Michael threw a short jab into the man’s face. He felt cartilage give under his knuckles. Rick Stein howled and doubled over, his hands flying to his face. His voice was muffled. “My nose! You’ve broken my nose!”
Michael hit him again, a hard blow to the body followed by a wicked hook to the jaw. The man’s head whipped to the side, blood spraying from his mouth. He crashed down to the hard pavement. The ex-husband lay still, his limbs flung out at awkward angles.
Michael waited for a moment, but the man didn’t get up. He felt a flicker of concern. Shit. He squatted down to lay two fingers against the man’s neck. There was a pulse. Good. The asshole was breathing.
Michael stood up. His breath came easy. “That was for Chloe, you sorry slimeball.” He stared down at the man’s supine form, feeling a distinct sense of satisfaction. It was too bad that he couldn’t expiate his own guilt so easily, he thought.
He turned, quickly walking away. The parking lot was almost deserted. A few of the overhead lights were on, making isolated pools on the black pavement. The car was parked in a darkened area not penetrated by any of the lights.
Muffled in a coat and wearing a red ski cap, Darryl leaned against the side of the sleek BMW 328I. His arms were crossed casually over his broad chest as though he wasn’t in any particular hurry. He straightened as Michael approached at a rapid pace and reached the car.
Without a word spoken, they got into the black BMW. With a deft twist, Darryl started the ignition. Before shifting into gear, he looked across the center console. “Feel better?”
“Yeah, yeah, I do.” Michael flexed his bruised fingers and shook out the hand. “Damn, that hurt like a son of a bitch.”
Darryl laughed. He shifted gears and gunned the V6 engine.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Two months later, Michael and Darryl were finalizing business plans for the week. When his cell rang, Michael glanced with irritation at the caller ID. With the divorce proceedings, he had talked to his ex-wife more in the last few weeks than he had in years.
But the call wasn’t from his ex-wife. Winter. His mind over-circuited, and everything was crowded out of his mind. “Hold on, Darryl. I’ve got to take this.”
Darryl nodded and returned his attention back to the figures for the bid on their newest job.
“Michael?” It was not Winter’s voice. Thick, raspy, it wasn’t a voice that Michael recognized. He felt the swift let-down. Yet the call had come in on Winter’s number. He frowned. “This is Michael. Who is this?”
“Michael, it’s Vicky Sotero. We met—”
“I remember,” he said quickly. “I don’t understand. Why are you calling me from this number?”
“It’s Cathy. I–I’m sorry.”
Michael straightened, his whole body tensing. Dread knotted his stomach. “Is she in some kind of trouble?” he asked tersely.
Darryl looked up, his expression alert. “Mike, what’s going on?”
Michael waved his friend silent. His whole concentration was riveted. “Vicky?”
“She may be dying. I shouldn’t call you. She wouldn’t want me to. But I had to let you know! She was in a c–car c–crash!”
Michael felt his body jerk as though electrocuted. The edge of the cell cut into his palm when his fingers clenched around it. “What do you mean…dying?” He could hear the woman’s broken sobbing, and he shouted, “Talk to me, damn it!”
Vicky poured out what she knew, obviously trying for control, but her voice shook. As Michael listened in numb horror, certain phrases resonated. Didn’t want to see him…losing the baby…massive hemorrhage.
Michael extracted as much information out of Vicky Sotero as he could. Cathy had discovered that she was pregnant. She had declared that Michael didn’t need to know because she had broken it off. She did not want to see him again. There had been a multiple-car collision on the freeway. Vicky’s conscience had gotten the better of her. She hadn’t had his business card with her, but she had found the phone in Cathy’s purse. She was calling from the hospital.
“I’m coming to the hospital, Vicky.” Michael ended the call, clipping his words. He jerked to his feet and strode swiftly across the office. His mind was whirling. He felt almost physically ill from the fear and adrenaline that rushed through his body.
Darryl had long since set aside the papers. He stood up and followed. “What’s going on, Mike?”
Michael yanked open the office door. Over his shoulder, he said brusquely, “I’ve got to go. Catherine is in the hospital.”
