“Can I see her now?”
The doctor smiled and nodded. “Yes. We have an audiologist coming down to evaluate her and then she’ll be ready to be discharged.” Putting his hand on Monty’s arm, he said gently, “She was very lucky, but has been through a trauma and is shaken. I’m going to suggest she see a trauma counselor.”
“Absolutely,” Monty agreed, his eyes darting to the room where she lay. As the doctor moved on down the hall, Marc clapped Monty on the back.
“You heard what he said,” Marc reminded. “She’s going to be fine. So when you go in there, don’t scare her to death.”
Nodding, Monty steeled his spine, sucking in a deep breath. Pushing back the curtain, he stepped in. As prepared as he tried to be, seeing Angel in the bed halted him in his tracks. More bandages were on her forehead and her arms and legs were dotted with cuts. Wearing a hospital gown, he glanced to the side to see her ripped and bloody khaki pants and pink ACH polo shirt. Her hair, dull and tangled, was pulled back away from her face.
Alive. She’s alive. He wanted to sing it over and over, but when she turned her blue eyes up to him, he was not sure she felt it.
Her eyes filled with tears and he rushed to her bedside. Gathering her in his arms, he gently scooted her over so he could sit on the narrow bed next to her.
“What happened?” she asked. “Please tell me. Was it a gas leak or did someone do this to me?”
“I don’t know, babe, but I promise we’re working on it,” he murmured as he held her.
She felt the rumblings in his chest, but his words were garbled. Turning her head, she faced him, watching to see if his mouth was moving. “I…I…can’t hear you very well,” she said. Reaching up, she touched her right ear. “There’s just some dull roaring in here.” She knew the doctor was sending an audiologist down to see her. Please don’t let this be permanent, she prayed.
Monty shifted so that his mouth was closer to her left ear. “We don’t know what happened yet,” he spoke deliberately. Watching her eyes, he knew she understood. “The Saints are working the scene with the Fire Inspector. Chad worked for ATF…he’s an expert.”
My shop is gone. My apartment is gone. Everything I own in the world is gone! Once again, she nodded. Deep breaths. In…out…in…out. The ER nurse had breathed with her when she began to hyperventilate. The antiseptic odors of the hospital mixed with the smoke on her body hit her nose, and she choked back a gag.
“It’s all gone,” she said, her voice laced with fear and anger. Her fingers gripped the sheet so tightly her knuckles were white.
“Cupcake, look at me,” he ordered, turning her face to his with his fingers on her chin. “You’re safe. You’re alive. And I’m going to thank God every day for that miracle. All the other things can be replaced. You’ve got insurance. You’ve already got a new building that you were moving to in another week or so. And your apartment? There’s nothing there that can’t be replaced.”
Offering a shaky nod, she noticed Monty looking toward the door. She watched as he called out “Come in.” Damn, did someone knock? I didn’t even hear it!
Jack stuck his head in the ER bay, his eyes scanning Angel before moving to Monty. “The police are wanting a statement. I’ve held them back, but needed to know when a good time would be.”
Angel turned her head slightly to the right so that her left ear was closer as she kept her eyes on Jack’s mouth. Shooting a glance over to Monty, she watched as he spoke.
“An audiologist is coming to do an eval. I’m taking her home when we’re done here. We’ll meet at my place and she can be questioned then.”
Jack nodded and with a head jerk toward Angel, he backed out of the room. Before Angel was able to speak, a woman entered the room. Walking over, she stuck her hand out toward Angel and introduced herself. Speaking slowly and clearly, she explained the auditory evaluation she would be conducting.
“I will be putting earphones on you and you will simply lift your hand when you hear a tone. What it will measure are the faintest tones you can hear in both ears. I will also evaluate you with tympanometry. The ER doctor looked at your ears with an otoscope and determined that your eardrum perforated.”
