Playing to Win

by Shelley Munro

  A trickle of sweat ran between Kate’s breasts while she watched Caryn’s display. She used the knife as if it were an extension of her body.

  “You couldn’t leave him alone, could you?” Caryn spat. A globule of saliva ran down Kate’s cheek.

  “I tried to warn you off, you and the snot-nosed brat, but you kept pushing. You ignored my notes. You went to the police. Ransacking your house and wrecking your car tires didn’t deter you. You should have listened because now I have to eliminate you.” Caryn shifted in her chair and crossed her slender legs at the knee. She glared at Kate. Hate blazed, contorting her face into a grotesque mask.

  “Lane is mine. Always has been. Always will be.” She leaned toward Kate. “I got rid of the others.”

  The high, girlish giggle made the hair at the back of Kate’s neck prickle.

  “They agreed with me. I never had trouble. Until you!” She bound to her feet, her strides long, unhampered by the fashionable beige trousers she wore. Without warning, she spun to face Kate. “Are you listening?”

  Kate nodded frantically and bit back rising nausea. She was listening, but her head pounded so hard she found it difficult to string her thoughts together in a logical manner.

  “Until you. I don’t know how I missed you the first time round,” she mused, “but not this time…”

  The others? What did she mean? Nicole? Could Caryn hold the answer to the mystery surrounding Jamie’s father?

  Caryn pounced. The glint of the knife blade in the afternoon light was all the warning Kate had. “You weren’t paying attention,” Caryn screeched. “See what happens when you don’t pay attention!”

  Kate glanced down, appalled to see the red bloom spreading on her white sleeve. Blood trickled from the second slash on Kate’s arm, this one even deeper and bleeding profusely. Her head tick-tocked in denial. Numbness spread through her body. She must fight. Somehow. Kate refused to let everything end this way. She ached to tell Lane how much she cared for him. And Jamie—she couldn’t leave him alone. He needed her.

  Kate studied Caryn from beneath lowered lashes. Frissons of terror skated through her mind. No telling what Caryn would do next. The woman was clearly unhinged.

  “I’m glad I have your attention.” Caryn patted the knife, as if congratulating a friend on a job well done. “I’m an expert with a knife.” Her tone sounded matter-of-fact, and Kate saw no reason to disbelieve her.

  “Why did you ignore my warnings?” Her voice rose an octave as she paced back and forth across the room. Kate watched her while she surreptitiously flexed her arms, trying to restore circulation. The numbness had faded. The cuts on her arms throbbed. Sweat trickled down her face, stinging her eyes. What was Caryn going to do with her? No one would miss her until at least six tonight, possibly later since she had intended to meet Lane at his apartment.

  “I suppose you want to know what I’m going to do with you?”

  Kate flinched and paid closer attention.

  “I’ll have to get rid of you of course. But don’t worry. Lane won’t miss you. He’ll have me.” Her eyes glowed with the inner light of a fanatic. She sliced her knife through the air, missing Kate’s nose by a hairsbreadth.

  A strange lassitude crept over Kate. Her thoughts veered from crazed to practical. Shock. I’m going into shock. Too much of her blood had dripped to the floor.

  Where was the superhero when you needed him? Red tights or not, she wouldn’t laugh. Not Kate Alexander. If only he’d come.

  An unexpected blow snapped her head to the side. A grunt of pain escaped.

  Caryn giggled softly. “Not going to sleep are you? I haven’t finished yet. Why did you have to get pregnant?” She smacked Kate across the face again, drawing blood with the diamond ring on her left hand. “Lane admitted today Jamie was his child. You lured him into your bed and got pregnant on purpose!” Caryn screeched. “You trapped him. You shouldn’t have done that. Men are soft. Easily fooled. But not me. He should have been my baby!” Caryn dropped her knife and started to cry, her body shaking with hysterical sobbing.

  With Caryn distracted, Kate tested the ropes binding her wrists. Caryn intended to harm her. She had to free herself. The thought of another three hours in the hands of this crazed woman was unthinkable.

  “Lane is mine!” Caryn shrieked. Her gaze flew to Kate and her lips flexed into a grim smile, summing the situation in a heartbeat. “Trying to free yourself? Don’t worry. I’ll free you. Soon you’ll be as free as a bird.”

