by Jenni Wilder
“Oookay… ” Lincoln said, confused.
“What if whoever deleted my thesis and sent me that virus managed to hack into my new laptop and saw the e-mail with the time and date of my appointment and tipped off the reporters?”
Lincoln was shaking his head before I even finished my thought. “The laptop I bought to replace your old one is state-of-the-art, Princess. Top-of-the-line security protection. There’s no way someone hacked it.”
“Oh.” I deflated with disappointment. I was sure I had figured this out.
“I still think they must have followed us—”
“Sir,” Brody said, stepping forward. “I know you think that’s the only way they could have found us, but I assure you, no one followed us that day.”
Brit and Kotel hovered awkwardly around us as my mind spun. It had to have been the e-mail.
“All right. All right. Let’s discuss this another time whe—”
“What if I had been connected to the university’s network when I sent it?” I blurted out, interrupting Lincoln.
Silence filled the room while Brody and Lincoln stared at each other, silently working through my idea.
Brody was the first to break the silence. “The university would have ways of preventing that.”
“But it happened before. My e-mail to my advisor disappeared a few days before my computer crashed.”
I could see in Brody and Lincoln’s eyes that they saw my theory had credence.
“We need to talk to someone at the university,” Brody said.
I nodded with confidence. “I can help with that.”
~~~~~~~~
Kotel and Brit stayed a little while longer. Brit and I sat in the corner of the room while our men talked about the politics of their careers. Who was being traded where. Who was injured. What new rules were going into effect next season.
Brit showed me pictures on her phone of her nieces and nephews, and I bragged about Tabitha. She asked me about my schoolwork, and I rattled on for a while but she never acted bored. It almost felt as if I were chatting with one of my sisters or Kennedy.
“Smile!” she said as she held her phone out at arm’s length. A bright flash of light momentarily blinded me and splotched out my vision. “Oh, it’s cute! Look!”
The picture of us illuminated on her phone, our heads pressed together, our faces curled up with smiles. It was actually a good picture, and before I knew it she had posted it to Instagram and instantly had thirty thousand likes.
Holy shit, I thought. So much for privacy.
“Lyubov?” Kotel called to Brit. “You ready to go?”
Brit shoved her phone in her purse before slinging it over her shoulder as she stood. She hugged me tight. “It was so nice to meet you,” she told me. “I’m sorry it had to be in such bad circumstances. I know I don’t know you or Lincoln very well, but the two of you seem to have something real here, and believe me when I say that’s worth more than you can know.”
This was so surreal. I couldn’t believe Brit was so nice. We exchanged phone numbers, and she told me she’d call next time she was in Chicago. Surreal!
Shortly after Brit and Kotel left, Kennedy came back. It felt like there was a revolving door in front of Lincoln’s hospital room, but hopefully the three of us were alone for the rest of the night. Well, alone except for Brody standing guard outside the door.
“How are you feeling?” I asked Lincoln as I adjusted his pillows. “Do you need to push your happy button?”
He was holding his side again, bracing himself against any movement. I tried not to jostle him, but I also wanted to make sure he was comfortable. His muscles were tight and ridged, and he cringed when I tried to straighten his blanket.
I frowned and crinkled my eyebrows. “Is the pain getting worse?”
Shit, I thought. Maybe I should get his nurse.
His good hand grabbed mine as I reached for the button to call his nurse.
“Don’t, Princess. I’m okay.”
“Lincoln, you’re not okay. You’re obviously hurting. If your pain meds aren’t working anymore, we need to tell the nurse.”
“No. They’re fine. I just—I haven’t pushed the button in a while.” His jaw was clenched, his breathing shallow.
Kennedy stood up and approached the other side of his bed. “Why the hell not, Linc?” She was not happy.
He swallowed hard, and his eyes burned into mine. “I don’t want to be loopy. I need to have it together.” For the first time ever, his eyes looked fearful. “I can’t protect you if I’m doped up.”
