Shouting from the ER brought her out of her thoughts. Annie went running, just as the paramedic Drew brought in a man on a gurney.
“Wallace Henedy the III,” Drew said, sending her a significant look. Annie tried not to flinch at the name. “Goes by Reggie. MVA in the damned parking lot. Possible concussion. Mayor witnessed it and offered aid.”
“Anyone else hurt?” Annie looked around. Her gaze landed on Turner, searching for signs he’d been injured.
He was fine, talking to a TSP officer. There was no blood. No injuries she could see. Turner was fine.
Annie leaned over the gurney until she could see the patient’s eyes. That’s when the patient’s name sank in. Wallace Henedy. The third.
His eyes were brown. And filled with pain. That was what mattered now. “Mr. Henedy? Can you hear me? I’m Annie. I’m going to help take care of you today. Can you hear me?”
His hand wrapped around hers, and he held on. Like so many patients had before. “I…hear.”
“Good. Let’s get you taken care of, ok?”
47
Reggie felt the woman’s hand on his. He looked at her. Big, blue eyes in a sweet face were staring into his. Reggie focused on her eyes. “I’m ok. My...head...”
Her hand was soothing on his. Steady and reassuring. “It’s ok, Mr. Henedy—Wallace…”
“Reggie. Call me Reggie.” The last thing he wanted was people in this hospital calling him by his father’s name. “Not Wallace. Hate the name Wallace.”
He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t.
“I’m not my father!” The words came out garbled. Reggie had no clue if anyone understood him at all.
“We know. You’re going to be ok here.” She smiled at him, reassurance on her face. So pretty. Reggie focused on her as they wheeled him into an exam bay. He’d rather look at a pretty face than the harsh white lights above him.
There were other people around, but he didn’t care, it was her that mattered. Her he focused on. Annie. Her name was Annie.
Annie’s hand was on his arm now, warm and soft. Bringing comfort when the others brought pain. He kept his eyes on her the entire time they worked on him, to fix the pain in his head.
She took him for an x-ray herself, talking softly about something. Reggie just listened to the words, to the sweetness of her voice.
And then she was just gone.
He lay there in the hospital bed and thought of her until the pain medication finally began to work. Thought of the women his father had nearly killed. Wondered if this woman knew them. If she held what his father had done against him.
If maybe she could help him with the answers he needed.
If he could just get those answers, maybe what his father had done would start to make some sense.
Then…then Reggie could get on with his own life.
48
Annie rounded the hall a few doors down from Izzie’s room and considered darting in there for a moment or two. But the responsible part of her knew that if she did that, she’d end up staying longer than she intended. And she was needed downstairs. It had been one of those massively chaotic days that were unfortunately so common in the ER, starting with the officer being shot.
Still, there were voices coming from inside the room. She’d just stick her head in, say hello to whomever it was.
See if it was Jake. Who still hadn’t made an appearance. Worry for him was always in the back of her mind. Even though she knew he could take care of himself. Something just didn’t feel right where he was concerned.
She stepped into Izzie’s room and looked at the man sitting on the foot of the bed, a child’s board game between him and Izzie.
“Turner.”
He turned toward her. “I was hoping to find you around here somewhere.”
She tensed. This man had her on edge with just a single look from those blue eyes of his. She’d admitted to herself after he’d shown up on her doorstep that he drew her in ways she didn’t fully understand yet.
Annie didn’t have any idea how to deal with that. “Oh?”
“I have some information for you. Regarding the attorney you hired. I have a cousin who’s a private investigator. He’s asked around for me. He thinks he’ll be able to get the committee’s money back, at least.”
That was more than she’d hoped for. Or could ask for.
And he’d done it voluntarily. “Thank you. You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me, though. A call would have been fine.”
“Maybe the Mega-Hot Mayor is here to see me, Ann.” Izzie snarked at her from the bed. Annie took another look at her.
The antibiotics appeared to be working, at least. Within a few hours after the initial injection, her fever had dropped.
Asthma didn’t cause pneumonia, but it did raise the risk of developing it. With the various injuries caused by the bullets, Izzie had been at higher risk for bacterial pneumonia. She’d had it before, after colds and flu viruses had led to complications.
But this was the worst case she’d had so far.
“No doubt. You look gorgeous. I look like a dishrag.” She felt like one. She didn’t want to see Turner Barratt today. “I need to go. Wanda will be looking for me.”
Cop out, but there was some truth in her words.
“I actually came down to see Officer Royce.”
“Have you spoken with the admittance desk? She was in the ER this morning.” With a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Fortunately, it had done the least amount of damage possible, Annie had heard.
The woman was twenty-six years old and hadn’t deserved what had happened to her. Not by a long shot.
“Not yet. I’ll walk down with you.” He looked back at Izzie. “She’s right, you know. You do look gorgeous today. And I’m damned glad to see those beautiful eyes of yours making fun of me again. Even if you do suck at Snakes & Ladders.”
Izzie just grinned. “Go, Barratt. Escape while you can.”
