by Raye Morgan
“I…the car….”
“Hush,” she said, holding back her own anxiety. “Let me take a look.”
She was no medical professional but she had been working part-time as a nurse’s aide at the hospital, both here and at her usual home by the shore. She’d seen more broken and wounded men from the war than she would have ever hoped to see in her lifetime, and she had some idea of what to look for.
Though his leg looked oddly askew, she was pretty sure his bones weren’t broken, at least not in an obvious way. She was more worried about his groggy behavior. He still didn’t seem to know her. After a quick examination, she sat back and looked at him. Now what?
One thing was certain—she couldn’t just leave him here in the street. That whole running away and hiding from him scenario was by the boards.
On the other hand, he was hurt and it wouldn’t be so easy for him to force her to do what he wanted now. Was it really the balanced situation she was presenting herself with? Maybe, maybe not. But she knew, as long as he could make it, she was going to take him to her apartment. What else could she do?
“Come on,” she said, helping him up as he grimaced painfully, favoring the crooked leg and gasping as they began to move. “Lean on me. I’m going to take you home.”
It took longer than she’d expected, but she managed to maneuver him into the elevator and take him up to her third floor set of rooms. She tried to ignore the blood he was dripping from a gash in his chin. Hopefully she would be able to get back and clean it all up later. Trying to take up as much of his weight as she could, she got him to the door of her apartment, and then inside and onto the couch.
Kristi, the babysitter, was surprised, but Kim quickly paid her off and sent her home. And then she stood and stared at the long, lean man who had dropped into the center of her life.
Dede was asleep. Jake was awake, but not really coherent. She was worried that he might have been hit harder than she’d thought at first. Reaching out, she felt his forehead. Cold and clammy. From the little she knew about such things, she didn’t think that was good.
She looked down at his stark, handsome face, and her stomach did a little somersault dance. She was afraid of the man, and yet there was something so compelling about his dark, brooding looks, even with the injuries. She bit her lip and wondered if this was how some women ended up with men who were all wrong for them.
“Taking home strays,” she murmured, shaking her head. “It’ll come back to bite you every time.”
That made her laugh a bit. If anyone was the stray here, it was her. He was a thoroughbred, through and through. Looks like that were never deceiving.
She knew very well there was no point in trying to make a call for a doctor or the hospital. The war had done its damage to modern communications on the island. The few cell phone towers they’d once had were bombed during the fighting and what land lines anyone had left rarely worked.
And even if you could get through, medical help was in short supply these days. You were lucky if you could find a physician even at the hospital where she worked. The most competent ones had left for the winning side of the war long since, and the ones who’d stayed were haggard with overwork.
Unless she could think of some miracle, fast, she was on her own.
She did the best she could cleaning him up. Dede woke up and fussed a bit, so she alternated between her baby and the vagabond she’d brought home. Soaking a clean cloth in cool water, she wiped the blood from the scrapes across his face, then dabbed at them with hydrogen peroxide, working carefully around the gash on his chin.
He was in pain but he’d lost the grogginess that she was pretty sure must have come from shock. By the time she finished cleaning his face, he was pretty aware of what was going on.
“My leg,” he muttered as she tried to cover the scrapes with gauze and bandages. “What the hell’s wrong with my leg?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Is that the only place that hurts? I mean really seriously?”
He looked up at her and for once, his eyes focused. He knew who she was. “Maybe we should start by mentioning areas that don’t hurt,” he muttered. “That wouldn’t take as long.”
That did it. She would have to do something. It was truly amazing how her attitude toward him could change in such a short time, but to see this large, strong and forceful man in pain and so vulnerable touched something deep inside. It made her just a little bit crazy. She had to take care of him.
“I’m going to try to get you some help,” she told him. “I’m going to try to find a way to call the hospital…”
“No.” His eyes were burning and he grabbed her hand. “You can’t do that. You know I’m not here legally. They’ll throw me in jail.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. She looked at the way he was holding her hand, as though it were a lifeline. Still, that he’d told her not to contact the hospital was telling. Despite his weakened state, he still ordered her about, not asked politely.
“I…I guess I’ll see if I can find some pain killers at least,” she said, using her other hand to peel away his fingers and wrest herself free.
He nodded, closing his eyes and wincing. “That would be good,” he whispered.
She took a deep breath and considered the options.
What would she do with this beautiful, damaged man? An expert really needed to take a look and make sure nothing extreme had happened to him. She had no idea how to check for internal bleeding or broken ribs or anything major like that. Just the thought that he might be badly hurt and not showing it made her heart begin to race again. If you didn’t treat that sort of injury, bad things could happen. She felt a deep sense of urgency to do something.
There was one source of hope she could think of. She didn’t know many people who lived in this building. She’d only been here a little over a month herself. But she did know one, and she’d consulted him before when her baby’s problems had scared her enough to seek help. She just didn’t know how useful he would be at this time of night.
