by Bonnie Vanak
“Shut up,” the man snarled, inching toward the door.
Belle was reciting anatomy. Admiration threaded through his intense fear for her. The woman was a rock.
“And the bone easiest to break in the human body is your clavicle, also known as your collarbone?”
No answer. Clare kept dragging her backward in the direction of the dock.
“Of course, if you break a bone, any bone, you would want a nondisplaced fracture, which is far safer since both parts of the broken bone remain in alignment...”
Clare turned his head to look down at her. “Will you shut...”
Belle twisted, ducked, a perfect execution of the move he’d taught her, and then dropped. NOW!
Head shot. Kyle had fired.
A red mist filled the air as the bullet met its mark. Clare dropped to the ground.
Panting, he ran toward Belle.
“You bastard. Trying to steal my bride?” a man asked.
Kyle turned, saw Evan Worthington pointing a gun straight at him. Gunfire cracked through the air and pain exploded in his body.
Damn. “I’m bleeding.” He put a hand to his chest and laughed with disbelief as his fingers came back stained red.
And then his legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground.
Chapter 24
As police wrestled Evan to the floor, Belle raced toward Kyle. He lay still, so damn still, on the ground. She felt his pulse. Weak and thready.
“I need a knife, cut off his shirt,” she ordered.
Roarke brought out a wicked-looking black knife from a sheath on his belt and sliced through the fabric. He pulled it open to reveal Kyle’s tanned chest, the mat of dark hair she’d loved running her fingers through and a round puncture wound.
Single gunshot round to the chest. Gasping, he stared up at her.
Blood, so much damn blood. Red bubbled up from his skin as he gasped. His lungs struggled to fight the increased wound pressure, and Kyle breathed harder.
Her mind shifted into automatic as she listened for breath sounds that came sharper, more wheezing. She couldn’t tell if the wound was hissing, the classic sign. Always assume any penetrating chest wound is sucking.
If she didn’t seal this, Kyle’s left lung could collapse in minutes. She had to seal it and still allow air to escape while the lungs inflated.
“Helicopter’s on its way. They’ll lower a basket for him and rush him to trauma.” Roarke knelt beside her. “Jesus, Kyle, hang in there.”
They didn’t have time. “I need tin foil or plastic wrap from the kitchen, and duct tape. Hurry!”
“Duct tape?” one agent asked.
“For God’s sake, everyone has duct tape. Go!”
Kyle’s face grew paler and his breathing more ragged.
A police officer rushed over with a length of plastic wrap. Belle tore off a piece, placed it against Kyle’s skin, and then cut the duct tape to seal the plastic on three sides. Her mind functioned as she was trained, as if Kyle were an ordinary trauma patient she’d treated in her rounds in the ER during medical school.
As if he were a stranger, not the man she loved. The man who’d made her laugh, taught her to take a hard look at life and what she truly wanted.
Kyle seized her hand. “Belle,” he gasped. “Wanna tell you...”
“You’re going to be all right, Kyle. Breathe, just breathe,” she told him, listening to the chest wound.
Some air escaped, but not as much. She checked for physical signs of a tension pneumothorax, in which a collapsed lung leaked air and pushed the lung to the body’s other side. He could die if that happened. Belle glanced at his face. No blue lips yet, but he was too damn pale and still gasping for breath.
With Roarke’s help, she elevated his feet, covered him with a blanket to keep Kyle warm. Belle rubbed his hands. “Hang in there, cowboy agent,” she whispered. “I’m not going to lose you.”
Finally the sounds of a helicopter sounded overhead. Medics came inside with a basket. She followed them outside, telling them his vitals.
They took Anna as well as a precaution, promising to take good care of her.
“Belle,” Anna cried out. “Come with us.”
Tears formed in her eyes. She hugged her. “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Go!”
Watching the helo fly away, she fisted her hands. “Take good care of him,” she whispered.
Then she silently climbed into one of the sleek boats at the dock. Roarke helped her, and sat by her the entire time.
Flashing lights from police and FBI cars lined the parking lot at the marina where they docked. Belle caught sight of a black Mercedes.
“Mom,” she whispered, running to meet her parents.
Clint was there as well, hugging her, crying. Between hugs, they told her the entire story, how the FBI had discovered Mindy’s plans, and then escorted them to the marina to wait for news.
“I’m so sorry, Belle,” Clint sobbed. “I didn’t know Evan had lost it like he did.”
“It’s okay,” she murmured, grateful to be in all of their arms.
Lifting her head, she saw a pale Mindy Worthington being led away in handcuffs. Shirley North glared at her. “Excuse me a minute, Belle.”
Astonished, she watched her prim, proper mother stride over to Mindy and slap her across the face. “You bitch,” she snapped. “How dare you take my daughter away from me!”
The police pulled Mindy away and placed her into the police car. Belle ran over to her mother. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m okay.”
“Your neck. Oh, honey, what did they do to you?” Shirley touched her, tears in her eyes.
“One of them hurt me, but it’s okay. I guess he realized at the last minute it wasn’t a good idea to strangle the future wife of Evan Worthington.”
