Out of the Dark

by Sharon Sala

  Luke lay on his back with his hands pillowed under his head, replaying the events of the past few days in his head. The earth had shifted beneath his feet the day he’d seen Jade Cochrane face to face, and he hadn’t been the same since. He was angry with himself for dwelling on a woman who so obviously hated his guts and wished that he could turn off the growing feelings in his heart. But he knew himself well enough to know that what was happening to him was out of his control. Despite the fact that he’d been warned, he was falling in love with a woman who was deathly afraid of men. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. With a groan, he rolled over on his belly, punched his pillow a couple of times to rearrange the feathers, then resettled into a different spot on the bed. He needed to sleep and to forget, but he didn’t think he was going to get what he needed—at least not tonight.

  Frank Lawson had spent all night mapping out a plan. By daylight the next morning, he’d set it in motion. There was a man he knew from the old days—a three-time loser who would kill his own mother just for the chance to watch her bleed. He was a crazy bastard, with a hard-on for violence. Add a bundle of money to the pot and he was relentless. His name was Johnny Newton, and he was already on his way to St. Louis to find out if Raphael was the man with Jade Cochrane. If he was, his orders were to kill them both.

  The plan was a good one. The way Frank figured it, it couldn’t fail. No one would ever suspect that their lives would be in danger, so no one would be watching their tails. And Johnny Newton had a phobia when it came to being jailed again, so even if he was caught in the act, he would choose death before he would let himself be incarcerated again. Now all Frank had to do was wait for the next news flash announcing the tragedy to the world.

  He smiled at himself in the mirror as he finished his shave. Damned if he wasn’t about the smartest son-of-a-bitch walking. He almost wished he could tell the world just so it would be known how really smart he was. Once all of the clutter of his past was swept away, he could concentrate on the governor’s race.

  He leaned over the sink, peering closely at his image in the steam-shrouded mirror, then thumbed away a tiny droplet of blood just below his chin.

  “Drew a little blood myself,” he said, and then chuckled at his own wit, slapped aftershave lotion on his face and cursed the burn.

  Johnny Newton’s daddy always told him that he wouldn’t amount to a damn thing. Johnny had reminded him of that right before he’d slipped the rope around the old man’s neck and hanged him. Of course, everyone in town had assumed that Arnold Newton had committed suicide after having filed bankruptcy. Johnny had stayed long enough to play the grieving son, then lit out for Washington, D.C. It had taken him exactly six months to establish himself as a man who would do anything for money.

  Fifteen years later, his fee had gone up, but it was getting harder and harder to get any kind of joy out of the work. Every new job was just an echo of the last. He wanted some diversion in his work and was determined to make this job a landmark.

  He’d been in Denver when he’d gotten the call. Once the priorities had been dealt with, which included wiring a fee of one hundred thousand dollars into one of Johnny’s special accounts, he’d begun to pack. Later, he’d replayed what he knew as he boarded the plane. He knew the target’s name and basic location. The target, a man named Raphael, was associated with some prodigal daughter thing that the news had picked up on, which meant that when he snuffed this guy and then the woman, it was going to be news again, which meant he needed to have a solid way in and a solid way out. He was going to take a couple of days to scope out the location, figure out the best way to do the job, and, as always, make sure he had a Plan B that was as workable as Plan A.

  Within a half hour, his flight would be landing in St. Louis. All he had to do was catch a cab and get a room at some out of the way motel, pay cash and disappear into the proverbial woodwork.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our descent into the St. Louis airport. Please turn off all electronic equipment, return your trays and seats to their upright positions, and buckle your seat belts.”

  Johnny glanced out the window. Look out St. Louis…. Johnny Newton is coming to town.

  Raphael had been hospitalized for two days now, and Jade had yet to leave the building except when Sam took her home to shower and change clothes. Shelly Hudson had appeared one morning at Sam’s house with an overnight bag for Jade filled with all the necessities, as well as several tubes of creams and lotions for her to rub on Raphael’s hands and feet.

