by Carol Caiton
The attorney seemed to understand. "We've been in touch with Dalton. He's on his way." He glanced down at his wristwatch. "Tell her that—"
The door opened, interrupting him, and yet another tall, dark-haired man entered the conference room.
"Dalton," the girl said, rising quickly from her chair, then crying out and wrapping an arm around her middle as she sank back down.
After an initial surprise, this Dalton Cooper strode forward to crouch beside Nimah's chair and Jessica shifted her own back to make a space for him.
"Nimah, have you seen a doctor?" he said gently, asking her directly, and Jessica seamlessly repeated his words in Farsi as he spoke them.
"Doctors can't do anything to heal broken ribs."
"They can bind them for support and give you something for pain."
"Yes, perhaps," she answered noncommittally. "Dalton, I'm here to warn you. I wasn't able—"
Her voice broke off and although Dalton Cooper's head blocked most of her view, Jessica could see the other girl struggled through pain just to breathe.
"Nimah, I want you to see a doctor. We have a female doctor at RUSH. Let her take care of you."
Nimah exhaled slowly through her mouth. "Later, Dalton. Later. You must listen. I wasn't strong enough. They know your name."
"Who knows my name?"
"My . . . family."
"Tell me why that's important."
She didn't answer immediately. She took several shallow breaths and looked down at her lap again. "You should keep company with someone you trust at all times, Dalton. Be certain you're never alone."
"Why, Nimah?" He paused then asked, "What do I need to watch out for?"
"I don't know. They didn't say."
He considered her words. "Is someone going to try to pin something on me?"
Jessica faltered over the question and placed a staying hand on Dalton's shoulder. "Excuse me. I don't understand to pin something. Can you re-phrase your question?"
The break brought everyone to sudden awareness of her role there. As was the norm, her voice bridged the transition between languages until each party eventually forgot the extra presence. But a break such as this brought their attention to her and Dalton Cooper turned on the balls of his feet to study her with dark piercing eyes.
"Yes," he said, "I'll rephrase."
He turned back to Nimah. "Why should I keep company with someone at all times, Nimah? Is somebody going to falsely accuse me of something?"
"They will try," she said sadly.
"Who? Who's going to try?"
She ignored that. "It's good that your people here called the police so they can see me and hear me say that you didn't do this." She raised her fingers toward her face.
The lawyer joined the conversation then. "If this accusation against Dalton doesn't bring the desired result, will there be others to follow?"
"Yes." Nimah looked across the table. "There will be others." She turned back to Dalton. "My family has a great deal of money. They can . . . cause things to appear as though they're something they are not."
Dalton Cooper reached up to gently brush the backs of his fingers across her unharmed cheek. "Thank you for the warning." Then he looked at the policeman. "Is there anything you can do for her?"
The officer looked at Nimah, then back at Dalton. "We can't make an arrest unless she gives us a name."
"No," the girl said.
"Or we can take her to a women's shelter where no one will find her," the officer added. Then he faced Nimah and talked to her about the secrecy, support, and assistance she'd receive at the woman's shelter while Jessica interpreted.
Nimah listened, and for the first time she seemed to realize there might be an alternative to the future she faced, that living under the authority of her family wasn't her only choice. She thanked the officer for his explanation and surprised everyone by accepting his offer.
The attorney, Mason Ingersol, looked across at Dalton and asked, "How many sessions have you had with Nimah?"
Jessica continued to interpret so Nimah could follow what was said. There were questions about the instruction Dalton had given, some involving the nature and location of touching, all of which caused Jessica a fair amount of discomfort. Nimah, however, willingly answered or affirmed the answers Dalton gave.
It was late afternoon before the meeting drew to a close. Jessica's throat was dry and scratchy and she decided to stop by Urns & Leaves as soon as she could politely excuse herself. Generally, refreshment was provided during business meetings, but this one hadn't been planned and she didn't think anyone in the room realized how taxing it could be on the interpreter. Therefore, it surprised her when Jeremiah Case appeared at her side with a paper cup of water.
She glanced up. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. And thank you. Because of your help, we understand the threat to Dalton."
The thought of copious amounts of money and power wielded by an angry family sent a shiver through her. "He should do as she asks," Jessica said.
Jeremiah gave her a nod. "We'll take care of it." He looked over toward the door where Nimah was being helped into a wheelchair. "It looks like she's ready to head over to Medical Services. Mason will need you to stay with her. Are you okay with that?"
She smiled. She'd spoken to this man in a forthright temper and told him outright that she didn't like him. Yet here he stood, concerned for her ease.
She extended her hand to go with the smile and felt it engulfed in his larger one. "I'll be fine, thank you."
As it happened, Mason Ingersol, Dalton Cooper, and the two policemen weren't the only people with an interest in Nimah's medical condition, though they were the only ones to follow the security vehicle that carried her and Nimah to the medical center.
Once Nimah had been examined, treated, and prescribed the necessary medications, she signed a release form that provided access to her records, then left RUSH in the company of the two officers for what was likely the last time.
