by Tia Louise
I watch as she works around him. The doctor enters holding a metal clipboard with papers on top. He steps over to one of the large monitors and makes notes. “Oxygen levels are good,” he says quietly. “Let me know if anything changes.”
The monitor beeps, and I wait. Nothing seems to be happening.
“Mr. Alexander?” The nurse touches his shoulder.
No response.
Her expression changes, and fear cramps my stomach. “Is something wrong?”
“Not necessarily.” She steps over to the monitors again and makes a few notes. “I want you to call me when his eyes open. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”
She goes around the screen, and it’s just the two of us. I’m on edge near his pillow waiting, straining for him to wake up. A round clock above the small television mounted on the wall says it’s almost nine. I hadn’t asked if I could stay overnight, but the doctor didn’t seem interested in making me leave.
My mind drifts back to when Dex was born. I’d decided to have a drug-free delivery, and my groans and screaming as I worked to get our little son into the world nearly drove Derek out of the hospital. I’ll never forget how helpless he looked. A bit like he looks now. Once it was over, he never left my bedside. At one point he climbed in beside me, putting one arm over my head and the other across my waist and around our new baby nestled in my side. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.
Quickly assessing the position of the tubes and monitors to his left, I sit on the bedside in the small space to his right. Slipping off my shoes, I stretch my legs down his. The arm I was just caressing is between us, and I’m careful not to disturb his injured torso. The beeps continue steadily, without interruption, as I place my cheek against his shoulder and wrap my arm across his chest.
For a little while I only hold him, feeling the warmth of his body soothing the fear in my chest. Several moments pass, and my muscles begin to relax. I feel his calm breathing, in and out, and it calms mine. My body melts into his, and for the first time in three weeks, I feel whole again.
“I won’t leave until you’re back with me,” I say, sliding my palm carefully over his shoulder.
Chapter 17: Finished Business
Derek
An irritating beeping noise is in my ears. It’s dark, and I’m sluggish. My limbs are so heavy, I can’t lift them. Confused, I blink up at the ceiling, trying to remember where the hell I am and how I got here. The last thing I recall is lying on the floor of the jail, blood pooling around my midsection.
Clearly, someone called help. Wait. Ben was there. He called me Captain... Something is across my shoulders. I try to lift up, but pain sears my left side, and I remember the knife going between my ribs, gasping for air. Shit. That fucker must’ve punctured a lung. So I’m in the hospital? Another beep, and I try to move again, but the slim band across my shoulders prevents me.
Turning my head, everything changes. I realize what’s holding me. Melissa. Her soft hair is against my shoulder. I try to lift my arm again, but it feels weighted down. I want to hold her. Straining my neck in her direction, I take a deep inhale... ocean roses. Warmth swells in my chest. She’s in the hospital bed beside me.
“Derek?” Her voice is thick with sleep, and the sound is so lovely. Lifting her face, her dark brow pulls over those beautiful sapphire eyes. “Are you awake?”
I try to answer, but my mouth is so dry. “Yes.” It comes out a scratched whisper.
“Oh!” She’s on her feet at once. “Are you thirsty? Here, let me get you a drink.” She runs around the foot to my other side. A plastic cup is on a rolling tray. She grabs it and is back at my bedside just as fast.
“Take a sip.” Her hand lightly touches my chin as she holds the straw to my lips.
Fuck the water. I want to drink in her lovely form, standing over me. Her eyes are a little swollen, and I realize she’s been crying. My lips part, and I pull the tepid water into my mouth. It’s not very good, but it soothes my throat.
“You’re here.” I whisper. It’s all I can think. She’s here. After all those nights apart when my body ached for hers, she’s right here in this room with me. Then she’s up on the bedside again, leaning closer, but holding herself off my torso.
“I’m here,” she repeats with a smile, her eyes glistening with more tears.
“Don’t cry,” I say, but my voice cracks again. She quickly holds the straw to my lips, and I take another sip.
