Zander

by Maryann Jordan

  A sliver of doubt moved through him as he turned and stalked to the door, throwing it open wide, the cool air hitting his face, refreshing after the heat of the bar. Scanning the parking lot, he saw a cab just driving down the street. Sighing, he raised his eyes to the dark, night sky, feeling a strange tightening in his chest as he studied the stars for a moment. Suddenly, whirling around, he stomped back inside to his employees.

  “We’re closing an hour early tonight,” he declared, adrenaline still pumping.

  “You ain’t gotta do that on my account, boss,” Zeke protested.

  “Nah. It’s just been a helluva night and I’m ready for the crowd to leave.” Turning to Lynn, he said, “You can pass the word around, bar closes at midnight.”

  She lifted her brow, but nodded as she moved to tell the other servers. As Zander moved behind the bar again, he wiped his brow, frustration causing his shoulders to tighten, thoughts of the blonde running through his mind. Yeah…a helluva night.

  An hour later, sitting in his office, Zander leaned back in his chair, rubbing the tension out of the back of his neck. The money was tallied and locked in the safe. The books were balanced and ready for the next day. Leaving the office, he walked through the bar, satisfied with the way his staff cleaned every night. He recognized their hard work and paid them accordingly. They made good wages at Grimm’s and he knew they were loyal.

  Checking the locked door and security system, he moved to the back door, a small trash bag from his office in his hand. Pushing through, he double checked the lock before turning toward the dumpster. Hefting the bag into the air, he easily tossed it in. With a glance across the black pavement, water in the potholes shinning from the parking lot lights, the faint light shone down on something blue from the other side of the dumpster. Curious, he walked around, halting at the sight. Heart pounding, he stared in horror.

  5

  “Oh, Jesus, Jesus,” Zander cried, rushing forward, dropping to his knees beside the still body lying in the dirt. Her clothes were torn, one shoe was missing, her purse dumped to the side, its contents strewn around. Bruises were already showing on her throat. Her long, blonde hair, now tangled and bloody, covered her face.

  Reaching his shaking hand out, he brushed her hair back slightly, gasping at the extent of what he saw. Her face was battered and bruised to the point her eyes were swollen shut. The side of her head was caked in blood from a huge wound, still seeping. If it had not been for the sweater, he would have not recognized her.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he cried again, this time his hoarse voice barely above a whisper. With one hand, he pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing 9-1-1. He moved the other to her wrist, touching her, fear crawling up his spine. Cold. She was so cold. His heart leaped as he felt a pulse—weak, but still beating.

  “Zander King. Owner of Grimm’s Bar on Fifth and Washington. A woman’s been attacked. Need an ambulance.”

  Leaning over her limp form, he placed his hand gently over hers. “Hey, princess. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Help’s on its way. Hang in there. Please.” Choking on the last word, he swallowed deeply. Sucking in a breath, he repeated, “Hang on, princess. Hang on.” Hearing a siren close by, he waved them over with his free hand and they pulled into the side of the parking lot.

  Two EMTs rushed over, immediately beginning to assess her injuries. A police car pulled in next to the ambulance, an officer moving toward them as well.

  “Who is she?” one of the EMTs asked.

  “I have no idea,” Zander replied, his hand still holding hers.

  “Sir, you’ve got to let go.”

  Reluctantly, he let her fingers slip through his, missing her touch as soon as they were no longer connected.

  “Can I see some ID?” the policeman asked as Zander stood, stepping back slightly to allow the medical team to see to her.

  Pulling out his wallet, he showed the policeman his drivers’ license as another officer parked nearby. Recognizing the newest arrival, he greeted him with a chin lift.

  “Zander. What’ve you got?”

  “I just left and found her out here, Pete. She was in the bar earlier. Had some problems with a male customer so he was ejected.” Seeing the question in the officers’ eyes, he shook his head. “Got no names for you…not for her and not for him.”

  Pete knelt at her purse and carefully looked inside. “Been cleaned out. No wallet. No phone. No ID.”