Angel, her face tight with anxiety, merely nodded. Monty squeezed her hand and she responded with her fingers digging into his slightly, but did not take her eyes off the audiologist. The evaluation did not take too long and soon the audiologist was back in the room after conferring with the ER doctor.
“Okay, Ms. Cartwright. Your right ear is confirmed to be ruptured. This is not an unusual occurrence with a loud noise or change in air pressure.” The audiologist stopped to make sure Angel was understanding. Assured that she was, she continued, “What you can do for the pain is use warm compresses against the ear and over-the-counter pain meds. You will need to keep the ear canal dry, so you will place cotton balls in your ear when you shower or wash your hair. No swimming or putting your head underwater.”
“How long?” Angel asked, her mind whirling with all of the information flying at her.
“The eardrum should heal itself in about two months. If not, then surgery may be needed. Right now, you have a moderate hearing loss in the right ear and, if you call my office, we will check you weekly. We are anticipating a complete recovery.”
She shook Angel’s cold hand before she left the room, leaving Angel to slump against Monty’s back. Building destroyed. Home destroyed. Hearing loss. Her body began to shake, the tremors overtaking her. Monty wrapped his arms around her, willing his warmth to spread through her body.
“Baby, talk to me,” he implored, speaking on her left side.
She shook her head for a moment, unable to put her thoughts into coherent words. Swallowing deeply, she finally replied, “It’s all gone. I can’t believe it’s all gone.”
Pulling her face to his, he pressed his warm lips on her cold ones. He moved his hand over her hair, brushing the colors back from her face. His eyes roved over her shocked beauty. “Baby, you’re alive. You gotta focus on that.”
Her gaze held his, not wavering, as his strength seeped into her consciousness. The fog began to clear, gratitude edging out the shock. “You’re right. I’ve got to focus on that.” She allowed him to assist her from the bed and then she walked over to look down at her clothes. Holding up the ripped khaki pants and the pink polo with ACH embroidered over the breast, she turned, grim-faced to him. “But if I find out this was no accident I will hunt down the one who took this from me.”
He observed her determined face, remembering the woman holding a gun to a man she thought hurt her friend. Jesus, I’ve got to keep her safe and find out what the fuck is going on or she’s going to go rogue again.
*
Monty drove Angel to his home, glad the snow covered roads had been scraped. Pulling into the underground parking garage of his apartment building, he glanced over at her. Pale, quiet, dressed in borrowed clothes from Bethany.
Bethany had dropped the clothes by the hospital, offering a warm hug, and told her not to worry about anything. Angel had been grateful, but her thoughts were less accommodating. Sure. Don’t worry. I don’t see that happening.
Realizing the vehicle came to a stop, she looked around. Turning toward Monty, she said, “Are we here?”
“Yeah, baby.” He jumped down and hurried to the passenger side. Scooping her out of the seat, he planned on carrying her up, but she wiggled.
“I can walk,” she insisted, meeting his gaze.
“I know,” he agreed. Leaning in, his voice hoarse, “But when I think how closely I came to losing you now that I’ve found you…please, let me do this.”
She relaxed in his arms, the first smile in hours sliding across her face. “You’re right. There’s nothing I’ve lost that can’t be replaced.” She nuzzled his neck as he carried her to the elevator and up to his apartment.
As he opened the door, he hesitated. Searching her eyes, he confessed, “Angel, I know this place won’t remind you
of home. It’s really just a place for me to retreat to, but you can do whatever you want to make it seem like yours.”
Her puzzled expression was replaced by understanding as they entered his apartment and he set her feet on the floor. The space was minimally furnished, with clean lines and no clutter. And no color. No personality. She grinned as she turned to him, remembering the Monty she first met. Very much like this apartment. “It’s fine, Monty. Thank you so much for having me here.”
It dawned on her that he always spent the night at her place. She had assumed it was so that she could be closer to her bakery but now realized that, while this place may have been his home before he met her…I am now his home. She raised up on her toes, kissing his jaw. The tangy taste of his aftershave plus his own scent was home to her. It was then the overpowering smell of smoke filled nostrils. My hair, she realized ruefully.
