I was up in an instant, surging toward Sydney, only too late realizing he’d been baiting me. His right hand, which I hadn’t seen clearly since he took it out of his pocket, flashed forward, and a sharp pain pierced my stomach even as I slammed into him, shoving him down the hallway. I took another step before realizing I couldn’t breathe, and the pain drove me to my knees, my hands going to just below my sternum.
Sydney watched me, the small knife in his hand stained red with my blood, grinning as he climbed to his feet. “That’s what you get for breaking my nose, asshole,” he said. I struggled to get to my feet as he came toward me again, but stumbled, the red in my vision turning gray as my life’s blood dripped onto the carpet and the oxygen left my body. “Now you get to watch as I take what I deserve out of your precious love as well.”
But Alix wasn’t on the carpet any longer, having jumped to her feet while Sydney was focused on me. When he turned, she had a baseball bat in her hand, swinging it hard enough to leave a divot in the wall. She was angry, wild, and Sydney could see she wouldn’t be the timid girl he’d slapped around so easily just a couple of months prior. He shook his head and left, running out the door while I collapsed face-first onto the tile, the world fading.
* * *
The next thing I was aware of was a very, very bright light. At first I thought that perhaps all the New Age shows I’d ever watched on cable were correct, and that you were supposed to go into the light when you died. However, the next thing I knew, I could hear the beeping sound of a heart monitor, and then the hiss and thump of a ventilator.
I squinted and blinked, trying to gather my senses. I was in a hospital, that was for certain, although I couldn’t tell much more. Looking to my side, I saw a nurse checking my vitals on the heart monitor before looking down at me. “You’re intubated, so you can’t speak right now, Mr. Prescott,” she said, professional to the utmost. “You lost a lot of blood, and you’ve been out of surgery a few hours.”
I nodded, feeling the constricting harshness in my throat, and pointed to the pen on the sleeve of her surgical top. Understanding what I wanted, she handed it to me along with a pad of paper. Family?
“They’re outside, you’re still technically in the recovery room,” she said. “I’ll get the doctor to give you a check out, and see if we can move you to your room. They’ll be able to meet you there.”
Tube out?
“That’s up to the doctor. He had to repair a puncture to your diaphragm, so you’re not going to be breathing well for quite a while. But if he thinks you’re doing well, maybe he can move you to a normal respirator soon enough.”
She turned to go and I reached out, causing her to stop. “Yes, Mr. Prescott?”
Police?
“I don’t know anything about that, Mr. Prescott. I know you were brought in by ambulance, and there were some officers talking to the blonde girl who was with you. That’s all.”
I nodded and laid my head back, already exhausted with the little effort it took to write. Maybe it was an aftereffect of the anesthesia or my punctured diaphragm. In any case, I laid my head back and waited for the doctor, my eyes slipping closed as I rested.
I came to again in a hospital room, Alix sitting in the chair next to my bed, holding my hand. The tube was out, but I was wearing one of those masks that go over your entire mouth and nose. I squeezed her fingers weakly, smiling at her tired face.
“Alix,” I whispered, unheard to her through my mask. I tugged the mask down enough to say the most important words on my mind. “You’re safe.”
She blinked and nodded, her tear-streaked face puffy from crying. “You need to put your mask back on,” she said, helping me reseat the mask. “The doctors told me that was very important.”
I looked around for a pen and paper, miming writing. Alix nodded and reached behind my head, grabbing a small white board and pen. “The doctor said you might find this easier and less messy,” she said, handing it to me. “Go ahead.”
Dad and Mom?
“I told them you were injured, but that they needed to go ahead with the press conference. Tell the press that we were in an accident or something. They don’t know how bad it was. So they delayed it some, but it’s still going to be live on the ten o’clock news. It’s nearly ten now.”
Cops?
“They know you were attacked by Sydney, but not why. There is an APB out on him, but he’s disappeared somewhere. They’re looking for him.”
