by Tami Lund
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“Maybe you should ask him to come back, when this is all over.”
“He made his decision.”
“Did he?”
She had hoped not, but considering she’d woken up alone in the house this morning, it looked like it was time to admit she’d been wrong about him all along.
• • •
Tuesday was normally a reasonably slow day at the restaurant, but not today. Today, it was packed from the moment Emily Kate flipped the switch to illuminate the OPEN sign to the moment she flipped it off at ten o’clock. The patrons wanted to know alternately if Connor was still in town and if he was the same Connor Rikeland whose picture had been on the front page of the newspaper.
There were rumors of dead bodies, too, and that Connor was somehow involved.
“I heard he poisoned a guy and then buried the body up in Arkansas.”
“Oh yeah? Well I heard he scammed the casinos out of a million dollars. Each.”
“I heard he ran off to Hollywood to become an actor.”
“I heard he went to Vegas to marry a model.”
“I heard he’s going to be chef to the stars.”
And on and on they whispered, they talked, they gossiped. Through it all, Cullen sat in a corner booth, with his laptop open in front of him and his cellphone more often than not glued to his ear, while Emily Kate was forced to play hostess, greeting patrons and trying to keep a smiling face at the mostly ridiculous questions and comments.
If there was a single silver lining to the entire experience, it was that Connor had been right about Pedro. He was an excellent cook, so good that time and again, her patrons assumed Connor made the dishes. At least she knew now the restaurant would survive. While Pedro wasn’t nearly as handsome, her patrons, she figured, would get over it ... eventually.
“And that’s a wrap,” she said to herself as she twisted the lock to secure the main entrance.
While Cullen gathered the computer equipment and papers he’d scattered over the booth he’d occupied all day long, Emily Kate counted down the cash registers and the wait staff performed their closing duties. She walked into the kitchen and was momentarily stunned by the gleaming stainless steel counters.
Was Connor back?
But then Pedro stepped out from the dishwashing area, unbuttoning his chef’s coat as he did so. “Kitchen’s good to go,” he announced, and she realized he had done this. She ought to be grateful that he’d learned so well and so quickly from Connor, but really, the clean state of the kitchen gave her a pang of regret.
He wasn’t coming back this time. She was sure of it. He hadn’t called, he hadn’t even said goodbye before he left. He was probably already ensconced in his old restaurant, with the executive chef title firmly attached behind his name. Oliver had been a fool to let him go in the first place.
Thank God she hadn’t been able to convince him to stay. Then she’d be the fool.
Pedro walked over and patted her on the shoulder. “He’ll be back, Emily Kate.”
She shook her head. “This isn’t his dream, Pedro.”
It isn’t even mine. At least, it hadn’t been, until a week ago. Somehow, some way, since Connor stepped into her kitchen that first evening, the restaurant had become part of her dreams. Of course, she thought Connor would be part of the package. If he had stayed, she would have had the time to focus on her artwork. She could finally realize her own dream as well as maintain her papaw’s.
If Connor had stayed, her life would have been damn near perfect.
“It’s just you and me now,” she said to Pedro, and then she turned and headed back into the restaurant proper, to let Cullen know she was ready to go home.
Ten minutes later, she and Cullen walked out to her car together. “I’ll drive,” he offered and opened the passenger side door so she could slide in. When he inserted the key and cranked the engine, the car made a strange clicking noise but did not start.
Cullen frowned. “Sounds like your starter’s going,” he commented. “Let me take a look.” He reached for the lever to pop the hood. As soon as he pulled it, they heard a solid bang, totally different from the quiet, metallic ping they expected. Emily Kate felt his concern as if it were a living thing.
“Get out,” he said, almost calmly. “Get out and run. Now!”
He scrambled to get his own door open while Emily Kate obeyed him without question. They both leaped from the car and ran. They were fifteen, twenty yards away when the heat of the blast sent them both flying forward another ten feet.
