White Knight

by Annie Dyer

  “Killian.” I looked up to see Nick. He looked worried. “I’m going to get Katie back to yours. I wish I could stay, bro, but…”

  “Get her out of here. I’ll let the police know when they get here.” Sirens punctuated my sentence and a response car stopped next to us, an officer climbing out of the car.

  I didn’t stand up, letting my brother give the cop the overview. It was going to be a long night.

  By one a.m., Claire was in a private room away from the ward, looking groggy and pissed off as hell. The paramedics arrived a couple of minutes after the police, checking her over while I tried to look like I wasn’t completely imploding and just about managed not to shout at anyone to tell them to hurry the fuck up.

  We’d headed to hospital in an ambulance, Claire still mainly out of it, just her eyes flickering and an occasional garbled word. I did mention that if this was what it took to get her to be quiet for longer than a few minutes we should consider knocking her on the head on a regular basis. I was relieved when she shot me the bird.

  “I’m fine to speak to the police,” she said, trying to prop herself up. “Although what I can tell them is minimal.”

  “Nick’s given them the story and they have mobile phone footage from two witnesses of the biker and the person who threw you. Denico found your purse, by the way,” I said, having given up on telling her she needed to rest.

  She’d had a CAT scan and they had found a brain in there, one with a grade three concussion which meant she had an overnight stay at least and then a period of recuperation with close observation. She’d heard the basics and already pulled her face, mentioning the word ‘work’ at least five times. Then she’d been ignored.

  There didn’t appear to be any memory loss and although her speech had initially been a little slurred, it now sounded better. She had a hard head.

  “Let me guess: nothing was taken?”

  “Correct.”

  “It wasn’t a random mugging, was it? This is Dean Lacey trying to intimidate us.”

  “Correct.”

  “You told the police?”

  “Correct.”

  “Can you stop saying correct?”

  I grinned, her irritation further proof that she wasn’t permanently damaged by the hit on the head she’d received when she’d collided with the lamppost.

  “What did Katie say to the police?”

  I’d only heard it from Nick about twenty minutes ago. Nick had managed to get Katie quickly back to my house, giving the police the details. “Katie explained about the mediation yesterday and some of what Lacey said. They were going to question him. Two attacks in two days does seem a little coincidental.”

  “He’ll blame it on a stalker and they’ll be nothing to connect him to either one of the them,” Claire said, her hand moving to touch the gauze on her head where she’d had stitches. The clash with the lamppost had left a nasty gash.

  I nodded. “Try not to touch it.”

  “It stings.”

  “It will,” I said. She threw me a look that could’ve hung, drawn and quartered me. “How do you feel about a vacation?”

  “What the fuck, Killian? I’m in hospital with what’s apparently a grade three concussion because I might’ve been a bit quiet for two point five seconds; I have a shit load of work to do and one of the biggest cases in my career and you’re asking about a vay-fucking-cation?” The box of tissues next to the bed was launched my way. She had a terrible aim.

  The door to the room opened and Jackson stood there, arms folded, his expression a cross between concern and determination. “You’re out of the office for a fortnight.”

  Claire tried to sit up and failed. “But. Fuck off Jackson. I get that this needs some recovery time but…”

  He shook his head. “Marie’s going to come in and cover your work or at least oversee your department. That includes the technical details on Katie’s case. That’s the only case she’s going to speak to you about.”

  “When did you speak to Marie?” Claire said, paler now than she was before. She loved her step-mother. She was the one-person Claire trusted as much as her elder brothers, even more so than her father.

  “About twenty minutes ago. She’s coming over in the morning to see you,” Jackson said, approaching his sister cautiously. Max and Jackson had told plenty of stories about how many times Claire had plotted to murder them when they were kids. Clearly some degree of fear was still there, especially as she was tired, hurting and very, very pissed off.

  “She really doesn’t need to,” Claire muttered. “I’m fine. I just have a headache.”

