by Becky Flade
The sky was dusky. Red and blue lights ricocheted off dim windows. People spilled out of their homes as he flew down Main Street. He turned hard into the parking lot, throwing himself into the door, tires squealing, and slammed to a stop. Carter released his belt and the dog’s before jumping to the asphalt; Dublin leaped to his side. They ran to the rear exterior door, the one that housed the steps to the second-floor apartment, the door he found unlocked. He wasn’t aware of his own shouts as he took the stairs two at a time, Dublin on his heels.
“Henley! Henley!”
He skidded to a halt on the landing and reached for his piece. His hand came away empty. His firearm was in the lockbox in his closet at home. He swore and placed his body against the wall beside her door. He shushed the dog, pushing Dublin behind him, out of the line of fire, and tried the knob. It turned without resistance. He gave the door a push. It swung open.
Gas!
The pungent smell assaulted him as he eased over the threshold. The room appeared empty. Thanks to the open floor plan he could see all but the bathroom and bedroom, unless an intruder crouched behind the kitchen island. He cleared that space and moved into the short hallway. Both doors were open. He edged into the bedroom doorway and saw Henley in a crumpled heap on the floor.
“Oh God, oh God.” The image of a dark alley superimposed itself over the pretty bedroom. The memory of garbage, blood, and spent gunpowder overpowered the noxious gas. Carter shook off the nightmare. And new fear stole his breath. Coughing from the fumes, he dropped down beside Henley. He put his fingers to her throat, avoiding looking at her face. Her hair was thick with blood, but her pulse was strong. He scooped her into his arms. Dublin licked her face. “Wake up, Henley, baby. Look at me.”
The atmosphere in the apartment changed. The air felt thick. They weren’t alone. He glanced around for a weapon. Laying her down and making as little sound as possible, he unplugged the lamp from her nightstand and removed the shade. Keeping the prone woman behind him, he faced the door and gripped the makeshift bat in two hands. He noticed Dublin had straddled Henley’s body with his own quivering mass. If they got out of this, he was buying the dog a steak.
He saw the gun first. Carter lowered his body, hoping the shooter would aim high and the bullet would go over his head. He widened his stance and corrected his grip. The gun became a forearm. Carter waited, coiled. The panic he’d felt was gone. In its place was the cool calculation necessary to survive, a skill he’d learned as a rookie. Later, he resolved, later he’d reflect on how natural, how righteous, that mantle felt.
When the gunman crept around the doorframe, Carter’s stomach dropped, but his arms did not waver. Doug stood in center of the doorway, his gun drawn, mouth agape.
“Sheriff!” His eyes shifted to the floor. “Is she okay?”
Carter held the lamp high, refusing the urge to follow the path of Doug’s gaze; he kept his eyes trained on the firearm that remained aimed at him. Doug looked back at him when he didn’t answer, saw his own hands gripping the lethal tool. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His arms dropped to his sides, and Doug holstered the weapon. Carter maintained his grip on the lamp. He was aware of Dublin growling.
“Doug.” His tone was firm and authoritative. “Go down and shut off the gas at the valve. I want you to get Dr. Tucker over here and call Brandwyne General for an ambulance, preferably the medic chopper. After that, I want you to come back up here, make sure the area is secure, and open every window you can.”
“What about Henley?”
“I’ve got her. Go. Be quick.” Not until he heard the sound of Doug’s feet on the stairs did he relax.
• • •
The darkness. It was everywhere. It had her. She’d been swallowed by the pain and the sorrow. She wouldn’t succumb; she’d fight. But bright red tentacles formed in the black and reached for her.
Henley startled awake. Caught in the fringes of her nightmare, a scream lodged in her throat. She saw a dark figure rush toward her. She raised her hands defensively. The image crystallized. She knew it was Carter. And that Carter would not hurt her.
“Hey, Doc.” He spoke to her like she imagined he would a spooked horse. “Welcome back.”
