Somewhere in his mind he was aware of the old man baiting Lizzie, wishing her well in her fresh start in life. Good. So long as Alistair was focused on Lizzie, he wouldn’t notice his “son’s” efforts to remove his restraints.
Again and again, he attempted to manipulate the pick blindly in the lock, knowing he had seconds remaining at best. Then miraculously he heard it, a soft snick. He was almost free.
Desiree seemed to shake off whatever had distracted her. Zach saw her stick the needle in Lizzie’s arm, watched in fear as her thumb moved to press the plunger of the needle.
Pulling his hand free of the cuff, he grabbed the rope that tied him to the chair, seeing even as he did so that he was going to be too late.
Too late. He was too late…
…
Lizzie had refused to acknowledge the pain as she nicked her skin repeatedly, even when she felt the knife slice dangerously far into her wrist as her hands slipped, wet with blood.
She had ignored Desiree as the woman pushed up the sleeve of her jacket to gain access to her arm. She’d refused to think about the serum, forced back the panicked anticipation of the needle’s light prick. She was Elizabeth Louise Weston, survivor, fighter!
If she failed to free herself she knew she could never forget the look in Zach’s eyes. Pain and anger and love, a potent cocktail that would haunt her forever.
She refused to allow Alistair to send Zach back into that hell where he was alone, with only lies and liars to fill his life. And if Desiree thought she could have her husband…well, she was delusional. No way in hell was Lizzie leaving Zach to that woman.
As Desiree raised the syringe and Lizzie felt the needle prick her skin, the last of the rope shredded and the knife fell to the floor at the sudden release of tension.
With no knife to aid her attack, Lizzie swung her arm in a wide arc, her blow energized by fear and righteous anger. Catching Desiree alongside her face with her fist, she knocked the woman off-balance and sent her crashing to the ground. The needle pulled free of her arm and dropped from Desiree’s hand, rolling across the floor until it rested midway between Lizzie and Zach.
“No!” Alistair cried. He yanked his gun free and swung it toward Lizzie. As she scrambled toward the syringe, her foot slipping in blood, she expected to feel the force of a bullet at any second.
Focused only on reaching and destroying the serum that waited in the syringe, she heard but didn’t see the bullet explode from the gun as she collapsed on the floor.
…
Zach lunged forward, taking the chair with him. He’d twisted his body to clip Alistair and knock the gun from his hands as it went off. The force of impact destroyed Zach’s already precarious balance. He fell, shattering two chair legs and fracturing one side of the chair back. As he fell, he saw Lizzie crumple to the floor, her body covering the damned needle.
“Lizzie!”
Desiree forgotten, all he could think about was his wife, his wife, lying motionless on the floor. As Alistair neared her side, Zach frantically pulled the loose ropes from his body and rid himself of the broken chair.
He slammed into Alistair and they both crashed to the ground. The old man’s head hit the floor with a thunk and he lay still.
“Lizzie…” Zach scrambled to her side. There was so much blood.
The rational part of his mind knew the blood probably came from the cuts on her hands, but the irrational part—the fearful, guilt-ridden, memory-haunted part—was certain she’d been shot. Her breathing was regular, her heartbeat steady. He checked her otherwise quiet body for injury. His hand brushed against the broken syringe. He batted it away. As it spun across the floor, the damn drug spewed onto the polished wood.
When he was certain that Alistair’s bullet had missed her, and that none of her injuries were life-threatening, he placed his hands on either side of her face, caressing her as he spoke, his lips brushing hers as he pleaded with her to come back to him.
Then her lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly, whispering, “Zach.”
Zach.
Man, that was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
Lizzie raised her hand to brush his cheek, and he watched her eyes grow round when she saw the blood. She drew her hand back, as though unwilling to sully his face.
“It hurts.” Her small, childlike voice frightened him anew. She was going into shock.
Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over to the couch and laid her tenderly on the cushions. “I know it hurts.”
His soothing voice seemed to calm her as he stripped off his jacket and covered her body to warm her. Tearing his shirt open so that buttons popped and dropped to the floor, he ripped strips from it and bound her wounds.
“It’s okay, honey, everything’s going to be okay. I promise. It’s all going to be okay.”
At the sound of Desiree’s hysterical laughter behind them, he spun around. He’d forgotten there was a second lunatic in the room, and Alistair’s men just outside the door.
Chapter Forty-Four
The door to the basement suite flew open. Police burst into the room, guns drawn, followed by Reade. Assessing the situation, they turned to someone outside the room. “They’re okay, but we need medical help.” The sound of a man calling for EMTs could be heard from inside the room.
“Well, Reade, nice you could finally join us.” Zach hugged Lizzie closer, letting his men deal with Desiree.
“Hey, boss. I knew you’d have things under control.” The relief in Reade’s voice belied his nonchalance.
“It wasn’t me, it was Lizzie. She’s the one who saved the day.” In spite of the ugly circumstances, he was charmed to see a light blush grace her cheeks at the compliment. “Sam?”
“She’s fine. She’s waking up.”
“And Daniel?”
“King of the household.” Reade nodded. “The kids are both safe.”
