Final Surrender: The Surrender Series, Book 1

by Jennifer Kacey

  A couple minutes after they settled her back behind her curtain, she could hear shoes echoing off the tile floor and looked up to see Clay walk in.

  His hair was a mess, his shirt was stained with dried blood and his hands looked raw around the white gauze he now wore.

  His face was unreadable as he closed the curtain and faced her.

  “How are you, Angela?”

  She put her head back on the pillow and fought the need to close her eyes again. It was so bright in the hospital and all it seemed to be doing was making her headache worse.

  “Been better, you?” she asked in return.

  “Been worse,” he replied with an attempt at humor.

  “Clay?” she asked, sounding frail even to her own ears. “What happened?”

  He ran his hands through his hair and walked closer to the bed.

  Angela scooted over in bed and patted the space next to her.

  “What do you remember?” he asked as he softly sat next to her shredded body. She probably looked like a mummy with her arms bandaged, and bruises covering the left side of her face where she hit the concrete, and scratches littered the right side where the bomb pelted her with metal and debris.

  “Nothing important. Just talking to reporters and then I was lying on the concrete and you were sitting next to me. I’ve heard several people around here say it was a bomb, but is that really right? Did a bomb really go off next to us?”

  “It was definitely a bomb, and it went off right next to you. Right next to you and you were alone. I got separated from you and there was nothing I could do but watch you fly through the air and crumple on the sidewalk.”

  He paused for a moment and pulled his eyes from hers, unable to look her in the face. Was she so ugly now he couldn’t even look at her? Tears welled in her eyes. She was so damn sick of feeling like a victim.

  Slowly, he took her bandaged hand in his, so gently, and stared at it as he continued. “All hell broke loose around you and you just lay there lifeless. I thought…” His voice trailed off, unable to continue.

  Angela stared at him with tears streaking her cheeks and then closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply as she finally remembered what happened.

  “Thank you,” she whispered as she laid her hand on his head.

  Clay’s head snapped up and his eyes bored into her face. “What in the hell are you thanking me for? I just told you that I’m the reason you’re lying here, and you thank me?” he barked.

  Angela squeezed his hand gently and smiled softly. She opened her eyes and looked at him, though her head was surely going to fall off. Her body was so tired.

  “When I got to the top of the stairs I didn’t look at the photographers. I was looking for you.”

  After a few seconds, when Clay didn’t answer but did look a bit less hostile, she added, “I’m so used to being on my own I just marched up the stairs like I owned them, trying to get away from the cameras. When I reached the top of the stairs, I remembered I wasn’t alone tonight.

  “I turned to search for you and my purse slipped. I was going to walk back down and wait for you. I know how the photographers are normally a bit pushy and then everything went black. I don’t remember anything else.

  “So you’re the reason I’m alive, Clay. If you hadn’t been there tonight, I would have kept walking. I would have kept walking,” she said again, as the realization she came so close to dying finally sank in.

  She’d been fighting the threats and phone calls for so long, she’d naively believed it would all go away.

  It wouldn’t and she finally accepted that.

  “Angela, if I would have been there—”

  “Then what, Clay?” she asked softly. “You would have sensed there was a bomb? Or you would have whisked me away in time, once it exploded, so we didn’t get hurt? No, we both would have died, that’s what.”

  She gripped his arms for support and pulled herself into a semi-sitting position in bed.

  Clay opened his mouth to protest, but she waved it off.

  “You can’t blame yourself for this. You didn’t set the bomb. We had no prior warning that this might happen. Promise me you won’t blame yourself?”

  She searched his eyes, desperately needing his absolution of guilt. She knew what it was like to live with guilt. It could eat you alive.

  He exhaled and nodded several times, swallowing quickly.

  He ran his hand up and brushed her hair back from her shoulders. She must have surprised him by leaning forward, placing her cheek against his chest. Even through everything she could still smell his cologne.

  Sometime later, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She was so drawn to him, she wanted nothing but to soak up the comfort in his arms.

  “I want to go home,” she whispered as he brushed a kiss on the top of her head.

  “I know,” he whispered back as he moved closer to her so she didn’t have to lean so far to reach him.

  They remained that way until they heard footsteps coming closer again.

  Angela cringed at the footsteps. She hated to be afraid and she couldn’t stop her body from reacting. Adrenaline was the last thing her body needed any more of on this particularly sucky evening.

  She started shaking and Clay asked, “Angela?” when James pulled the curtain aside enough to enter and then pulled it closed again.

  He paused for a moment when he saw them embracing, but when neither moved he said, “I’m sorry for interrupting, but, Ms. Meyers, I really need to get a statement from you.”

  Angela tried to calm her frayed nerves but she started shaking instead. “Detective Wyatt? Fancy meeting you here.”

  She leaned away from Clay and back on the pillows as the detective said, “Well, you know, when one of the city’s best hotels gets blown up with one of its top designers taking the brunt of it, I’m told I have to fill out a lot of paperwork.” He brushed his knuckles across her jaw.

