by Jaycee Clark
She only raised her brow. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”
He checked her ID tag. “You going to try to throw me out, Leah?”
She smiled softly. “No, but you are going to sit here quietly, and not tell her anything you shouldn’t.”
Did the woman think he was born yesterday?
He pulled the chair closer to the bed. The door closed softly. Gently, he picked up Taylor’s hand, noting the I.V. tapped into her vein hadn’t bruised the back of her pale, translucent hand. The cardiac monitor beeped the rhythm of her heart rate, the soft whoosh of the respirator reminding him how fragile her situation still was.
As though he could forget. She had more tubes, wires, and machines attached to her than he cared to see. Laying his head on the rail, he prayed. Prayed for God to heal her, prayed for the kids to be safe, prayed as he never had in his life.
The tears he’d been fighting all day tore through him. Tears of anger, fear and hope. Love and hate. Terror and heartache. Everything collided together in a smashing coalescence of helpless rage. He bit down past it, shut it off. This was helping no one. No one.
Finally he lifted his head. Taylor was still unconscious, and so pale she faded into the white of the pillowcase. A faint light above glowed down on her. The blue plastic tubing running into the side of her mouth was obscene even as it kept her alive.
“I’m sorry, Taylor. I’m so sorry.” Gavin sighed. “I feel like that’s all I’ve said to anyone today.” He’d apologized to her, to his brother, to Christian, hell, to his parents. To God.
He reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. “Did I . . .” He cleared his throat past the lump lodged there. “Did I ever tell you what I first noticed about you?”
The inhalation of the respirator answered him. “It was your dimples.”
He touched the spot on her cheek where, if she moved her mouth just so, they appeared. They didn’t now. “And your freckles.” His fingers trailed over the bridge of her nose. “You weren’t wearing any makeup that day, and you were still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”
God, how had this happened? Why had it happened?
“You still are, gorgeous.” He swallowed again, but it did no good. “You can’t leave me.” Her hand was cold in his.
“I don’t know what . . . I can’t imagine life without you in it. I couldn’t go on.”
What a horrifying thought. But it had plagued him all day. Whispering a chill down his spine, icing the blood in his veins. “You have to hang on, to fight. You’ve got to wake up.” But not too soon. He’d have to answer questions and he just couldn’t bring himself to tell her their son was missing. Taken by a mad woman at gunpoint.
“Soon. But right now, I know you need to rest. To build your strength.” He tried to put some humor in his voice. “After all, we’ve got a honeymoon in three weeks.”
He’d planned to take her to Tahiti—private beaches, wonderful scenery, lots of time just for them. But now?
“I want to take you to Ireland to meet Grammy.” Gavin settled in his chair, kept her hand in his. “She’s ninety-five and still spry as can be. She’s this little bitty woman who believes in the Fair Folk, and is full of stories. God, I love her stories. You and Ryan will love her, and she’ll love the both of you.”
Gavin told her about Grammy, his mother’s grandmother. Then, that turned into a faerie story, which turned into another and another. He couldn’t stop talking, so he didn’t. He would have talked all night if a knock on the door hadn’t interrupted his quiet revelation about the man who’d shown back up to his village years after he left, thinking it was only the next day.
Leah peeked her head in. “Your brothers are asking for you.”
A glance at his watch told him it was after three. Hell. He’d forgotten. Rubbing his face, he stood, then leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Taylor’s brow. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t want to leave you hanging, wondering what happened to Mr. Flaherty.”
Leah came in and jotted down her information on the chart as he left.
The hallway looked the same as it had when he’d gone into her room, if not a little quieter. Five rooms semicircled around this nurses’ station. He saw more movement down the hall at the next station. For the most part, the hospital and the surgical ICU rooms settled into the stillness of the nightshift.
He rounded the corner to see Aiden and Bray sitting in chairs facing a man in a ball cap, pulled so low his features were indiscernible.
“It’s about damn time. Never change,” said the man in the cap.