“Oh, Lincoln.” I leaned over and tried to gently kiss him without bumping him.
“Lincoln, you’ve got a broken rib, a punctured and collapsed lung, and a broken arm. What do you think you’re going to be able to do?” Kennedy’s words were harsh, but it was the truth.
“I don’t—I don’t know. Maybe if we think about this logically, we can figure out something.”
I ran my hand over his cheekbone and down the scruff of his jaw. “Kennedy, can you give us a minute alone, please?” I didn’t look away from Lincoln’s worried eyes as I asked.
“Yeah.” She grabbed her purse and walked out, pausing in the doorway next to Brody. “Just take the damn drugs, little bro.”
I smiled at her persistence. The tension around Lincoln’s eyes faded a bit as I stared down at him, but he still looked determined.
“Don’t try to talk me into taking the meds, Jillian. I want to be focused. Prepared.”
I shook my head while smiling. “I love you, baby, but I think it’s funny you think you have a choice here.”
His eyes widened as he realized what I meant. He tried to grab for the remote with the button to control his pain meds, but I was faster. I held it up just out of his reach, knowing he couldn’t move without putting himself in a massive amount of pain.
“Give me the button,” he demanded.
“No. You are exhausted and injured. You need to relax in order to recover. And you can’t relax when you’re in this much pain.”
“Please don’t, baby. I need—I need to protect you.”
“Lincoln, what do you think is going to happen tonight? You think someone is going to break into your hospital room with Brody at the door and a butt load of security guards downstairs? It’s fine. I’m protected. We’re all safe.”
“Something could be written about you. I need to be able to stop it.”
Softly I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over his good side. He closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, trying to cover the pain my simple movement caused him.
“Lincoln, look at me.” I waited until our eyes connected so he could see my sincerity. “I love that you protect me, but I’m not going to have you in pain at my expense. This is where the team part comes in. Let me be the strong one tonight.”
He exhaled sharply again but didn’t argue when I held up the button that supplied his pain meds and pushed it several times.
Leaning in, I brushed my lips over his and whispered against them. “I love you.”
“I love… too,” he mumbled.
“My stubborn man.” I cupped his cheek. The crooked smile on his face and his half-closed, glazed-over eyes told me he was feeling no pain again. I’d make sure he stayed that way for as long as possible.
Chapter Nineteen
Three days later, I sat in the backseat of Lincoln’s FJ Cruiser holding Lincoln’s hand as Brody drove us through downtown Chicago to the United Center. The Blackhawks staff wanted to evaluate him and come up with a game plan for recovery. It was a shame the season had ended this way, but at least he had several months to recover without missing any games. After the meetings here, we were going to have a conference with Detective Murray and Isaac, my tech guru who saved my thesis paper a few months ago, to speak to them about the university’s cyber security. We were hoping Isaac could inform us if anyone had made any subsequent hacking attempts on my computer.
Lincoln grimaced and squee
zed my hand every time we hit a bump or dip in the road. The poor guy had to be in such pain, but at least according to the chest x-rays they took before discharging him from the hospital, his lung was healing on its own.
Brody drove the SUV into the parking garage under the arena, and after circling around a few times, he parked in the space reserved for Lincoln.
I jumped out and ran around the vehicle to help my man. In reality, he was huge and there was little I could do other than offer a hand for him to hold, but I still wanted to help.
When I opened his car door, I saw Lincoln’s breathing had already quickened in preparation for the impending pain. We had hoped riding in the SUV would be better for him than the town car, but getting him into the vehicle had been a painful process, and I was sure getting him out was going to be just as difficult.
With slow, easy movements, I managed to gently extract him from the vehicle as Brody stood guard. This would have been a lot easier if Brody had helped me, but I knew keeping watch was more important.
Once Lincoln could stand on his own two feet, he leaned against the side of the car to steady himself while I retrieved my purse from the backseat. He threw his good arm over my shoulders and used me for support as we started walking toward the private entrance that led to the Blackhawks’ locker rooms and offices. Brody was a few paces ahead of us when I heard someone behind us.