  Caryn scooped up her knife, bringing it close to her face. The blade glowed despite Kate’s blood marring its surface, and Caryn smirked. “This is my knife. Her name is Jahara. Jahara is my friend. Jahara does what I tell her.”

  Kate swallowed as Caryn fondled the sleek blade.

  “The bitch isn’t so brave now, my pretty,” Caryn crooned. She kissed the knife tenderly like a lover, pressed her lips along the blade and moaned.

  Nuts, Kate thought in horror. Certifiably crazy.

  Caryn stared into space, her eyes focused on a distant spot outside the small window. Tension hummed through the woman’s body.

  The knife flashed through the air without warning. Kate had no way to avoid the sharp blade. Guided by an expert hand, it stabbed the outer muscles of her left thigh.

  Agony speared her body. She stared transfixed at the slender weapon protruding from her leg.

  Oh God. She would never see Jamie or Lane again. And she loved them both, she realized in that split second. The thought jerked up her panic and cleared her mind.

  Damn it! She wasn’t giving up. She would get out of this situation if it killed her. Killed her. Kate almost laughed at the irony.

  “Are you worried? You should be.” Caryn jerked her beloved knife from its resting place, tearing a larger hole in Kate’s trousers and producing a gush of blood when it slid free. Crimson blood seeped into the cloth surrounding the wound and dripped to the floor.

  “I need more target practice.” Caryn stalked to the far side of the room, nearest the windows.

  Kate fixed her gaze on the blonde woman as she paced and muttered. She laughed wildly, her words barely discernible. Kate felt woozy. Weak. She wondered how much longer she would remain conscious with all the blood she’d lost.

  Caryn darted murderous glares in her direction, pausing now and then to stroke her knife. She toyed with Kate, relishing her fear.

  Kate swallowed. She wanted to live. It was that simple. She wanted to see Jamie grow to adulthood. Then there was Lane…

  She redoubled her efforts to free herself. Across the room, Caryn grew increasingly agitated. Kate wriggled in her seat and lowered her eyelids. If the knife flashed again, she didn’t want to see.

  The familiar squeak of the floorboard sounded faint. Kate’s head jerked up. The sound didn’t fit. She searched for the source then slumped in disappointment.

  Wishful thinking. Imagination.

  She cast a wary glance at Caryn, but the other woman continued pacing and muttering. Kate stiffened when she heard the floorboards groan again. The noise came from her office, but Caryn didn’t seem to hear, too wrapped up in her one-sided conversation.

  The door flew open, taking both Kate and her captor by surprise. Police officers swarmed into the room. Kate would have shouted for joy if not for the gag.

  Rescue. At last. She could barely believe help had arrived.

  Caryn screamed her annoyance, a high-pitched sound that scraped across Kate’s nerve endings. Goose bumps formed on her flesh as the inhuman cry echoed.

  “You’re too late!” Caryn taunted the newly arrived reinforcements. With one smooth move, she turned and fired her knife at Kate.

  “Kate!” shouted Lane.

  Kate turned her head toward Lane. A flash of panic etched into his face as he raced to her side. White-hot pain radiated from her rib cage, just below her heart. She gasped for breath. Her head slumped forward.

  “Kate. Kate! Call an ambulance!” he roared over his sho
ulder.

  “Lane,” she garbled through the gaffer tape.

  “Don’t try to talk. The ambulance is on the way.” Lane gently peeled the tape from her mouth while trying to project confidence that all would be well. Inside, fear chased through his mind. There was so much blood. Frantic, he searched for something to stanch the bleeding. The coppery smell nauseated him. So much blood. Was it possible a person could bleed so much and still live? He scooped up a nearby towel and ripped it in half before folding the scrap into a pad. Lane pushed it against her thigh, holding Kate gently when she winced. He checked the bleeding on her arm and pressed another pad to stem the sluggish bleeding.

  “Lane,” she murmured again.

  “Quiet, sweetheart,” he said.

  “Love you,” she managed before she slumped into a dead faint.

  Lane cursed. He couldn’t let Kate die. Damn it. He wanted to return her sentiments, to tell her he loved her. “Where’s the damned ambulance? What’s taking so long?”

