’d conveniently left the bottle in the ER’s cubicle when she’d checked out. With a small thump, she leaned her head against the column and closed her eyes.
Jonathan was safe. They’d gotten the drive back, meaning CID would call the case closed. Sal had told her to enjoy the rest of her vacation, even to extend it a few more days. Problem was, she hated hospitals. David had asked her if she wanted to stay with her brother. Did she? Yes, but her hammering pulse and damp hands told her she needed to get far away from there, at least until she was a little more rested and could face those sterile corridors, dry announcements on the intercom, and smell of antiseptic without falling into a panic attack or something.
David rolled the suitcases across the tiles toward her. “That was the captain of the MP company. They’re sending over a squad right now.”
Abigail opened her eyes crack.
“We’ve got rooms on the third floor. You look like you’re going to fall asleep on your feet. Let’s get you upstairs.” He cocked his head as he assessed her face. “The Lidocaine is starting to wear off, isn’t it?”
She nodded. Easier to let him believe that then to explain the sweaty palms and short breaths brought about by thinking about hospitals.
“We’ll get settled.”
“I want to take a shower,” she muttered.
“I get that. At least the nurse told us of a way to do it.” David grinned. “Who knew that cling wrap had such useful properties?” They stepped onto the elevator. When they reached the third floor, he said, “I’d like us to at least unlock the doors between our rooms. Call me paranoid, but I want internal access if needed.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” She slipped inside. Oh, did that king-size bed with its soft, white duvet and myriad of pillows cast its siren spell on her. No, not until she showered and felt clean.
David joined her a moment later. “You want your suitcase on the cabinet here?”
She nodded.
“I put your backpack and other bag on the floor by the television. Where’s that bag we got from the drugstore?”
“In front of the television.” She grimaced and bowed her head as the burning in her arm began shifting to pain.
“Let’s get that arm ready. Why don’t you sit on the couch there?” With his foot, David shoved the coffee table out of the way. He bent and pulled over the chair from the worktable. Gently, he pushed up the sleeve of the T-shirt he’d bought her to replace the ruined one.
She closed her eyes. Was it her imagination, or did his fingers linger on her skin? She didn’t care. His touch, coupled with the smell of the stuff he’d used on his hair the previous morning, conjured up images, ones she normally wouldn’t contemplate, like maybe if she leaned into him—
“Don’t fall asleep on me.” His teasing interrupted her fantasy. “Hey, I’m sorry I got that T-shirt too small. I guess I’m always thinking every woman’s as small as my sister.”
“I like it.”
“You do?” He fixed her in his gaze.
If she’d taken a painkiller, she could have blamed that sudden dizzy feeling on the meds. Now she noticed something deep within those dark chocolate depths. Desire? No, it couldn’t be possible. To stave off more awkwardness, she blurted, “It’ll… it’ll make a nice nightshirt.”
He chuckled as he secured the sleeve on her shoulder and pulled off a length of cling wrap.
Abigail drew her lips tight against the feelings raging inside her. They were too different. He had issues. She definitely did. She knew what would happen when they got Jonathan safely home to Raleigh and on the way to recovery. He’d beat feet back to Burning Tree.
He wrapped the plastic around her arm and over the bandage. Using rubber bands linked together, he secured it. “Voila. Just like the nurse suggested.”
She hopped up. “Uh, thanks. I, um, think I’ll get a shower before hitting the hay for a bit of rest.” She winced as the pain flared to a burning.
“And you need to take your painkiller.”
“I left it at the hospital.” She busied herself with undoing her suitcase and pulling out her toiletries satchel.
“I got it right here.” He placed a small bottle on top of the dresser.
She glared at him. “Why’d you do that? I meant to leave it there.”
“You’re going to need it.”
“I don’t do painkillers. Not for anything.”
“Not even for a headache?” He cocked an eyebrow and leaned against the wall next to the bathroom, conveniently cutting off her escape route.
“Not even for that. Now let me through.” She moved to the left to step around him.
He shifted and blocked her way. “Why?”
“None of your business.”
“I think it’s time we talked about that.”
“How about if I don’t want to?” She dodged to the right.
Again, he matched her. With his finger, he lifted her chin so their gazes met.
The coldness gripping her heart began melting. He was closing in on the truth. How could he understand how far she’d fallen? How much she hated hospitals because they reminded her of dark days she wanted to forget? How she never wanted to go down that long, hard road again? At the compassion she saw in those dark depths, the words fought toward the surface.
“It’ll help you heal faster. I can promise you on that.”
Fear chased her words away. She clamped a lid on her emotions. “That’s what they said the last time.”