More tears are in her eyes, but she’s smiling now. She sniffs as they stream down her cheeks, and she leans forward, pressing her forehead to mine.
“I’m so happy you’re awake. I’ve been waiting to tell you how much I love you. I want you to come home. I want us to never be separated again.”
I tilt my chin to kiss her cheek. She lifts up, but hesitates before kissing my mouth. “The doctor is worried about infection...”
“Kiss me.” My voice cracks, but the order is clear. Her lips press together, and she hesitates. “Melissa,” I say a bit stronger. “I’m not worried about infection. Kiss me, dammit.”
She breaks into a smile before lightly cupping my cheeks and leaning forward. Her soft lips press against mine, and I curse my inability to hold her. Lightly pulling my lips with hers, it’s just a tease of a kiss. I growl and lift my head, kissing her more forcefully, but the movement sends a stab of pain into my ribs.
“Ugh,” I gasp, falling back against the pillow.
“Oh my god!” She hops up. “I’ll call the nurse!”
“Melissa,” I growl. “Get over here and give me a real kiss before I fucking hurt myself.”
My words freeze her on the spot. She blinks back at me then exhales a laugh. With a shake of her beautiful head, she’s at my side again in the same spot as before.
“You’re the most stubborn man,” she whispers in that low, sultry voice I love.
“What do I have to do to make you listen to me?”
Her eyes sparkle as she cups my cheek. “I’m listening to you.” She touches my lips softly with hers and pulls back. I let out a frustrated growl, and she speaks again. “I hear every word you say.”
This time her lips crash against mine with all the longing we both feel. Mouths open, my tongue finds hers and curls with it. Desire floods my veins, and I manage to lift my right arm. It’s heavy, but I hold the back of her neck, drawing her body closer to mine. She lets out a little sigh and lifts her chin. Pulling her closer, I press my mouth to her soft throat.
“You have to be careful,” she whispers, threading her fingers into the sides of my hair.
“I’ll let you know if anything hurts.”
Slipping off the bed, she’s again beside me. My arm falls and she catches it, moving it under the blanket. “You’ve had some pretty serious injuries. Let me call the nurse.”
All I want is to hold her. I’ve waited so long for this moment. “Only because I don’t want to stay in this bed longer than I have to.”
She smiles and leans forward to kiss my forehead. I make a move to catch her and she laughs, dancing back. “Your recovery might be extensive.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not finished with you.”
* * *
Three weeks, and I’m back in the Alexander-Knight office in Princeton, collecting the files I’d brought up from Wilmington and sorting through the files I’d dug out while I was here away from Melissa.
The doctor in Baltimore released me a few days after I came around, once my infection cleared up. I had to check in with my doctor here, who put me on bed rest. I still get winded, and at times I feel like an infant learning to walk again.
Speaking of infants, Melissa brought Dex from Wilmington to stay with us, and my ultimate bachelor pad looks more like a nursery than ever. It’s exactly the way I like it after those nights alone, hating the sterile single-ness of the place. Today, they’re in Baltimore meeting with Bea. Our wedding plans have been restored, and Melissa is taking pictures of doughnuts. I didn’t e
ven question her.
“These are the last of the files,” Nikki says, taking a stack of accordion folders off my desk. “You want them in the back filing cabinet?”
“We should probably think about scanning them and saving them on the hard drive.” I open my MacBook and click on the main directory folder. “As a leader in online security, it’s pretty ridiculous for us to keep paper files in the office.”
Her chin drops and she pauses at my door. “I’m not planning to stick around and help with that. I’ve sent my resume to a few offices, and I have an interview with one tomorrow.”
Stopping what I’m doing, I push back against the desk and slowly stand. “I guess we never finished talking about that.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I don’t belong here anymore.”
Patrick has returned to Wilmington with Elaine and Lane, and I briefly glance in the direction of Stuart’s empty office. He hasn’t made it in yet this morning.
“I understand how you feel,” I say. “If you need a reference, I’ll be happy to give you one.”
