34
JORDAN STARED AT HER. He took in every inch of her, from the apple-green T-shirt to the blue jeans and white shoes. “Dannica.”
She held up one small hand. She had always been so small. Dainty, but fiery. A fighter. That, and the hazel eyes, were the only things she’d gotten from him.
“My name is not Dannica.”
“Dr. Carrington, how are you acquainted with Dr. Netorre?” Dr. Holden-Deane asked. Jordan just ignored him.
Nothing mattered now but the woman in front of him.
She wasn’t a girl any longer. Logically he had known that she wouldn’t be when he found her. But in his mind, she’d remained the young girl he had failed.
“Netorre. Your great-grandmother’s name.” Not his. Not even her mother’s. But his wife’s maternal grandmother’s. Dannica had been her favorite.
He never thought to search under that name. Stupid. He should have thought of that.
“It’s been thirteen years,” she said, looking at the women next to her. Two shifted closer to her. The darker-haired girl put a hand on Dannica’s shoulder. “I’ve changed my name twice since then.”
“Twelve years, eleven months, and three days,” Jordan said, harshly. The hazel eyes widened. She took a step back. Away from him.
Afraid. Of him.
No wonder.
He was one of the nightmares of her childhood, after all. And he’d allowed the other one in, too. Had invited him over. Let him right in.
“You always were detail-oriented,” his daughter said. She’d grown into a beautiful woman. But she didn’t look well. Terror shot through him.
Just like it had fourteen years ago.
There were stitches in her forehead. Near her left eye. The old injury to her eye had healed, of course. Scarred. A visible reminder of what that bastard had done to her.
Jordan had never been able to look at that scar and not feel the guilt for failing his daughter.
Dr. Holden-Deane put a large hand on her shoulder. “Nikkie Jean?”
“Jordan was married to my mother, Rafe. We’ve not had…contact…since her funeral thirteen years ago. Even before that.”
“I wasn’t just married to her mother.” He looked at the small crowd of people as they shifted subtly to align themselves with her. With the stitches, and pale cheeks, she looked far too vulnerable. She always had been small and vulnerable. She’d terrified him. “I’m her father.”
“So the birth certificate said.” Bitter fury coated her words now.
“So I say.” Every day for thirteen years he had told himself he had a daughter. That he loved her; he would never stop loving her. And if he found her again, he would make it up to her. He almost blurted that out right there, but he refrained.
“That’s right, the DNA test you had run when I was in the hospital at sixteen told you that, didn’t it? I’d almost forgotten.” She looked at the darker-haired girl on the left. “I’ve signed the discharge forms. Let’s get out of here.”
“Whenever you’re ready, Nik.”
He wanted to go with her. Or to touch her. To hold her, just for a moment. Like he hadn’t since she was two and her mother had told him that she didn’t think Nikkie Jean was his daughter, after all. Like he hadn’t in the years since. He’d had chances when she’d been a girl. But every time he’d let himself feel for Nikkie Jean, his wife would take the girl and leave. For weeks. Months.
Anything to keep him from loving Nikkie Jean as he should.
And he had just let her go.
Darla had wanted to hurt him, and she’d managed with one painful stab right after another. To destroy his heart. For years. He’d adored his baby girl before that day.
But he had let that venom and bitterness keep him from his daughter. He’d made the choices. And because of that he had failed his baby girl when she had needed him most. Been too proud, too arrogant, to be the father she had needed.
She hadn’t known she could come to him with anything. Had faced weeks of being ill because she’d felt she had no one to turn to. She hadn’t trusted him to help her when she had been so sick she’d thought she was dying.
Because he had never let her see just that.
Jordan wanted to hold her. To hug her, just for a moment. Like he should have years ago. Like he never had. Hold her and promise that everything would be ok, that Jordan would make it that way.
Because he was her father, and that’s what fathers did. They protected. They didn’t cause the hurt, or let the hurt happen. They protected.