  A young constable hunkered down beside Lane. He placed a finger behind Kate’s ear to check for a pulse. “Her pulse is steady, Mr. Gerrard. Keep the pad in place. The ambulance won’t be much longer.” Although young, his competent manner reassured Lane.

  “What about the knife?” Lane asked.

  “Leave it. She’ll bleed more if we take it out. Leave the knife for the doctors.” He untied Kate’s arms and legs.

  Lane winced when he saw the oozing wounds on her wrists. She’d tried to get free. She was a fighter despite the terrible odds.

  Across the other side of the room, Caryn fought three police officers. Lane cringed at the vicious abuse she hurled at the unconscious Kate. His agent was a psycho. Ex-agent, he amended. He’d overheard enough to know this entire situation was his fault. Thank God, Jamie had needed a change of clothes after helping out at the training session. Thank God, he’d gone looking for Kate, wanting to steal a kiss if he found her between clients.

  The police restrained Caryn with handcuffs but she continued the unnerving shrieks. Her usually immaculate blonde hair stuck out in wild disarray and splotches of blood—Kate’s blood—smeared on her trousers.

  “I had no idea,” he said, wishing Caryn would shut up. Her high-pitched screams were worse than his mother’s beloved opera tapes.

  “Don’t blame yourself, Mr. Gerrard.” Detective Harwood jerked her head at the defiant Caryn. “We checked her background at the same time we checked yours. There was nothing to indicate she might be the offender.” She frowned. “I intend to check again and this time search her house. How is Kate? Jacobs said her pulse seemed steady but she was unconscious.”

  Lane glanced up from Kate’s still form. “We were almost too late.” He touched her pale cheek with a gentle finger. “It was only luck that Jamie and I dropped in to see her. We were meant to meet at my apartment later on. Jamie! My God. The poor kid is hiding in the kitchen. I told him to wait there when we realized something seemed wrong.”

  “I’ll find him,” Detective Harwood promised. “Here’s the ambulance now.”

  Lane heaved a sigh of relief when he heard the siren. “Thanks.”

  “And I won’t need to locate Jamie. He’s right here,” the detective added. She hurried off to direct the ambulance officers to Kate.

  Lane half turned. Jamie skidded to a halt a few feet from them. The blood blanched from his face leaving him ashen. His shocked eyes took in the blood on Kate’s green coverall and on Lane’s pale blue shirt.

  Lane rushed to reassure. “Jamie, it’s—”

  “Kate! What have you done to Kate?” Jamie shouted and he lit into Lane with his fists before Lane had a chance to explain.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Jamie, it’s okay.” Lane caught hold of the small, determined fists pummeling him. “I know there’s a lot of blood but the ambulance is here. Really, Kate is going to be fine,” he repeated.

  Jamie sobbed, terror showing in his stormy eyes. Lane noticed the twin track marks on the boy’s cheeks. His stomach knotted in sympathy. Banished to the kitchen, not knowing what was happening, the poor kid must have been petrified, then when he’d seen all the blood, he’d thought the worst.

  Jamie renewed his struggles, lashing out with his feet when two medics carried Kate out on a stretcher. “Kate is going to die like Mommy,” he howled. His thin shoulders shook and his tear-filled eyes begged Lane to tell him everything would be all right.

  Lane swallowed the lump of tension in his throat. “No,” he promised, holding Jamie’s gaze. “She’s not going to die.”

  Jamie’s body shuddered and Lane continued to hold him, murmuring nonsensical nothings. Gradually, the tension in the small body diffused and he slumped against Lane’s chest. Jamie kept his face hidden and emitted the odd hiccupping sob. Lane brushed a hand over Jamie’s dark hair and tried his best to fill the role of father.

  The wail of the siren told Lane the ambulance had left without him.

  “Jamie,” he murmured. “Do you want to drive with me to the hospital?”

  Jamie pulled away to wipe his sleeve over his nose before nodding.

  Lane stood and grasped Jamie’s hand, needing the human contact to center and ease his own rising panic. He’d tried to sound positive and upbeat for Jamie’s sake but terror stalked his mind. The medics had confirmed Kate would live but she’d looked so pale and tiny lying on the stretcher. She meant so much to him. He hoped he had the chance to tell her.