  Fear and disgust snaked through Zander’s gut at the thought that she would probably be safe right now if he had not insisted she leave. But I thought she left in a cab. Why didn’t she?

  With an IV in place and her body strapped onto the gurney, the EMTs were ready to roll her to the ambulance. Halting them with his hand on the arm of the closest one, his eyes never leaving the woman’s face, he asked, “Where are you taking her? Which hospital?”

  “County General,” came the reply, as they moved her into the ambulance.

  Pete stood with the other officer, looking at Zander with a curious expression. “You sure you don’t know anything about her?”

  Rubbing his hand over his face, his heart in his throat, he shook his head with regret. “No…I have no idea who she is. I’ve never seen her here before.”

  As the officers walked toward the bar door, having asked for the security tapes from the cameras at the back of the bar, he watched the twirling red lights of the ambulance grow dimmer and whispered into the night, “But I wish I did. I wish I did know her.”

  Three hours later, Zander walked into his apartment, seeing Rafe standing in the kitchen, a beer in his hand held out. Taking it gratefully, Zander took a long swig before setting it on the counter.

  “I’m glad you called, man. I can cancel my flight…don’t gotta leave today,” Rafe said, his gaze pinned on him.

  “Nah, no need. I mean, there’s nothing that can be done and there’s no sense in you changing your plans.”

  “What do you know? Anything else since you called?”

  The two men walked into the living room, Zander sinking onto the sofa, his body more tired than he could remember in a long time. Rafe moved to the chair, sitting with his forearms resting on his knees.

  “I talked to Roscoe, who feels like shit about it. Seems he walked the mysterious woman just outside the door and saw the headlights of a cab turning into the parking lot. Normally, he would have escorted her to the cab and seen her safely inside but, just then, all hell broke loose with a fight at the back of the bar. He said he pointed her toward the cab and told her to get in and then ran back inside without actually seeing her get in. I ran out and saw the cab leaving soon after. I assumed she was in it.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  He lifted his eyes to his friend and nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s about right.” Sighing heavily, he said, “I should have never told her to leave—”

  “Whoa, you can’t start blaming yourself,” Rafe interrupted. “You didn’t attack her. You didn’t cause this to happen. That blame lies right at the feet of the asshole who did this.”

  “If I hadn’t insisted she leave, then—”

  “And I’m telling you that going down that road, doesn’t help anyone. It’s just a set of circumstances that all added up to a fucked-up situation. But you’re not responsible for her attack.”

  Zander knew Rafe’s words made sense but the vision of her beaten body was in the forefront of his mind. Downing the rest of the beer, he sighed again, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. “God, I just keep seeing her lying in the dirt. That beautiful face battered and swollen. So much blood, so much…”

  “That’s it, I’m canceling my flight—”

  “No,” he halted him. “Seriously, Rafe. There’s no need.”

  Rafe leaned back in his seat, his mouth tight. “I hope you don’t mind, but I called Jayden and told him to let the others know. Just in case you needed anything.”

  “Nah, I don’t mind,” he replied, glad for his friends’ support.

/>   “You gonna go see her?”

  Zander’s eyes shot up to Rafe’s. “Huh?”

  Shaking his head, Rafe said, “Zander, you can’t hide anything from me. There’s something about this woman…something that’s pulling you in.”

  Leaning forward, he replied, “I don’t know. I swear I don’t know. I see women every night…honest to God, Rafe, I’m so focused on work, they don’t even register.” Scrubbing his hand over his face, he added, “But I noticed her. She looked like…well, I noticed her. And now…fuck…”

  Neither spoke for several minutes. Looking at his watch, Zander said, “Man, you gotta catch a flight in a few hours.”

  Standing, Rafe pulled him in for a hug. “I’ll be gone when you wake up, but I expect a call. You gotta let me know how you’re doing.”

  After Rafe headed back to the guest bedroom, Zander walked into his room, not stopping until he was standing in front of the mirror, his hands resting on the bathroom counter. His shirt had smears of blood, the red stark against the white material.