  Jade had recognized her immediately as the woman who’d purchased the painting. There had been a brief moment of awkwardness; then Shelly had opened her arms and pulled Jade into a gentle embrace.

  “I hope you don’t hate me,” Shelly said. “I want so much for you to consider me a friend.”

  Jade had seen the sincerity in Shelly’s eyes and been too frightened and weary to resist.

  “Thank you,” Jade said. “I think I’m going to need all the friends I can get.”

  “Then count Paul and me as two of them,” Shelly said, then kissed Jade one more time and left.

  Back at the hospital, gloved and gowned, she fed Raphael his meals, rubbed the fragrant unguents of Shelly’s gifts into his dry, hot skin, and slept in a chair by his bed each night. Oddly enough, the nightmares that she normally suffered were absent. It was as if her mind had shut down to everything except Raphael’s well-being. If it hadn’t been for Sam’s constant vigilance, she would have passed out from sheer exhaustion. Even now, she stood watch at Raphael’s bedside, unwilling to acknowledge his rapid deterioration. His once handsome face was sallow and gaunt, and his skin looked too loose on his frame. Once he’d known that Jade was safe, he’d quit denying his pain. Now he lay in a near comatose state, blanketed with drugs that kept the knives in his belly at bay.

  He moaned and then coughed. Jade jumped up from her chair, readjusted the surgical gloves they made her wear and grabbed a wet cloth from the table. She wiped spittle from his lip, then laid the back of her hand against his brow. He was hot. It meant his fever was back.

  Sam had provided a private nurse, along with the private room they were in. The nurse had stepped out to get a new bag for his IV. The moment she returned, Jade told her.

  “He’s hot again,” she said softly.

  The nurse pulled up her mask and moved toward the bed.

  “I need to check him again,” the nurse said. “Why don’t you step out into the hall for a few minutes? Maybe get yourself something to eat, dear. Have you eaten today?”

  Jade shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

  The nurse patted her gently on the shoulder as she pushed her toward the door.

  “The cafeteria food isn’t nearly as bad as it’s made out to be. Try the chicken noodle soup. It’s pretty good.”

  Jade wanted to argue but knew it was futile. She’d already tried and failed at that miserably the first day they’d admitted Raphael. Now she and the nurses had come to a clear understanding of what their roles in Raphael’s care would be. And right now, he didn’t need Jade. He needed the medicine that the nurse could administer.

  “Yes, maybe I will,” she said, then stopped at the door and turned around. “You’ll call me if there’s any change?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be in the cafeteria. You can page me if—”

  “Go,” the nurse urged. “He’s stable.”

  Jade heard what the nurse said, but it was what she didn’t say that frightened her most. For now. She didn’t say “stable for now,” but they both knew that was what she meant.

  Jade took off the disposable gown, mask and gloves, dumped them into a biohazard container in the hall outside, then walked down the hall. She was startled by the sunlight pouring in from a window on her left and the cool rush of air-conditioning against her face. Nurses busied themselves in and out of different rooms, and there was an underlying murmur of voices coming from a waiting room down the hall.
A sudden burst of indignation sent her stomping down the hall toward the elevator.

  How dare those people go on as if nothing was wrong? Didn’t they know…? Didn’t they care? Raphael was dying. Her world was coming apart at the seams while someone was talking about macaroni and cheese.

  She strode past the elevator and headed for the Exit sign above the doorway opposite. She didn’t want to be in an elevator with people who talked about macaroni and cheese and the state of the nation.

  The stairwell was empty and quiet. The moment her footsteps touched the smooth, tiled surface, the echo sounded up and down. She grabbed the railing and started down the steps with anger in every step, but halfway down toward the first landing, she started to cry. She stumbled as her vision blurred but caught herself before she could fall. Still clutching the handrail, she sank to her knees on the steps and turned her face to the wall.