“Jillian?”
I turned and peeked over Lincoln’s arm. A disheveled woman stood in the middle of the roadway. Her sweat pants and long-sleeved T-shirt hung sloppily off her body, and her dirty-blond hair was pulled up into a messy bun at the top of her head. She was probably about my age, but her messy appearance made her look older.
My mind instantly flipped back to a similar situation in this very spot, only that time her hair, makeup, and clothes were impeccable, and she had been prowling around Deacon, waiting to sink her claws into him.
Before I was able to react, Brody ran past me and tackled the woman. She screamed, but my bodyguard had no mercy for her as they both crashed to the ground hard. Lincoln used his good arm to pull me behind him, shielding me with his body, but I was able to peek around him.
Brody knelt on the woman, pinning her to the ground. One knee was directly in the middle of her back as he produced a pair of handcuffs that had been hidden in his belt and secured her wrists together.
The woman began crying as Brody patted her down, and when I heard her defeated sobs, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Wait,” I ordered as I stepped out from behind Lincoln. Brody ignored me, but Lincoln tried to grab for me to stop me.
“Jillian! Dammit!” he cried as I ran away from him.
I dropped to my knees and pushed back some hair that had fallen out of her messy bun. “Are you all right?”
Her splotchy, tear-soaked face turned into my hand and she pinched her eyes shut and nodded in reply.
“She’s clean. No weapons,” Brody said as he stood.
My arm was pulled back, forcing me to stand, and I looked up and saw it was Lincoln who had pulled me on to my feet. He looked upset and angry.
“She doesn’t have a purse. No ID,” Brody continued.
“Do you know who she is?” Lincoln asked me.
I nodded. “Yes. And so do you, Lincoln. It’s Daisy.”
His blank face told me he had no memory of her.
“Daisy was Deacon’s date to the Brit Ambush concert.”
Recognition sparked on his face. “She’s the one you…?”
I nodded as Lincoln trailed off.
“Do you have a last name, Daisy?” Brody asked as he nudged her hip hard with the toe of his boot.
“Stop!” I demanded. “She hasn’t done anything wrong!”
Brody and Lincoln exchanged a look.
“Lurking in a parking garage, waiting in the shadows for you, doesn’t make me think she wants to give you a box of chocolates, Jillian.”
“I’m sorry!” she said as she held her face away from the ground. “I didn’t know how else to get in contact with you. Deacon won’t return my calls.”
A sliver of pride went through my body for Deacon. I was glad he hadn’t gone back to her. I may have had compassion for her, but I still thought Deacon deserved better.
Brody grabbed her arm and told her to stand up, but kept the handcuffs on her.
Now that she had been tackled and rolled on the ground, she looked even more unkempt. If I saw her on the street, I wouldn’t have recognized her as the woman I gave money to months ago after the concert in order to make sure she had a safe ride home.
Lincoln hobbled a few steps to put himself between Daisy and me. “Why do you need to talk to Jillian?”
Her eyes scanned over my face. “I—I saw what they are saying online about you. That you’re bipolar? Is that true?”
Was that all she wanted? To clarify some rumors?
“No,” I answered. “It’s not true.”
Her eyes flicked between Lincoln and me as she pursed her lips. “So you’re not seeing a therapist?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed.
“Don’t answer that, Jillian. It’s none of her business.” Lincoln turned and began to walk away from her, taking me with him.
“Wait!” she cried. I looked back and saw her struggling against Brody’s grasp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, but I can help you.”
Lincoln turned us around to face her again. “Help us how?”
Daisy’s eyes were full of remorse and regret as she looked at me and then Lincoln. “I know who broke your window.”
~~~~~~~~
Two hours later, Lincoln and I sat at a long conference table at a police station in a room with sad gray walls. Brody stood in the corner of the room. I would have thought this was the last place I would need a bodyguard, but there he was, dutifully watchful, like always.