The air was forced from her lungs when Emily Kate hit the gravel, and then a solid weight landed on top of her, squeezing her air passages even further. Cullen. An explosion? Had her car exploded? Was Cullen all right? Was she all right? What happened? Why did her car explode?
Why—?
Cullen shifted his body, covering her more thoroughly, and despite that, she felt chunks of burning metal and glass hit her body, not to mention the gravel burrowing into her skin from the parking lot her grandparents had never seen fit to pave.
I’m going to call for estimates tomorrow.
There was another sound, maybe another explosion? Why had there even been one in the first place? She instinctively covered her head with her arms. A wave of heat and more chunks of burning objects pelted her and Cullen, who she presumed was the weight lying on top of her.
“Keep your head down,” his voice whispered, confirming her suspicion and churning relief through her system. If he was speaking, he was alive. That was good.
They were still alive.
Chapter 14
It was midnight when Jack’s phone rang, startling Connor out of his doze. He opened his eyes and watched as Jack answered the call and then his face went white as a ghost. Connor immediately shot into a seated position on the double bed, wide awake and anticipating—hell, he had no idea what he expected to hear.
When Jack disconnected the call and immediately made another, Connor asked, “What’s going on?” Jack ignored him, instead speaking into the phone, making arrangements for the two of them to fly back to Texas via a private jet, since the next commercial flight out of Detroit wasn’t until morning.
“What’s wrong?” Connor demanded when Jack wordlessly began throwing his supplies into a duffle bag. When Jack didn’t answer, he said, “It’s Emily Kate, isn’t it? Something happened to her. Goddamn it, tell me!”
Finally, Jack admitted, “There was an explosion. She and Cullen are both in the hospital.”
“I thought we lured them away.”
“Apparently, Vik is smarter than I gave him credit for,” Jack muttered. “I didn’t think he would go after Emily Kate.” At that point, he punched the wall, leaving a hole in the painted drywall.
Connor realized Jack was far more upset than he was letting on. This was his sister and his partner, after all. He knew from Emily Kate that the two had been partners for ten years and that each had been the best man at the other’s wedding.
That was a lot of potential loss.
“Emily Kate,” he whispered, and he scrambled out of bed, grabbed a T-shirt, and stood at the door, duffle bag in hand, waiting for Jack to shove his laptop into his computer bag so they could get the hell out of this place and get back to Texas.
Back to Emily Kate.
• • •
“Calm the fuck down.”
“You calm down. Just get me to her goddamned hospital room.”
“You would make a lousy FBI agent.”
“Good thing my skills lie in other areas.” Connor was in no mood to deal with Emily Kate’s brother, and yet he’d been forced to stick by the man’s side for nearly every second of the past twenty-four hours. He was about to go out of his mind from frustration and worry.
The flight, and then the hour-long drive from the airport to the hospital had been excruciatingly long for both of them. For the first time, Connor felt a sense of companionship with Emily Kate’s b
rother. Even if the man didn’t feel the same.
The sheer number of checkpoints they had to go through just to get to her hospital room bounced his emotions everywhere. He was relieved because it meant she was undeniably protected from any additional attacks. And irritated because it took that much longer to get to her side.
Emily Kate and Cullen occupied separate hospital rooms, side by side. “Does his wife know?” Connor asked as he followed Jack down the hall.
“She’s already here,” Jack replied shortly. When they reached the room that Emily Kate presumably occupied, Jack flashed his badge yet again. The guard on duty looked expectantly at Connor, and for a brief moment, he feared Jack would not acknowledge him. Would the son of a bitch really leave him on the wrong side of the door? Goddamn it, he needed to see her. He needed to make sure she was okay, she was comfortable, she was ... his.
She was. All of a sudden, what Jack had been trying to prove while they’d been in Detroit made perfect sense. He wanted Connor to see that what he had back in Detroit didn’t even compare to what was right here in Emily Kate’s arms.