  The image of her perfect face, large blue eyes staring at him and her brilliant smile, filled his mind. Dropping his head, he gripped the sink with white knuckles. How I’m doing? Fuck, I’m not the one in the hospital.

  Sleep did not come easily and, when it did, his dreams turned into nightmares of her beautiful face looking up to his as she slowly disappeared into a fog.

  6

  Stepping out of the elevator, clutching a bouquet of flowers, Zander hesitated, uncertain which direction to go. The taupe walls covered in framed floral pictures contained signs, but he halted at the scent. It reminded him of waking up in a German hospital when he had been airlifted from Afghanistan after surviving an IED explosion. He had spent weeks in that hospital before being transported back to a VA hospital stateside. He knew he did not have it bad…he had all his limbs…just some added shrapnel in his leg and arm.

  “Excuse me,” a female’s voice said, as she moved past him.

  Jerking around, he sought the owner of the voice, remembering the blonde saying the same words to him last night. Was it just last night? Jesus, it feels like ages since I first laid eyes on her. Shaking his head, he muttered an apology to the nurse hurrying on down the hall. He stopped at the nurses’ desk.

  One of the nurses looked up, a tired smile on her face. “May I help you?”

  “I’m here to see…uh…well…”

  She tilted her head to the side, asking, “Do you know the name of the patient?”

  “Actually, no. I came to see the woman brought in last night. The one who had been…uh…attacked.”

  Understanding immediately flooded the nurse’s face. “Are you a relative? The police haven’t been able to tell us who she is and we—”

  “No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I just…well, I’m not sure.” Seeing her confusion, he added, “I found her. She was attacked outside my business. I’m not family, but I need to see her. Please.”

  “Well…” the nurse hesitated. “Let me check with the policeman who was just in with the doctor.”

  Zander nodded his thanks and watched her walk down the hall a few doors before moving inside. After a moment, she came back out, Pete at her side. Breathing a sigh of relief, Zander reached out to shake hands. “Good to see you, Pete. Any news?”

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” he replied, his gaze assessing, causing Zander to shift his stance. “But in answer to your question, no. The doctors have listed her injuries and, I probably don’t have to tell you, they are significant. The biggest problem is the swelling of her brain and…ah, hell, he spouted a bunch of medical jargon, most of which I didn’t understand. But, she’s still in a coma, so, obviously, she can’t tell us anything about the attack.”

  “Did you get anything from the security video?”

  “We can see a man wearing dark clothing dragging her around the corner while she was still conscious. He kept his head down. After he hit her once, he dragged her behind the dumpster and we only have partial visual after that.” Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he said, “It was brutal to watch.”

  Zander’s gut clenched as though he had taken a punch himself. Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, he shook his head. “Can I see her?”

  Pete’s gaze dropped to the flowers in his hand before shooting back to his face. “She won’t know you’re there.”

  “I just want to sit with her for a few minutes. That’s all.” Unable to understand the connection he felt toward the woman, he had no way to explain it to anyone else.

  Shrugging, Pete nodded. “Yeah, I guess it sucks to have someone attacked right outside your bar, and to see her like that. Let me tell the staff that you have permission to visit.” Clapping him on the back, he walked to the nurses’ station and spoke to the attending nurse.

  After Pete left, the nurse walked back over, smiling. “It seems you are her first real visitor. Let me prepare you before you go in, okay?” Obtaining his nod, she continued, “She has a multitude of injuries and what you’ll see initially will be the swelling and bruising on her face. There are a lot of lacerations and we need to be sure to keep down the possibility of infection, so always make sure to wash your hands when you go in and use anti-bacterial gel.”

  Following her into the dimly lit room, he was careful to avoid looking at the bed, hearing the noises of machines filling the air. Instead, he observed the nurse as she showed him how to properly wash his hands at the sink by the door.

  “I’m Chloe, by the way. If you need anything, you can call for me. I’ll pull a chair up close, so you can sit with her for a while.”