Instead, Jordan just watched her leave with the two taller nurses. He rubbed one hand against his heart.
He’d never thought he’d find her again. But there she was. He looked at the chief of medicine. “She’s a physician?”
Dr. Holden-Deane hesitated. Jordan hadn’t missed how protective the man had seemed of his daughter. “Pediatric surgical resident. She’s brilliant. Best I’ve ever seen. Which is saying a lot. She’s got a gift for medicine. She’ll go far.”
He nodded. She always had been extremely intelligent. But medicine? He’d never suspected she’d ever follow in his footsteps. Fatherly pride warred with the guilt. And concern.
“What happened to her? How did she get hurt? Her condition?” He wanted to know everything he possibly could. He needed to.
If he had had any doubts about buying Finley Creek General, they had dissipated in an instant.
His daughter was in Finley Creek. Living there, working there. Having a life.
Alive.
Jordan closed his eye as elation and relief and joy and love filled him in the instant it finally sank in that it was real. This wasn’t yet another dream or false hope.
He’d found her. After thirteen years, he had found her.
35
SHE WAS SHAKING SO badly she wanted to puke. Nikkie Jean followed Izzie to her little SUV. Annie was hovering. Just quietly hovering so that she wouldn’t be so alone. Izzie was in front, running interference. Protecting. But Annie—quiet, calm Annie—was just walking next to her in support.
The love she felt for these two women who hadn’t abandoned her threatened to bring her to her knees. “I love you. Both of you.”
Before she knew it, they had their arms around her, too. Holding her up. In more ways than just physically.
Nikkie Jean was crying like she hadn’t cried in a long, long time. Right there in the middle of the hospital parking lot.
Somehow, they got her into Izzie’s SUV. Annie provided a bottle of water from her bag, and just kept telling her she was going to be all right.
And then they were on the road to Value, and she was telling them how her father had treated her the first sixteen years of her life. The total neglect. How he had ignored her. How he hadn’t been there after she’d been raped by his best friend.
How he hadn’t said two words to her that first week, and then how he’d only come to her room when people could see him do it.
Because appearances were all that mattered to Jordan Carrington. And that had always been the way it was.
36
CAINE LEFT AN HOUR later, escaping the hospital board as quickly as he could. Probably more rudely than he should have. He’d called FCGH twice and asked to be connected to Nikkie Jean Netorre. He’d gotten a voice mail for the surgical department at FCGH. The second time, he’d gotten Dr. Ralstone, who’d offered to take a message once he’d learned the call was personal.
Dr. Ralstone, Caine’s prime suspect in billing fraud.
The man worked closely with Nikkie Jean. That didn’t sit well with Caine at all.
Caine knew federal regulations would prevent anyone from telling him her condition, so he didn’t ask. But he knew where she lived. Caine knew exactly where he was going when he turned the truck onto McGareth Road instead of continuing to his own home. He needed to see her. Just to make sure she was ok. To see for himself that she was in one piece.
As if he had a right. As if someone should have known to call him.
>
Caine would have been there as soon as would have been humanly possible. If someone had just called him. Just how stupid that sounded wasn’t lost on him. He’d been the one to tell her he didn’t want the complications she brought. He felt those complications anyway.
Something wasn’t adding up. They didn’t keep someone for days for minor injuries. She had to be hurt more than Wallace Henedy had told him.
Something more than bumps and bruises had happened to her.
There was a reason they’d kept her for forty-eight hours—he wanted to know exactly what it was. A mild concussion didn’t warrant forty-eight-hours observation. Even if it had happened on hospital property.
Visions of April dying kept slamming into him, morphing into Nikkie Jean.
He’d only been with her one damned night. He shouldn’t feel like this over one night.
But he did. Caine was almost past the point of fighting it.
He ran over all the possibilities as he made the drive between the hospital and her little bungalow out in the middle of nowhere. She was too damned isolated out there. Anything could happen to her out there.
There was a car he didn’t recognize parked next to hers. Caine pulled in behind it.
