by Cris Anson
“Rolf,” she growled, raising her hips imperiously.
“Patience is a virtue,” he murmured against her inner thigh. But he moved his mouth downward, instead of up.
“Rolf!”
“In a minute, honey. I think I missed a spot down…here.” He reached the toes of her opposite foot and sucked one digit and then another into his mouth.
Damn, he couldn’t wait any more to free the beast. He ripped open the snap of his jeans, carefully eased down the zipper and wiggled out of its constriction, barely having the presence of mind to pull a condom out of its pocket and put it within reach. His cock sprang free, hard and hot. He ignored it.
Almost.
Now. Now he climbed onto the bed, gently spreading her feet apart, crawled between her knees and kissed the center of her, the hot nub with all its rich nerves and hidden by auburn curls. He lifted her thighs and dropped them over his shoulders then stroked his tongue, hard, against her clit.
Her hips jerked off the bed as her heels dug into his back.
“That’s it, sweet thing,” he murmured from the side of his mouth, “take what you deserve.” He secured his mouth over the throbbing button and suckled, his hands cradling her ass cheeks to lift her closer to him. Varying the pressure on her clit, first biting down then softly laving, he primed her, pushed her higher and higher, until she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and repeated his name while he drank in the sweet nectar that poured from her.
He waited until her moans subsided, the tremors quieted. He managed to sheathe himself with a condom then slid his cock into her, slowly, gently, like coming to a safe haven after being inside a tornado, and he knew he wasn’t fucking, he was making love, for perhaps the first time in his life.
When he felt her nearing another peak, he rasped, “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
Her intense green gaze locked with his and he felt a sharp pang in his heart. This woman was his and he would cherish her.
“You make me want more,” he rasped. “You make me want…only you.”
He opened up to her, allowed her to see deep into his soul, and when her inner walls spasmed around his cock, he gave her everything he had and hoped it would be enough.
Chapter Thirteen
“Ms. Mercier, I’m sorry, you can’t go in yet.”
With a tickle of dread, Fantine stopped short at the door to the ICU. “Why? What’s wrong with Nonie?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that she already has a visitor.”
Fantine exchanged a quizzical glance with Rolf. It wasn’t even eight in the morning and they’d foresworn any dallying in bed. She’d pushed into a corner of her brain the words she thought she’d heard him say about wanting only her as she jumped into jeans and T-shirt, needing to get there as early as possible. Although he was coming to mean a great deal to her, right now they needed to be focused on Nonie, not on the two of them.
“Uncle Pearce?” She’d managed to sneak a peek through a crack in the door. Her muscles relaxed. Of course he’d want to see her.
“But what’s he doing?” Without giving the nurse a chance to block her, Fantine swung the door open and walked up to Nonie’s bed. Pearce had his hand on her IV line where it connected to the bag and seemed to be fumbling with a knob.
“How is she?” Fantine asked, and took perverse pleasure in seeing Pearce jump. In the back of her mind she wondered why he wore a long-sleeved shirt when the temperature promised to reach the mid-nineties today.
“Oh. You scared me.” Pearce let go of whatever he was holding and ran his hand over his thinning hair. “I didn’t think you’d be here until nine o’clock, when they let family in.”
Fantine couldn’t help but notice his snide emphasis on “family”. As if she wasn’t as much family to Nonie as he was. “So what are you doing here so early?”
“I needed to see her. I hoped she’d be awake so I could get her okay on something. The stock market opens at nine and I need to be back home by then. I’ll just use my judgment.” He edged around her. “If Aunt Rosalie wakes up, tell her I’ll be by to see her later.”
Just then an alarm sounded at the nurses’ station and a nurse rushed in, heading directly for Nonie’s bed. She shooed both Pearce and Fantine out and began fiddling with the equipment.
Fantine had time to note the unshielded enmity between the two men as her uncle passed by Rolf, who stood right outside the ICU.
