“Oh my God—”
“You’re a friend, right? Maybe he’ll listen to you. Straight ahead.”
Jayne didn’t need the direction; the commotion was a dead giveaway. She took a good look, and her heart plummeted. There was a clump of people standing in the curtained doorway of the cubicle at the end, and she could hear a shouting male voice that was hoarse but unmistakably Kerry’s.
“Don’t do it, man! Don’t do it! What the fuck? He’s got a knife?”
And then,
“He’s coming! He’s coming!”
“He’s been trying to get out of the bed,” the nurse added as they hurried the last few feet. “Hey, Eli. I think we might need you.”
The sight of a burly uniformed guard armed with two holsters, one for a Taser and the other for a gun, was enough to send Jayne right over some primitive edge and into protective grizzly bear mode. She all but snarled with it.
Kerry Randolph had been through more than his fair share of ordeals in the last few hours. These people weren’t going to do one more damn thing to him, and this guard would lay a hand on him only over Jayne’s dead body.
“He’s coming!” Kerry shouted. “He’s going to kill me!”
The guard puffed up as though this was his big moment to show off all his training.
“Excuse me,” Jayne snapped, edging around the guard and through the rubberneckers. “Excuse me.”
“I need to get out of here! He’s coming! He’s going to kill me!”
“If you people don’t get out of my way, I’m going to start throwing elbows,” Jayne warned.
It wasn’t often that Jayne was glad she was so tall, but now was one of those times. The last couple of people eased back, making room for her, and Jayne finally got a good look at what was going on.
Machines beeped and flashed warning numbers. The monitor showed Kerry’s heart rate zooming up and down in an ominous jagged line. Two medical people stood on one side of the bed, trying to hang on to Kerry’s waving arm, and a third person was on the other side. That third person was fiddling with Kerry’s IV line and had a needle poised and ready, probably with some sedative strong enough to take out a herd of horses for a week.
And there, on the bed, somewhere amidst the wild eyes, frantic shouting and thrashing limbs, and lost amongst the medical equipment, sterile white sheets and dignity-killing blue-patterned tie-in-the-back gown, was Kerry.
His color was better, Jayne saw right away. His voice sounded solid and some of his strength was clearly coming back. But his terror level hovered at around a hundred percent.
“He’s coming! He’s coming!”
Jayne didn’t hesitate. Something inside her knew what to do and felt like it had known since the day she was born. So she held up a hand to stop the nurse with the syringe.
“He doesn’t need that. Give me a minute.”
“But—”
“Give me a minute.”
“I can’t stay here! He’s coming!—”
Kerry flung his arm wide and sent the plastic ice-water pitcher tumbling to the floor.
Jayne stepped up to the bed, grabbed both his forearms and leaned down in his face, so he couldn’t look anywhere or see anything other than her.
“Stop it, Randolph,” she said sharply. “Pull it together. Right now. You don’t want them to sedate you again, do you? Do you want to be a zombie? Are you trying to open up that wound again? You want more surgery? Is that it?”
His wild gaze, still glazed with anesthesia, latched on to hers. He panted, but made a valiant effort to take a deep breath and focus. “I have to go. He’s coming for me—”
She shook her head and tightened her grip. “He’s not coming for you. Kareem is dead.”
“No, he’s not. He never dies—”
“Kareem is dead, Randolph.”
“No—”
“—and I want to tell you what happened to him, but I can’t do that when you’re acting like a maniac. So let me know when you’re ready to calm down.”
“I have to go—”
“Kerry,” she said, “doctors don’t behave like this in hospitals. You’re making a fool of yourself in front of the nurses.”
Maybe she pricked the arrogant ego that she knew had to be inside him somewhere. Maybe the sound of her voice finally got through to him, or maybe he wore himself out. Whatever it was, it caused him to slow down. Focus a bit harder.
He blinked, his avid gaze sweeping over her face and searching her features.
“Jayne?”
“Very good,” she said. “I knew you were in there somewhere.”
He eased back, resting his head on the pillow and taking a deep breath.
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded, his lids slipping to half-mast.
“Can you take another deep breath for me?”
He did, much to her surprise, wincing as he pressed a hand to his side.
“Need some water? You’re probably parched with all that shouting and carrying on.”
One corner of his mouth twitched as his eyes slid closed. He nodded again.
She looked around, and someone produced a plastic cup with a bendy straw before she could ask for it. She held it to his lips and he drank, long and deep, until she pulled it away again.
His lids flickered. She could almost feel him reach out and get a tighter grip on reality. Then he opened his eyes again, nailing her with that intense gaze, and she knew he was all there. Exhausted and bleary, but back in his right mind with memory intact.
“You called for help?” he asked.
“I called for help. Like I said, you’re not dying today.”
“Why are you here?”
She leaned in a bit more. “I wanted to be the first one to tell you: that son of a bitch is dead.”
“No,” he said, nostrils flaring.
“He’s dead, Randolph. Kira bashed the side of his skull in with her pistol.”
Kerry gasped. “Is she…?”
“She’s okay, so don’t get worked up again,” Jayne said quickly. He eased down, melting with relief. “Kira’s alive and you’re alive. The only one who’s not alive is Kareem.”
