Wine and Whiskey (Surviving Absolution #1)

by Nikki Belaire

  He doesn’t either. The image of Nick with her still shakes him, grateful the meltdown didn’t escalate beyond him grabbing her wrists. Not certain if he could have pulled the trigger on his best friend, no matter how much they both want to protect her. There’s no question Nick can be an ass, but not to women, and especially never to Shae. Nick would destroy any man, including himself, who would hurt her. He dreads the implosion when the truth comes out.

  “I never thought in a million years I would have to pull a gun on him, let alone see him hurt you.”

  A shaky breath and small nod are her only responses. He refrains from giving her the lecture she deserves. Just like Carrie, he told her to wait, but she took off anyway as soon as his back was turned. At least with Carrie, her busting into the bedroom ended up awkward yet funny. This time could have ended with him at the morgue rather than the emergency room. Why the fuck don’t these women listen?

  He swipes at the screen of his buzzing phone. “Carter’s here.”

  With twisted irony, Nick’s collapse on a Sunday buys them an extra day without anyone being aware of his condition. Carter’s schemes to cover for his absence give them only one or two more days before word gets out and the threats really escalate. They need a game plan. He takes off his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders. “Will you be okay?”

  “Yes. Thanks for always taking care of us. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” She tucks her arms inside the sleeves and wraps them around her legs, resting her head on her knees. Her red, splotchy face and dark circled eyes reflect her worried exhaustion.

  His shoulders droop. Fuck. He can’t leave her like this, so pitiful and scared. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

  Her small smile confirms he’s doing the right thing. She shouldn’t be alone. He steps into the hall, curling his hand around the edge of the door to keep it from shutting all the way in case she needs him. Nick’s right. He is getting soft.

  Carter nods to him. “How is she?”

  “Freaked out.” Just like he is. He rubs his throbbing eyes. “What’s the plan?”

  “We’re going to say it’s an emergency appendectomy, which gets us—”

  Max puts up his hand to stop him as Nathan strides towards them, nodding toward the door. “Is Shae inside?”

  “Yeah.”

  Max and Carter follow Nathan into the waiting room, and Shae grabs Max’s hand and squeezes as he sits next to her. His stomach clenches, uncertain of what he’ll do with her if Nathan delivers bad news.

  Nathan nods before pulling a chair in front of them, his face pinched from stress. “Nick’s unconscious but stable. He’s responding well to the meds, and we’ve been able to reduce the swelling in his brain. I don’t think there’s any permanent damage, but we’ll know more when he wakes up. Right now, we have to wait and see.”

  Unsure of when he crossed the line from job to friendship, his body relaxes at Nathan’s good news. First Nick, then Shae. He’s kidding himself, thinking he’s only concerned about the business.

  Nathan frowns and shakes his head before he continues, “His blood work came back with markedly abnormal levels. I’ve sent his test results to experts who specialize in cerebral edemas. I have a hunch about what caused it, and they can confirm if I’m right.”

  She asks the question before he can get the words out. “What do you think it is?”

  “Normally, I would wait until we know for sure, but if I’m right, you’re in even more danger than usual.” He lets out a long sigh, his voice dropping to a restrained tone. “Someone may be drugging him. His symptoms were so sudden and severe, and nothing else would cause them to come and go. The uneven doses would explain why the first attack was moderate and improved when you went to New York, but returned so intensely when he came back.”

  What the hell? His mind and pulse race at Nathan’s theory. The culprit would have to be someone they trust. No one else could get close enough to Nick to poison him.

  Her fingernails dig into his skin as she squeezes his hand again. “How is that possible? He would know if someone was giving him pills or injections.”

  “He’s ingesting it. We have to figure out what it’s in so you don’t consume any. With your size difference, it would probably kill you if you received a dose. Is there something he eats or drinks no one else does?”

  Now, it’s Max’s turn to rub his forehead. Nick always turns to alcohol when something bothers him. Shae in New York without him would be more than enough to drive him to drink. “Whiskey. She doesn’t drink it, and I haven’t had any lately.”