She pushed past him and into the bathroom.
“Abigail—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She shut the door in his face and turned on the water as hot as she could stand it. Once she’d stepped under the penetrating stream, the emotion, brought about by exhaustion, pain, and something else she couldn’t place, burst forth. With her forehead leaning on her arms, she cried.
Southport, North Carolina
“No one’s to be allowed to even approach our doors unless they provide you with a valid ID and a valid reason. Understand?” David fixed his gaze upon the MP sergeant who stood at parade rest in the hall next to his door.
“Yes, sir, I do
. Got two guys here at the fire stairs and your rooms and two guys at the elevators. We’re doing four on and four off, rotating between three teams.” The sergeant held up his phone. “You need me, I’m only a phone call away.”
“I appreciate that. We’ll be headed out around seven or so to go to the hospital. Then we’ll be back for the night.” David slipped into his room. He paused by the adjoining door. In Abigail’s room, the shower still ran strong.
He needed to clean up as well. Once under warm water sluicing over him, uncertainty gripped him. He’d done what Abigail had recruited him to do. Now all he wanted to return to Burning Tree. Abigail didn’t need him anymore. More than that, her presence introduced a whole host of unsettling feelings he didn’t want to contemplate. Far better to retreat to Burning Tree. Maybe one of the MPs could give him a ride to Raleigh first thing in the morning.
Then he remembered one thing.
He’d made a promise to Abigail.
Fool. You caved in a moment of weakness. Something touched him deep within his soul, almost as if the Holy Spirit had smacked him across the head. God, I just want to leave. To forget this happened and return to my life in Burning Tree. Can’t You let me off the hook on this one? It’s easier to remain this way than to forgive.
The answer came to him once more as if the Holy Spirit held a sign in front of him for him to read.
Forgive Jonathan. Reconcile. In person.
Not going to do it. I’m going to head home in the morning. Abigail can handle it. His mind made up, he dressed and stretched out on the couch with his mystery paperback in his hand as he squeezed his foam rubber ball. Abigail’s door was cracked. Only a strip of light told him she remained awake. A hair dryer hummed. Did he detect the occasional sniffle?
Her words before she’d pushed past him echoed in his mind. “That’s what they said the last time.”
Did he really care? He tried to pretend he didn’t, but he knew he lied.
He forced the thought from his mind by focusing his attention on the mystery’s plot. Gradually, he became aware of voices in Abigail’s room, that of a man conversing with her.
He lowered the book. From where he lay, he couldn’t pick out words. But the man’s New Jersey accent sounded vaguely familiar. Bocelli. What was he doing here?
David stepped to the door. Now he could hear everything.
“I show up at the hospital, only to find out that your CO—what’s his name?”
“Lieutenant Colonel Salvador Torres.” Abigail sounded like she’d listened to a telemarketer pitching his product.
“Whatever. He took not only the Athena file but my case.” Bocelli’s accent thickened as his voice rose.
“I had no choice.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Nick.” Abigail sighed. “That drive was linked to a CID case. When I got the drive, it was case closed.”
“But the kidnapping isn’t. And those jokers are still out there. So what am I going to tell my version of a CO when he chews my tail for losing this case? Tell me that, Abby.”
A drawer in the dresser thumped closed. “Honestly, why are you so bent out of shape about this? It’s one less—”
“It’s my case. It fell into my jurisdiction. And I’m going to see it through.”
“But Sal—Ow! Nick, you’re hurting me!”
David charged through the doorway.
Bocelli had grabbed her injured arm at the bandage and pushed her against the wall beside the bathroom’s door. She thrashed out against him.
“Let her go, Bocelli.” In one motion, David ripped him away from her and slammed him into the opposite wall.
“You—I’m going to arrest you!” Bocelli went for his gun.
“Don’t even think about it.” David pinned his arm to the the wall. “Are you an idiot? She’s hurt. GSW.”
The door to the hall slammed open, and the sergeant gaped at them. “Master Sergeant Shepherd? What happened?”
Bocelli thrashed against David’s grip. “What happened is this jerk—”
“He didn’t ask you, so shut your trap.” David tightened his hands. “How did he get by?”
“He said he was a cop, that he had official business with Abigail.”
“Well, his ‘official business’ got personal.” David shoved him toward the MP. “He tried to hurt Major Ward, so escort him from the hotel. If he shows his face around here again, arrest him.”
The sergeant nodded.
“You’re going to pay for this, Shepherd! You too, Abby!” Nick shouted.
The sergeant yanked him out of sight.
David shut the door. For good measure, he threw the deadbolt and added the security lock.