  He pulled up a chair next to the bed as Clay glared at him. “I didn’t know you knew each other so…well,” he accused.

  Angela shrugged and said, “With how many threats I was getting, I was assigned a detective and Detective Wyatt here is that person.” She wondered if Clay was jealous, but shook that thought away, sure it was just the concussion talking. “So hit me with your best shot, Detective, while I’m still awake. I figure the quicker we get this over with, the quicker they’ll fill out my one-way ticket out of here. And believe me, my bed is calling my name in capital letters.”

  The three of them sat there for what seemed like hours and rehashed the entire evening, from the creepy phone call up through the bombing and afterwards. By the end of the conversation Angela smiled and accused, “I didn’t know you knew each other so…well.”

  “Clay and I were in the service together,” James said with a sense of pride.

  Clay was about to speak when an authoritative man wearing blue scrubs walked in, leaving the curtain slightly open.

  “Gentlemen, if you don’t mind giving us a minute, I need to speak with Ms. Meyers alone,” he added firmly.

  Both men stood, but didn’t leave.

  Angela felt protected at the moment and she was so close to the edge she didn’t want to give the feeling up voluntarily. She bantered with them as best she could but any minute she was pretty sure she was going to crack wide open and sob herself into a puddle.

  “Actually, Dr. Rendini, they can stay if it’s all the same to you. It will save me having to repeat everything you say to them when you leave. And I’m too tired for that.”

  The doctor eyed both frowning men and shrugged. “Up to you of course, Ms. Meyers.”

  Clay and James made their way to one side of the bed when Dr. Rendini moved to the other.

  “Well, your CT scan came back clear so you have no lesions or blood clots that we were worri
ed about, and obviously no brain damage or anything really severe.

  “You have a nasty concussion. Much worse than the one a week and a half ago, which will leave you with double vision and headaches for several weeks. Your amnesia should resolve itself fairly quickly as well.”

  “What concussion?”

  Both men looked at her and she nibbled her bottom lip.

  “I may have gotten a slight concussion when I hit my head on the car last week.”

  “You’re shitting me? I knew it was worse than you let on. Maybe you should stay here, and—”

  “Actually, Doctor,” she cut Clay off before he could go any further, “I already remember everything up to the moment of impact. So the amnesia is already gone.”

  “That is wonderful to hear.” He made a note in her chart. “Other than that, you will need to take it real easy for a few days and then slowly get back into your normal routine. I’m going to write you a prescription for some painkillers. They’ll help with the headaches and the general ass kicking you just took like a champ.”

  “Uhh…thanks. So I can go home?”

  “We’d like to keep you overnight for—”

  “Can’t I go home?” she asked a bit louder.

  The doctor looked at her quizzically and said, “I’d much prefer you to stay here, Ms. Meyers. Concussions and the rest of your contusions should not be taken lightly.”

  “You’ve already said what’s going to make me better is rest and relaxation, and I won’t be able to do either if I stay here. Please, let me go home?” she begged, emotion clogging her throat again.

  “Ms. Meyers, I can’t in good conscience let you go back home alone.”

  Clay cleared his throat. “I’ll be escorting Ms. Meyers home and will be staying with her until further notice.” He glared at her, probably waiting for her to say anything to negate his statement.

  “And I’ll be taking them directly from here back to Ms. Meyers’s apartment,” James added.

  She tried to smile back at Dr. Rendini as she wiped the tears away again. “Please.”

  “Well,” the doctor said, deliberating for a few moments as he reviewed her chart. “I guess that’s okay since all your tests came back clear. But you make sure to call the hospital if you have any trouble.” He turned to face Clay and added, “And it will be your job to make sure she stays off her feet.”

  They both agreed and Dr. Rendini turned to leave and added over his shoulder, “You’d better get your vehicle and drive it up to the employee entrance in the back so you can leave out the emergency door. I hear the photographers have been increasing, along with the number of calls the hospital has already received from reporters.”

  “Oh no, I’m so sorry,” Angela said and she hung her head. She didn’t want to be in the magazines, especially not looking like this. The last thing she needed was whatever satisfaction this nutjob got from seeing her damaged in the papers.

  “No worries at all, Ms. Meyers. This hospital is well equipped to protect your privacy.”

  Then he left to get her discharge papers in order and her prescriptions for pain and antibiotics since she had so many open wounds to contend with.

  “So are you ready to blow this Popsicle stand?” James asked her, trying to break the mood.

  Angela swung her legs off the side of the bed gently and Clay helped pull her into a sitting position.

  “Oh no, Clay!”

  “What, did I hurt you?” he asked, trying to adjust his hands on her body.

  “No, I just realized I haven’t called Mark and told him what happened. I don’t want him to read crap or see it on TV before I have a chance to tell him what happened. He’ll be completely freaked out. Or poor Ron! He’s probably still camped out somewhere waiting for our call and…”

  “Whoa, calm down. I found Ron’s card in my pants pocket when you were in X-ray and called him already. If it’s okay, while you get ready to go, I’ll call Mark and let him know you’re all right until you can call him yourself. Sound good?”