She explained quickly what happened.
Hands trembling, her mother touched her face. “I almost lost you once, Belle. I never thought this would happen again.”
“Mom? Again?”
Her mother nodded. “We’ll talk in the car.”
As they headed toward the hospital, her mother and father sitting with her in the backseat, Shirley finally told her. “You were kidnapped as a child, Belle. The FBI saved you.”
She clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to grapple with reality.
“When? How?” She gave a brittle laugh. “It’s impossible. There would be a record and Harvard would have investigated, done a background check when I entered medical school.”
“The records were sealed. You were only three years old.” Mrs. North began twisting and untwisting her hands. “It happened when we lived in New York.”
She waited, staring at her mother.
“I left you with a second cousin and his girlfriend who lived in Manhattan while your father and I were attending a Broadway play. Bart owned the building, and security was excellent so I was confident you were safe.” Shirley gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t even recall what play it was. Halfway through, the usher told us there was an emergency. You were missing.”
Belle’s throat went dry.
“The FBI got involved. The ransom call came two hours later.” Mrs. North looked at her hands as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “One million dollars. Cash only. Before we even went to the bank, the police found you fast asleep, unharmed, in an apartment two floors below. My cousin’s girlfriend took you, kept you there in her place. The FBI found out Bart was nearly broke and living a life of luxury he couldn’t afford. They took Bart in for questioning and he broke down.”
She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. “That’s why you moved away from New York.”
Her mother nodded. “Bart got twenty years in prison—his girlfriend got only ten. But after that, I didn’t feel safe anymore in the city. Not around anyone other than my immediate fa
mily.”
No wonder her mother seldom visited New York. Shirley always blamed the rapid pace of the city and the cold.
Her mind did rapid calculations. “Twenty years in prison...he’s out by now.”
Her father offered a grim smile. “His father made sure Bart got a one-way ticket to the Midwest. Got him a job working for an insurance firm. I heard he married, has a family. He tried to contact us a few times to apologize. I told him I’d forgive him when hell had a cold snap. Or two. Every year on the anniversary of your kidnapping, I always send a private investigator to check on Bart and make sure he’s far, far away from you.”
No wonder her mother always kept an eye on what Belle did. All these years Shirley lived with the terror of something else bad happening to Belle.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked gently.
“Because I was terrified you would blame me for being a poor mother.” Shirley looked at her, her blue eyes growing moist.
A lump clogged her throat. “Oh, Mom.” She held out her arms.
For a long moment, they hugged each other. Shirley North wasn’t the hugging type, but she didn’t pull back or try to resist. With some effort, Belle swallowed her emotions as Shirley finally did pull away, dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief in the pocket of her linen pants. Tears had ruined her mascara.
Her mother. Always so perfect, groomed and in control. The curtain behind all that lifted, showing Belle the real woman behind the mask.
“I would never blame you. Thank you for telling me. It wasn’t your fault.” Belle smiled at her, wiped her own eyes. “I’m glad you did.”
Shirley hugged her again. “Whatever that young FBI agent needs, let us know. Anything. We owe him.”
Minutes later, escorted by two police cars screeching their sirens, they pulled up to the hospital. But the doctors and nurses refused to allow her entrance into surgery.
So she waited outside, pacing. A few minutes later, Roarke came into the hallway. Belle ran to him and hugged him tight.
Tears clogged her throat. “He has to be okay,” she said fiercely. “He has to be. They wouldn’t let me into surgery with him.”
Murmuring assurances, Roarke led her over to a bench in the hallway. He greeted her parents and Clint, and vanished for a minute, returning with a box of tissues. Belle wiped her eyes and blew her nose as Roarke joined the other agents and police officers drifting into the hallway to wait for news.
She wiped her eyes again. “Look at me. I’m supposed to be a professional.”
“You are a professional, Belle,” her father told her. He glanced at her mother. “Your mom and I have talked. We decided...if...when...”
Choking up, he struggled to talk. Her mother gripped his hand and continued. “We decided when you were rescued that it’s your life to live. Whatever you wish to do, even if you decide not to be a doctor, we will support you.”
Clint nodded. “I’m sorry I let you down, Belle. If you decide against a residency and want a permanent job running the clinic, it’s yours.”
Unable to speak, she nodded. Now was not the time to think about herself. She was too worried about Kyle.
Finally the surgeon came out of the double doors. She’d been in surgeries before, and knew from the woman’s face even before she spoke that Kyle had survived.
“Agent Anderson will be fine. It’ll be a rough road for a short time, but he’s young and strong,” the surgeon assured them.
More tears sprang to her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Thank you,” the surgeon said. “If you didn’t act so quickly to seal the chest wound, he would have died... Dr. North.”
Belle blushed. The surgeon walked away and Roarke hugged her. “Thanks for saving him, Dr. North.”
And then she was once more engulfed in a sea of arms, thanking her as the other FBI agents surrounded her. Through it all Belle could only think of Kyle, and seeing him again.
The man she loved was going to make it.