Who the hell was Mr. Caps?
Something about the voice tickled Gavin’s memory, but he was too damned tired to try and figure out what it was.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” Ignoring the visitor, he looked at Bray, who looked as worn and haggard as Gavin felt. “Anything?”
“Fuck no.” Bray stood and paced. “I’m going half out of my damn mind. Mom had to give Christian a sedative. She’s still convinced it’s her fault for dropping Tori off. Mom had to call in a prescription for Christian’s inhaler. She had an asthma attack. Hasn’t had one in years. All because she blames herself.” The disbelief in his voice told Gavin that Bray no more blamed Christian than he did Gavin. It was heartening and humbling. “Dad’s stretched out on the couch complaining, but Mom told him he was staying right there or he could check into the hospital because his blood pressure was just too damned high and she didn’t have time to fret over him.” Bray smiled wickedly. “He shut up and propped his feet up.”
“Hmph.” Gavin crossed his arms.
“Shut the door, Gav,” Aiden said.
Without thinking, he did, and then wondered at it.
Aiden motioned for Gavin to sit. Too tired to make an issue out of his brother telling him what to do, he did it. Aiden took up a post by the door. Bray fell into a chair a few feet across from Gavin. Mr. Caps sat, his elbows on his knees, a couple of chairs down.
“God, it’s nice to see you guys.”
Gavin looked at Brayden, who shrugged his shoulders. Aiden muttered something about idiots, and Mr. Caps laughed.
Clearing his throat, Gavin said, “Look, Aiden said you’d help us, and I appreciate it, but I don’t have time to sit here all night, and neither does Bray. So can we get on with why we’re here?”
Silence settled around them, and though Gavin couldn’t see the man’s eyes, he could feel them on him. “Your charm always did mask that strip of seriousness in you.”
Gavin frowned. What in the hell was that supposed to mean? And how did the guy know him?
“I’ve already run several searches since I got word what happened.” The man’s voice was rough, as though he might smoke.
“What searches?” Bray asked.
“All kinds. Suffice it to say, anything can be found if you know where to look.” He shifted, glanced towards Aiden. “I don’t have a lot of time here, but I’ll give you what I’ve got. Ms. Fisher has a rap sheet a mile long. That is one mean woman there.”
And this was news how? Gavin gave him a level look.
Mr. Caps ignored it and continued. “It seems Ryan was raised by his maternal grandmother the first three years. She fought for custody, and when she finally won, she died suddenly in a freak accident. Custody went back to his mom.”
“How did the grandmother die?”
The man waved his hand. “That’s not important. Patterns, gentlemen, patterns. The point to this is the woman has been killing for quite some time. Not really serial, in the textbook fashion, but there is a pattern. Those who wrong her tend to meet their end suddenly.
“I tracked her through her guard at Gatesville. Seems he helped her escape by wrecking the transport van and killing another guard.”
A wreck? Ryan had seen a wreck. “How the hell do you know all this?” Gavin asked.
Mr. Caps didn’t even pause, but kept going. “By following their car, gas stations and whatnots, we traced
them to a crack house in Brownwood, Texas, where it’s believed she obtained the nine-millimeter she’s currently carrying.” The man leaned back. “After that, we go to Austin, where the judge who worked her case was the target of a drive-by. Got hit in the leg. The office where Ms. Reese—excuse me—Mrs. Kinncaid, used to work was broken into and the grand finale was, of course, her attack at the Shepards’. That was all before her debut here in D.C.”
“I’m betting they ditched the white minivan for something faster, before word got out. From things I’ve gathered in various files, it seems Ms. Fisher and her sidekick, Rod, have enough powdered meth on them to make a little nest egg. That is, if they don’t use it all first.”
This just kept getting worse.
“Following her patterns, I would have to say she’s probably got the kids here in town. It would up the ante, so to speak. And she has no use for them. Though most of her good fortune has been pure luck thus far, the woman you’re dealing with is not your average jeb head. She’s shrewd.”