He briefly wondered if he and Jack would ever be on polite enough terms that he could some day thank the man for showing him the light.
Jack threw him an unreadable look over his shoulder, then informed the guard that Connor was with him. Connor was so relieved, he almost thanked the man, but as soon as the door opened, Kennedy rushed toward them, flinging herself into her husband’s arms and sobbing quietly. Was it that bad?
There were two other people in the small room besides the figure lying on the hospital bed. Connor barely spared them a glance as he hurried across the room to see for himself that Emily Kate was really and truly alive.
Her face was pale, save for the glaring red cuts and dark bruises. Her normally feisty curls lay lank and quiet against the stark white pillow. There was an oxygen tube attached to her nose, and her eyes were closed. A pump next to the bed inflated and deflated with a whoosh each time she took a breath. Various machines made other quiet beeping noises. An IV was attached to her arm. He could see other cuts and bruises on the exposed flesh there.
But she was alive. She’s alive.
Connor tentatively reached out and brushed his knuckles across her cheek, and then he had to grasp the bedrail when his knees buckled.
“Whoa, son. Come here, let me help you to this chair.”
Someone slipped an arm around his waist and helped him sit back into a chair situated next to the bed. “Thanks,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Terry Boudreaux,” the man said as he thrust his hand at Connor. He shook it awkwardly.
“Connor Rikeland.”
“So you’re the one who’s caused all this chaos. Thought so.”
He shook his head and tried to stand again. “No, no, I didn’t. I would never—” Terry pushed him back into the chair.
“Stay seated until you get your equilibrium back. Seeing her like this is quite a shock to the system if you care at all for her, which it’s obvious you do.”
“You don’t need to be nice to him, Dad,” Jack said from behind the man.
Dad? Connor blinked up at the older blond man with the weathered face. Yep, he bore a strong resemblance to both Jack and Emily Kate. Oh crap, meeting her father for the first time under these circumstances was not exactly what Connor would have chosen.
“Uh ...”
“I’m Jolynn, Emily Kate’s mother.” Connor looked from the hand outstretched before him into the smiling face of his future. It was a ridiculous thing to think, of course, but it was true: she looked exactly as he would imagine Emily Kate would look in thirty or forty years’ time. Sweet, innocent, with just a touch of sexiness that actually made him feel dirty for thinking about someone’s mother in such a way.
“Nice to meet you,” he managed to mumble as he accepted her handshake. He was so off his game at the moment, he was surprised he was able to communicate at all. Seeing Emily Kate like this, alive but clearly abused, had caused a serious blow to his system. He wanted to shake her awake, to demand she tell him what the hell happened and why she hadn’t listened to Cullen, who had been there to protect her.
Then he remembered Cullen was injured as well.
“What happened?” he asked out loud.
“A bomb. Someone rigged it to Emily Kate’s car. The only reason they survived was because Cullen figured it out before it exploded. They were about halfway across the parking lot when it did, and look how much damage it inflicted.” Emily Kate’s father waved at his daughter as his voice caught on the last few words.
Someone rigged her car? That meant they were after her. And it was his fault. Guilt swamped him, and he was glad he was sitting down, or else he was certain his knees would have buckled again. He had managed to bring danger directly to her doorstep, just as he feared. She was in the hospital, unconscious, and it was because of him.
A man in a suit popped his head in the door and quietly said, “Jack, Cullen’s asking for you.”
Jack nodded and left the room with Kennedy trailing behind, as if she were afraid to let him out of her sight. Connor watched them leave and then turned back to stare at Emily Kate’s sleeping body.
“Why is he awake but she’s not?”
Terry shook his head. “Because that boy’s as stubborn as they come. He was just lucid enough when they arrived here to tell them not to give him too many pain meds, so that he would still be able to function. Emily Kate wasn’t quite so stubborn, and the morphine knocked her out pretty quickly. Doctor says it’s the best thing for her right now.”
“I’m so sorry,” Connor whispered.
“For what?” Terry asked.