  Sobs tore up her throat, coming out in loud, choking gasps. She couldn’t catch her breath, yet she couldn’t seem to stop.

  Suddenly there were arms around her shoulders and someone was pulling her to her feet. She sensed the masculinity and tried to pull back, but his hand was firm against the back of her head as he pressed her face against his chest. Before she had time to panic, she recognized Luke’s voice.

  “Ah, Jade, Jade, I am so sorry.”

  She shook her head, as if shaking off a bad dream, and looked up. The disbelief in her expression broke his heart.

  “You seem to have all the answers, so tell me something, Luke Kelly. Raphael has never done a mean thing to anyone in his entire life, so why is this happening?”

  “I don’t claim to have answers to anything,” he said, then handed her his handkerchief as she pulled away from him. “I’ve been told all my life that God never gives us more than we can handle, so He must believe that you’re very strong.”

  Jade swiped the handkerchief across her face, then slapped it back in Luke’s hand.

  “There is no God.”

  Luke flinched. “Yes, there is.”

  She laughed, and the sound came out like a hard, angry bark.

  “Then He must hate my guts, because my life has been hell.”

  “Did you ever stop to think that the hell was of someone else’s making and that God is the reason you’re still alive?”

  For a moment Jade’s face lost all expression. Her eyes widened. Her lips went slack as she absorbed what he’d just said. Then his hand cupped the side of her face.

  “Jade.”

  She shuddered, then blinked.

  “What?”

  Sam had told Luke that she wasn’t eating or sleeping worth a darn. It was one of the reasons he’d come. He wouldn’t let himself dwell on the others.

  “Would you like to go get something to eat?”

  She swiped at the tears on her face. “I was going to get some soup.”

  He held out his hand. “So, may I go with you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I’ll buy,” he added.

  She blinked again, then almost smiled.

  “I guess,” she said, and then ran her fingers through her hair and took off down the stairs, leaving Luke to follow.

  Eleven

  A few days later, Raphael woke up just as his nurse was about to inject a syringe full of medicine into the shunt on his IV bag. He blinked, trying to clear his sight, then reached clumsily toward her arm, staying her intent.

  “What…what…doing?” he mumbled.

  “Just helping make you comfortable.”

  “No,” he said. “No more.”

  She frowned, not certain that she understood what he meant.

  “Sir, I don’t think you understand. Without this, the level of your pain will change considerably.”

  “No. Makes me sleep. Can’t think,” he said.

  She touched his arm gently, then capped the syringe and put it back in her pocket. She’d been ordered to administer the painkiller, but a patient’s wishes couldn’t be ignored, either. She needed to consult with his doctor.

  “Relax, sir. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “No more painkillers for a while,” Raphael repeated, then exhaled slowly, as if the mere effort of speaking exhausted him.

  Once the woman was gone, he closed his eyes and let his mind go free. He kept trying to focus on Jade, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. It was that damned medicine. He needed his head clear. There were things that had to be said, both to Jade and to her father—and to Luke Kelly. Unless they really understood her, they would never be able to help, and she needed help, but more than that, she needed to feel safe and to be loved.

  Pain began to coil in the middle of his belly. He flattened his hands across his stomach, as if to hold back the devil within. He needed time for what had yet to be done, but time was at a minimum.

  The door opened. He opened his eyes. It was the nurse. He grimaced. Obviously she’d gone for backup. Not only was Dr. Tessler with her, but so was Jade.

  “I understand you want to call some of the shots,” the doctor said, then smiled and patted Raphael’s leg beneath the sheets.

  Raphael blinked slowly, then nodded. “I’ve been in charge of my own life for years, and I like it. I see no reason to stop.”

  Jade slid between the doctor and Raphael and then put her hand in his. Raphael gave it a squeeze as he threaded her fingers between his. She felt so warm—so vital. If only he could draw on some of her strength.

  “How you doin’, baby?”