  “Yeah, well, that may be the case, but you’ve been hurt and we’re all going to want to lay eyes on you to make sure you’re okay. You’d be the same if it was the other way round. Remember that time Callum was knocked out when he was working on the reservation in Botswana and you had a flight booked within twenty minutes of finding out? That.”

  She had the grace to look reprimanded. “At least I managed a head injury in this country. That was a fucking expensive trip.”

  Jackson eyed her. “And be glad it’s just me here, because it was nearly the six of us.”

  She smiled and I saw her eyes tear up. “I don’t think the hospital would’ve been too pleased to have you all in here. I wouldn’t. My head is banging and you know how much noise Seph makes.”

  “We could always have gagged him,” I said. Seph was the youngest brother and the loudest. He’d always been a good kid although when I was eighteen and he’d been nine, we had teased him a bit. He could’ve ended up more emotionally scarred.

  “That’s a good solution a lot of the time,” Jackson said.

  The door opened again and the doctor Claire had seen earlier came in. “How’s the patient?”

  “Still moaning,” I said, making sure I kept a safe distance.

  The doctor laughed and approached Claire without the caution I would’ve used. “How are you feeling? Are you okay for me to talk in front of these two or shall I send them out?”

  “They can stay. It’ll save me repeating everything. I have a headache. I’m tired. I’m also really hungry.”

  He shone a light into her eyes and gave a nod. “You gave yourself a nasty whack which is why you have a headache but there’s nothing to suggest on the scans that you’ve done any permanent damage. We’ll keep you in overnight for observation and look at you going home tomorrow but you have to rest. Concussion can be a strange thing and it might be in a couple of days when you start to feel worse.”

  Claire nodded. “Can I have something to eat?”

  “That’s fine but keep it light. A sandwich or something.”

  “I’ll go grab something from the shop,” Jackson said. “Then I’ll leave you to rest.”

  “Do you feel any dizziness at all?”

  “No. My head bangs. I think that’s making me feel a bit nauseous.”

  The doctor gave a brief nod. “I’ll prescribe a stronger painkiller. I’m also prescribing some antibiotics to clear up any infection in the cut to your head. It was fairly deep and not the cleanest.”

  “It was a lamppost in London. There was probably more bacteria on it than a sewer,” Claire said, looking uncomfortable. “And I think the depth of it was made clear when you cleaned it out.”

  “You were very brave. I’ve had men as big as him cry like babies over smaller cuts.” The doctor gave her a grin and I was surprised she didn’t give him the finger, but then he had promised her painkillers.

  “What time will I be able to go home tomorrow?” she said.

  “We’ll see how you are. See how you sleep. Is your gentleman here staying with you?” The doctor looked at me, his expression friendly. He looked to be around his late fifties, small and slim, with Harry Potter style glasses and a kind face.

  “If that’s okay,” I said, knowing it would be.

  “The chair isn’t very comfortable,” he said.

  I shrugged. “I’ve slept on worse.”<
br />
  “Military?”

  “Marines.”

  He gave me a knowing smile. “I’m guessing officer. Commandos?”

  “You guessed right. You served?”

  There was a brief nod. “That’s where I started my medical career. I’m guessing you know what to look out for with a concussion.”

  “I think I can remember. The biggest problem with this one will be getting her to take things easy.” I glared at Claire who was looking mutinous.

  “You’ll have a few strategies, I’m sure. I’ll bob in and see you later. In the meantime, rest.” He gave a last smile, signed something on the clipboard and left the room.

  “We’re going away for a few days,” I said, my arms folded. “Two reasons. It gets you out of the way from Dean Lacey. And you rest. Get some sea air.”

  “Ireland?” she said.

  “No. Nick’s taking the twins and Katie there and we both agree it’s better for you not to be near each other. Cornwall.” I moved closer to her now and sat on the bed next to her. She looked incredibly tired and her head was a mess where she’d caught it. The bruising and swelling now starting to bloom like a poisonous flower.