Darryl immediately palmed his keys. “I’ll take you.”
“No, that’s okay.” Michael started through the door.
Darryl grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Mike, you’re not in any shape to drive. Look at yourself, man! You’re hands are shaking! I’m not going to have you wreck on the way over there.” There was a mulish set to his mouth. “I’m driving.”
Michael nodded. It wasn’t worth the time to argue. Besides, on a certain level, he was even grateful. “Okay. You drive.”
They made it to the hospital in record time, though to Michael it felt like an eon. He jumped out of the BMW, not even glancing as Darryl sped off in search of a parking spot. Michael strode into the emergency-room waiting area. He swept a searching glance around and found the woman he remembered. His brain fleetingly registered that the Thompsons were also there. But Vicky Sotero was the one he was interested in. She was the one who had called him. “Vicky!”
She was seated tensely on the edge of a chair. Her head jerked up at sound of her name. Her eyes were reddened and puffy. The black tracks of mascara had melted under her dark eyes. She leaped to her feet and surged toward him, her hands outstretched. “Michael!”
He caught her hands in a painful grip.
“Lambert? What are you doing here?”
Michael didn’t acknowledge the astonished query. All of his attention was focused on Vicky Sotero and what she could tell him. He snapped hoarsely, “Where is she, Vicky?”
The expression in Vicky’s huge eyes was tragic. “In ICU. The doctor said—”
But Michael didn’t wait to hear what else she would have said. He swept past her, making his way purposefully to the doors of the ICU.
“Michael!” Vicky hurried after him and grabbed his arm. “Cathy wouldn’t want you to do this! I just called you because—”
He turned an icy stare on her, demanding fiercely, “What did you think I would do? Did you really think that I was just going to walk away? Maybe come back to watch her buried? I’m not going anywhere! She wouldn’t let me be there for her and Chloe, but I will damn sure be here for her now!”
Vicky shrank back. The Thompsons appeared to be shocked to speechlessness.
A nurse tried to head Michael off. “Sir, you can’t go in there. Sir!”
Michael paid no attention. He shoved open the metal door to ICU and went in, the others following in his wake. By then, Darryl had hurried in, and he brought up the rear.
The physician on duty turned. A frown deepened the fatigue on his face. “This area is restricted to family only.”
“Who the hell do you think you are, Lambert, barging in?” demanded John Thompson angrily. “You haven’t got any right to be here.”
Michael ignored him and everything else. He had eyes only for the woman lying on the bed in front of him. She lay very still, her face deathly pale. Her eyes were closed. Tubes went into her nose and her arms. There was the ping of a heart monitor. She appeared very fragile, all of her fire extinguished. Her auburn curls were stark ribbons against the white pillow. Without taking his gaze from her, Michael addressed the physician. A tick was jumping in his tightly-held jaw. “Is she all right?”
“And you are?” The physician’s tone was cool.
Michael tore his gaze away and turned to the doctor. Grimly, he said, “Lambert, Michael Lambert. The father of her baby.”
“You son of a bitch!” John Thompson stepped forward, grabbing for Micha
el’s shoulder.
Suddenly Darryl was there, insinuating himself between the two men. His long brown fingers wrapped around John Thompson’s forearm. “That’ll be enough, my man.”
Michael shook off Thompson’s stubborn hold. He looked into the man’s angry blue eyes and said swiftly, “We broke up. I didn’t know she was pregnant until Vicky called me. I came as soon as I heard.”
“Is this true, Vicky?” Pam pinned an accusing glare on the woman. “You called him? You know that Cathy didn’t want to see him again!”
“He had a right to know!” Vicky was defiant, but she was biting her lip.
“It wasn’t your decision to make!”
“She’s dying!” Vicky jammed a fist against her mouth. Fresh tears streamed down her face.
Michael couldn’t take any more. His voice cracked like a whip. “Is she going to live?”