Jessica, by then, was tired, hungry, and very much wanted a soothing cup of hot tea. She asked for a few private minutes with Dr. Sturrow to speak about a private matter, then exited into the lobby where at once the quiet conversations of a group of men fell to silence. They all rose from their seats, looking directly at her.
A bit startled, she paused. Then Malcolm stepped forward, smiling as he strode across the lobby.
"Listening to you work was captivating. Thank you for your help."
His comment confused her because the conference room door had been closed and he'd been somewhere on the other side of it.
"We were in an observation room," he explained, noting her confusion.
An observation room. "I didn't realize . . . ."
He stepped to the side then as the rest of the group came forward.
"Michael?" She blinked in surprise.
"Hey, sweetheart." He gave her a brief hug. "You did good in there."
"Geez," someone else murmured. "He's married and he doesn't even work on property anymore . . . . How is it he knows our newest female employees?"
The others laughed and Michael began introducing her to the rest of the group who, she was to learn, were his business partners and joint owners of RUSH. Except for Dalton Cooper, who was introduced as one of their chief instructors. Then he laughed when she blushed with the memory of Mason's questions and comprehended what it was Dalton instructed.
Simon hugged her as well when all the introductions were completed. "You know," he said, "if that Falkner guy doesn't put a ring on your finger pretty soon, he's going to find himself facing some serious competition."
"Dream on," came a voice from the back of the crowd and the men around her quieted.
Squeezing Simon's arm, she tried to look around the large male bodies blocking her view, and they shifted aside.
Kyle.
Those beautiful dark eyes went straight to her heart. She wanted to dash across the lobby, to feel his arms around her and k
now that he still wanted her. But he'd hurt her, both physically and emotionally. And she'd hurt him as well, both physically and emotionally. Ugly words still stretched between them.
Yet here he was at RUSH, though his membership had been revoked.
She glanced at Michael who, in turn, sent her a barely perceptible nod. But that small reassurance was everything she needed. So she put her trust in Michael's judgment and did what she wanted to do. Then her heart overflowed with joy as Kyle folded her into his arms and he held her against his warm, hard body.
The deep breath he took shuddered through them both before he eased back and tucked her against his side.
"I understand you've had a busy day," he said, smiling.
"Yes."
They remained for several minutes, talking with the others, and the one named Oliver asked several questions about international investments. But when her voice cracked and became uneven, Kyle intervened.
"It's time we headed out, he said, moving to Jessica's other side so he could shake hands with everyone while still holding her against him.
When he got to Simon he said, "Thanks for the phone call."
Jessica looked up in confusion. "Simon called you?"
"Sure did," Michael answered. "Asked for my phone and skimmed down till he got to Kyle's number. Then he called and told him what was going on."
"You were in the observation room with them?"
"No, honey. I was waiting in another area. But I had a security guard to keep me company." He nodded back toward the seating area where one of Jeremiah Case's men stood discreetly out of the way.
It had been nearly four hours since Malcolm had tracked her down at the food court. She looked up at him and asked, "How did you know I would be here? It's Saturday."
"I took a chance and had Jeremiah run a trace on your chip to see if you were on property. He located you outside Magnolias."
"I see."
Embarrassingly, her hunger made itself known with a vengeful growl and Malcolm grinned. "I took you from your lunch. You'd better feed her," he said to Kyle.
"I'm thinking the same thing." His fingers tightened briefly on her waist. "Time to go."
Accepting several more thank-yous, she said goodbye to each of them and gratefully left under Kyle's arm.
CHAPTER 23
"Do you want to eat here at RUSH or somewhere else?" Kyle asked, hoping she'd say she wanted to go someplace else, away from RUSH and the security guard accompanying them out the doors of the medical center.
"Here, please. I'm famished."
Well at least it was better than being inside her apartment building with an elevator door closing in his face. Every waking hour he felt as though he was walking the edge of disaster. And relief, just some frigging room to breathe, was two weeks away—if he could get her all the way to Philadelphia and in front of an altar.
This sense of desperation was taking a toll on him. The incessant uncertainty gnawed at him with a need that didn't leave much room for rational thinking. At times he was like a prowling animal, prepared to tear his way through the next person or object that came between them. And it scared the shit out of him to see how together she was, to know she might walk away from him again because he'd deceived her . . . to know he was so frigging in love with her while she could step inside that goddamned elevator and calmly shut the door on him.
"Kyle?"
Breathe, goddamn it, breathe. "What is it Jess?"
"I'm not sure. You grew quiet."
"Just thinking, honey. Where would you like to eat?" Thank God he had moments of comic disbelief when he marveled at the fact that he actually trembled with impatience to marry a nineteen-year-old girl. "Any preference?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Gabriel's. I'm surrounding myself with the creature comforts today."
Creature comforts were definitely to be found at Gabriel's since upscale didn't go much higher than the luxury and attention they'd find there.
"Gabriel's it is then."