She saw the IV—she was in a hospital. Machines beeped and whirred, the sound filling her with revulsion. And anxiety. Memories that had become disjointed and vague over the years sprang fresh and terrifyingly clear. She whipped her head from left to right; a tube tugged at her nostrils. She had to fight the instinct to flee. She heard her whimper under the escalating sounds of the machines responding to her distress.
“Henley. Henley! Calm yourself. Sweetheart, please, you have to calm down. I can’t touch you. I’m feeling too much, and I’ll make it worse. Please. They’re going to be racing in here soon with needles and drugs.” His words registered. She looked into his sad, steady gaze and reached out wildly until she gripped his fingers in her fist. His emotions were intense. There was fear, and there was anger. But there was light and warmth. She latched on to the goodness. She focused on his blue eyes and the strength in the hand linked with hers. The power of his emotions pushed her fear into recess.
“I thought it was you.” Her voice sounded froggy, and her throat was bone-dry. Those five little words had caused explosions in her head. She winced.
“Shh. We’ll get to that.” Without pulling his hand free, he dragged a chair to her bedside. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked haggard. She had never seen him look disheveled, but the starkness of his expression and the wrinkled clothes couldn’t detract from his inherent good looks.
“You’re awake.” The nurse’s voice was too loud. The woman flicked on lights that were too bright. Henley wanted to growl a threat and grovel for mercy simultaneously.
“You think you could do whatever you need to do with less light and at a lower volume, miss? She’s hurting.” Carter’s tone was barely polite. She’d observed him charm men and women alike with his easy nature. Abrupt Carter was new to her and no doubt an indication of his turmoil. Turmoil he was holding back from her.
“I’m sorry, but the light is necessary.” Henley considered it a minor victory that the woman had moderated her voice. She checked Henley’s vitals, adjusted the machine, and promised to be back with something for the pain after Henley had seen the doctor. Blessedly, she extinguished the light when she left, and Henley pulled out the nasal cannula. Carter held a straw to her lips. The ice water felt like heaven. He took it away too soon and replaced the oxygen tube.
“Please.”
“I’m sorry, but you heard Nurse Ratched—small sips and this stays.”
“How long was I unconscious?”
“We’re not sure. It was past eight when I found you yesterday. It’ll be dawn soon. You’ve been out at least ten hours.” She felt her lips tremble. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re worried about the big brain of yours, right? Well, the doctors said they were more worried about how much gas you inhaled. In fact, that was likely more responsible for the long nap than the head wound.”
“Who was it?”
“I hoped you could tell me that, Doc.”
“I didn’t see; he came up behind me. I was unpacking and thought I heard the door. Thought it was you. I remember stuffing my dirty clothes in the hamper while I called out that I was in the bedroom. Then”—she reached up and felt the bandage—“he must have hit me.”
“He did, baby. He hit you over the head and hit you hard. He also blew out the pilot light and turned on the oven.”
“That’s why you mentioned gas.”
“One little spark and the whole building would’ve gone up like a Roman candle.” She didn’t want to speak. Other people could have been hurt, could’ve died, because of her. What could she say that would put that kind of horror into perspective? “It’s gotta be the same guy. No one else got hurt, but no one saw anything either.”
The doctor interrupted any further conversation. Henley gripped Carter’s h
and tighter as the unfamiliar man approached. He asked the same questions the nurse had. Checked the same things. Gave her the same noncommittal answers.
“When can I go home?”
“It’ll be a couple days, Miss Elliott. We need to be sure you’ve no adverse reactions to the gas you inhaled, and we want to observe that head wound, although your CAT scan was beautiful.” He left when Henley glared at him. But the nurse came right back, wielding a large syringe.
“You’ve been approved for pain medication.” Henley decided she hated Nurse Williams.
“I’m not baring a cheek.” She wasn’t trying to be difficult. She wanted the drug; her head hurt badly, her throat was on fire, which she now realized was a result of having inhaled gas for a couple of hours, her lungs ached, and she was nauseated. But she didn’t want to suffer further humiliation.
“No need. The injection is going in the IV line.”
“How long until she’s asleep?”
“Depends. I’d guess not long.” The nurse patted Henley’s shoulder and extinguished the light as she left. Henley sighed in gratitude.