Thank God.
“Cole and Joey?”
“Nothing major, thanks to the bulletproof vests.”
Thank God, again.
Now that Reade was keeping an eye on Desiree, Zach gathered Lizzie’s exhausted body close, nuzzling her hair when she rested her head on his chest. He was worried. His wife should be demanding to see Sam, not resting listlessly against him. She’d lost so much blood.
Zach turned her slightly when the EMTs hurried in so they could examine her hands. After a quick glance, they chose not to remove the makeshift bandages and instead told him to take her straight to the hospital when she refused an ambulance ride.
He set her gently from him. “Let Reade take you to the car. I’ll be along in just a minute.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I’m not leaving without you.” She stared at him intently and then asked, “What is it?”
Before he could answer, shouting came from the hall. “Let me in. Let me in now!”
Grant barged into the room, a wild look in his eye. He barely glanced at them, heading straight for the fallen Alistair.
“Is he dead?” He dropped to the floor next to the EMT. When the paramedic shook his head, Grant clenched his hands. “No! He needs to die.”
He lunged for Alistair’s throat.
Shouts filled the room. Reade reached Grant first, pulling him off the unconscious man. “Easy now, Grant. We all want to kill the guy.”
Grant began to laugh. “You want to kill him. You?”
Zach felt his stomach drop. “You know him.”
Grant’s laughter ceased. Guilt marked his face.
“You knew. All this time and you knew?” Only Lizzie’s presence in his arms kept Zach from pummeling the other man.
“Grant?” At her whispered question, Grant’s eyes locked on hers.
“I knew I had to keep Sam safe when you disappeared.” His eyes pleaded with her. “I didn’t know it was Alistair until you returned and told us. And I didn’t tell you I knew him because I didn’t know anything that would help. Only that he’s an evil, da
ngerous bastard—and you already knew that.”
“But how? How did you know him?”
“My father, the great genius, Dr. Bridges.” Grant’s derisive tone belied his words. “He was Alistair’s business partner for many years.” Grant yanked free of Reade and stepped toward Lizzie. “I tried to keep you out of it. I left. Left you, the baby. Didn’t come back until I heard the old man was dead. But I was too late. You were with Zach.” He stared at Alistair’s silent form. “And the bastard wasn’t really dead.”
“Did I know you?” Zach feared this was one more secret he’d kept from Lizzie.
“No. But Alistair made sure I knew about you—and his beloved Thomas. Compared me to the two of you my whole life. I thought he was dead when I came back. I…I prayed he was dead when you disappeared.”
They stared at the old man until Zach spoke. “We need to get Lizzie to a hospital.”
“And Sam,” Lizzie exclaimed. “They gave her some drug.”
“Okay.” Grant squared his shoulders. “Uh, I know you have reasons not to trust me, but maybe I should take her.” He looked at her hands.
Blood wept through Zach’s makeshift bandages. It stained her shirt and her pants.
“She shouldn’t see me like this.”
“I’ll take Reade with me.” Grant spoke quietly, eyes now on Zach.
He nodded.
Lizzie’s eyes followed Grant as he left the room. Zach watched as she gathered her strength and faced him. “What was bothering you? Before…before Grant.”
Running his hand along his jaw in frustration, Zach looked at his weary wife. “Where is it? Where’s the rest of the serum? Alistair planned to inject us both. There should be another vial.”
Zach turned to address Desiree, stopping when he felt Lizzie’s light touch on his arm.
“He pulled the first vial from that pouch in his suit pocket.”
Striding past his uncle, Zach reached over him to grab his jacket from the chair and search the pockets. He pulled out the pouch. Inside was one more vial of serum. Clenching his fist around the glass container, Zach stood with his eyes fixed on his uncle and then dropped the empty pouch dispassionately next to the old man’s unconscious body.
“I’ll take that, Mr. Weston, and admit it into evidence.” A young police officer stepped forward, holding out her hand.
Zach looked steadily at Lizzie, his eyes never leaving his wife as he lifted his hand toward the officer.
Before the officer could reach him, he opened his hand and dropped the vial to the marble floor. The sound of shattering glass was followed by silence.
As the liquid spread across the floor, useless, he walked to Lizzie’s side and lifted her in his arms. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”
…
Zach sat next to his wife’s hospital bed, running his fingers up and down her forearm, stopping just short of her bandages.
Thirty-two stitches.
They’d sedated her while they worked on her hands, bringing in a plastic surgeon to repair her wounds and minimize the scarring. Lowering his head, he kissed her bandages softly and tried to suppress his guilt.
It should have been him lying in the hospital bed.
Fingers lightly touched his hair. He looked up to see she was awake. “Hey, beautiful.” His husky voice conveyed both love and apology.
“Hey, yourself.”
Her smile warmed him, and he suspected there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on her face.
“Sam and Daniel…”
“They’re fine. Sam’s back at home with Kyle, Daniel, and Sophie. Sam’s fine. Desiree just gave her a mild sedative.”
“Cole and Joey?”
“Cole’s already complaining because I gave him the week off, and Joey, well, he’s got a longer recovery ahead of him, but he’ll be okay.”