He tried to relax as they were ushered to a private booth. His personal escort took himself off to the side of the dining room, still able to keep a visual on Kyle, and was joined by another guard. Had Case decided two guards were required, or was the second one assigned to the restaurant? He tried to remember whether or not he'd ever seen guards inside the restaurants but drew a blank.
He was careful to keep their conversation light while a wine steward approached and took their order. But he wanted to know what the fuck she was doing here at RUSH. She'd been fired from her job, and it was Saturday so she couldn't be here for lunch with her sister.
When their food order was taken he figured he was relaxed enough to question her without sounding like the maniac she was turning him into. Hell, he of all people knew how principled she was.
"Jess?"
She took a swallow of iced water. "Yes?"
"Why did you come to RUSH today?"
Way to go, Ky. Nothing like a little subtlety.
But something was wrong. His first indication was the pause of her glass in midair before it reached the table. He stared at it, then looked into her eyes.
"Kyle, I wasn't—" She broke off, then started again. "After last night . . . ."
He went still. Yeah, something was definitely wrong. In a bad way.
"I didn't know if you—if we . . . ."
All his earlier tension seeped into his muscles.
"Kyle, you were so very angry."
His pulse throbbed in his temples.
"When I hit you."
He held his breath.
"And I didn't know . . . . I didn't know if you wanted me anymore." She dropped her gaze to the table.
"Jessica. Tell me why you came to RUSH today."
"I came here because . . . because I needed comforting arms, Kyle." She stared right into his eyes and said, "I cried. Very much—"
He could barely see past the haze that blurred everything in sight, didn't realize he'd shoved to his feet with enough force to send his chair flying as he grabbed the edge of the table and overturned it in a goddamn rage.
"Kyle!"
His arms were seized from behind by both security guards so swiftly, it was as though they'd been standing directly behind his chair. They muscled him into an elevator while he bellowed with fury, took him down to the underground tunnels, and locked him in a windowless cell somewhere beneath the grounds of RUSH.
* * *
"Michael Vassek!" Jessica demanded when yet another guard appeared at her side. "Call your security and ask Jeremiah Case if Michael Vassek is still here! Now!" she demanded.
They'd created a spectacle in this wonderful restaurant. Its patrons, some of them on their feet along with many of its staff, gathered a short distance away and stared into the private eating room she'd shared with Kyle. But the tightness in her chest and the urgency racing through her were for Kyle and the terrible words she knew he'd misunderstood because he hadn't allowed her to finish her very lame explanation.
And lame it was. She hated her inability to express herself well in this language that was supposed to be her native tongue.
The guard spoke into his communication device. "She's demanding to see Michael Vassek."
Please, please still be here, Michael.
Someone—one of the waiters—handed her a clean folded napkin and tactfully pointed toward his own face.
She was crying, she realized, and used the napkin to wipe mascara-darkened tears from her face.
"Come with me Miss Breckenridge," the guard said, no longer speaking to Security Central.
He led her toward the same elevator that took Kyle away and she found herself underground in a well lit tunnel. The soft whir of a security vehicle sped toward them, Jeremiah Case at the steering wheel, and Michael Vassek thankfully in the seat beside him. Michael leapt out of the little car before it completely stopped and propelled himself toward her with a hand pushing off the nearby wall.
Jessica burst into tears of
relief. "Michael!"
* * *
She started babbling that Chinese shit at him.
"Shhh," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to calm her down.
"They took Kyle away," she sobbed—in English this time.
Yeah, he knew that already. And he knew Kyle had been a raving lunatic, fighting two guards to get at her.
"C'mon," he said, "let's go sit down and talk."
The fastest way to finding out what set Kyle off was gonna be through her, 'cause Kyle needed to wear himself out some more before Michael set foot in that holding room.
Looking over at Case, he gave a single nod, then watched him turn the golf cart around and take off. Then he guided Kyle's little prom queen to the nearest supply room, keyed in the universal access code, and led her inside.
"Michael, he thinks I . . . ."
He flicked on the light switch and she started crying again.
"Kyle thinks I came here today to have sex," she blurted out.
Ah, fuck. He shoved a boxed case of something across the floor and said, "Have a seat and tell me why Kyle would think that."
She wiped at her eyes with one of the napkins from upstairs, saw the box, and sat.
"We argued. Last night," she told him.
Yeah, he already knew about that, too. And he knew Kyle hadn't had a chance to make things right with her yet 'cause she'd been at RUSH all day.
He shoved another box across the floor and sat down too so he wasn't looming over her.
"I came to RUSH today for—" She frowned. "Self-comforting."
"Self-comforting?"
"I don't know the word!" she cried out, clearly agitated. Then she sniffed and gathered herself. "A massage, a manicure . . . . To feel better," she explained in a calmer tone.
"Okay, I understand." But why had Kyle jumped to a whole other conclusion?
"I spoke it wrong," she said. "I told him I came to RUSH because I needed . . . comforting arms."
Oh shit.
"And then—" Her voice broke. "Then he . . . ."
But Michael knew what had happened after that. Kyle had gone ballistic.