  As Chloe moved the well-worn, metal chair over, Zander turned, taking his first look at the woman. His breath rushed from his lungs and as his knees buckled, so Chloe shoved the chair underneath him. She placed her hand on his shoulder.

  “You okay?”

  Nodding his head in jerks, she patted him.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I promise you, she’s in no pain.” As she walked toward the door, she turned and said, “You should talk to her…there’s a lot of research that suggests that she can hear you, even while unconscious.”

  “Oh…uh…sure…” he mumbled, barely aware of her as she left the room, his attention held by the woman lying in the bed. Seeing her in the dirt next to the dumpster had been horrifying, but in the light, even as dim as it was in the room, her injuries shook him to his core.

  Blowing out a long, slow breath, he allowed his gaze to drift over her body. The blood that had caked her hair had been cleaned off, but there was now an area of her scalp, next to her forehead, that had been shaved. Stitches held the bloodied edges of skin together. The rest of her hair had been pulled back away from her face into a braid and he wondered if Chloe had taken care of that for her.

  Her eyes were swollen shut, black bruises creating raccoon-circles underneath. Her nose had a bandage and he assumed it was broken. Bruises covered her neck, shoulders, and arms, all bare above the blanket. An IV was in her hand and as he followed the tube, his gaze moved to the various machines hooked up to her, beeping and chirping as they took care of their tasks. Another tube snaked from under the covers leading to a bag filled with what appeared to be bloody urine. Swallowing deeply, he lifted his gaze back to her face, willing his heartbeat to slow.

  He wanted to touch her, but every inch appeared bruised or tender. Reaching through the rails of the bed, he placed his finger on her upturned palm. Expecting it to be cold, he was heartened to find her warm. Emboldened, he placed his whole hand on hers, not wanting to move her in any way, but wanting to be connected.

  Remembering what Chloe had said, he leaned closer, resting his chin on the bed rail and said, “I know you don’t know me, but I didn’t want you to be alone. I…uh, well…I don’t really know what to say. So, I guess I’ll just say, hello. I’m uh…Zander.”

  His words sounded pathetic to his own ears, but he found himself tongue-tied. W
hat the hell do I say? You don’t know me but you met me once and I was an asshole to you? Standing suddenly, he felt the urge to flee, then shame slid over him. I can flee if I want, but she’s trapped here. Alone.

  Plopping back into the chair, he replaced his hand over hers. “It probably seems scary here, doesn’t it?” His eyes moved back to the machines humming and beeping around the head and side of her bed. “You’ve got that clip on your finger that tells the doctors something…maybe your heartbeat…and in your other hand there’s a needle for the IV. I know the blood pressure cuff keeps going on, so it must be automatic. That’s what you feel on your arm.” He hesitated in his ramblings, wondering if his words caused more anxiety, if she could actually hear him.

  Lifting his gaze around the room, he continued, “But the room is nice…well, for a hospital room. It’s private and they’ve got the lights down low. There’s a window to the side, but uh…the blinds are closed. And curtains cover the door so no one passing in the hall can just peek in.”

  She lay still, giving no indication she heard his voice. Inadequacy flooded his soul and he dropped his head, his chest squeezing. Sighing heavily, he said, “Oh, God, I’m sorry. So sorry. I guess I don’t know what else to say to you, so I’ll just sit here and hold your hand for now. Is that okay?”

  Knowing no answer was forthcoming, he scooted the chair closer so he could rest more comfortably, his hand remaining on hers.

  Jerking his head up, Zander realized he had fallen asleep and now was not alone. Looking over, bleary-eyed, he saw a doctor washing his hands before moving to the bed. Sitting back fully in his chair, he cracked his stiff neck and wondered if he had a sleep crease on his face.

  “I understand you will be visiting her,” the doctor said, a smile on his face. “Chloe has told me that you don’t know her name, but have met her?”

  “Yes,” Zander said, reluctantly letting go of her hand. “I found her after she was attacked.”