by Lori Foster
Driven by new urgency, she crouched beside Tim again. “Can you sit up?”
“Yeah.” His eye closed. “If you hel’ me.”
He reached out a shaking hand and May clasped it, then put it to her shoulder. “Hold on to me.” Bracing one arm around his chest, the other across his back, she struggled to get him upright.
He made it to his knees, and with her prodding, finally lumbered to his feet. Sweat poured down his face, and his every drink-soured breath echoed with pain.
“This way.” Gently, May guided him into a step.
He more or less fell against her, and they both nearly toppled.
“Tim!” May balanced him until he collapsed on the cushions of her couch. Never in her life had she seen anyone beaten. This was different from what Jude had done in the SBC. That was sport; this was…just awful.
It pained her to look at Tim. “I’m calling 911. Hang on.”
“No, you can’t.”
“I have to.” The uncontrolled terror in her tone startled May. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath. “Tim,” she said, sounding more reasonable, stronger. “Whatever’s happened, you need to go to the hospital, and we need to notify the police.”
On a groan, he asked, “D’you want me… murdered?”
Her knees turned to noodles. “You can’t be serious.”
His eye opened again. “Dead s’rious.”
Murdered.
Dead.
Until she’d reached her front door, May wasn’t aware of her feet moving. She turned the deadbolt, taking little satisfaction in the quiet snick it made. If someone truly wanted in, her locks wouldn’t be much help.
Next, she raced to the window, checked that lock, and jerked the curtains shut. The only other window was in her bedroom and as she entered the dark room, her skin crawled, but she didn’t dare turn on any lights.
Finally, she came in to sit beside Tim.
Taking care, she touched his face, smoothing aside his brown hair. “You’re in bad shape, Tim. You need help.”
“Yeah. Ev’rythin’s fucked up. I thought…” He tried to swallow. “Need a drink.”
May considered calling the police despite his protests. It was hard to tell under all the blood, but he could need the type of medical care she couldn’t give. Still, knowing her brother, she had to hear the whole story first. “All right. I’ll get you something.”
When she returned with a tray, she found Tim slumped to the side. “Tim?”
He flinched. “Sorry. Nodded off.”
May set the tray on the coffee table and lifted a glass of tea to Tim’s mouth. “Just sip it. Easy now.”
It trickled down his chin and into his ruined shirt, but he swallowed, drinking half a glass before turning his face away.
She needed to see the extent of the damage, so she dipped a dish towel into a bowl of icy water and began a careful mopping of his face. Except for a wince here and there, Tim hardly seemed aware of her efforts. Beneath the blood, bruises mottled his skin and a cut marred his cheekbone. She ran her fingers along the bridge of his nose, his brow, and finally, his jaw.
“Your face is going to be swollen a while, but I don’t think anything is broken.”
“Un-fuckin’ b’lievable.”
Meaning he’d expected some breaks? She wasn’t surprised. He had to be in a lot of pain. “What about your ribs?”
“They hur’ like hell.”
“Take a breath.”
He did, wincing the whole time. “The only way to know if any are cracked is with an X-ray.”
“No.”
“So we’ll have to assume they aren’t.” Her hands shook as she rinsed out the rag and went back to cleaning him. She’d be strong for Tim, but inside, her stomach roiled. “Now, tell me who did this to you.”
“Shhh…” he whispered, “C’mere.”
May leaned in, putting her ear near his mouth. “What is it?”
“We have to whisper.”
“Why?”
“I could be… bugged.”
She drew back in surprise. “That’s ridiculous.” Maybe he’d drunk so much that he now hallucinated.
“It’s true, dam’it. An’ you could be bugged. Both of us. Everything. They know things…”
“All right. Calm down.” She and her brother had their differences, but she loved him, and if humoring him would help, she’d humor him. Matching his hushed tone, she asked, “Why would someone attack you?”
Again, he beckoned her closer. “I owe… people.”