“I won’t make you lie for me,” she says with a bitter shake of her head. “I slept with Mr. Knight, I helped a blackmailer trap Mr. Alexander in a murder rap—”
“To be fair, it was an honest mistake.” I’m not holding it against her.
“Yes, because I’m such a god-awful secretary, you didn’t let me open your mail.”
I don’t have a good answer for that because it’s true. I’m standing in the office trying to think of a nice send-off when the glass doors open, and a face I never expected to see here emerges.
Slayde pauses in the doorway when he sees Nikki and me standing there. “Hi,” his voice hesitates. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“I was just taking these files away for Derek.” Nikki takes off toward the back office, and I’m left facing the son of my nemesis.
“Would it be okay if we talked in your office?” He steps forward, and his expression is conflicted. “Star told me what happened. I just... I need to ask you some questions.”
“Of course.” I step to the side and motion for him to enter.
He walks in, but doesn’t take a seat. Instead, he steps to the bookshelves and puts his hands in his front pockets as he studies my photographs of Melissa and Dex. I step around my desk and take a seat.
“You hired this guy Bennett to be your private investigator?” He asks, turning to me. “You didn’t know anything about him?”
“I knew his work history,” I say. “I needed someone to work cases here when I moved to Wilmington. He came highly recommended, and Bennett is a common enough name. I’m sorry, but you never entered my mind.”
The young man nods and paces to the other side of my office. “No, I’m sorry.” He stops and faces me, those ice blue eyes burning with intensity. “I’m sorry for what he did to you, the blackmailing and the forcing you to turn yourself in. I’d never have wanted him to do that. I’m not about revenge.”
Nodding, I lift the Montblanc pen off my desk. “I believe you.”
“It sounds like a line, but I’m not sorry I went to prison. I was a waste of space, an ungrateful killer.” He pauses and rubs an inked hand over his mouth, glancing down. “Doc changed my life. I’d never have met him if it weren’t for what you did.”
I knew a little of Slayde’s story. Patrick had explained his transformation to me when we debated whether Lane should spend time with Kenny now that she was dating an ex-con. Based on how I knew him, the answer was an automatic No. However, since leaving prison, Slayde had started over, taken control of his life. He rescued Kenny then he rescued his entire work crew and was named a hero. We’d decided he was one of the rare success stories of the penal system, and it was obvious Kenny couldn’t be more in love.
He looks up at me. “Do you know where this Bennett is now?”
“I haven’t had a chance to look into it,” I say. “It’s only my first day back in the office. But I’m sure I could find him for you.”
“Would you?”
I’m just leaning forward to wake up my computer when a cold voice breaks through our conversation.
“No need to look,” the man says. “I’m right here.”
Slayde spins around just as my head snaps up to see none other than Robert Bennett in the entrance to my office. He’s smiling, leaning against the doorjamb. His brown hair—the same color as his son’s, I notice—is neatly trimmed, and he’s dressed neatly in khakis and a short-sleeved shirt, as if he were just out taking a drive and stopped by the office.
Despite his casual appearance, I’m on high alert. He wanted revenge, and I’m not sure he’s satisfied. Momentary silence fills the air as the three of us assess one another. My attitude is angry, defensive, but I can feel waves of rage rolling off of Slayde. His fists clench, as does his jaw. I’m on guard against what he might do. At the same time, I recall his reputation for control.
“What do you want?” Slayde’s tone is low.
“Shane?” The man says, pushing off and taking a step toward us. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
“My name is Slayde,” the young fighter replies. “Why are you here?”
An evil smirk crosses my former PI’s face, and his dark eyes narrow. “I’ve been keeping tabs on my old employer, waiting for him to be strong enough to get back to work.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
My brows rise. Slayde might be tamed, but a lot of his old ferocity still exists.
“Take it easy, son,” Bennett says, stopping in his tracks. “This is for you. Everything I’ve done has been to avenge your honor.”