The physician looked narrowly at him. At whatever he saw, he gave a sharp nod. “Ms. Somerset suffered internal injuries, Mr. Lambert. She hemorrhaged heavily and had internal bleeding. We weren’t able to save the fetus. We just brought her out of surgery.”
“And?” Michael could feel himself quivering. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He felt like he was going to explode or be sick or both. A sense of helplessness pervaded him.
“As I have already related to Ms. Somerset’s family, I will not hide from you my grave concerns about the blood loss. Ms. Somerset required massive transfusions. She has a rare blood type, a rare negative, and we have exhausted our on-hand supply. We have ordered more to be flown in. If it arrives in time…”
Michael felt himself steadying. He nodded, his gaze once more fastening on her waxen face. He undid the cuff at his wrist and jerkily started to roll up his shirt sleeve. “I’ll give her the time she needs. I’m O negative.”
“A universal donor.” The physician’s eyes crinkled with his slight smile. “Your timing could not be better.”
Michael looked back to the physician. “Drain me. I’ll sign any paperwork you want.”
The physician gave an abrupt nod. He barked orders to the hovering staff. “Another bed, people. Prep the man. I want the consent forms stat! Let’s move it! And get these other people out of here!”
A nurse urged the others out of the ICU. Darryl hung back for a moment to clap a hand against Michael’s shoulder. “Good luck!”
Michael gave a nod, glancing up only briefly as his friend left the ICU.
* * * *
After she was stabilized, Cathy was moved to a private room. She wakened, groggy and disoriented. She became aware of small sounds, familiar sounds, and low voices. The hospital. She forced up her heavy eyelids. Bright light seared her eyes then her sight steadied. Her sister’s anxious face hovered over her, and over Pam’s shoulder, she saw her brother-in-law’s wearied features. She wet her dry lips. “Hi.” She could barely hear herself, but she saw the change in Pam’s expression.
“Thank God! Cathy!”
“What happened?” she croaked. They told her hesitantly, fumblingly, pityingly. Cathy absorbed it all without speaking. Her eyes flickered only when they told her about Michael’s role. “Chloe?”
It was John who answered. “We haven’t told her. We didn’t want to worry her. I went upstairs to check on her a little while ago. She’s okay.”
* * * *
When the news was relayed to Michael that she had wakened and recognized her sister and brother-in-law, he felt a huge surge of relief. He was physically recovered from the bloodletting, but it still took all he had to go into the hospital room to face her.
He paused just inside the door. The Thompsons turned unfriendly, wary gazes on him. As one, they looked back at Cathy in a way that spoke volumes. She shook her head. Her voice was a mere whisper. “It’s okay.”
John scowled in disapproval. “We’ll leave you alone for a few minutes then.”
He and his wife got up with obvious reluctance to exit the private room. Michael stood aside for them to walk past. John threw a glance of warning at him before the door closed.
Michael thrust his hands into his pants pockets and walked forward. His gaze never left her face. “I don’t blame them for not trusting me with you.”
Cathy watched his slow approach toward the bed. She felt at a distinct disadvantage lying there under the bedclothes. The tension ratcheted up, almost palpable. She plucked nervously at the bedcovers. She made an effort to strengthen her voice, but it still came out sounding like a thin reed. “Why did you–you ask to see me?”
He did not immediately answer. He took his hands out of his pockets but then didn’t seem to know what to do with them. He moved restlessly from the foot of the hospital bed to the sun-streaked window and back again. Finally, he said, “I—wanted to see how you were.”
“The doctor said I am doing fine.” Though she didn’t want to owe him anything, Cathy reluctantly acknowledged her debt. “They told me—you saved my life. It was good of you to—”
His ice-blue eyes blazed. He bit off a savage laugh. “Yeah, I’m a great bastard.” He thrust his fingers through his hair. Guilt, anger, and something else flickered across his face. He turned his eyes to the window for a long, tense moment. Then Michael looked back at her, deep regret in his gaze. “I’m sorry about the baby, Catherine. I would have liked—wanted—” He broke off, making a strange gesture of helplessness.