“Do I have time to shower?” she asked.
Never wanting to deny her anything, he glanced at his watch. “Yeah. The others will be here in about thirty minutes and so will the detectives and Fire Marshall. But remember, you need cotton in your ear.”
He escorted her through his apartment, giving her a quick tour. “The second bedroom is an office for me and there is a small bathroom down the hall.” He led her through the master bedroom and into the large master bathroom. A soaking tub was in the corner with a large, separate tiled shower stall next to it. A double sink graced the other wall and a door led to the private toilet.
He laid out a thick, plush towel and dug around for the cotton balls. “I don’t have anything here that would even remotely pass for feminine,” he confessed as he showed her the shower soap and shampoo.
Grinning, she admitted, “I think I’m really glad about that.”
Chuckling, he slid the shirt over her head and then clasped his hands to her hips. Moving them downward, he tucked his thumbs into the waistband of her pants and skimmed them off her legs. Her body, naked and glorious, was marred with cuts and bandages.
His smiled slipped as his fear poured through him once more. She noticed the change and lifted her injured arm to cup his face. “Hey, remember what you told me. I’m here. I’m alive.”
His lips found hers in a barely-there kiss. Pulling back, he heard her mewl of disappointment. “Gotta get you in the shower, babe.” He stayed in the bathroom as she stepped into the warm water, listened to her moans of delight as she washed her hair, and cringed at the whimpers of pain when the water touched her injuries. As the water turned off, he heard the doorbell.
“I’m going to go let in whoever’s gotten here first,” he said, handing her the thick, soft towel. “I’ll be back.”
“Go on,” she encouraged. “I’ll be out in five minutes.”
Angel dried off quickly, then slipped the borrowed clothes on once more. Standing in front of the large mirror, she perused herself. Her eyes dropped to her various injuries, then slowly moved upward. When she finally met her gaze in the mirror, she peered deeply into the shadows. If it wasn’t an accident, then someone tried to kill me. And it’s got to be the same someone who killed Marcia, Theresa, and Betty. Holding her gaze, she vowed, Don’t worry, girls. They will not get away with it!
Chapter 25
Several minutes later, Angel stepped out of the bathroom and heard voices in the living room. Steeling herself, she walked down the hall and halted when she saw the crowd of men and women. Jude and Chad she recognized, along with Bethany, Miriam, Faith, and Sabrina. The other men filled the room with a wall of angry testosterone. They all seemed to be talking, but their voices ran together. The roar in her right ear had not diminished, but only served to irritate her more.
Monty, seeing her from across the room, immediately sought her out. Pulling her in closely, he spoke into her left ear. “These are my friends and co-workers, baby. The police and Fire Marshall are here also.”
Her eyes roved over the now silent crowd, their eyes all pinned on her. “Hello,” she said, offering an off-kilter smile.
Warm greetings and introductions were made before everyone settled into the spaces available. The detective and Fire Marshall sat in chairs directly in front of her. She noticed Mitch, the tall, dark-haired FBI agent, sat to the side. He appeared physically fit and his sharp eyes were filled with concern. Her mouth curved into a gentle smile and was greeted with his warm smile in return.
“Ms. Cartwright, we need to know what your actions were this morning, please.”
She noticed the Fire Marshall spoke clearly and somewhat slowly. Looks like everyone knows I’m deaf. Her irritation disappeared quickly as she realized he was trying to make things easier for her. Taking a deep breath, she gave a succinct description of her morning.
“After Monty left, I went downstairs about eight. That’s much later than I normally begin my day, but I wasn’t expecting to open for the breakfast crowd. I mixed the batter and then turned on the ovens.”
“You did not preheat the ovens first?” the detective asked.
“I did, but not then.” Seeing their confused expressions, she explained. “The cupcake batter needs to rest about ten minutes before I put it in the oven. So I mixed it up and then turned on the oven.”