“Wait a minute,” Rolf said, grabbing Pearce by the wrist and forcing him to stop. “What were you doing in there?”
“Saying a prayer for my aunt.” Pearce tried to yank his arm away, but Rolf’s strength kept him there. “If you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
Rolf’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do in there? You had your hand on Nonie’s IV and suddenly all the alarms started buzzing.”
“I was just reading the tag, wondering what they were giving her, if it was just saline to, you know, hydrate her, or if they thought she was in pain and were giving her morphine or something. I have no idea what happened. Good thing she’s so well monitored.”
He wrenched his arm again and Rolf let it go. “I hope I didn’t jar anything loose in there.” Pearce lifted his other arm to smooth down his hair again.
Fantine’s eyes widened. “Uncle Pearce.” She reached for the hand he had just used, tugged the sleeve up as far as the buttoned cuff would allow. “What did you do to your arm?”
Pearce’s skin paled to the shade of the hospital sheets as he pulled away from her grip. “Nothing. I fell in the rosebushes the other day. It’s nothing that hasn’t happened at least once a year when I’m out in the backyard with Aunt Rosalie. It’s a wonder she doesn’t fall down more often, the way she keeps that garden.”
With a last glare at her, Pearce scuttled down the hallway.
“I think,” she said slowly, watching as he took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, “that we should see what Judd Matheson and Officer Bowden talked about last night.”
“Hercules,” Rolf said.
“Yes.”
* * * * *
He felt like he was sweating briar-tipped bullets. Rivulets rolled down his temples. Moisture pooled in the small of his back, under his arms. He was perspiring so heavily it felt as if he’d wet his pants.
That was too damn close.
He’d managed to sneak a peek at the old woman’s feet before he was interrupted. Although she had myriad cuts from glass, one ankle had a small bandage about four inches long. If someone put two and two together…
He had to convince Mr. Z. to do something ASAP. He’d pay half his inheritance to have Rosalie never regain consciousness. The longer that damn woman lingered, the more at risk he was. But Pearce had seen what he needed to see. All it would take was someone who knew his way around a hospital room, who was savvy with meds and killer drugs. One small injection into the IV and she’d go quickly. It would have to be on the night shift, though. Less likely to be interrupted.
And that damn nosy Fantine! Those blasted scratches still burned. He’d all but shit a brick when she’d yanked up his sleeve. The bitch! The nosy, interfering bitch!
He wondered how much he’d have to pay for a twofer.
* * * * *
“Come on in,” Judd said amiably. “I figured you’d stop by. How’s Rosalie?”
Rolf allowed Fantine to precede him into the retired cop’s Spartan living room. Polished wood floors, two brown leather sofas at right angles, both facing a huge flat-screen TV. It was obvious he was divorced, or at least didn’t live with a woman’s touch around the house.
“No change. Hopefully we’ll be out of here in time for the next visit. Every hour on the hour.”
Judd led them into a small study off the living room, just a scarred metal desk with computer and printer, police scanner, file cabinet. As though he was still on the job. Rolf supposed a good cop never really retired, and for that he was grateful.
Rolf directed Fantine to the one guest chair in t
he room while he rested a shoulder against the doorjamb. “Okay. What did you and Officer Bowden check out last night?”
In response, Judd turned his monitor around. “I took some pictures of my own. Oh, by the way,” he pulled out a drawer, “here’s your camera, Fantine. Thanks for the loan. I downloaded everything last night.”
Rolf took a step forward, leaned over Fantine’s shoulder to view the screen as she shoved the camera into her handbag. He moved in and peered closer. “Is that the banister? Or balustrade, or whatever you call it.”
“Yep.” He pulled up another photo, a closeup, on a split screen. “These are the balusters on both sides of the second step as you’re walking down.”
“Scratched,” Fantine breathed. “Wire?”
Rolf swore. “Some son of a bitch strung trip wire across the step?”
“Looks that way. Did you do any cleanup last night?”