You’re okay?
“I’m unhurt, yes,” she said, maintaining control of herself as she read my words. “Why’d you attack him, Kade?”
I lost my control . . .
“Well, Kade Prescott, I love you, and I don’t ever want to feel your blood staining my hands again. You understand me?”
What about the blackmail?
“I don’t care about that right now,” she said quietly.
I looked into her eyes, seeing unimaginable strength, and nodded. Taking my pen in hand again, I wiped the board clear and wrote what was important then. Okay. I love you.
There was a knock at the door, and a doctor came in. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties, and had the satisfied demeanor of a man who’d done a good job. I immediately erased what I’d written and looked up at him. “Hi, Mr. Prescott, I’m Doctor Harrington. I was your lead surgeon on your patch job.”
How is it?
“Not as bad as it could have been,” he said after reading the note. “The blade punctured your diaphragm but didn’t get the lungs themselves, so most of the work was in repairing the diaphragm itself and making sure everything stays where it is supposed to be. How’s your stomach feel?”
Numb, can’t really feel anything below my chest.
“Good, we’ve got a nerve block in there right now, but that’s going to be wearing off soon. I’m not going to lie, it’s going to be painful. Want to see?”
I nodded, and the doctor came over to lift my blanket down before undoing my thin cover. The bandage ran for about six inches, from just below my nipple line to about halfway down my stomach. “We had to do what’s called a laparotomy, mostly to open up the chest and stitch the diaphragm shut, then go poking around to make sure that you didn’t have any other major injuries. You nicked a few things in there, but nothing too major. Whatever you were stabbed with, it was small enough to just scrape over your xiphoid process and get the diaphragm itself mostly, without penetrating enough to get to the lungs.”
What’s my recovery time?
“Oh, you’re going to be on the mask for at least a few more days,” Dr. Harrington said. “And you’re going to be in a lot of pain for those few days. The diaphragm is a tough muscle, and we did a good job fixing the hole, but it’s still not going to be pleasant. After that, a few weeks if there are no other complications.”
I suppose this ruins my swimsuit season.
“You could say that. You’re going to have a very impressive scar there when all is said and done.”
The doctor patted me on the shoulder. “By the way, I heard that you are Derek Prescott’s son. Alix here was very insistent that we not tell him about the true nature of your injuries, but if you want, he’s supposed to be making a statement for the live news. Would you like me to turn it on?”
I nodded and Harrington reached over my head and found the television remote. He hit the switch, and the small TV near my bed flashed on. He switched around until he found the local ABC news and handed me the remote. “You mind if I watch here with you? Your father spearheaded a fundraising drive for the hospital last year, and I’d love to see what he’s got to say live.”
“Of course, Doctor,” Alix said, reaching over and taking my hand. The tagline on the screen read Local Community Leader to Make Announcement, Expected to Run for Congress.
“Congress, huh? Well, he’s got my vote,” Harrington said. “Your father’s a good man. And you delayed telling him for this?”
“The police, I’m sure, will inform him soon eno
ugh, and they’re coming as soon as the event is over,” Alix said. “By the way, thank you for letting me stay.”
“Your insurance more than covers me bending the rules for family visits,” Harrington said. He pointed at the screen, and held up his finger. “Shhh, it’s starting.”
The first person on screen was actually someone I knew, one of the other partners at Dad’s law firm. He made a brief statement welcoming everyone before quickly introducing the current Congressman, who had declared two weeks prior that he was running for the newly vacant Senate seat with the retirement of California’s senior senator. There was a pretty good response to him as he took the podium. “Thank you all. When I decided to run for the Senate, I knew that by state election rules, it was an all or nothing choice. I’m not normally a man willing to take such a risk, but that was because I wanted to make sure the people of the 46th District were in good hands. It took me a bit of time to find the person who could take over, but I knew as soon as I asked the next man, that I had found exactly the right person to take over for me. So I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you to the next Congressman from the 46th District, Derek Prescott!”