The front door was opening as he reached the porch. A dark-haired woman younger than Nikkie Jean and dressed in scrubs met him on the steps. “Can I help you?”
She eyed him with suspicion. Another woman with lighter hair and a sweetly pretty face came outside after her. “She’s finally sleeping, Iz. She doesn’t need any trouble.”
The darker-haired woman nodded toward him. “We know you’re not Dr. Holden-Deane, so you must be the brother. Can we help you?”
“I’m here to check on her, to see her for myself.”
“I just bet you are. She doesn’t want to see you.”
“Izzie.”
37
LIKE HIS BROTHER, this guy was far too hot for a sane woman’s peace of mind. Izzie knew with one look that this was the father of Nikkie Jean’s baby. Big, strong, built, intense—he really was like looking at a carbon copy of Rafe Holden-Deane, only he looked far wilder. Dangerous.
Sexier, if one went for the wilder Bohemian rebel pirate type. The guy even wore an earring in one ear.
No wonder Nikkie Jean had fallen for him.
Izzie wasn’t stupid; she knew Nikkie Jean. Her friend wouldn’t have just jumped into bed with this guy. There had to be some serious feelings there—even if Nikkie Jean hadn’t admitted it to herself. “You heard Annie. She’s sleeping. She took a pretty hard knock to the head.”
“I heard.”
“When?” If he cared that much, why had he not been there sooner? Izzie had a hard time trusting men like him. It was obvious this guy was used to wielding power.
It didn’t matter. Izzie wasn’t budging.
Nikkie Jean was pregnant, and no guy had shown up, until now. Two days in the hospital and no one but her, Annie, Fin, Jillian, and Lacy had been there.
Well, Dr. Jacobson and Dr. Patel and Dr. Ralstone had each shown up for a few minutes on their lunch breaks, bearing flowers. Jacobson had brought chocolates Nikkie Jean had shared with her and Annie. And he’d sat with Nikkie Jean for a while after his shift had ended each day, too. Dr. Ralstone had brought Nikkie Jean a handheld video game system and pink Legos to play with.
Sometimes she thought his sense of humor was more warped than Nikkie Jean’s.
After the doctors had clocked out for the day, Nikkie Jean had been alone.
“Wallace Henedy told me less than two hours ago. I couldn’t get here until now. I need to see her.” He started to go around her, and into the house.
Izzie wasn’t going to have any of that.
“Well, you’ll have to come back later.” She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted to block the door—and Annie. “She’s sleeping and we’re not waking her up.”
“Then I’ll sit inside and wait. I’m not leaving until I see her. Just let me peek in on her. That’s it. I need to see the damage for myself.”
“You’re not going inside. Not without permission. Look”—she waved a hand between herself and Annie—“trauma nurses. Her best friends. One of us has been at her side almost every second since it happened. Not going anywhere tonight. We’ll take care of her. No worries. No strings. We’ve got her back. She doesn’t need you.”
He winced when she said no strings. Yep. Nikkie Jean might not have mentioned the guy’s name, but Izzie figured it out really quick.
She’d seen users like him before, after all. He might wear Rafe’s appearance, but he didn’t have the same heart her boss did. That was for sure.
Annie was nicer than Izzie, though. “Dr…”
“Alvaro. Caine Alvaro. I’m in charge of Barratt County.”
“Nikkie Jean’s got a moderate concussion and contusions. Tissue damage to one leg. We’re going to stay with her for a few days until she’s able to go back to work. Just so she has company. And so we can keep her resting, instead of pushing herself harder than she should right now. She’s going to be ok. Izzie’s off for the next two days and can stay with her. I’m sure she’ll appreciate you stopping by, but what she needs most is to just sleep. We all know that.”
Izzie wasn’t about to tell the man that the only thing Nikkie Jean had said about the father of her baby was that he wanted no strings and that she wouldn’t be used by a man and then forgotten about.