Fantine’s cheeks turned rosy. Rolf placed a hand on her shoulder. I’m here, he hoped the touch said.
“No,” Rolf answered for her. “She was exhausted.”
“Good. I’ve asked Patrolman Bowden to take the lead on this. He’s requesting a crime-scene crew. Can you let them in?”
“I’ll do better than that,” Fantine replied, reaching into her handbag. “Here’s my key to the front door. I also have the back-door key into the sunroom. We can use the back stairs for as long as necessary. In any case, we’ll be spending the day at the hospital and will be out of your way.”
“But first.” Rolf stood up again. “We talked about this on our way here from the hospital. We’d like to know if you can do a post-mortem on Hercules.”
Judd blinked. “The cat?”
“Yes. We can’t figure out how he landed the way he did. And…and maybe there’s some skin or hairs under his claws.”
Judd’s eyes narrowed. “Any idea whose skin it might be?”
“We’d rather wait and see what conclusions you come up with before spouting off any theories.”
“Understood.” Judd closed the program, turned off the computer. “Let’s go see what we can see.”
* * * * *
“Then it’s set. Tonight, after the eleven p.m. shift settles in. And she’ll be toast.”
“You just worry about paying your bills.”
“Piece of cake. I know damn well the whole ball of wax will go to her only living relative. I’ll have everything cleared up in a couple of weeks. And you’ll get your ten percent interest on top of the fee.”
“Ten percent a month. You’re a finance man. Make sure you don’t forget that little detail. Per month.”
Pearce gritted his teeth. It would be worth it to get rid of the old bitch.
For the first time in days, Pearce drew a deep breath. It felt good.
It would feel even better after the funeral.
* * * * *
“It looks like Soren left two call-back messages on my phone,” Fantine told him as he drove them back to the hospital.
“He probably worked until three this morning at the pub. I’ll give him a couple of hours to sleep yet. I’ll call him around noon.”
Fantine gave him a look.
“What?”
“He called at seven forty this morning and again at ten twelve. Maybe he’s calling with an update from Magnus. You know, Alaska?”
Rolf clenched his back teeth together. Crap. Why now? What cosmic forces of nature were making him choose between his mother and his grandmother?
“Here, take the phone and call him,” she said as he pulled the Prius into the hospital parking lot. “We can only go in one at a time anyway.”
Of course she was right. Rolf was so not accustomed to worrying about anyone but himself. This must be what being a responsible adult felt like. He wasn’t sure he could handle it. “Okay.”
He pushed the dial button as he watched Fantine enter through the sliding glass doors.
“Thorvald.”
“Hey, Soren, it’s me. What’s up?”
“Jeez, it’s about time you called back. Spending all your time in the sack with that sweet honey of yours?”
Rolf’s blood pressure spiked. “Hey, Soren, go back to bed and get up on the right side this time.”
He could hear Soren take a deep breath at the other end of the line. “Sorry. I was just teasing. I think Fantine’s a keeper. Anyway, I called you as soon as I hung up with Magnus. He called at seven this morning. It was three a.m. in Alaska and he’d just landed in a four-seater after his third connection to some way-out island that has three roads and one airstrip.”
“My fault for jumping on you. I wasn’t screwing around. Nonie’s in a coma after falling down the stairs. We’ve been in and out of ICU since yesterday afternoon.”
“Oh shit. I’m really sorry, Bro. You were so excited about finding your grandmother. You know we’ll all be pulling for her. But you’ll want to know what Mags and the investigator found out.”
Rolf sat back on the hood of the Prius. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to hear it standing up unaided. “And?”
“They’ve set it up so they’ll just walk into the restaurant he thinks Mom is working at. The investigator will go first, make sure of his facts, then Mags will come in and take whatever they decide the next step should be.”
“Mom.” Rolf’s voice was barely a whisper. After all this time he’d find out why she abandoned him. His stomach clenched. But what if he wouldn’t like what he heard?