Turner looked at her as they walked. She looked cute all disheveled like that. Her ponytail was falling down a bit, like it had been the first time they’d met. She wore the same color scrubs.
That gave him pause. The memories were damned sharp at that moment. She looked tired.
“You doing ok?”
“I will be. I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day.”
“I heard. I’m not sure how you do it.” Constant drama—that was what the ER was to him. Running a city was also constant drama—but not with nearly the same stakes. Annie seemed to take it all in stride.
Nothing could break this woman. Turner was certain of that.
“There’s a committee meeting coming up. We’re going to discuss what we need to do next,” she said, abruptly.
“What do you think it will be?”
“Honestly? It’s just the five houses left who need to decide. Me, Harley Borlin, Gia Martinez, the Ruffalos, and Maurice Tixton.” She motioned him toward the elevator. Turner followed. He just wasn’t ready to let her go just yet. “I’m not sure what the others have decided. Well, Harley…Harley will fight just to fight. Just to cause as much trouble as possible. He’s…not nice. Gia wants to stay in the house, but she also wants a fair price before she moves. We all do. And why shouldn’t we get it? If you saved twenty-four houses, the money should be there to give the rest of us what our properties are worth. I’m not understanding why that’s not happening.”
“Me, either.” Turner bit back a wince. Five houses on Boethe Street were his lowest priority right now. He felt like he was letting her down. “Annie, I…I’ve tried. I’m just not sure what else I can do. And I can’t spend all my time on it right now.”
She started, then straightened from where she’d been leaning against the elevator door. “I know. I never wanted you to. I…the storm…It’s far more important what you’re doing for the city. My house is just one house. I get that. So do my neighbors. Except for Harley Borlin, who is completely unreasonable in everything he does.”
&nb
sp; “Is he? Hope I never meet him.”
“Turner, I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do. But I know one thing. Whatever happens, it isn’t your fault. This…this is just something I need to get through.”
“I wish I could help you get through it. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you.”
Soft, blue eyes looked up at him. “I know.”
49
Something had passed between them. Something different than what had been there before.
Since the storm, all their interactions had been purposeful. Problem-solving, strained, or stress-filled. Never had she looked at him as the person he was. No doubt it was a defense mechanism on her part.
She knew she found him attractive. But that was such a superficial way to think about it. She found men on the television attractive. She found several of the physicians on staff in the hospital—and a handful of the nurses—attractive.
It was so tepid.
Turner was far more than just attractive.
Compelling was a bit more like it.
He shifted closer. Easy to do in the small elevator. Only her scrubs and stethoscope reminded her of where she was and what she was supposed to be doing.
She could almost smell him over the normal antiseptic scent that was so familiar. She could feel the heat of his presence right next to her.
Men like Turner Barratt just dwarfed the world around them. And not in a bad way, like bullies such as her neighbor Harley. No. It was more a magnetism.
It wasn’t even the way her father had, either. He had ruled his home based on fear. Turner ruled the city based on the desire to do good.
Even though he was just as dynamic as her father, Turner Barratt was a good man. Much like his cousin Houghton. Or Rafe or Caine or Allen. Men she admired.
She hadn’t let herself see that about him before. And that terrified her. Because it made her want to know more. Made her more than just attracted. It drew her to him.
The elevator dinged. She stepped out into the ER. Wanda and Cherise were by the central desk. They looked at her with questions on their faces. Wanda motioned toward the mayor and winked.
Wanda was a hopeless romantic.
Cherise had a familiar newssheet in her hand. Annie almost groaned. She’d forgotten all about that. Now, though, she doubted she’d be allowed to.
Turner had to be unaware of what her friends were thinking right then. His hand was around her forearm, and he pulled her slightly closer to tell her goodbye.
“I’m not giving up on fixing this, Annie. I’m a Barratt—we never give up without a fight.”
50
He’d scared his mother. Reggie hadn’t wanted to call her, but he wasn’t cleared to drive yet. If he had taken a taxi, she would have been infuriated. And hurt. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her right now.
That was what had stuck with him. He had a concussion and broken ribs and had wrenched his right knee. He was going to be ok. It had taken him a while to convince his mother of that. Now he was signing the discharge paperwork and getting out of there a day and a half after the wreck that had totaled his truck. It felt awkward to have these people looking at him, knowing what his father had done.
Dr. Netorre had walked by his room last night. She’d paused to consult with another physician, right where Reggie could watch her.
Reggie remembered her from his childhood. He’d only been two or three years older than she was. Their parents had mingled all the time. She’d always just been that little girl who had stayed off to herself mostly. He’d followed her brother Dathan around more.
That his father could have killed her hadn’t been lost on Reggie.
She’d been with Annie, the pretty nurse from the ER. They had been chattering about something, their voices feminine and soothing just for him to hear. He wanted to talk to Nikkie Jean. To apologize on behalf of his entire family or something stupid like that. Reggie had just watched them walk away.
Until the older nurse had shooed him back to the bed, a suspicious expression on her face. She’d seen who he was watching. Probably thought he was as much of a freak as his father.