“Then you went upstairs?”
“I realized I had forgotten my phone, so I ran upstairs to get it. I had it in my hand and had just gotten to the top of the stairs when…” she faltered. Monty’s arm gave her a squeeze and she leaned back into his strength.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she continued. “There was an enormous exploding noise. I heard glass shatter and then there was a ball of heat that swept up the stairs.” She lifted her hand to her face, rubbing the bandage on her forehead. At least this cut is on the other side from my other scar.
Monty’s fingers massaged her neck, allowing her to slowly relax. “How are you holding up, baby?” he said in her good ear.
She turned to face him, admitting, “The roar in my ear is still there. It doesn’t hurt but is giving me a headache.”
Monty’s eyes searched the room, landing on Miriam. She nodded and reached into her purse, pulling out ibuprofen. She grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and walked over to Angel. “Here you go, sweetie.”
Grateful, Angel took the proffered pain reliever. Looking back to the detective and Fire Marshall, she asked, “Now it’s time for you to talk to me. Was this an accidental gas explosion or was my oven—in my kitchen—rigged to explode?”
Her voice sounded harsh, her eyes boring into the men sitting in front of her. She noticed Chad shifted and her eyes moved to him. His expression was one of barely disguised rage. Shooting her eyes back to the Fire Marshall, she pierced him with her gaze. “I want to know exactly what happened to my bakery…and my home.”
“Ms. Cartwright, please understand that our investigation is just starting. I will say that our initial consultation with the investigators and the gas company is that it was not an accident. But that is all we know at this time.”
The detective looked at Chad. “I’d like to suggest that we be able to use your expertise in this matter.”
Chad agreed. “Absolutely. I’ll be heading back to the site this afternoon.”
The detective scribbled Angel’s statement and then proceeded to talk to Jack about the case they were working before he left.
She felt exhausted and the group of Saints and their women, while kind, were all talking amongst themselves and she could not hear their conversations. Bethany approached Angel, taking her hand and leading her over to where the other women were standing around the table. Looking down, Angel’s eyes widened in surprise. The table was covered in bags the women were emptying. Shampoo, conditioner, bath oil, body wash, underwear, t-shirts, sweaters, yoga pants, socks, and even some shoes.
“It’s not everything you need, but it will take care of you for a bit,” Miriam said.
Her eyes filling with tears, Angel looked around at her new friends, assuring, “Oh, this is amazing. Tha
nk you so much!” Touched by their generosity, she embraced each one. The women took the bounty back to the bathroom as she turned around to watch Monty interact with his co-workers.
Each man, different in appearance, shared the same determined expression. Picking out the boss was easy. Jack’s somber expression matched the personality Monty had ascribed to him. It was interesting to see his face when his eyes landed on Bethany. There was no doubt the man loved her when his eyes lit and his expression relaxed. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Looking at Bart and Cam with Faith and Miriam, she understood the meaning of that saying. Jude was the only other Saint who had a woman with him. What was it that Monty said? Oh yeah, Sabrina was Bart’s cousin and engaged to Jude. Besides Chad, there were four other men there, all discussing the explosion.
Monty observed as the other women came back into the room and noticed Angel standing alone, her eyes moving over the group. He watched as they landed on him, and she smiled. She’s been through hell and she still smiles at me. If I had already solved this case, maybe I could have stopped this from happening.
Marc watched the emotions cross Monty’s face. “This is not on you,” he said. The other men heard and agreed. “Or if it’s on you, then we all share in that guilt.”
Monty’s face was tight with anger and frustration. Angel walked over, looking up at his face as she approached. As usual, she walked straight into his arms, not stopping until her body hit his. Kissing the top of her head, he then pulled her face back so he could peer into her eyes. “I know you’re tired, Cupcake. I’m so sorry.”
“Monty Lytton. You have nothing to apologize for! The guilt rests squarely on whoever is after us girls. And I’m going to let the rest of the sorority know.”
Honor Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Page 21