Another head shake. “It’s a trick. There’s always a trick with him.”
“No, sir. Not this time.”
He hesitated, his defiance wavering as a tiny beam of hope flickered to life in his expression.
“Who saw him?” he demanded. “Who saw his dead body?”
“Kira. Brady. The police.”
“Are you lying, Jayne?” He searched her face, checking every far corner, feature and inch of her skin for lies the way a beagle flushes a field for pheasants.
“No.”
He pressed a hand to his forehead and his features twisted. A barrage of unmistakable emotions hit him, one after the other: disbelief…uncertainty…grudging acceptance. Then he raised both hands—she let go of his forearms—and pressed his palms to his eyes while his entire body shuddered.
“It’s okay, Randolph,” she said quietly. “Everything’s okay now.”
He slumped back, against the pillows, and one of his hands went to his side. He grimaced, but when he lowered the other hand, there were no tears or ugly feelings that she could detect.
Just the kind of quiet glow she’d expect to see if she climbed a mountain and visited some Tibetan monks.
“I’m sorry about your brother,” he murmured, sleepiness slurring his words.
Jayne frowned. “My brother? What’re you talking about?”
“You said…he died when you were fourteen?”
“Oh. Right. That might have been a complete lie to help keep you alive. I never had a brother.”
He gave her a baleful glare. “Unbelievable.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not. You’re alive, aren’t you?”
He dimpled and went still, his gaze drifting over her shoulder while his breath evened out and his muscles
relaxed. Once again, his lids seemed far too heavy for his eyes, but his focus never wavered.
She watched his unmoving face, riveted.
“Dr. Randolph?” The brisk voice of one of the nurses intruded, startling her. Jayne looked around, and it was something of a shock to discover that the rest of the world, including the armed security guard, was still there, still poised to act if needed. “We need to take your vitals and check your incision. Make sure you didn’t do yourself any more damage. Is that okay with you?”
Kerry seemed not to hear. Instead, he looked to Jayne, his face flushed and bright with something she’d never seen before…something strong, light and peaceful.
“She came,” he told her quietly. “She was with me.”
“Who?”
“My grandmother. She was angry with me when she died. Because I worked for Kareem. She wouldn’t let me be with her.” He paused. “But she was with me. When I died.”
Whoa.
“What did she say?”
He blinked and frowned. Smiled.
Jayne felt the impact of that glorious smile in the dead center of her chest.
“She didn’t say anything,” Kerry said. “She just kissed my cheek. The way she always used to before I started working for Kareem. She kissed my cheek.”
14
“Knock-knock,” Jayne said the next morning, balancing hot coffee and breezing through Randolph’s ajar door without waiting for any response. “I just wanted to— Oh.”
She pulled up short, stopping shy of plowing into Randolph and his aide as they emerged from the bathroom with Randolph’s IV stand in tow.
“Well, good morning,” the aide said. “We just finished getting Dr. Randolph cleaned up, so your timing is perfect.”
“Great,” said Jayne, who suddenly couldn’t meet Randolph’s gaze. She’d expected him to still be laid up in bed, resting quietly with the blanket tucked under his chin. She had not expected him to be up and walking around already.
And she absolutely didn’t think he’d look so…so…vital.
Randolph seemed surprised. “Hey. You’re back.”
“Yep.”
She kept her gaze lowered as she put the drinks on the tray table and her bag on the chair.
Her timing wasn’t perfect, she decided, watching Randolph and the aide make their slow way to her side of the room. In fact, it sucked.
And she had no business there at all. None whatsoever.
She’d already stayed all day yesterday. Waiting out the surgery. Getting Randolph calmed down and settled. Then, when he’d settled in just fine, dozed off the anesthesia, woken and perked up like a golden retriever whose master has picked up the leash, she’d wanted to keep an eye on things while they moved him to his room and brought dinner. And, naturally, she’d had to loiter in the hallway while the police took his statement.
The upshot? It was after nine last night when she finally left and made the long drive back home to Cincinnati, where her laundry was still piled high, her furniture still un-dusted and her floors still un-vacuumed.
Oh, and since she’d arrived home too late to grill the salmon and vegetables she’d left marinating, she’d given herself permission, just the once, to swing by Chipotle and pick up a burrito bowl with no rice. Well, with light rice (nine points).
She’d gone to bed full of plans to do her chores today and leave Kerry Randolph to whatever fate had in store for him. Said fate being, of course, none of her business.
Only she hadn’t slept. Because she’d been thinking about him.
Was he resting comfortably? Was the pain manageable? Would his suicidal tendencies return during the dark hours of the night? Was he sorry she’d found him?
By morning, she’d been wired and determined to see him again, just to make sure he was okay. That was it. A simple humanitarian impulse that she’d use on, say, any stray cat that showed up on her doorstep.
So she’d driven back up to Dayton at the butt crack of dawn on a Sunday morning. Now here she was, unable to even look him in the face, and she couldn’t think when she’d had a worse idea or followed a dumber impulse.
“Slow down, Roadrunner,” the aide told Randolph. “We’re not trying to set any land speed records.”