  Jade fought back tears. “I’m doing fine.”

  He winked. “That’s my girl. You’re tougher than you realize. You know that, don’t you?”

  “So you tell me,” she said.

  Michael Tessler leafed through the chart the nurse handed him.

  “I don’t advise coming off the painkillers.”

  “I didn’t ask your advice,” Raphael said. “I’m just telling you—no more. I don’t want to waste what time I have left asleep.”

  Jade choked on a sob. Hearing Raphael talk so calmly about dying was more than she could bear.

  “Please, Rafie…”

  He frowned. “No, Jade. This is my call.”

  She bowed her head, then turned away and walked to the window. Behind her, the doctor and Raphael continued to discuss his care, but she didn’t want to hear it. It was like watching someone building his own coffin. She didn’t understand Raphael’s ability to distance himself from his illness. It was consuming her.

  “Jade.”

  She turned to find that the doctor and Raphael’s private nurse were gone. For the moment, she and Raphael were alone. She hurried to his side.

  “What do you need?” she asked, then snatched up his drinking cup. “Are you thirsty? Do you want some fresh water?”

  Raphael sighed. “Put the cup down, honey, and sit down beside me.”

  She did as he asked, then scooted onto the side of his hospital bed.

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen as quickly as it has,” he began.

  “Please, don’t talk about this, Rafie. I don’t want to—”

  His voice lowered, the tone of it tougher, even censuring.

  “It’s not about what you want anymore. This is about me. If you want to make me happy, then you have to listen.”

  “Okay.”

  He wouldn’t let himself be swayed by the tremor in her voice or the tears in her eyes. There were things that had to be said. Just then the door to his room opened and Luke Kelly walked in.

  Luke quickly realized he’d interrupted something.

  “Uh, listen, I just stopped by to say hello…see if you needed anything, but I can come back another time.”

  “No,” Raphael said. “You need to hear what I’m about to say, too.”

  Jade’s eyes widened. “No,” she whispered. “He doesn’t belong.”

  Raphael’s frown deepened. “Damn it, Jade…you’re not listening to me. He does belong…even more than I do now, because he’s p
art of your future. I’m part of the past.”

  Jade doubled up her fists and pounded the mattress beside Raphael’s legs.

  “Stop saying that,” she said. “I don’t want to hear you say anything like this again.”

  “You already promised me you would listen.”

  Jade shut her mouth, but Raphael could tell by the set of her chin that she was mentally rebelling.

  “Okay,” he said, and then motioned Luke closer. “I’ve got things that need to be said.”

  “I’m listening,” Luke said.

  Jade sat without answering, but Raphael knew she was listening, too.

  “I want you both to know that no amount of money or doctors could change what’s happening to me. Don’t blame them. If you want to blame someone, blame Solomon.”

  “What are you saying?” Luke asked.

  Jade stiffened. “Raphael…please.”

  He frowned at Jade. “This is what I’m talking about. How are you ever going to get well if you continue to wallow in the shit that is our past?”

  “Okay, okay,” she muttered.

  Luke wished to hell that he’d gone to the office instead of stopping here first. If he had, he wouldn’t be a part of what was happening, and yet every time he looked at Jade, he knew that he would do anything it took for just one chance at a life with her.

  “Now, where was I?” Raphael asked.

  “Blaming Solomon,” Jade muttered.

  He smiled softly. “That’s my girl. Like I’ve always said, it’s healthier to get pissed at the right person.” Then he looked up at Luke. “I need to know that Jade is going to be okay. I guess I’m wanting your reassurance that you’ll be her friend.”

  Luke shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “I’ll be anything she needs me to be.”

  Jade hid her shock. She wouldn’t look at Luke—couldn’t look at him. She felt like a charity case that had just been put up on the auction block.

  “My God, Rafie…do you hear what you’re saying?”

  Then, despite knowing how she hated to be touched, Luke put his hand on her shoulder.