“I’m not your son.”
“Well, biologically speaking—”
“I don’t have a father.” Slayde’s fists tighten again, and I remember his signature move. High-volume punching. “The man who raised me was a fucked up bastard, and you were nothing more than a sperm donor.”
Robert frowns. “I wanted to be there for you. I followed all your fights, all your matches. I was so proud of you.”
“Once I was an adult. Where were you when I needed you? When I was seven years old being beaten for leaving a fucking Lego on the floor? When I was locked in a closet for hours for not knowing how to make breakfast?”
“My cousin was a fucked up loser,” Robert snaps, and for a moment, I see a glimmer of the old Slayde reflected in his face. “Trust me. If he hadn’t died already—”
“He was an alcoholic who was broken after the love of his life died.” Slayde’s demeanor shifts like sand, and I can see how he’s changed since I faced him in the courtroom. “At least now I understand why he hated me so much.”
“It doesn’t excuse what he did to you.”
“I never said it did, but you knew about it. You knew who I was and what I was going through. You never did a thing to help me.”
“How could I?” Robert holds his hands open in a plaintiff gesture that makes me sick. “I was in no position to raise a kid. I was alone and not in a good place myself when Megan died.”
“You could’ve sent the cops. You could’ve done something to help me.”
Bennett shakes his head, and I see the crazy rage spark in his eyes. “NO! This isn’t about me. This is about HIM!” He waves his arm at me. “You survived. You made it out of there and made a name for yourself. You were a star, a rising legend!”
“I was a broken loser just like the drunk who raised me.” Slayde’s shoulders droop. “I was so full of rage. I went through money like it didn’t matter. I went through women like they were worthless whores.”
“Until Derek Alexander ended your life.”
Slayde’s head snaps up at that. “He didn’t end my life. He started the chain of events that helped me find peace. It’s more than you ever did.”
Bennett lunges forward now. “How can you say that? You don’t know him like I do!” Sneering in my direction, his level of hatred for me is stunning. “He struts arou
nd here like some fucking hotshot, like he’s some king.”
I would argue, but I’m feeling my injury. My wind is cut in half.
“You’re just trying to assuage your own guilt,” Slayde murmurs.
“It’s time the king was dethroned.”
“What are you talking about?” Slayde’s voice is an echo in my ears. Bennett’s hand is in his coat, and I see the gun as he pulls it from his pocket.
“You are fucking... NO!” Slayde shouts, making a lunge toward the man.
A BLAST! rings out, and I flinch, anticipating the bullet wound. In the hair’s breath of a second, I know it could very well be more than my body could handle in my current state. Slayde is young and strong, but if it hits him in the chest, in the heart...
Gunfire is a sharp, staccato sound. It ends almost as fast as it begins, leaving you to wonder if it truly was a gun. Could it have been fireworks? A car backfiring? No, cars don’t backfire in these days of computer-controlled starters
My first thought upon all these reflections is I’m in shock.
My second is I haven’t been hit.
Looking up, I realize Slayde is standing in the center of my office as well, seeming stunned. On the floor in front of him, the man claiming to be his father is crumpled into a heap. A thick, blackish pool is forming around him, and I realize he didn’t shoot at all. Bennett was the victim here.
Wresting control of my scattered thoughts, I look up, and in the hallway, I see her standing there. In her hand is the small pistol Stuart put in my boot the night he dressed me in Kevlar and sent me out to meet our unknown blackmailer. I’d given him the small gun back, and he’d put it in his desk, where for the first time since she’d been a part of our team, our weakest link took control of the situation and changed it for the better.
Nikki shot Bennett just as he was attempting to shoot me. Now he’s on the floor at Slayde’s feet, writhing in pain, and my secretary stands, blue eyes huge, shivering in the reception area.
* * *
The police have cleared out by ten. One of Nikki’s friends drives her home, promising to stay with her, and Slayde heads back to Bayville. I send a quick text to Melissa, promising to tell her everything once I get home.