Damn it. “Tim, you said you weren’t gambling.”
“I lied.”
“All right.” May clenched her hands together. “How much?”
While averting his face, he raised himself a little higher on the couch cushions. “A lot.”
“What does that mean, Tim?” When he didn’t answer, she leaned around, her face in his. “How much do you owe?”
In a breath of sound, he whispered, “Fif’y thousan’.”
A dousing of ice water couldn’t have shocked her more. Her brain went numb at the enormity of such a debt. She didn’t have that kind of money, couldn’t even raise that kind of money if he gave her a month. “You can’t.” She shook her head. “It’s not possible.”
“Sorry, but I do.”
“How… How could you?”
“Dunno.” He touched his bottom lip with unsteady fingers. “I was at the boats. Ran outta money. A guy offer’d… to fron’ me.” His abused face puckered in a scowl. “I was set up, ‘s not my fault!”
He’d taken money from a stranger? A loan shark? In Ohio?
May shot to her feet, but that jostled the couch, and Tim groaned, grabbing for her, his words tumbling out fast and slurred.
“Don’t lea’ me,” he begged. Big tears leaked out, and his lips quivered. “May.” He choked on a sob. “I’m scared.”
Guilt churned inside her. Guilt, and anger, and resentment. But none of that would help. She reseated herself beside him. Because speaking aloud agitated him, she kept her voice low. “Tim, I don’t have that kind of money. Not even close.”
He nodded acceptance of that fact.
Hoping to convince him so that he wouldn’t upset himself more, she took his hands in hers. “We can call the police. They’ll help—”
“You do, an’ they’ll kill me. They said so.”
“Who?”
He shook all over. “Dunno. But they mean it, May. It was dark. They hit me. Over an’ over an’…”
Trying to be reasonable in the face of his fear wasn’t easy. “My door’s locked. There are other people in the building. If you don’t leave here until the police come, how can they get you?”
He swallowed hard, then lowered his head. “They said they’d be watchin’ me, that they had me bugged. They said… they said someone would tail me 24/7. They said I wouldn’t piss without them knowin’, that if I go to cops, I’m dead.” He gulped hard. “Fuck, m’sorry, May. So sorry. But they… they know you, too. If they don’t get me, then…”
May’s heart skipped a beat
“They’ll get you.”
Dazed, she came to her feet. “Me?”
“It’ll be ‘kay. They wan’ a favor. You can help me, then I’ll be even.”
She didn’t want to know, she didn’t want to know… “What kind of favor?”
“Promise you’ll help me.” His face crumbled on more tears. “Promise me, May.”
Too many times she’d seen Tim cry when drunk, wallowing in his own self-pity, always blaming others instead of taking responsibility. It sickened her. But this time, it seemed he had legitimate reasons for his upset. “Calm down, Tim. Of course, I’ll help you. So what is it?”
His damaged gaze met her fearful one. “I haf… t’kill… Jude Jamison.”
Chapter 4
Ashley Miles did a little two-step, jiggling along to the music in her CD player as she pushed the vacuum cleaner down the twelfth floor hallway in the
enormous, empty building. Thirty minutes more and she could head home for some serious study time.
She might be one of the oldest students, but she got better grades than the teenagers, so what did she care?
She’d just turned off the vacuum when her cell phone vibrated, making her jump. “Jesus!” Falling against the wall, then laughing at herself, she pulled her headphones off her ears and retrieved the phone from her jeans pocket. “Hey-lo.”
“It’s May.”
Immediately, alarm bells went off in her head. May never, ever called her at work. Heck, May was never even awake at this time of the night. Unlike Ashley, who hooted with the nocturnal owls, May liked to soar with the early eagles.
Pushing away from the wall, Ashley demanded, “What’s wrong?”
Voice too light and animated, May said, “I thought maybe you’d come over for a visit.”
“A visit?” Ashley glanced at her watch. Whoa. “You want me to visit tonight?”