  Her hand flies over her mouth, and she turns to him. “When Spencer threatened me, he asked if I ever drank whiskey. He knew—”

  “Spencer threatened you, and Nick’s being drugged?” Nathan’s face flushes before he stands up. “Damn it, Shae! This just gets worse and worse. I knew I shouldn’t have let you and Carrie stay at his house.”

  There’s no time for arguing. He has to get her settled so he can sweep the house again and find this son of a bitch before he causes them any more harm. “That’s enough, Nathan. Neither of us can deal with this right now.”

  Nathan scowls as he puts his hands up. “Fine. Let’s focus on Nick right now, and then we’ll talk about the rest later.” His expression softens. “Where’s Carrie?”

  Max glances at his watch. “She’ll be here soon. The plane lands in about ten minutes.”

  She stands up and hugs Nathan, his name badge swinging from her arms sliding around his waist. “I’m sorry to put you into the middle of this. Thank you for helping him.”

  Max meets Nathan’s gaze over her head, raising his eyebrows and nodding. Nathan better fucking comfort her, even if he’s pissed.

  Resistant at first, Nathan sighs and returns her embrace. “You’re welcome. If you see Carrie first, tell her I want to talk to her right away.”

  “Okay. Can we see Nick now?”

  They follow Nathan to a dimly lit room, silent except for the beeping of Nick’s heartbeat across a black screen. His face remains pale with dark circles under his eyes, but the tension is gone. She strokes his forehead before kissing him and whispering, “I’m glad you’re not in pain anymore.”

  Max pulls a chair next to the bed and motions for her to sit down, forcing himself to appear calm for her sake. “The guys are right outside, so you’re both safe. I’ve got to take care of some things. Will you be okay?”

  “Yes, do what you need to do. I’ll be fine.”

  * * * *

  After the door closes, Shae wraps her fingers around Nick’s hand and caresses his relaxed face. He fills almost the entire bed. His muscular arms lie at his sides with an IV drip attached to the back of his right wrist. It would infuriate him to know he’s so weak and vulnerable. “Max said this isn’t my fault. We both know that’s not true. I’ve caused you nothing but problems since we met.”

  If he was awake, he would protest her conclusion and try to convince her otherwise. She lifts his hand and presses it against her cheek. “The worst part is, through it all, I’ve been too scared to tell you how much I love you. I thought I was keeping you from getting hurt, but that’s exactly what I was doing. And, maybe if I had told you how I feel, you would have remembered me last night and not…”

  She swallows down the sob bubbling in her throat and pushes away the memory of Nick dragging her to the floor by her wrists. No. The only thing that matters is him knowing the truth.

  Until now, he’s only shown her love with nothing from her in return. He deserves better. He’s going to know how much she loves him. She’ll wear his ring and set a date. And be happy. Make him happy.

  Giddiness overtakes her, and she smiles to herself. They’ll have a beautiful wedding. With a huge cake. Maybe a double ceremony with Carrie. She laughs out loud. What am I, twelve?

  “I wasn’t expecting to find you laughing in Nick’s hospital room.”

  Carrie! She jumps out of her chair and runs to her. Unexpected tears roll
down her face. She wants to share her happiness with her best friend, but somehow sadness takes over. Why did he hurt me?

  “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. Everything’s going’s to be okay.”

  Her best friend holds her until the heaves subside. Carrie steps back and cups her face, her own lined with worry. “You’re exhausted. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep? I’ll stay with Nick.”

  Shae shakes her head. Carrie doesn’t understand. There’s too much she has to tell him. “I can’t. I have to be here when he wakes up. I have to tell him I love him and make everything okay. He has to know he deserves love, and I—”

  “Whoa, friend. You’ve both been through a lot. I think you need to slow down.”

  “But I love him.”

  “I know. Give him a chance to be conscious for a day or two before you overwhelm him with your proclamation. Okay?”