The lucky part was, he’d once been a physician. The unlucky part—he was a pretty heavy-duty alcoholic. The word was, he’d lost his license to practice medicine because of that. But if you caught Dr. Harve at a good time, he could be very helpful.
Tonight, he seemed only mildly sloshed.
“Of course I’ll come and take a look at your young man,” he said jovially when she knocked on his door. “What are neighbors for?”
She went back to prepare Jake, pulling off his leather coat and shirt and loosening his jeans. He was conscious and he pushed her away.
“Your leg,” she said urgently. “We’re going to have to take off your pants one way or another.”
He shook his head and she didn’t know if he was being modest or if his brain was addled with the pain.
“I work at the hospital, you know,” she grumbled as she grabbed a pair of strong scissors and began to cut open the denim cloth that encased the bad leg. “I’ve done this before.”
He didn’t protest again, but he groaned in a way that chilled her.
“I’ve got a real doctor coming,” she reassured him. “He’ll be here any minute. He’s been a big help with my baby’s problems. He’s even searching for a specialist for me to take her to. You’ll like him, I’m sure.”
She felt like she was babbling, but it was mostly to try to keep him calm and to prepare him for what the doctor was going to have to do. There was more pain coming, she was sure.
Dr. Harve came in, cracking jokes and exuding a certain brand of warmth that probably worked with most of his patients. It was his rapid diagnosis that Jake’s knee was badly wrenched and seriously dislocated, and he spent some time treating it, chatting through the whole thing. He elicited a few smothered yells of pain and a lot o
f writhing from Jake as he manipulated the joint, but he talked right over them all. Meanwhile, Kim closed her eyes and covered her ears and moaned softly in sympathy.
“The connective tissue will be sore for a while,” he told her as he began the final wrap. “And it will be a few weeks before he will want to run any marathons. But he’ll be okay soon enough.”
“What about the rest of him?” she asked anxiously.
“I’d say he was lucky he was wearing that leather coat,” he said, nodding toward where it lay in the corner. “Otherwise he’d be a lot more scraped up. As it is, he’s got a few cracked ribs. He’ll want to be careful of those, but the pain will definitely remind him of that. I can wrap his chest, but you can’t do much else for ribs. You might want to watch for signs of concussion. I don’t see any evidence of internal bleeding, but if you see anything strange, don’t hesitate to come on over and tell me about it.”
She nodded, watching him work. This was all a bit surreal. Just an hour ago she’d been running from this man, running for her life. Now she was trying hard to help him.
“What about that deep gash on his chin? It’s still bleeding.”
“Yes, I’ve been looking at that.” He sighed. “You know, ordinarily I would probably give him a few stitches. But the way my hands are shaking tonight…” He held them up for her to see and didn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t have to. She was amazed he was able to do as well as he had been.
He cocked an eyebrow her way. “I don’t suppose you…?”
“Oh no,” she said quickly. “I wouldn’t trust myself.”
He nodded sadly. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to ruin his pretty face too badly here. I’ve got some good butterfly bandages that will do almost as well.”
She noticed, with a slight jolt, that Jake’s eyes were open and looking directly into hers. The doctor kept on talking while he worked on the bloody chin, but she and Jake seemed to be locked in a gaze neither one could tear away from. Her pulse was racing. What was he thinking? Was he trying to tell her there was going to be a pause, but no escape for her? That he knew all he needed to know about her now? That he had her trapped?
“Okay, my dear, if you would hand me my bag, I think I’ll give this fellow something to help him sleep for a while so he can begin to heal.”
She finally pulled her gaze away and took a deep breath, getting him his bag and trying to calm her pulse. She didn’t ask where he got his drugs, she was just grateful he had some. She was sure he must have a connection with the usual black market sources. Since the war, that was the way most people got anything important. The usual supply lines were completely cut off.
She knew he wasn’t supposed to call himself a doctor, but he’d been a godsend to her for the six weeks or so she’d lived here. He’d helped her with Dede’s problems many times, and he’d promised to try to find a real pediatrician for her. Baby doctors seemed to have been the first things the country had run out of once the war began.
Dede started to cry in earnest and Dr. Harve laughed, looking at her. “You decided taking care of one patient wasn’t enough so you added a new guy,” he noted, grinning at her. “Some people are just gluttons for punishment.”
The “new guy” isn’t going to stay beyond the night, she thought to herself, gearing up to be tough if she had to. At least, I hope not.
Dr. Harve was finishing up and he sidled closer to her and asked softly, “So who is this guy, anyway? Are you going to be okay with him here?”
She looked up in surprise. Was the latent hostility between the two of them so obvious? For just a moment, she wondered if she should tell him not to mention Jake’s presence to anyone else in the building. But that would only raise new red flags. And anyway, Kristi, the babysitter, had seen him, too. It was a bit late for secrecy.
“Don’t worry,” she told him quickly. “He’s…the brother of an old friend. I’ll be fine.”