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case it turns out that this Alana Kronk isn’t who we think she is, but Crystal said you had to know right away.”
“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll—I’ll make sure we keep the phone turned on. Thanks, Soren.” What else was there to say?
“And Rolf?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happens, you’re still our brother. Don’t ever forget that.”
Rolf swallowed hard. He wanted to weep at the sweetness of it.
* * * * *
“There’s been no change,” Fantine reported when Rolf joined her outside ICU. “She’s moved a few times. Doctor says that could be either good or bad.”
Rolf grunted. Just like a doctor to hedge his bets.
“Can I go in yet?” He gave the nurse his best bad-boy smile. Lucky it wasn’t Leon, who probably wouldn’t respond the way he hoped this brunette would.
“You shouldn’t, it’s not time yet, but her chart says that she seems calmer when you’re there. So I’ll just get busy updating my charts and won’t notice what you do.”
He winked at her and entered.
She looked so tiny in that bed with its side cages up, all the wires and tubes and beeps and blinking lights recording her vital signs. So pale against the bleached white sheets.
“Hi, Nonie.” He bent forward, placed his lips against the dry, papery skin of her cheek, took a slim, wrinkled hand in his big one. “I’m back. It’s late morning and your flowers…what do you call them…dahlias—all the buds are starting to pop. You have to come back home soon so you can see them in all the colors of the rainbow. And don’t worry, we’re taking care of Hercules.”
He swallowed hard at the lie. Well, not quite a lie, because Judd really was taking care of him, just not the way Nonie, he hoped, would interpret it.
Did she just squeeze his hand?
“Nonie,” he whispered. “Do you really hear me? Did you try to tell me something?”
Her eyelids fluttered.
“Atta girl, keep trying to wake up. I need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed so you can tell me all about my dad. And together we’ll learn about Mom. Because my brother is out in Alaska right now, looking for her. You’ve got to get well, so that when he brings her back, you’ll be able to talk to her, to ask her about the time she spent with your son. You hear me?”
Another flutter.
Please, God, he’d never asked for anything for anyone but himself before. But please let this woman wake up and smile at him.
* * * * *
The hours dragged by interminably, the minutes between visits stretching and drooping like a bad Dali painting. They’d decided Fantine would go in during the legitimate stretches and Rolf would use his wiles to pop in whenever he could get away with it. In between those precious moments with Nonie, they sat, or stood, or walked, or simply paced, wanting to do something, to push someone, to shake Nonie until she awoke.
At one point Rolf thought he’d go crazy if he had to spend another minute looking inside through the glassed walls of the ICU while being forbidden to go to Nonie. “I’m going for a walk,” he growled, and stomped out. He wandered down one corridor then another. Rounding a corner, he came across a skinny kid about five feet tall, a cowlick lifting at the crown of his shaggy hair, his back to Rolf, fists pounding at a blank wall.
“Hey, buddy, you trying make a hole for a window?”
The kid whirled around. Rolf saw tears streaking his haunted eyes. Ten maybe, or eleven years old, he thought.
“What do you care?”
Defiant. Hostile. Like Rolf himself at that age, he realized with a start.
“My grandmother is in the Intensive Care Unit,” Rolf offered. “She’s in a coma, she hasn’t opened her eyes, hasn’t been able to talk to me in two days.” He reached behind the kid and slammed his own fist at the wall. “Kinda makes me mad that I can’t do anything to help her.” He took a step back. “Is that why you were using that wall as a punching bag? Somebody you know is stuck here?”
The kid knuckled a tear away. “I wasn’t s’posed to be there. They said I was too young to visit her. But she’s my mom, you know? So I snuck in and heard the doc tell her—”
He bent over double. Kneeling in front of him, Rolf said, “Something bad? Something that hurts?”
“She has cancer.”
Without hesitation, Rolf gathered the boy in his arms. He didn’t know where the urge came from, except maybe he’d wished someone had held him when all the festering was coming out of him at that age. “Shit. That sucks.”