“What about Desiree and Alistair?” Lizzie moved her hands and winced at the pain.
“They’re both under armed guard—both the police and Weston’s men.”
“Who is Desiree, really?”
“It looks like she’s just a con artist he hired.”
“She was good.”
“But in the end, not good enough. Neither of them were.”
They sat in silence, content to just be.
She was the first to speak. “You remembered.”
He frowned.
“You called me Lizzie Lou.” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “You used to call me Lizzie Lou…” Her voice faltered, fading into silence.
“Ah honey, just that memory—and that nightmare—about Thomas.” His voice broke on his cousin’s name. He looked away, unwilling to see disappointment in her eyes. “I don’t know.” He glanced hesitantly back at her. “It—Lizzie Lou—it was just there. Just that one thing.”
Looking down at her bandaged hands, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. We’ll hope that the good memories start to return. And in the meantime, we’ll make new memories. Maybe some less stressful ones.” She smiled and he felt loved. Loved. Accepted. Valued despite his failings.
Man, she was one hell of a woman.
Her eyes widened as a smile played across Zach’s lips.
“What?” He looked at her, confused.
“Why are you smiling?”
“’Cause I chose an amazing woman, and I don’t understand why, but she chose me.”
She stroked his hand with an uninjured fingertip. “When we get back home, I’ll be happy to tell you the many reasons I chose you.”
He responded in a low voice, “And I will be happy to hear those many reasons.”
They smiled, looking forward to their future.
…
The full moon had risen hours ago only to be obscured by thick clouds that rolled in and smothered the light. The darkness outside seemed to permeate the halls of the hospital where nurses spoke in hushed tones and patients stirred restlessly.
In spite of her protests that she was ready to go home, Lizzie drifted back into a deep sleep.
Zach placed a kiss on her forehead and left the room. First he checked on Desiree. She’d succumbed to hysterics as Alistair was loaded onto the stretcher and had to be sedated. The guards outside her room nodded. Her room was secure. Then he paid a reluctant visit to his uncle.
Alistair slept handcuffed to his bed. Zach stared, despising this old man who was responsible for Thomas’s death, who had threatened his wife and children.
He willed his memories to return, to fully understand what had happened that night Thomas died.
But no new memories emerged. He had nothing but his nightmares, the things Alistair had revealed, and the wisps of memory that taunted him.
The old man stirred. He opened his eyes and stared in confusion. His gaze cleared, confusion transformed, and he pierced Zach with a glare of hatred.
He refused to engage with his maniac uncle. When Alistair opened his mouth to speak, he left the room, closing the door securely behind him.
Satisfied that Alistair and Desiree were well guarded, he returned to his wife, nodding to Reade as he reentered Lizzie’s room.
She began to stir restlessly, and he recognized the beginnings of a nightmare. He soothed her with whispered endearments and gentle caresses. As she turned into his touch, seeking his presence even in sleep, he slipped off his shoes and climbed in her bed to hold her close throughout the night.
Chapter Forty-Five
Lizzie awoke safe in the arms of her husband for the first time in weeks. Without thinking she raised her hand to touch his face and moaned. Her hands hurt.
“Hey.” His husky voice washed over her, distracting her. “Let me get the nurse. You need something for the pain.”
When he started to get up, she wrapped one leg around his, holding him in place as she read the guilt in his expression.
“You told Reade that I was the hero yesterday, but it was you. You thought of e
verything. Planned for things we couldn’t anticipate…and here we are.” She touched his face, the small twinge worth the contact. She rested her hands gingerly between them.
“In the hospital.”
“Together.” She smiled at his stubbornness. “We were a good team yesterday.”
“Yeah, except that your part of the team is the only part that got hurt.”
He looked down at her hands, and she knew he was thinking he would do anything to take away her pain.
“Well, now my part of the team is looking forward to being pampered. You know, waited on constantly…foot rubs, hot chocolate. I’ll probably need a little bell. Your part of the team should be worried.”
“Uh-huh.” He leaned toward her and kissed her on the forehead. “My part of the team is ready and willing to fulfill all requests.” Carefully disengaging himself, he stood next to the bed, his hands lingering on her arm. “What do you say we get out of here and reunite with the rest of the team?”
She laughed and nodded. “Go, Team Weston.”
…
They were home. Zach liked the house. It felt comfortable—right. Nothing like the cold, formal mansion his uncle had called home.
Together they walked through each room, allowing him to take his time and become more familiar with his surroundings. After her family welcomed them home, they’d spent the day with Sam and Daniel, Zach doing most of the work while Lizzie lounged on the couch, sitting with the kids and bombarding him with demands. A kiss here, a touch there, the promised foot rub. There was also the occasional functional need—lifting the children, helping her dress, anything that kept the strain off her hands and wrists.
Finally it was time for bed. Sam and Daniel had been asleep for a couple of hours when Zach and Lizzie went upstairs. They entered their bedroom and stood there, surrounded by awkward silence.
“It’s a nice room.” Damn, he’d said that earlier. Zach Weston, master of witty repartee.
Comes the Night (Entangled Suspense) Page 23