Bray’s sigh huffed out. “So, you think she’ll call?”
The blue cap nodded. “Definitely. The media this case is producing, she’ll know the worth of the kids.”
Kids. “You think she’ll let Ryan go?”
The ball cap tilted. “For enough money, yeah. But having said that, he’s also her ‘flesh and blood,’ as she’s been known to refer to him. So, that puts him at a greater risk. They’re both used to him being her punching bag.” He looked at Brayden. “Are Ryan and Tori close?”
Bray was looking at the newcomer hard, as though trying to figure something out. “Yeah.”
“He’s protective of her?”
Bray nodded.
Mr. Caps looked back to Gavin. “That could be a serious problem. Nina Fisher exploits weaknesses. She’ll use Tori as a lever against Ryan, and if he thinks Tori’s in danger, he’ll turn Nina’s anger onto him.”
The words hit Gavin like needle-sharp rain. And the man was right, that’s exactly what Ryan would do.
Then the names hit. Ryan and Tori. Not Victoria as the news broadcasts said. Few, other than family, called her Tori.
For the first time, Gavin got a good look at the face as the man shifted and more light illuminated the face beneath the cap’s bill. A slightly familiar face, hardened through the years, sharpened around the edges, but something in it was the same. Or was it? “I’ll be damned.”
A smile, lightning quick, flashed before it was gone. “Wondered how long it would take you.”
Bray caught on. “Ian?”
Their brother held up a finger. “No names. And while we’re at it, swear to me now on both your families that you will tell no one of me, of this meeting. You know nothing.”
“Why?” they both asked.
Aiden’s chuckle mixed with Ian’s.
“They’re still Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” Ian said, using the childhood names both he and Bray hated.
“But . . .,” Bray started.
“Forget it, put any questions you have to Aiden. He’ll answer what he can. Right now we don’t have time to get into it. Just know, I’ve missed the hell out of you guys.”
“No one? Not even Mom?” Brayden asked.
“No one.” The words lashed out. “It’s for everyone’s safety. If I’ve learned you have told anyone, and I’ll find out, you will not see or hear from me again. I’ll get the kids back, or do what I can to help, but that’s it.”
Gavin didn’t care presently what promises he had to make. He’d have dealt with Satan if he could get Ryan and Tori back.
“What do you want us to do?” he asked.
There was that grin he hadn’t seen in more than twelve years, and it was flashing for the second time. Surreal. This whole damn day was surreal.
“Still the peacemaker. Actually, the question is what do you want me to do? As I said, my bet is the city. A person can get lost in a city a hell of a lot easier than some backwoods hillbilly town. And the city allows them cash for their drugs. Right now I’m checking all the two-bit motels.”
Gavin didn’t want to think of the number of those.
“What’s your question?” Gavin asked. Ian had never gotten to that.
Ian ran his tongue around his teeth. “When I find them, I’ll get them back.”
Gavin nodded. “And?” He could tell there was an “and.”
Ian seemed to weigh his words. “On second thought, never mind. But I will tell you this. The police are going to be asking you questions, you know nothing about me. And since you know nothing about me, this meeting never took place. You will have no idea how in the hell your kids wound up safe and sound at a local ER or on the nearest police department’s steps. Got it?”
Loud and clear.
Bray still sat staring at Ian.
“What?” Ian asked, turning to look at Bray.
“You’ve changed.”
Ian stood, slapped Bray on the back, shook Gavin’s hand and said, “In more ways than you care to know.” He hugged Aiden, then looked back at them. “I’ll be in touch.”
And with that, he opened the door and walked away.
Chapter 20
“Ryan,” Tori whispered, “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Can you hold it?” he asked her.
“I’ll try.” Her sigh blew against his cheek as she settled beside him again. Ryan was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, tied to the bed frame. One of Tori’s hands was tied to his. Neither of them could get out, and Nina was passed out in a chair. He didn’t know when she’d wake up. Ryan really hoped this wasn’t one of those times where she slept for days. He remembered those from before.