“Yes.”
She could practically see May pacing, her hand gripping the phone. They were closer than sisters, and very best friends. “Sure, May, I could do that. Wanna tell me why?”
“We haven’t had a chance to talk lately.”
“And you want to talk now?”
“That’s right. You had that new outfit to show me, remember? The flashy one?”
Ashley snorted. All her outfits were flashy. She liked bright clothes and lots of texture, unlike May who wouldn’t give up on her awful suits. “One question, okay, hon?”
“Uh… maybe.”
“Do you think you can have some coffee ready when I get there?”
The audible relief in May’s tone told her everything she had to know. May needed her. Why, Ashley didn’t know. It didn’t matter, anyway. Any opportunity to pay May back thrilled her. If it weren’t for May, she would have given up on herself long ago. “I can be there in half an hour.”
“The coffee will be waiting. Thanks.”
“Lookin’ forward to it, toots. Buh-bye.” Ashley disconnected the phone, stuffed it back in her pocket, and began winding up the cord to the vacuum. Judging by May’s behavior, she had no time to waste. A glance at her funky pink jeans with zippered hems and a button fly, yellow-and-pink-checked slip-on sneakers, and her stretch lace tee of yellow and pink roses assured her that her outfit would fit the bill.
The only time May ever cared what she wore was… Oh, wow. When she wanted to trade identities.
The elevator suddenly dinged, jolting Ashley out of her stupor. Being on the twelfth floor, she normally had to wait forever for the elevator to reach her. But not tonight.
She broke into a jog so she wouldn’t miss the ride, and reached the elevators just as a male form stepped out in her path.
Too late to put on her brakes. “Oh shit.”
Quinton Murphy, hunk in a suit, CPO of a lucrative consulting firm in the building, gave her one startled glance out of piercing green eyes, accepted the impact of her body against his, and managed to catch her in his arms.
“Oof!” His papers scattered everywhere, and together, caught by momentum, they tripped over the vacuum she towed along.
They went down in a heap, arms and legs tangled in the vacuum cord and hoses. Ashley pushed up, saw his still, perfectly sculpted face, smelled his delicious scent, and scampered away from him.
Speechless, heart punching into her ribs, she crouched beside him. He looked… flattened.
Their gazes locked, and then he smiled. “Good evening.”
Sitting back on her heels, Ashley groaned. “I am so sorry. Are you okay?”
He lifted his head to look at his body. “Other than a possible concussion, a few broken limbs… yeah, I’m fine.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
Another smile. “I’m joking.” He sat up, smoothed back his dark blond hair, and dusted off his hands. Rather than stand, he draped his wrists over his knees and gave her all his attention. “So, in a hurry, are you?”
Busted. She hadn’t finished the rest of the floor. Her shift should have lasted another half hour. But shoot, if he got mad and ratted her out, she could always find another seven dollar an hour night-shift job, right?
“Actually, yeah. I was going to cut out a little early.” She winced. “I didn’t expect anyone to know. I mean, usually the floor is empty this time of night, except for Flint.”
“Flint?”
“The guard. He hangs down by the front doors, but every hour or so”—she looked left and right, leaned forward, and said in a dramatic, conspiratorial, hush-hush whisper—”he reconnoiters the floors.”
“Ah. How conscientious of him.” Quinton leaned forward, too, aligning their mouths, looking directly into her eyes. The impact was awesome. “I bet he manages to linger on whatever floor you’re on, doesn’t he?”
Ashley almost wished she had more time. Not that she intended to get involved with Mr. Big Shot. Oh no. But flirting was fun. “It does seem that way.” She pushed to her feet, then held out a hand.
He accepted, although he stood with no real help from her. “Quinton Murphy.”
“Yeah, I know. Heard all about you.”
One tawny brow lifted. “From… ?”
He kept her right hand, so Ashley gestured with her left. “The females who’re leaving work when I’m coming in. And the females who are coming in when I’m leaving.”