After Daisy revealed she knew who broke Lincoln’s window, we decided to call the police. Lincoln and I met with the Blackhawks’ medical team and coach while Detective Murray interviewed Daisy. I wished we could watch Daisy being interviewed, but we were ushered in here and told to wait.
We had been sitting for so long on the hard metal chairs, completely uncomfortable and unforgiving, that my butt had gone numb, but I refused to leave Lincoln’s side. He sat close to me with his good arm over my shoulders in a protective manner.
Neither of us knew how to feel, but hope tried to build inside me. Maybe this was the break we had been waiting for. If Daisy knew who was doing this, maybe the police could finally catch the person, and we’d be out of danger.
Then again, neither Lincoln nor I could fathom why anyone would do this. Trying to guess a motive was maddening. We just didn’t have enough information. Suspicion tingled in my mind; however, there was nothing we could do but wait.
And wait.
And wait.
I shifted in my seat, wanting blood flow to return to my posterior region.
Lincoln hugged me tighter to his side. “Are you cold?”
I shook my head. “No. Just sick of waiting and worrying.”
He kissed my head. “It’s going to be okay. This shit will all be over soon.”
Detective Murray and two other men abruptly walked into the conference room and took seats across the table from us. Murray slapped a manila folder down on the table in front of him. A mug shot of Daisy was paper clipped to the front.
Oh, I couldn’t believe this. “You arrested her? Why? She was trying to help us!” I felt like that smidge of hope inside me was snuffed out in an instant.
Murray held his hands up. “Calm down. I’ll explain everything.”
“Detective,” Lincoln said as he fumbled with his phone. “Before you begin, I need to call my brother. He needs to be in on this.”
“Mr. Monaghan, this is merely an informational meeting. You don’t need your lawyer.”
Lincoln had already pulled up Carter’s contact info. He pushed send and set the phone down. “
No one in my family speaks to the police without him present. If he weren’t in DC today, he’d already be in this room with us. He’s been informed on what happened earlier and is waiting for my call.”
Murray relented as the sound of the phone ringing filled the room.
“Linc,” Carter said as he answered.
“Carter. We’re in a conference room with Detective Murray, about to be given an update. You’re on speaker phone.”
“Go ahead,” Carter said quickly, not mincing words.
Murray cleared his throat and set down a recording device. He leaned toward it and spoke. “This is Detective Joshua Murray. Today is Thursday, June 24 at about twenty minutes after noon. With me are Inspector Jacob Rollins and Sergent Xavier Peters. The purpose of this recording is to document the informational meeting with Lincoln Monaghan and Jillian Thompson. Carter Monaghan is on speaker phone.” He looked up at us. “You have not been read your rights as you are not under arrest, and you are free to leave at anytime. By saying yes, you consent to have this meeting be recorded. Is everyone all right with that?”
Carter was the first to agree followed by Lincoln and me.
“Okay, now that that’s out of the way, Daisy Norwood has been charged with obstruction of justice.”
I sputtered my protest, but the detective held up his hand to stop me.
“This isn’t the first time we’ve interviewed her. She knew who broke that window and has been lying to us for months. We can’t overlook that simply because she’s had a change of heart. However, I will be asking the prosecutor to go easy on her and cut her a deal, considering the information she just gave us.”
Lincoln leaned forward slightly. “What information is that?”
Murray opened the manila folder and placed a sheet of paper on the table in front of us. An enlarged printout of Courtney Savak’s Illinois driver’s license took up half the sheet. Her blown-up picture filled the upper left side.
“Do you either of you know her?”
Lincoln and I studied the woman staring back at us from the picture. She reminded me of a poodle. Her hair was puffed up, curled, and clipped to the perfect shape. Her eyes were wide and coated with black charcoal, and her lips puffed out as if she had had them injected with silicone. She looked one-hundred-percent store-bought and high maintenance.