It was dark outside again. Another entire day.
This morning—barely at dawn—Nina untied Tori and jerked her out the door, telling Tori all the while that if she tried to pull any tricks, they’d disappear and leave Ryan tied to the bed. He couldn’t do anything as Nina dragged and shoved his friend towards the door, all the while stuffing Tori’s black hair up in a cap and telling her to keep her head down.
Nina said they had to make a call. She’d turned to him then, yelling that if he tried to escape, if they got back and he was gone, she’d kill his friend.
Ryan prayed the entire time they were gone. Scared to death Tori would do something to flip Nina into a rage. But Tori said they walked several blocks, got on a bus, and got off several stops later to make a phone call. Nina asked someone on the phone about a meeting with half a million dollars for each kid. Nina was supposed to have met the Kinncaids at the train station at noon. He and Tori knew it was Gavin and Brayden because Tori got to tell her dad hi.
But noon had come and gone with Nina in the chair she’d occupied since early that morning. Maybe she was dead. What was it called when someone died because of drugs? AD.? It was a vowel and D. ED.? No. OD! Overdose. Duh. Maybe she overdosed—OD-ed.
And where was that guy they’d been with? He’d come in and left, then come in again and left. Ryan knew he was gone when she made the call, and Ryan never heard her tell him about it later when he came in. Rod. That was his name.
“I want to go home,” Tori said.
“I know you do, Tori Bori. But we can’t yet.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair and pulled at his hands again, trying to work the bindings looser. There was a nail or screw that was kinda loose. He kept trying to rub the layers of tape against it to get it to snag or cut. But he’d had no luck. At least Nina hadn’t taped their mouths shut.
“I wanted to talk to Daddy longer this morning too. I wanted to, but she only let me say ‘Daddy.’” Tori sniffled. “She told him if he didn’t send the money, she was going to sell me. Some man would pay a high price for me. Do you know what she meant? I don’t want to go anywhere.”
Ryan’s blood chilled at Tori’s words. He knew what Nina had meant—well, sort of. Nina had turned tricks before. He remembered the boyfriends she took money from. She’d been a whore. He learned that i
n one of the foster homes.
“You won’t go anywhere,” he vowed. “At least not anywhere that she would send you, unless it’s home. I promise.”
“Is she gonna kill us?”
Like she almost did Taylor?
Ryan grinned at the memory of how Nina yelled and screamed when the T.V. said Mrs. Kinncaid was listed in critical condition at some hospital. Boy, had Nina been mad. He’d gotten hit for it, but he didn’t care. His mom was alive. Finally, he answered Tori, “No. She might get mad and hit me, but she won’t kill us. She needs us to get the money.”
“I don’t like it when she hits you.” Tori’s hand came up and traced his busted lip. “You didn’t talk back to her, like she said. You were only asking a question.”
Yeah, he only asked a question. He knew asking if Nina had heard anything about his mom would set her off and turn her anger away from Tori. Tori had asked for something to drink. Since Nina had been coming down off a high—he remembered the mood swings—she wasn’t in the mood for a mewling brat. When she’d started towards Tori with that look in her eyes he’d seen too many times before, he’d quickly asked if his mom was still alive. Thank goodness she hit him instead of Tori. He couldn’t stand it if she hit Tori again.
“I know that. Nina is Nina.” Ryan shrugged. He’d spent all day thinking. Rod wasn’t really into this thing, or from what Ryan had been able to tell. One of them needed to get away and get help. His wrists were raw from working them all day. “Listen, I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
Ryan bit down at the sight of the bruise on her cheek where Nina hit her yesterday. “I’m sorry,” he said. He hadn’t meant to say that. It just slipped out.
She cocked her brow. “For what?”
Ryan sighed. “I never wanted you to know what this was like.” Ratty, dingy rooms that smelled bad, getting hit and ducking blows. He wanted to cry too, like Tori, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want her to be too scared.