  * * * * *

  Heat surrounded Kate, sending a trickle of perspiration running down her forehead. She pushed weakly at the weight threatening to bury her alive. Eyelids flickered open. Nostrils flared at the foreign smell of clean toilets? Her mind raced. Where the heck was she? Puzzled eyes took in her surroundings. Kate sniffed again, trying to identify the disgusting disinfectant stench.

  Blankets. They were suffocating. It was like being buried alive. She turned on her side, wanting to sit and fling the heavy covers off. Jagged pain seared her ribs below her left breast while her thigh throbbed persistently. A groan escaped from between clenched teeth. Her entire body ached and she lay panting, riding out the rippling effect of the debilitating waves. A groan squeezed past her teeth.

  “Holy smoke,” she muttered, but it came out more like a whimper.

  While her body ached, there appeared nothing wrong with her mind. The nightmare rushed at her in vivid Technicolor. Caryn and her knife Jahara. The vision so real that Kate shivered as she relived the terror.

  The pale blue curtain surrounding her bed rustled. Kate could barely summon the energy to lift her head. But the aches and pains meant she was alive.

  “Kate, you’re awake. I’ll call a nurse.”

  The voice sounded like Lane’s.

  “Kate?” Jamie’s small voice wobbled to a stop right by her bed.

  Kate summoned a smile, although it felt like the hardest thing she’d done for a while. “Hi, Jamie.”

  “How are we feeling today?” A nurse bustled up to the side of the bed, stepping in front of Jamie. The nurse’s bubbly voice and the royal “we” grated on Kate’s nerves.

  “Fine,” she muttered.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  A wrinkled hand passed before her face and stopped to hover. Kate humored the nurse. “Three.”

  “What’s your name? What month is it?”

  This time Kate let her exasperation show. “Katherine Giovanna Sophia Merryweather Alexander. The month is May. I live in Newmarket. I am an aromatherapist.” Kate heard a snort of amusement.

  “Is that really your name?” Awe tinged Jamie’s voice. Another rich masculine laugh filled the cubicle and Kate’s lips twitched.

  “My! Bright as a button, aren’t we?” The nurse shoved a thermometer in her ear and Kate studied her persecutor at closer quarters. In her pristine white uniform, the petite gray-haired woman projected efficiency and strength along with confidence garnered by years of experience.

  “Ho
w is the pain level on a scale of one to ten?” she asked after removing the thermometer and recording the reading on a chart that hung from the end of the narrow hospital bed. She wheeled a machine up to the bed, wrapped a cuff around Kate’s arm and placed a spring clip on her finger. A few minutes later with blood pressure and pulse rate noted on the chart, she turned to Kate again.

  Kate shuffled about and winced. “About a seven.”

  The nurse consulted Kate’s chart. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Lane moved into sight and sat on the chair next to her bed. Kate stifled her surprise when Jamie crept close to him, but Lane pulled Jamie to his side with natural ease. Twin metal-gray gazes bore into her.

  “Kate! You have a beauty of a black eye,” Jamie said. The corners of Kate’s mouth quivered. Jamie’s reaction seemed more envious than concerned.

  She drank in the sight before her—the two most important men in her life. Both faces appeared pale and tired. Both wore their disheveled hair with rakish charm. “I should be very angry with you, Mr. Gerrard,” she rasped out.

  Lane’s face blanched further. “I’m sorry,” he said in heartfelt apology.

  “Caryn Lucas…” Kate flinched when her abrupt move sent waves of pain spiraling through her body. Her face tightened as she bit back a howl.

  The nurse returned, handing her a glass of water and two white tablets of a size suitable for horses and other large animals.

  Kate eyed the water with welcome but not the medication. “Don’t you have injections?”

  The nurse shook her head and stood her ground.

  Kate looked at the pills again and decided to do without.

  “Katherine Giovanna Sophia Merryweather Alexander,” the nurse warned, her voice tart as a Meyer lemon, but a smile lurked in her brown eyes. She turned to Lane and Jamie. “Children are much better patients.” After rolling her eyes at Kate’s muffled protest, she turned back to her patient. “I’ll help you sit.”

  Kate clenched her jaw and allowed the nurse to assist her. When she pushed a button on the control unit, the bed rose so Kate could sit. She accepted the glass of water and took a sip, ignoring the pills. The nurse coughed and Kate held out her hand to accept the horse tablets.