  She is tired. And scared. Maybe her love isn’t enough. What if it’s too late?

  Carrie plops down on the small sofa in the corner of the room and pats the cushion next to her. Shae rests her head on Carrie’s lap as her best friend strokes her hair. Anxiety releases from her body at the gentle touch. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m sorry we left in such a hurry last night.”

  “It’s okay. I know you needed to get back to Nick.”

  “Yeah, but I was too late.” She rolls up the sleeve to Max’s coat and holds out her arm, purple and blue streaks emerging on the reddened skin. “He hurt me when all I wanted to do was help him.”

  “I know.” Carrie’s voice cracks, and she blows out a long breath. “I’m sorry. He’s going to be devastated when he finds out what he did.”

  “It was the drugs, not him. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

  “That won’t stop him from blaming himself.”

  She shudders at the truth of Carrie’s words. Helping Nick overcome his guilt will take everything she has. And then, there’s the other anger issue. “Did you talk to Nathan?”

  “Yes.”

  The flatness of her voice implies their conversation wasn’t good. “He’s going to make you leave, isn’t he?”

  “Rest your eyes. We’ll talk about it later.”

  * * * *

  Unaware she drifted off, Shae blinks a few times, uncertain where she is.

  Marta’s smile squelches her rising panic as she sits up. “Should say good morning, but is really afternoon.”

  The hospital. She rubs her hand along Max’s jacket before nodding. “Hi. When did you get here?”

  “Hour ago. Jacks bring me.”

  Marta’s news makes her smile. Maybe it’s a sign of positive things to come. “I’m glad he’s feeling better.”

  “Yes. Nick get better and then all is good.”

  “I agree.” She looks around the room, empty except for Nick asleep in the same position as before. His skin feels warm against her hand as she strokes his cheek. “Where’s Carrie?”

  “She with Nathan on break.” Marta holds up a small, red suitcase. “She get you change of clothes.”

  Pressing down her wrinkled dress, Shae nods her head. “I can use it. A shower too.”

  After accepting the bag from Marta, she sits next to the older woman, and covers her fingers with her own. “I’m sorry about what happened between you and Nick. He wasn’t himself. I know he would never hurt you on purpose.”

  Marta stiffens, but doesn’t drop her hand. “He say food no good. Never complain before.”

  “He told me I looked like a slut, and he—”

  “Well, he fired my ass.” Carter’s voice from the doorway interrupts their conversation. “So, I guess I win.”

  Shae smiles at him as he leans against the frame, giving them a smirk. “I think you’re still gainfully employed. Nick wouldn’t really fire his own cousin, would he?”

  Carter shakes his head. “No one else would want the job.” He holds up a cup of coffee. “I’m going to be here for a while. Why don’t you go home and rest?”

  Her smile fades. Nick’s drug-induced wrath hurts them all. If Spencer’s surprises keep coming, it could destroy the strange but loving family they’ve created. She picks up her bag. “Thanks. I actually just woke up. I need to find a place to take a shower.”

  The kind nurse outside Nick’s room provides her with an unoccupied room. Grateful for hot water and a few minutes of privacy, she bathes quickly.

  “Shae?”

  As she dresses, Max’s muffled voice come through the closed door.

  She flinches, pulling the long sleeves of her cardigan over her arms, and steps out. “I’m finished. I was…” Cold chills shudder through her body at his wide-eyed expression. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nick’s awake, and he’s upset you aren’t there. He thinks something’s wrong with you.”

  Just like before. He thought she was dead. Unable to distinguish reality from his dream, he freaked out when he couldn’t find her. She can’t go through it again. “Is he himself?”

  “Yes, he knows all of us. But he wants you.”

  He needs her, and she disappoints him again. She runs down the hallway to his room with Max right behind her. Overwhelmed with emotions squeezing her chest, she pauses at the door.

  He tips his head down to hers. “I’ll stay and make sure everything’s okay.”

  She nods and pushes against the handle. Nick sits on the side of the bed, his head drooped down and his hands on his knees. He looks up at her, blinking with a drowsy gaze, and reaches for her. “Come here, sweetness.”