“Keep up,” Randolph said.
“Hold on,” the aide said. “Where’re you going?”
“I’ll sit in the lounge chair,” Randolph said.
By now they were level with Jayne, who hastily plastered a pleasant smile on her face and stepped back to make room. But then she made the mistake (number four million nine hundred and eighty-two in the last twenty-four hours) of glancing up at Randolph as he passed.
And she did have to look up, because he was taller than she was. A refreshing change for an Amazon like her.
For one startling second, their gazes connected at close range. She got a good dose of his piercing eyes (almost black at the outer edges of his irises, but with vivid brown to orange and gold striations, like the Northern Lights, around the pupils) and the way they crackled with energy, his hard-edged cheekbones and his darkening five o’clock shadow. His body, despite yesterday’s ordeal and even inside that ridiculous hospital gown, was big and powerful, with its own heat field and the kind of muscles that came from long and concentrated effort at the gym.
So that was a shock.
He smelled fresh and clean, like Ivory soap and sporty deodorant.
She watched him, her pulse skittering.
He stared at her, a vague frown marring his forehead.
When her face grew unbearably hot, she lowered her gaze back into the safe zone until he passed and the moment, whatever it had been, ended.
Even if her thundering heartbeat didn’t get the memo and her head continued to spin.
But, in fairness, this was all too much to absorb.
It was only yesterday that she’d discovered he was a person.
Today was too soon to discover that he was a man.
“Easy now,” the aide told him.
Randolph winced, gingerly sat and arranged his IV line. Then he nodded with grim satisfaction. “I’m good.”
“All right, then. Get you anything else before I go?”
“Nope.” Randolph looked to Jayne, his expression hopeful. “If that extra coffee’s for me, I’m great.”
“This coffee’s for you,” Jayne said, handing it over.
“Thanks, Jim,” Randolph told the aide. “Appreciate it.”
“I’m out,” Jim said, waving a hand. “You need anything, just ring.”
“Bye,” Jayne said as he shut the door.
She hesitated, battling the urge to call old Jim back so she wouldn’t have to be alone with Randolph. But that was just silliness, so she reached for her high-powered attorney persona and slid it around her shoulders like Anna Wintour with a Chanel jacket.
“Cream? Sugar?” she asked, pulling the packets from her pocket.
“Cream.” He took the lid off his cup and sniffed appreciatively.
She handed it over, taking great care not to touch his hand.
“Thanks.”
He fixed his coffee. She pulled up the other straight-backed chair, sat and sipped her coffee.
The awkwardness grew. Crickets chirped. Millennia passed.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“It’s no big deal,” she said airily, flapping a hand.
He stared at her, all grave intensity and unblinking eyes, and it was like being studied by a great horned owl. She managed not to fidget, but she couldn’t stop the vivid flush, which streaked across her face again.
“Unless you moved to Dayton overnight, it is a big deal, because you had to drive an hour to deliver this coffee. So, thank you.”
She cleared her throat and worked on a gracious smile. “You’re welcome.”
“But if you’re feeling sorry for me, you can turn around and go back to Cincinnati.”
She froze. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want your
pity. I got myself into this mess. I can get myself out of it.”
Whoa. Now he’d gone all stony and aloof, like a great horned owl carved from marble. Since she had no idea what to say, an automatic denial seemed like a good place to start.
“I don’t feel sorry for you,” she said.
“Good.”
“I just wish you had someone here for you,” she foolishly added.
“Bye, Jayne.” He turned to look out the window. “Thanks for coming. Have a good life.”
Jayne’s hot temper flared. Was this proud fool actually throwing her out after she’d driven all the way up here? “Listen, Mr. Prickly and Wounded…”
Kerry’s lips thinned.
“I will snatch that coffee out of your hand and leave you here, alone, to be poked and prodded every ten minutes while you wait to be discharged. So work on your manners.”
He turned back, the corners of his mouth softening. “I said thank you.”
“Well, you should have stopped there.”
He snorted.
She found herself wondering what he looked like when he smiled. A real, ear-to-ear grin of deepest delight. Despite all the months they’d worked together, she was positive she’d never seen him smile a true smile before.
“Let’s get this clear,” he said. “I don’t have any family to speak of other than my cousin Ernie. He’s on a long haul to Wyoming and I’m going to take care of myself. I’m fine with that. I’m used to it. I do better on my own, anyway.”
“That’s hard to imagine, Randolph. You’re so warm and friendly. Just like a teddy bear. I’m sure people flock to you.”
This time, that hint of a smile touched his eyes, making the outer edges crinkle. She definitely wasn’t imagining it.
“Back to calling me Randolph again? I thought we were past that.”
“So did I, but Randolph works better for when you’re being a criminal or an asshole.”
His eyes narrowed, reminding her that this was a man she didn’t know, a man not to be misjudged or trifled with. “I’m not a criminal anymore.”
“Great.” She smiled sourly because she was not going to tiptoe or pussyfoot. He might be a reforming criminal—possibly dangerous—but she’d saved his life yesterday, so she didn’t have to deal with his bullshit. “Let’s work on the asshole part, shall we?”
Deadly Secrets Page 9