He shrugged, his eyes glinting with a new, greedy light. “Well, I notice you’re not calling the police to report the accident. So I figured….”
He gave her a look that made her think, for just a moment, that he might be shaking her down. But that couldn’t be. The man was a doctor. Well, sort of. She looked at him more closely and he laughed, as though it had all been a joke, and went back to preparing to leave.
She got out some cash she had stashed in the closet, and gave it to him. She always paid him for his work and advice. That seemed to make him happier and he left as cheerfully as he’d come. She frowned, watching him go. What if he got in touch with the police himself? What would she do if the authorities suddenly appeared at the door?
She was harboring an illegal alien—someone connected to the highest reaches of the enemy’s administration. No wonder the man was having thoughts of being paid for his silence. His whole mode of survival depended on grabbing a buck where he could.
She turned back into the apartment with a sigh. Sometimes she felt as though she lived in one of those fast-paced video games where there was danger all around and holes you could fall into and people ready to leap out at you with a mallet to the head. Where the heck was the Off switch?
She looked into the living room at her latest piece of dangerous baggage. Finally, she and Jake were going to be alone. Surely they would have to hash some of this over. She had butterflies as she came closer, looking at him tentatively, wondering how he would act. But his eyes were closed. She frowned, feeling strangely disappointed, as though she’d been ready for a fight and now it had been postponed. She went nearer.
“Jake, do you want some water? Or something else to drink?”
He didn’t move. His eyelids didn’t even flutter. He was out cold.
She had a lot of thinking to do, a lot of decisions to make, a bit of planning go over. But at least she had a little time now. He was in no condition to drag her off to the castle against her will. Whatever he’d planned to do couldn’t be done in the next twenty-four hours. She was in a narrow safety zone.
She looked at him, so beautiful of body, so wounded and still. He had a lot of skin showing and a whole set of gorgeous golden muscles. She shivered, looking at him, and that made her realize she needed to make sure he didn’t get a chill.
She went to get him a shawl and laid it gently around his shoulders, then began to tuck it in with her fingers. Her hands slipped over the hard, rounded muscles in his shoulders and she gasped at the sensation that rippled through her. Her face was getting hot.
“Ohmigosh,” she moaned. “Stop it!”
Closing her eyes, she bit down hard on her lower lip, willing the delicious feelings that set off the man-woman thing to go away. She counted to ten before she opened them again. Then she turned away, not daring to look at him until her blood had stopped racing through her veins.
Leaning against the sink in her makeshift kitchen, she tried some deep breathing. She couldn’t let this happen. She was not going to respond in a sensual way to this man who hated her.
And then there was the question of why he hated her. It had been a mystery to her until he’d mentioned Leonardo. The disgust in his voice, the flare in his eyes, told her the cause would probably not be a surprise after all. It seemed her relationship with Leonardo was enough to convince him she wasn’t much good.
She wondered fleetingly what Leonardo could have done to him to bring on this antagonism, but that was a useless exercise to pursue. Leonardo had done something to just about everybody, one way or another. If you lived in Ambria, it was just a matter of time before Leonardo insulted your life in some way.
But she could never forget that he was Dede’s father. So having him killed was out of the question. She shrugged, resigned to the vicissitudes of fate—for now.
Jake woke up with a start, not sure where he was. The baby was crying. S
omebody should go to the baby.
Where was Cyrisse?
He pulled himself up, blinking hard to get the sleep out of his eyes. He was stiff, sore, miserable. Baby still crying. His leg hurt, and so did his head, but the baby was crying. He looked around, dazed. Someone had to take care of the baby.
“Cyrisse?” he said.
And then the familiar big black hole opened up inside him and he remembered. There was no baby. The baby was gone. And so was Cyrisse. He lost his balance and fell back onto the pillows, overwhelmed by the pure evil of the black hole, the hopelessness, almost ready to give in and let it swallow him.
But there was still a baby crying. He made a major effort and roused himself again, looking for where the baby was.
The light was dim. He could hardly make out the furniture in the shabby apartment. What the hell? He’d never been in this place before. How had he got here?
And he began to remember.
Kimmee.
Running.
The car.
Pain.
Was this Kimmee’s baby? He pulled himself up high enough to see where the crib was. A baby was crying alright, but it was Leonardo’s.
Leonardo’s baby. Anger swirled in his dazed brain. In some societies it would be expected that he would take Leonardo’s baby if he had the chance—as Leonardo had taken his. He’d vowed he would make that bastard pay. What was stopping him now?
Slowly, painfully, he rose to his feet, keeping his weight all on his right side. Grimacing, he began to hobble toward the crib, using various pieces of furniture along the way as a crutch. A wave of nausea came over him. He stopped, waiting for it to pass. Two more steps and he was looking down into the baby’s crib.
The tot looked up at him in surprise, eyes huge in the dim light. She looked about nine months old and she wasn’t crying anymore, but she made a curious noise. It sounded like a question to him, like, “Who the heck are you?”