Izzie got the feeling Nikkie Jean thought exactly that had happened. That she hadn’t been good enough for this guy. That she hadn’t really mattered.
Jerk.
Nikkie Jean was not the kind of woman who entered into sexual relationships easily. She’d said so herself.
In fact, with Nikkie Jean’s past, any involvement with a man was a big deal. Especially a doctor.
Izzie wondered if the jerk in front of her even realized that. He wasn’t happy at not getting his way, but he’d have to get over it. She wasn’t budging. Period. She stepped down on the center step and blocked the big guy’s path with her body.
He was going to have to go through her.
Nikkie Jean needed people in her life who would stick it out for her. The extent of how much she had been hurt years ago still sickened Izzie when she thought about it. No one deserved to go through what Nikkie Jean had. The fact that Nikkie Jean had made it this far without shattering amazed her. And probably always would.
Nikkie Jean was one of the strongest women she had ever known. And she deserved a man who saw her for the special person she was. Not this jerk who just used her for a good time and then abandoned her.
“Get lost. Nikkie Jean doesn’t need you. At all.”
She waited for the inevitable explosion. If she’d said something like that to his twin, Rafe would have erupted like a volcano.
But this brother was apparently different. He bit back whatever he started to say and stepped off the porch, going backward. The glare he shot her could melt her down to her shoes—and not in a good way. When he was halfway down the sidewalk, he turned and looked right at her. He lifted a hand to his brow for just a second.
A shaking hand. “I just…fifteen seconds. Then I’m gone. I’m not going to beg. But I need to see her.”
“She’s just peachy, big guy. Just go back to where you came from. You’re the last thing Nikkie Jean needs right now, and we all know it. She deserves a man who she can count on, who can be there for her, thick and thin. She’s going to be just fine from now on. We’ll see she stays that way.” But Izzie’s tone had softened, and she knew it.
He looked just like Rafe had the times Jillian had been injured. Just like him.
Izzie looked at Annie. Annie nodded.
They were invading Nikkie Jean’s privacy, but… “Tell you what. I’ll take a picture of her sleeping. I’ll text it to you. Nikkie Jean…she won’t want someone in her house. Not without permission. It’s a really, really big deal for her.”
He pulled in a breat
h and nodded. He was a smart man. He knew that was all he was going to get.
Izzie ran inside and took a photo of Nikkie Jean’s face and went back out.
It was a matter of seconds to text the image to his phone.
They’d gotten lucky. It had appeased the beast.
After he stalked off, she looked at Annie. “Wow. I think he’s even more intense than Holden-Deane.”
Annie nodded, then let out a breath. “I thought he was going to just keep coming. Swallow you whole. Just to get to her. I hope that photo will satisfy him until she’s ready.”
“Me, too.” And they wouldn’t have been able to stop him without a massive amount of drama. Izzie would have done it, though, if it meant protecting Nikkie Jean.
She might not appear as vulnerable as someone like Annie, whose shyness made everyone want to protect her, but Nikkie Jean…Nikkie Jean hid the hurt behind the humor so well that most people never saw it.
It was Nikkie Jean’s way of hiding in plain sight.
No more. Izzie was going to do what she could to let her friend know that she wasn’t alone any longer.
“He hurt her.” Annie had that look in her eyes again. She might be shy and timid and easily intimidated, but there was a core of strength and stubbornness in Annie that only showed up when she thought someone was being mistreated. Or hurting. Just like Nikkie Jean. “I think he’s the one.”
Izzie hooked elbows with the best friend she’d had since childhood. They headed back inside toward the new friend hurting inside. “Don’t worry, Annie. We got this. He won’t hurt her again.”
“I don’t know. If he’s the father, I think her trouble with him may just be beginning.”
38
SHE FELT BETTER the next morning, but nowhere near where she wanted to be. Mostly because she hadn’t even made it through breakfast before breakfast was making its way back up.
But this time, Izzie was there to help her back to her feet.
Lost in the Wind Page 13