  “Why Cornwall?”

  “We lived there as kids. There’s a cottage we have that’s usually rented out for holidaymakers, but my folks have kept it vacant this year for Nick if he wants to go and for themselves. It needed some work doing on it. We can go there,” I said, touching the side of her face with my finger. Her eyes welled up with wetness. “I know you’d rather be working but this seems logical. It’ll give you time to recover too and you won’t need to have a shadow with you everywhere you go.”

  “Maybe the shadow’s alright,” she said, sounding sleepy.

  The door opened and Jackson entered with a couple of bags, one from McDonald’s. “I brought food for both of you. Sorry it’s not healthier but it was fast. A thousand or so calories for you, K and a sandwich and some chocolate for the sleeping wounded. What’s the plan?”

  Claire reiterated what the doctor had said. “Is Marie sure about overseeing the department and my caseload?” she said at the end.

  “I think she’s looking forward to it. You know she’s more than capable, Claire. And dad’s driving her mad with all the winery talk so this is a bit of a win-win. It’s for a couple of weeks,” Jackson said, passing me the bags. I pulled out the sandwich he’d gotten for Claire and passed it to her then attacked the burger. “Where are you heading off to?”

  “Tintagel, or just outside,” I said. “My parents have a holiday cottage there.”

  “Nice. Let me know when it’s free and I might have it for a week for me and Vanessa. I thought I was a workaholic until I met her.” He rolled his eyes and then yawned. “I’m off. I have a meeting in the morning that I can’t cancel and then Hurricane Marie to deal with. Get well, sis. And Killian,” he glared at me. “Take care of my fucking sister.” He pecked Claire’s cheek and made for the door.

  “You know I will,” I said, my eyes firmly fixed on the woman in the bed. At the moment, taking care of Claire was the only priority I had.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Claire

  No hangover had ever compared to the throbbing I felt in my head as I woke up. I stretched a hand out to my side, remembering where there was a glass of water but couldn’t turn my head to see exactly where it was.

  “Here,” Killian’s voice soothed me, and I saw the glass come into my line of sight. He lifted it to my lips and waited until I had grasped it and could take small sips, the cool liquid automatically doing something to help the pain.

  “The nurse is coming back in a minute to give you some more painkillers. You’re overdue for them which is probably why you look like a ghost.”

  “Thanks,” I said, trying to glare at him.

  “You’re still beautiful though.”

  “Such a charmer.” He wasn’t blurry and I didn’t feel sick, both of which I knew were positives, I just hope the doctor saw it that way as I wanted to go home. I detested hospitals, although I’d been fortunate to not have to spend much time in any.

  The nurse did come back soon and issued more painkillers. There was also talk of the doctor making an appearance and they wanted to see how I was walking. I’d been on my feet a couple of times to use the bathroom and that hadn’t gone too badly, so I was fairly sure I’d be released into freedom soon.

  “Why don’t you look tired?” I said, taking in the man who seemed unable to leave my side.

  “I’ve had a good five hours,” Killian said. “I can function fine on less, trust me.”

  I did. Trust him. This mountain of a man with his broad, broad shoulders and steadfast manner made me feel as if I had everything I needed.

  I burst into tears.

  “Fuck, Claire,” he came over and sat down next to me. “What’s the matter? I can deal with a couple of terrorists but not you crying.”

  I put my throbbing head on his chest and controlled my sobs, knowing full well that they’d only make my head hurt more. “Nothing and everything. I want to go home and I want my mum.”

  “Marie’s going meet us after either here or at mine. She’s at the office at the moment,” he said, holding me into his chest. He smelled of cedar and musk, still wearing the same shirt he had on for the awards. He’d spent all night in the room with me. When I’d woken briefly, he’d sensed it, helping me out of the bed and to the bathroom, concerned I was about to fall over or faint. I hadn’t done either, the only real effect from being tackled to the ground the deep gash in my head and the throbbing, incessant headache.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  “You’ve been here all night and I’ve dragged you and Nick into this mess with Katie and I’m upset and crying women are never attractive…”

  “Claire?” he interrupted.