  “Yes, sounds good. Tell him I said hi and that I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine,” Clay muttered under his breath as James came and took his place holding Angela. For some reason he looked like he wanted to punch his friend before walking out.

  In no time flat she sat in a wheelchair, wearing her very stylish open-backed gown and Clay’s tuxedo jacket, which still smelled like funky birthday candles.

  “Hey, Detective Wyatt, did you get my dress? They said you guys wanted it for evidence.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ve already got it loaded, and if you’re ready to leave, I’ll go get the car and bring it to the employee exit. Unless you would prefer to have your picture taken by the twenty or so paparazzi that are hanging around front?”

  “No, no the back way is just fine,” Angela agreed with a sigh.

  She wondered how bad the coverage of the incident was going to be. Probably not bad, her inner optimist shoved into her pity party.

  As Clay pushed her to the exit she thought, Well, at least I don’t have to wait long. The photographs would make it into the papers by tomorrow morning.

  She stayed awake long enough to half hobble, half be carried into James’s Impala.

  “At least it’s not a squad car with bars on the window,” she admitted to both men after Clay followed in after her and tucked her under his arm, while James climbed in the front and they were on their way home.

  Home, she sighed and was out like a light.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Am I dead, and if not, what the hell?” Angela croaked. She knew Clay was in the room with her, but couldn’t make out where in the darkness. She rolled her head to the side as she heard him get up from a side chair.

  “You’re not dead, but the next few days you’re gonna feel like hell. Thanks to me and my head up my ass,” he muttered at the end.

  Angela chuckled and rolled onto her good side as Clay sat gently on the edge of the bed. She cleared her parched throat twice before she could say, “Just been sitting over there berating yourself, I see.”

  Every muscle in her body was screaming in protest as he ignored her statement and asked quietly, “How do you feel?”

  “I’ve definitely been better,” she muttered on a groan, “but I’ve been worse, too, so that’s something.” She was glad for the darkness or Clay surely would have seen the anguish on her face.

  “How long have I been out?” she asked, trying subtly to change the subject.

  Clay gently ran his hand over her scalp where the huge goose egg was sitting. Not so silently cursing himself for his momentary lapse of judgment.

  She winced as his fingers found their mark and gently covered his hand with her own.

  “Most of the night. It’s about three in the morning now. Thirsty?” he asked before standing and turning on the light in the bathroom.

  The door was partially shut so it didn’t fry her retinas. Still, it took several tries to keep her eyes open long enough to watch him turn to the nightstand and lift a glass of ice water.

  “Parched,” she admitted as she struggled to sit up and not watch him like a lovesick teenager.

  Clay handed her two pills and she stared at them like they were moon rocks.

  “Doctor’s orders. You need rest and some medicine to help you get better, so bottoms up, and then you can go back to sleep for a month. Antibiotic and pain meds. Printed info on the kitchen table when you’re up to reading it. We stopped and grabbed them on the way home from the hospital. A different pharmacy than you normally use but it was faster.”

  “I’m not allergic to anything so I’m sure they’re fine.” Angela threw back the pills and swallowed them quickly. Water had never tasted so good. She handed the glass to Clay after she had drained it and sank back below the covers.

  He pulled away,
trying to move off the bed when her hand touched his warm arm.

  “Don’t leave,” a fragile voice pleaded. “Don’t go!”

  Oh, great, it was her voice. So she could go ahead and add begging to her resume.

  Super.

  He stared at her. The expression on his face was unreadable. Tense, but focused. She almost apologized and ugly duckling dived back under the covers, but instead she watched him lean over and oh so gently place his lips against hers.

  Tears welled in her eyes at the sweetest kiss she had ever received. One filled with longing and regret. It was her feelings she felt, and she knew that. But for one night she could forget he didn’t love her and just enjoy him being close. Surely she’d earned it.

  He didn’t force his way into her mouth. He ate at her mouth like she was his last meal. He nibbled her bottom lip. Sampling her flesh as he would a fine wine. Awareness skittered over her like a pebble skipping across the water. The next set of ripples superimposed themselves over the first until her entire body sank into the sensation.

  Her grip on his arm relaxed, as did the fear caught in her throat. She let a whispered sigh pass her lips, opening her eyes as Clay moved a few inches away and stared down at her.

  “Angela, if something would have happened to you tonight… If you had been seriously hurt or worse, I…”

  She raised her somewhat steady hand and placed her now warm fingers against his lips to still them.

  “Don’t,” she whispered with as much fervor as she could muster.

  Hearing a confession coming from him was something she didn’t have the strength for tonight.

  The breath escaped past her fingers as he eased her hand back onto the bed.

  The past is the past and it’s better if it just stays there, she decided. She wondered how long it was going to take him to bolt. She could already feel him pulling away, back into himself.

  “I won’t leave,” he promised. “Go back to sleep and I’ll be here when you wake.”

  She was exhausted and completely surprised he decided to stay.