No doubt she was wondering what he had planned. Painting him with the same brush they’d no doubt painted his father.
Izzie MacNamara was on this floor somewhere. Reggie had hired a private detective three weeks ago to keep tabs on her. She still hadn’t left the hospital.
No one could tell him exactly why.
That was the one question he kept asking. Why?
He needed to find out why his father had shot her. Her, specifically.
They were still piecing together what his father had done. And his father was taking his attorney’s advice and saying very little. He’d shut everyone out.
Everyone. Including Reggie.
No doubt that was eating at the other people involved.
Reggie couldn’t imagine what Izadora—Izzie, he thought he’d heard someone call her—was going through. To have someone you worked with, someone you probably reasonably trusted, just walk up and shoot you...it had to be a life-altering shock. How could someone bounce back from that?
There were security videos from W4HAV. Someone had leaked them. To The Snotty Garlic, of all things. Reggie had them saved on his phone. He’d watched over and over as that woman had looked up at his father, a pretty smile on her face, and his father had just shot her. Before turning on Nikkie Jean.
Reggie would never forget how the two women had looked right before it had happened. Not until the day he died. Reggie had known Jordan Carrington his entire life, too. The man had been something of a mentor, had even written a recommendation for Reggie to get into the private school he’d attended as a teen.
The papers and reporters had gone on and on about an old affair between his father and Nikkie Jean’s mother. Speculating that Nikkie Jean wasn’t Jordan Carrington’s daughter, and as such, wasn’t entitled to the Carrington fortune. Said that Nikkie Jean had run away thirteen years ago to be with her biological father.
Reggie supposed that was possible. Although the girl didn’t look like Reggie or his father, except the hair. Reggie’s hair was just a shade darker. She was so small, too. Reggie was six-three, his father was just as tall.
Jordan Carrington was maybe five ten or eleven.
Of course, Jordan’s wife—Reggie couldn’t recall her name—had been tiny, too. Reggie wore reading glasses when needed. That was it. The only things he and Nikkie Jean had physically in common. Reggie had been mortified by the Garlic. As had his mother, and no doubt Dr. Carrington. Still were.
Other gossips had been speculating that Nikkie Jean had been involved with Reggie’s father in some sick repeat of history.
That had been quickly dispelled when Nikkie Jean was quoted on the news as saying the only man she had been involved with in four years was the one who’d stolen her heart, saved her life, and fathered her baby. And Wallace Henedy was the last man in the universe she would ever be involved with. How could anyone look at Caine Alvaro and compare him unfavorably to Wallace Henedy? Nikkie Jean had been floored by that, she’d said.
When she had been accosted on her way into the grocery store by a particularly pushy reporter, Nikkie Jean had told them to, “Get the hell out of my sex life, you sick perverts!” And then she’d asked the reporter who’d been harassing her if he liked striped or polka-dotted condoms best. The reporter had been shocked speechless. She’d gone on to tell the reporter the statistics for failed condoms, and that he should do an article on the proper usage techniques, to both prevent pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases. Said she’d be happy to do a public service announcement on women’s health statistics, as well. That had been followed by information about the rapidly growing percentage of seniors who were contracting sexually transmitted diseases now.
The reporter had walked away quickly after that.
Nikkie Jean had had her hair in two pigtails and had been wearing pastel ponies on her scrubs
. She’d looked like a twelve-year-old playing dress-up.
That had stuck with Reggie.
Nikkie Jean’s fiancé happened to be related to the governor of Texas. That had no doubt squelched a lot of the rumors involving Nikkie Jean, specifically.
There was no way she’d slept with Reggie’s father. Not that woman. It was in the way Nikkie Jean had looked at Dr. Caine Alvaro, even on the videos, as he’d stood huge and protective right by her side, a toddler sleeping in his arms.
Nikkie Jean loved Dr. Alvaro. Deeply, passionately.
Reggie had never been loved by a woman like that. He’d thought he had, but…Amanda hadn’t truly loved him. She’d made that perfectly clear.
Not like his own father had. All throughout Reggie’s childhood, he’d been certain his father adored his mother. That their marriage was strong.
He’d been an idiot.
Just what his father had thrown away would never make sense to Reggie. Never.
And Reggie never wanted to be like him again.
He finished his paperwork, thanked the nurses genuinely, and then got himself to the elevator.
It slid open. And there she was.
Reggie stopped short as they stared at each other. A pretty woman with large, dark eyes, short, dark hair that stuck up in wild curls, a sweet mouth that was just made for kissing. For smiling. For laughing.
Izadora MacNamara stood, gawking at him. She was dressed in tie-dyed footed pajamas and a robe with cartoon aliens printed on it. Standing between Nikkie Jean Netorre and pretty nurse Annie.
Reggie froze. He had no idea what to say.
I’m sorry! just didn’t seem adequate.
I’m sorry my father did this to you?
He just stood there and stared.
51
Annie stepped in front of the other two women before she even thought about it. This could be a real cluster of drama—drama none of them needed tonight. “Mr. Henedy, going home today?”
Walk Through the Fire Page 15