And what future they had together, she would negotiate later.
Chapter 25
No one told him hospital food could be this bad. If he never saw another cart from Dietary ever again, he’d be a happy man.
Today, after a long week recovering in the hospital, he headed home. Best thing of all was his chauffeur. Instead of her low-slung Corvette, Belle drove her parents’ Mercedes.
Grateful he didn’t have to stoop down, he climbed into the passenger seat, thanking again the doctors and nurses who came outside to bid him goodbye.
They saved his ass, but Belle, man, she saved his soul. He leaned back, looked at her as she started the car and they drove off. Unable to speak all the emotions churning inside, he rested, damn happy to be leaving the hospital in a luxury car instead of a box.
“We have a stop to make before you go home.”
Kyle closed his eyes, resting his head against the window. Felt damn good to be out of that hospital bed. “Thanks for saving my life, Doc.”
“Thanks for bringing the cavalry to save me, Agent Cowboy,” she quipped back.
When he opened his eyes again, they were pulling into a long, curved driveway. Kyle blinked.
“Family reunion?” This was her brother’s house.
Belle parked, mischief dancing in her dark eyes. “Of a sort. There’s someone, actually, two people, you need to see.”
Clint greeted them at the door and shook his hand. “Thanks for saving my sister.”
He led them inside, and then murmured about going upstairs to give them privacy.
Mercedes and her daughter sat on the sofa. Gone was the hospital gown and the rumbled hair. Mercedes wore her black hair short, and a yellow-and-green floral dress. Annalise was in pigtails and a cute pink outfit.
But it wasn’t the clothing or the hairstyles. The look of perpetual fear on their faces had vanished. They looked happy. Normal.
Kyle whistled. “Look at you!”
Anna jumped up from the sofa and hugged him around the waist. He winced, grinned, hugged her back.
This was the best damn gift Belle could have delivered. Not every case ended like this. But for today, he’d revel in knowing she was safe, and with her mother.
“We’re going to Chile next week.” Anna gave him a shy smile. “My mama says her parents are coming tomorrow and they can’t wait to meet me. We’re going to live with them for a while in Chile. Do you think they’ll like me, Kyle? What if they don’t like me?”
With effort, he squatted down so they were eye level. “They’ll love you,” he assured her.
He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the silver dollar. Kyle placed it into her hands. “This is my lucky coin, Annabanana. I’m passing it on to you. Hold on to it, and when you get scared or nervous about your new home, or your grandparents, touch it and remember how strong you are.”
Green eyes widening, she shook her head. “No, it’s yours. What will you do for luck if you don’t have your coin?”
Throat tight, he gazed at Belle. “I have something better than a coin.”
Belle’s fingers laced around his as he stood.
When they were in the car and headed away, Annalise and her mother waving madly from the driveway, he released a deep breath. “They’re going to be okay.”
“Yes. Clint told Mercedes’s parents they are welcome to stay at his house as long as they wish, but I think they are anxious to get back to Chile and settle Annalise and Mercedes. They already found a private tutor for Annalise and Mercedes is talking about going back to the university. They were so happy to find out she was alive and well, and they have a granddaughter, that they begged Mercedes to come home with them.”
He was quiet as she filled him in on details of the case, how Evan pleaded guilty in exchange for his testimony against his mother. Evan was destined for a lon
g stay in a psychiatric institution and his mother had a date with a federal penitentiary.
When they were inside his house, he touched the counters, gazed at the sun shining through the windows. A nice house, yet he never completely felt home here.
“Do you need anything?” Belle opened the refrigerator, peering inside. “I can go shopping.”
Kyle strode over, closed the door. “Answers. What about us, Belle? Have you thought about what you want?”
A flush suffused her high cheekbones. “I’ve thought about nothing else since they hauled you away, Kyle, when I was terrified I’d lose you. My match finally came through. I’ve been offered a pediatric residency at Mercy Memorial Hospital in DC.”
“And?”
“I’m going to turn it down, stay here. With you. If you’ll have me.” She gave him a sideways glance. “I can always get a job working in a local clinic, get experience...”
“No.” He framed her face with his hands. “Your dream is to become a pediatrician and that’s what you’re going to do.”
“But...with you here...”
“I’ll get a transfer. Top brass has been asking about me for months transferring to Quantico. I can teach, and go into the field as needed.”
The rapt joy on her face assured him he made the right move. Gently, he kissed the corner of her soft, perfect mouth.
“I’ve been alone a long time, Belle. So very long. I preferred solitude, but up until I met you I didn’t realize how lonely I felt. When a man finds the woman who heals him from the inside out, he’d be a fool to let her go. You have dreams, Belle, and I’ll help them come true.”
“What about your dreams? The FBI, and the field work...”
Giving a rueful glance at his chest, he shook his head. “Roarke has told me to slow down for a long time. I’ve been charging ahead like a locomotive for years, living to work. I need to work to live for a change.”
He pointed to the bandage beneath his shirt. “I’ve had enough holes in me to last awhile. It doesn’t mean I’m giving up, only shifting direction.”