  The same hand that hurt her. The same hand that makes her fear him. She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Don’t be afraid.” Nick extends his hand farther, enticing her to come to him. His raspy voice is barely audible over her pounding heart. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt me.”

  I’m afraid you’ll hurt me.

  An argument rages between her head and heart as to which Nick sits in front of her. The one who probably loves her more than he loves himself, or the one who hurt her more than anyone ever has. Either way, fear doesn’t diminish her worry. “Are you in pain?”

  He shakes his head, his eyes shutting for a few seconds before he swallows. “No, just tired.”

  His hospital gown lies wadded on the floor, exposing his broad shoulders and chiseled torso as he sits on the side of the bed wearing only his boxers. The ability to bench press more than three hundred pounds rendered useless against the chemicals weakening his body and poisoning his mind.

  He absentmindedly rubs his arm, squeezing his bicep. “Maybe a little sore.”

  Just like their first gym date. Massaging his muscles, strained from Jason’s demanding workout, he humored her with the notion her favorite planks were the cause of his tenderness. An immediate hero and protector to her, he asked for nothing except her heart. Drawing her in like water to a cactus, he quenched the loneliness she inflicted upon herself. Now, she’s parched with fear.

  “Then what are you doing up? You should get back into bed.”

  “I needed to find you and make sure you were okay.”

  No one but Nick would wake up in the hospital and have his first thought be about her. His relentless concern never wavers, even as he fights his own enemies. He seeks reassurance of her safety, unaware of the precariousness of their relationship through his unintentional volition.

  “You might have fallen.”

  Groggy eyes zero in on hers. “I would have crawled if I had to. You know I’d do whatever I have to do to be with you.”

  Yes, she knows. She’s always known. The fear constricting her heart loosens. This is her Nick. The man she can trust. She has no reason to fear him.

  As soon as she’s within reach, he grasps her waist and holds her against him. He kisses her temple before tucking his head into her neck. “Thank God you’re okay.”

  Standing between his legs, she relaxes into his embrace, welcoming his tender caress of her head. “I�
��m supposed to be saying that to you. You’re the patient.”

  “I don’t understand why. What happened to me?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Everything’s foggy. I came back from New York and then… I don’t know.”

  The days are gone from his memory. No idea what he’s said or done to her. Or any of them. She glances at Max, whose nod is so slight she wonders if she imagined it.

  He lifts his head, frowning as he studies her face. “Did you have to cut your trip short? Are you going back to New York?”

  “No, I came back early this morning. It’s Sunday night.”

  “Why can’t I remember?” His soft voice questions himself more than her.

  Max lets out a long sigh. He dreads telling Nick as much as she does. “Nathan thinks you may have been drugged.”

  “What the fuck?”

  I’m fucking talking to you. Never fucking walk away when I’m talking to you.

  She steps backward, out of his reach. His body may be weak, but his temper burns at full force.

  “From the threats Spencer made to her, it looks like he laced your whiskey.” Holding up his hands, Max keeps his voice steady as Nick’s face flushes. “My guys have swept the office, house, and cars again, and they’ve dumped anything that can be ingested just to be sure—food, drinks, toothpaste, everything.”

  Nick pushes himself up. “I’m going to fucking kill that bastard.”

  “It’s taken care of. I’ve got all my available guys searching for him and two PIs running down his background. You can’t do anything I’m not already doing. We’ll find him, and then it’ll be over.”

  Forget the police or a trial. They appoint themselves judge and executioner in their lawless world. Spencer almost killed Nick, and now they’re the ones who decide his fate. She shakes her head, unable to focus on that right now. “You’re still really sick. Please don’t get out of bed.”

  “She’s right. Let me handle it.”

  Before Nick can respond, the door swings open, and Nathan strides in with a nurse following behind him. “I heard you were awake…” Nathan glances at the clothing on the floor before shaking his head. “And causing trouble.”