Cathy dropped her gaze, unable to stand the odd vulnerability in his expression. The stress of his presence grew on her. She cast up a fleeting glance. He was staring down at her with such a strange look on his face. The tiredness suddenly swamped her. She was so not up to this. She sighed. “Michael, I want you to go. But first, explain it to me. All of it.”
He narrowed his eyes, the cold gunslinger look intimidating. “I don’t see any reason to discuss the past right now.’
Cathy didn’t back off. “You owe me, you bastard!” She met him stare for stare. She could afford to wait. She had nothing left to lose. The silence was deafening.
Michael was the first to break away. He swung round to the window, turned so that his profile was to her. His voice rough, he said, “You’re right. I do owe you.” He drew an audible breath, as though he braced himself. “When Morgan and I married, I thought we had one of the lucky marriages that would beat all of the odds. We had a good life with the house and all the perks. Morgan didn’t want a family. I did. I thought we would work it out. Both of us were ambitious and driven. We spent long hours at our jobs, but when we were together, we were compatible in every way.”
His words hit her like shards of glass. He obviously loved his wife. She hadn’t imagined that it would hit her so hard. Cathy forced out stiff words. “So what went wrong?”
He thrust his hands into his pockets. Tension suddenly radiated from his body. His voice flattened. “One day I came in from a business trip early. I was bored, restless, unable to sleep.”
Cathy discovered that her fingernails were cutting into her palms. Though she hated herself for it, she was still attuned to the nuances of his voice. The terse words were underlaid with such strong emotion that she suddenly realized whatever was inside his head would cost him dear to air. She couldn’t let him do that to himself. “Michael, you don’t have to tell me.”
He turned his head. His pale eyes were blazing. “You wanted to hear it, Catherine!”
She realized that he had come too far to retreat. She licked dry lips. “All right.”
Michael’s voice became steely. “There was a DVD left in the player. I clicked it on. It wasn’t a movie. My wife and her personal trainer had filmed themselves fucking each other. There was not just one encounter recorded, but several, dated over a series of months.” He paused, then shrugged. “She is still with him.”
Cathy was stunned. Thoughts and emotions tumbled through her, pity and compassion uppermost. So much about their own relationship was suddenly made clear to her. Their arrangement, built on impersonal boundaries that he h
ad insisted on. After what his wife had done, he obviously couldn’t place trust in anyone. Then she had told him she loved him, and that’s when he had pulled the rabbit out of the hat. I have a wife.
Cathy’s gaze locked on his face.
“Don’t look at me like that, Winter!” He was suddenly breathing as hard as if he had been running. He swung around, starting swiftly for the door, obviously intent on getting out of the hospital room away from her.
Cold fury poured through her, lending strength to her battered body. She sat bolt upright and shouted at his back. “Don’t you dare run away, Michael! Be honest with yourself! And with me! You started to feel something for me, didn’t you? Didn’t you!”
He turned to face her, white-faced. He didn’t deny it.
“You tried sealing yourself off, but that didn’t work. You were still so wound up in your wife’s adultery that you refused to give us a chance! Damn you, Michael!”
Through the blur of her tears, she could make out his hazy form. He started toward her. She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes. She saw his outstretched hand. “No, don’t! Don’t touch me! I can’t take any more. Get out, Michael! Leave me alone! Please! Just go!”
Michael jerked as though he had been shot. His arm dropped to his side. He became very still as his eyes searched her face. Barely above a hoarse whisper, he asked, “Are you sure? Is that what you want?”
“You can’t trust me. You can’t trust yourself. That leaves us nowhere, Michael.” She closed her eyes and fell back against the pillows. She was deathly tired. “I’m tired.” Her body felt so cold. She wrapped her arms around herself.
There were several heartbeats of complete silence except for the harshness of his breathing and the ping of the heart monitor. Then she heard the soft footfalls approach. Cathy felt the unexpected warmth of Michael’s lips pressing against her forehead. That night after they had made out at the movie theater, just before he had told her goodnight, he had made the same tender gesture. She had thought it meant something.
Roberts, Sarah - His Sugar Baby (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 26