  “Yes?”

  “Shut the fuck up.” His words were soft and kind and made me laugh. “I think it was Jackson who employed my company to do the security for you and Katie and I seem to remember you weren’t happy about it. You’re attractive even when you’re crying but I’d prefer it if you didn’t and I’ve been here all night because there was no way I wanted to leave you.”

  I heard the door open and saw a doctor walk in, this time a woman who looked around the same age as me.

  “Claire Callaghan?” she said. “I’m Dr Parmer. I hear you’ve had a settled night.”

  I nodded. “My head hurts still.”

  “It will do. Keep taking the painkillers. In a couple of days, it should have subsided. Can I have a look at the stitches please?” She continued to examine me, Killian giving space and pretending to be focused elsewhere but I knew he was taking everything in, because that was what he did.

  “Okay,” Dr Parmer said, glancing through my notes. “I’m happy for you to go home. However, if your symptoms worsen, you need to head straight back. You also need to rest. You’ll get better quicker if you rest more now. Do more, and it’ll take longer for your brain to recover. It’s bruised. It needs your energy to heal and it’ll get more of that if you spend less energy doing other things.”

  “I understand.” I sounded like a small girl who was being reprimanded by her teacher.

  “Good. Your antibiotics and painkiller will be here soon, then you’re good to go,” she said and then turned to Killlian. “She’ll need someone with her for at least the next twenty-four hours, forty-eight if possible.”

  He nodded. “They’ll be someone with her,” he said.

  “Good.” I saw the doctor’s eyes linger at little too long on him, taking in his arms and chest. His dark blonde scruff had grown and his hair was mussed having slept in a chair, but that clearly wasn’t a deterrent. I leaned tentatively towards him, placing a hand on his bicep. Automatically, he wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed the side of my head gently and the doctor headed towards the door.

  “Take care,” she said. “Make sure to
follow the instructions on the antibiotics and painkillers.”

  “Thank you,” I said back.

  “What the fuck was that all about?” Killian said with a half laugh. “Was that your version of marking your territory?”

  I kept my expression passive. “She was eyeing you up.”

  This time his laugh was loud and his smile was broad. “A lot of women eye me up, Claire.”

  I smacked his thigh and he laughed again.

  “You’re jealous!”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are. I quite like it though. Now I know why you were extra horrible that one time I brought a date out to Sunday lunch.”

  I remembered that day too well. He’d been back home for just over a year and while I heard stories from my brothers about his hook ups, I hadn’t met any of them. We’d all gotten together for a hungover Sunday lunch, everyone except Callum who had been away somewhere, India, I think. Close family friends had been there too, including Killian who brought a girl he’d been seeing for a few weeks. The pain I felt right now in my head was bad, but that had been worse. Since then, I’d dreaded the Sundays when we all met up, especially if I knew Killian would be going, worrying if he’d have a plus one with him.

  “She was clinging all over you,” I said, feeling defensive. “And you did nothing to put her off.”

  He laughed again, now holding me in his arms. “That’s because we were dating. And if I’m right, you’d been seeing another lawyer at the time.”

  “I didn’t waft him in front of your face though,” I said. I had never taken revenge. I didn’t know at the time if he still had feelings for me, or if the ten years he’d spent in the Marines had killed off any emotion he’d felt, but I had no desire to inflict any more hurt.

  “And I appreciated that. I thought you were over me; else I wouldn’t have brought Ella. I saw the look on your face half way through the afternoon and figured it was a bad plan,” he said, no laughter in his voice now. “I think it was then that I figured we had a chance of trying again.”

  “That was two years ago, K,” I said. “You waited two more years?”