Connor smoothed his hand over Emily Kate’s curls. “For this. It’s my fault.”
“How?” Jolynn said sharply. “Did you set that bomb?”
Connor shook his head. “No, but—”
“Unless you set that bomb or you instructed someone else to do it, this is not your fault. Do you understand me?”
“But—”
“Do not ‘but’ me, young man,” Jolynn said in what Connor thought sounded like his own mother’s stern, do not mess with me voice. “I do not want to hear another word about it. Understand?” She stood over him, hands on hips, glaring down as if he’d just stolen a cookie from the cookie jar before dinner.
“Uh ... Do you know who I am?”
Jolynn nodded. “The new chef at Louisiana Kitchen. And Emily Kate’s boyfriend.”
He stared at the woman sleeping in the bed. “How do you know that?” He decided not to disavow them of the boyfriend notion. He kinda liked the title.
“I spoke with Kennedy. She and her mother are quite taken with you. And your sweet potato and pecan muffins. Oh, and Emily Kate keeps saying your name in her sleep.”
“She does?” It gave him a spark of hope that he was in her head, even if it was subconsciously.
“So here’s the real question,” Terry said. “Do you intend to do right by our daughter?”
Connor swallowed the lump in his throat.
• • •
Emily Kate’s mind felt as if it were hovering in a bank of thick, heavy fog. Everything felt murky and unclear. Where was she? She was lying down, but this did not feel like her bed.
Was she in Connor’s bed?
What a ridiculous thought. Connor lived in Detroit. She didn’t even know what his bed felt like. And besides, he left, before ... before ...
“She’s waking up.” That sounded like her father. Why ...?
A moment later, she felt a warm hand on her cheek, and she automatically turned and nuzzled it.
“Hey, sleepyhead.”
Her eyes shot open as the murky fog cleared from her brain. “Connor?” she croaked, her throat dry for some reason. “What are you doing here? Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital. And I’m here because you’re here.”
“Hospital?” The memories came flooding back on the h
eels of the pain, which radiated from every muscle in her body. The impact as Cullen’s body slammed into her a scant second before the heat of the explosion hit her.
“Cullen,” she said, her eyes wide with fear. “Is he ...”
“Alive and asleep in the next room? Yes, as of Jolynn’s last check.”
Relief flooded her system, until she comprehended that he said Jolynn.
“Mom?” She craned her neck to look behind Connor.
“Good evening, sweetheart,” her mother’s warm voice said as her eyes crinkled with her smile.
“What are you doing here?”
“Are you going to ask that of everyone who stops in this room? Because you’ve had a ton of visitors today, so let’s just assume they all stopped by because they care about you,” her mother replied.
Emily Kate turned back to Connor and gave him a good glare. “What about you?” she asked icily. “I thought you were in Detroit.”
“I was, until I found out you were in the hospital. Now I’m here.”
“Why did you leave?”
She watched as he cut his gaze to the side and cupped the back of his neck with his hand. She had learned over the course of the last few days that these were signs of stress or discomfort with whatever topic was being discussed.
“To protect you. We thought they would come after me, not you.”
Comprehension dawned. “Jack told you to leave.”
He shook his head, but his cheeks reddened.
“Why are you protecting him? He doesn’t even like you.”
Her father chuckled, and her mother interrupted her snarky comments. “Are you in pain, dear? Push this button right here. It will give you a shot of pain medicine.”
Emily Kate pushed the button her mother indicated. Her body was instantly filled with warmth. Her limbs became impossibly heavy and her eyelids felt too thick to keep open. Her brain didn’t want to function anymore. So she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.
When she next surfaced, the room was bathed in darkness, and all was quiet save for the sounds of the various hospital machines and a gentle, light snoring. Connor sat in what looked like a vinyl chair, sound asleep, with the world’s smallest wool blanket covering his torso. His neck would surely have a crick the next morning. She pushed the button again and drifted back to sleep.