“They work for me?”
“I don’t think so. They’re more… casual. They probably work in other parts of the building.”
“They’re casual in dress, you mean? Like you?”
She grinned. “I like color—almost as much as I like gossip.”
“You don’t say?” He rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure I recall any female employees outside my own company.”
“That’s all right. They certainly know you. Or, that is, they know of you.”
Both brows lifted. “Really?”
“You’re the head honcho around here.”
That made him laugh. “The curiosity is killing me. Have they run me down or sung my praises?”
“Nothing but song, cross my heart. Unless you consider ‘workaholic’ a slight. But how could you when it’s apparently true?”
“You’re sure of that, are you?”
She pointed out his presence and the papers scattered all around them. “From all indications, you put in a lot of hours.”
“I see.” He released her to right the vacuum and pick up his papers. “So I’m here late, and you’re leaving early. Seems we both have odd hours.”
“Yeah, uh…” His voice was so smooth, Ashley couldn’t tell if he was threatening to report her, or making a pact. “I’m a good worker. Never sick, never late. Usually I don’t leave early, either. It’s just that an emergency has come up and I—”
“Your secret is safe with me. Or at least it will be if you’ll give me your name.”
Shew. He intended to be reasonable. “Ashley Miles.”
“So, Ashley, I say we cement this new friendship with dinner tomorrow before your shift. What do you say?”
The invite was so smooth, it took her a second to digest it. Technically, he broke no rules by asking. She didn’t work for him. Quinton Murphy leased space, but he had his own employees separate from the building management. She didn’t answer to him, and he didn’t sign her paychecks.
But that didn’t mean she’d take the bait.
Cocking out a hip and narrowing her eyes, Ashley surveyed him. Slick. Slick in an expensive suit. Despite devastating good looks, an awesome build, plenty of height, and sex appeal that radiated off him in hot waves, she had the sense to smile and say, “Sorry, no can do.”
“The day after?”
She shrugged. Her life left no room for men. Maybe in a year or two, but for now, she had only one answer. “I’m busy, busy. Crazy schedule and all that.” And before he could ask, she said, “Always.” And with drama, “It just never ends, ya know?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s right.” Using the vacuum handle like a cane, she relaxed her stance. “I’m here long after you and everyone else has left.”
“Except for Flint.”
“And Rudy and Aiden.”
“Rudy and… ?”
“Rudy is a guard, too. But he’s older and doesn’t prowl around as much. Aiden cleans the floors below mine.” Pretending deep thought, she mused, “And I guess there must be others, too. I mean, I only do four floors. And this is a big building.”
“Any other women work with you?”
“Nope, not that I’ve ever noticed. I don’t think women like night shift.”
“But you do?”
“It suits me.”
“And why is that?”
Not that it was any of his business, but she figured, what the heck? She crossed her arms and straightened. “I’m going to school. My hours have to fit around that.”
“I see.”
She looked every year of twenty-seven, but he didn’t so much as blink.
“What’s your major?”
“Nursing.” And then, seeing no help for it, she flattened a hand to his chest and gently nudged him away. “And really, I am in a hurry, so… if you’ll forgive me?”
“Right.” He stepped back, but as the doors started to close, he said, “I’ll be seeing you around, Ms. Miles.”
Ashley smiled—until the closed doors blocked the sight of him. Then she collapsed back against the brass rail and whistled. “Not if I see you first, Mr. Murphy.”
———
Once Ashley got over the shock of seeing Tim pulverized, she checked him out. Going by what she’d already learned in nursing school, he’d live. Not that she planned to celebrate. He made May’s life hell, and she for one disliked him for it.
“I promise, May, it’s not as bad as it looks. So much blood makes you think the injuries are more severe than they are. Most of it’s just bluster—you know, superficial stuff.” Of course, the way Tim carried on would be enough to make someone think he hovered at death’s door.