Dad got a great reaction, and in the background Sammy Hagar’s Remember the Heroes played mutedly. Dad took the podium after shaking hands with the Congressman and waved to the group.
Before he could speak however, someone at the front of the crowd raised his hand and started demanding to ask a question. Dad looked down at his notes and shrugged. “Sure, why not? You all know I’m here to run for Congress, that’s the important point. Why not answer some questions for you all?”
The reporter, a youngish guy that I could barely see, took the portable mike that a staffer brought him. “Mister Prescott, is today the best time to declare your candidacy, in light of the events of today?”
“If you’re referring to my son being in a traffic accident, it is unfortunate, but the hospital assures me that Kade is in stable condition. In fact, after this is over, my wife and I are going to the hospital to see him in person. I know it comes off as a bit hard-hearted, but Kade knows that sometimes service requires sacrifice, so I’m trying to put the needs of the people in front of my personal desire to see my son.”
“That wasn’t what I meant, Mister Prescott. I meant, in light of the video released to the Internet an hour ago of your son and your stepdaughter engaging in sexual relations, do you still feel like you’re the right person to be running for Congress?”
The uproar was tremendous, as confusion reigned and Dad sat there, stunned. “What are you talking about?”
The reporter, who was still trying to comment over a dozen other screamed questions, held up his phone, giving it to Dad. Dad looked at the screen for a moment before dropping it to the ground, his hand going to his head and him falling backward. Confused yelling was replaced by a scream as Layla knelt down next to Dad, who was out flat on the ground. In a scene that would be replayed over and over again for the next week, she lowered her head to Dad, then to his chest, before looking right in the direction of the ABC camera. “Someone get a doctor, he’s not breathing!”
Chapter 23
Alix
I felt like everything was moving in slow motion as I waited for Derek and Mom in the emergency room. In a great sense of irony, Derek’s press conference was held in a hotel just miles from where Kade had been brought for surgery, so instead of having to rush across town, I just had to go down ten floors in the elevator.
One of the nurses, who’d been tasked with escorting me, stayed right next to me in the elevator. “I’m sure it was just a temporary thing,” she said. “He was most likely shocked.”
“I hope so,” I said distractedly. I could see the look on her face, and I turned, suddenly furious. “What? You think I’m some sort of fucking freak or something?”
The nurse shook her head, raising her hands. “What? No, not at all.”
I felt my heart thudding, and hissed through clenched teeth. “I love him, goddammit. And he’s not blood, okay?”
The nurse nodded and looked at the elevator door while I stared a hole in her side. As soon as it was there, it was gone, and my anger evaporated, leaving behind nothing but fear. “I . . . I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “It happens in this job. At least you didn’t try and punch me, that’s happened before too.”
The elevator arrived and she followed me in, hitting the button for the first floor. “When we get there, you want to hang back,” she said quietly. “The doctors will need room to treat your stepfather, and if the situation is what they said on television . . . ”
“There will be sparks,” I finished. “I know. Fucking Syd and his goddamn blackmail threats.”
“So it is true?” the nurse asked. “I’m not judging, just . . . I’ve seen you in magazines. I always thought you did good work.”
I shrugged. “I think that part of my life is over now. Not too many designers will want the bad press.”
The nurse nodded and turned back to the doors. “If you love him, then you’ll make it,” she said. “We’re here.”
The doors dinged open to absolute chaos. The press had somehow beaten the ambulance to the emergency room, and the staff was having a hard time controlling the mob. One of the reporters saw me, and even before the doors were fully closed, I was swarmed like vultures to a carcass.
“Do you have a statement, Alix?”
“What led you to sleeping with your brother?”
“Is the video legitimate?”
“Do you think the video caused Derek’s collapse?”