Skin now as white as her T-shirt, Abigail huddled against the wall, her good hand over her wound, her face pinched with pain. She began sliding downward.
David wrapped his arms around her. “Easy there. I’ve got you.”
She trembled from head to toe and huddled against him.
“I’m not even going to ask if you’re hurting.” He helped her to the edge of the bed. “Here. Sit down so I can look at your wound.”
“It’s…it’s fine.”
“He could have ripped the stitches.” David found the bag containing the gauze and other first aid paraphernalia resting where she’d placed it when they’d arrived. With a pair of scissors, he clipped the gauze and carefully removed the bandage.
“How is it?”
David carefully examined the wounds. Though they seeped some blood, it didn’t appear as if Bocelli’s actions had ripped the stitches. “The tiniest of bleeding, but that’s it. Let me clean around the wounds a little before I bandage them.”
After washing his hands, he wet some cotton balls and gently wiped away the blood. His cheeks began warming as his fingers brushed against her skin. After securing more bandages with gauze, he ran his hand down her hair. “All done. How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” she whispered. The green-flecked hazel depths of her eyes betrayed her.
“C’mon. Let’s get you that Tylenol—”
“I’m not doing painkillers.”
“After he grabbed you like that—”
“No!”
He tried a different tact. “You’re sure?”
“I’ll be fine.” Again, the uncertainty in her voice told him she lied. “I just need to sleep.” As if to emphasize her point, she crawled onto the king-sized bed, lay down on her uninjured side, and pulled the covers up to her chin. The duvet settled across his lap.
He remained sitting on the edge of the bed. Finally, it clicked in his mind and made sense, the way she’d high-tailed it out of the hospital earlier that day, her offhand statement when they’d arrived, her insistence that she didn’t need any medication for wounds that would make even the burliest Ranger cry.
Slowly, he eased onto his knees, as if praying beside the bed, and took her hand between his. Seconds ticked by before he spoke. “You know I was both a drunk and a painkiller addict. Plain and simple, that’s what I was.”
She nodded.
“After I returned to Burning Tree and got clean and sober, I was so worried about taking any kind of painkiller stronger than aspirin. That lasted until last spring.”
“What happened?” She raised her head from the pillow.
“March of last year, Mitch and I went mountain biking. We started goofing off and doing stupid stunts. Then I crashed. It wouldn’t have been a big deal except for the fact that my leg landed on a rock, right where the bullet from The Incident had fractured my femur. Talk about hurting!” He shook his head at the memory. “Somehow, we got back to his truck, and he took me to my doc in the next town over. I’d only bruised the bone. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell. It did. The doc prescribed me some heavy-duty painkillers.”
“Did he know about your addiction?”
“Oh, yeah.” He gently rubbed his thumbs across the top of her hand. He tried to ignore its smoothness, the way his cheeks
heated. “He did. First, he said that one prescription should be enough. Second, he monitored me closely. Each day after I took a painkiller, I was supposed to journal how I felt after it wore off. Third, he saw me every other day until I finished my prescription. That’s when I realized my addiction had been psychological.”
“How so?” Curiosity made her sound almost childlike.
“I’d used it as a way to escape circumstances I perceived as hopeless. I did have real, legitimate pain after I returned home from The Incident, most likely for the rest of the year. But after that, the doc said my wound had healed.”
“But other wounds remained.”
“Right. My life fell apart around me. And with a doc who was too free with prescribing me pain meds, I became addicted. I thought I couldn’t live without them because they made things seem manageable.” Before he realized what he was doing, David brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. He closed his eyes as he considered his next words with care. “When I took that first pill last spring, I felt like I was jumping off a cliff, big time. Quite frankly, it scared me.”
“Did it work?”
“What?”
“Did you heal faster?”
“I did. I took them for a week, and after that, I was pain free and back to riding bikes again, this time with a little more care.”
That earned a ghost of a smile.
“Does my story make sense?”
She didn’t speak for a moment. “It did. I know what you’re saying. The…the time’s not now.”
She slid her hand from his and tightened her grip on the duvet.
“That’s okay.” He brushed a strand of that dark blond hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. “I know how scary it can be.” He pushed himself to his feet and turned off her light. “Sweet dreams. I’ll wake you at seven. I figured we’d go get some vittles and then see your brother after that.”
A soft snuffle answered him.
He stood in the gloom and simply drank in the image of that strong jaw and the lashes brushing against her cheek. Then he bent and kissed her on the forehead. The touch of his lips on her tender skin sent every nerve of his body on alert. He lingered and inhaled that gardenia scent that must have come from her soap. He closed his eyes, then whispered, “Have a good rest, Abigail.”
The Athena File Page 24