The nurse tried to push the media parasites back in a futile attempt, until one of the security guards forced his way through. Sandwiching me in between them, they got through the throng to one of the exam areas, which was at least behind the security barrier. The guard stayed by my side until the lights of the ambulance came in and the media mob pulled away.
Three police officers escorted the ambulance into the emergency room, forcing their way through along with one of the paramedics, while the doctors leapt into action. I was able to watch as they took him into an exam area, wires and things already running from his chest. Mom was right behind, looking as shell-shocked as I felt.
The nurse, still with me, stayed next to me as I made my way toward the area where they were treating Derek. The doctors pushed everyone out, yanking the curtain closed and cutting off all view of what they were doing, shutting me out. Mom saw me and turned away when I came closer. I reached, but the nurse put a hand on my shoulder, shaking her head. “Mrs. Prescott, we can wait in the exam room over here,” she said to Mom instead, letting the security guard walk with me the few feet back. “Come on, we’ll just be in the way here.”
Mom followed the nurse, who stayed with us in the exam room, which was just a partitioned curtain. Still, the space felt eerily quiet after the chaos of the media scrum. I sat down on the stool, my head in my hands as we waited, Mom saying nothing the whole time.
My ears were aware the whole time to a single sound, the sound of the steady whine that meant that Derek’s heart wasn’t beating. The doctors must have been trying everything, because every once in a while there were a few beeps, but not enough. After what seemed like an eternity, the monitor was shut off, and Mom grew very calm. The entire treatment area was dead silent except for the squeak of the doctor’s shoes coming toward the waiting area.
The doctor pulled back the curtain, her face somber. “Mrs. Prescott, I’m sorry. Your husband . . . there was nothing we could do.”
Mom sat still as a statue, nearly unhearing until I saw a tremble in her shoulder that moved to the side of her face, then to her cheek. In almost slow motion her face cracked, her eyes filling with wild grief that left her sobbing, her face in her hands. “Derek, oh my Derek . . . ” she bawled. “No, not Derek.”
“Mom . . . ” I said, trying to come next to her. I couldn’t even complete my words though as Mom sprang to her feet
and slapped me, cutting me off cleanly.
“You . . . you killed him,” she said coldly.
Mom turned and stormed out of the room, leaving me stunned before the world blurred before me, and my own tears started to fall down my face.
* * *
The next thing I was really aware of was a hand resting on my shoulder, and a quiet voice talking in my ear. “There you are, Alix. I’ve been looking all over for you for the past three hours.”
I was outside, not knowing how in the hell I got to where I was, or even where that happened to be. My eyes wouldn’t lift from the dark patch of grass between my feet, dimly illuminated by something behind my right shoulder. “Go away.”
“No can do, Alix,” the voice said again. “I’ve got orders. I’m to watch over you and keep you safe.”
“Who cares? I’m a killer, don’t you know that?” I muttered, staring at my palms. At some point, I’d dug my fingernails into my palms so deeply that there were bloody half-moons inscribed in each hand. “See? I’ve got the blood on my hands and everything.”
“You’re in shock and scared,” the voice said. I could hear that it was a woman’s voice, but that was all I could tell. My circuits were still scrambled, and I wasn’t putting two and two together well enough to make sense of what my surroundings were. “Come on, Princess, it’s after midnight. Let’s go inside.”
At the mention of Kade’s name for me, my head jerked up, that single word penetrating the fog surrounding my brain. Squatting in front of me was Rita, her blond hair barely visible in the dim lights. “How did you . . . ?”
“How do you think? He was so worried when the nurses reported that you’d run through the ER to disappear into the night, he called me. I’ve spent the past three hours trying to find you,” Rita said, standing up enough to sit down next to me. I was on a park bench, although I didn’t know which park I was at. “As you weren’t a patient, the police didn’t launch a search for you, and when hospital staff couldn’t find you on the grounds, I took it upon myself. Lucky I did, too. This isn’t the best neighborhood, you know.”
Dirty Little Secrets: A Stepbrother Romance Page 17