“You should sleep, Carter. You look tired; were you up all night?” The narcotic muddled her mind but had a nearly instant numbing effect on the pain. She could feel the drug pulling her back into the darkness, but she wasn’t afraid. Her eyes drifted shut.
“I wanted to be here when you woke. Wanted to be the first person you saw. I didn’t want you to be alone.” She felt his fingers on her face. She thought she heard him say, “I’ve never been that scared,” as she slid into slumber.
When next she woke, filtered sunlight bathed the empty room, and low voices reverberated outside her door. She hurt all over but not as acutely. The nausea had been replaced with a gnawing hunger. She tried to sit. The room shifted and swayed. She closed her eyes and laid back. She heard the voices taper off, the door open, and rapid footsteps grow near. When she dared open her eyes, the room was stationary. Carter stood beside her.
He’d shaved, showered, and changed his clothes. He looked more like himself. She felt like hell. She bet she looked worse.
“What’s up, Doc?” He grinned. She felt the corners of her mouth tug. “Want to sit?”
“Yes, please.” He used the buttons on the sides to raise her head and knees until she indicated she was comfortable. “You went home?”
“No, I didn’t. I slept for a few hours, and Maggie stopped by with a goodie bag for me. Deodorant, toothbrush, hairbrush, clean underwear, stuff like that. She brought you one, too. The nurse said I could use your shower and voila! I’m human again.”
“Does that mean it’s my turn?”
“You have to get doctor’s approval first. In the meantime, you’ll have to make do with sponge baths. I volunteer to be of any assistance in that regard.” He waggled his brows and leered at her. She chuckled. And braced her head as the room spun. “Dizzy?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I doubt you’ll get the okay for a shower today, babe.” Her stomach gurgled. “Let me see if I can get them to bring some decent food.” He sauntered from the room, a charming smile already in place. She put her head back. She could do this. It would only be a couple of days; they wouldn’t put her in restraints. Her world wasn’t falling apart. She wasn’t alone. Carter was here.
“I’m guessing that sappy little grin means you’re awake.”
Henley lowered her chin and smiled at Maggie. The writer looked awesome in cut-off denim shorts, a Myles Kennedy tee shirt, and black cowboy boots. “Does everyone around here look better than I do?”
“Yep. They rolled a corpse past me while I waited, and he looked better than you do right now.” Henley grimaced, and Maggie laughed. “Have you seen yourself? Or are you making gross assumptions?”
“I prefer to call it educated guessing.” She felt awkward. “Carter said you brought me a bag from home. Thank you, I appreciate it. You didn’t have to do that. Not after what happened to your cabin.”
“Don’t be stupid. It’ll piss me off, and if Carter catches me yelling at you in your debilitated state, he’ll pitch a fit.”
“But—”
“Seriously, Doc. I mean it.” Maggie hurried to her bedside. Henley didn’t think the woman ever walked. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But Carter better hope he finds this guy before I do. Between jacking you up and burning my place down, I’ll castrate the bastard. No one messes with me and mine. No one.”
“Now you’re calling me Doc, too?”
“If the stethoscope fits . . . ” Maggie shrugged.
“What time is it?”
“Around three in the afternoon.”
“I slept all day?”
“Carter said they gave you the good stuff. You even slept through a breathing treatment.” Henley looked up sharply. Maggie must have sensed her anxiety. “Your breathing was labored from the gas poisoning. They said the albuterol should help,” she explained.
Now that Maggie mentioned it, Henley noticed it didn’t hurt as much when she took a breath. But she still wore the hated cannula.
“Do you know what happened? All I know is Carter found me unconscious in a gas-filled apartment.”
Maggie launched into the tale with the verve of a veteran storyteller. “And he rode in the helicopter with you.”
“He did?”
“Oh yeah. I heard from Ma Stevens that he carried you out in his arms, Dublin at his side, barking orders. Carter, not Dublin. She said if it hadn’t been frightening, it would’ve been crazy romantic, and regardless of the scare factor, it was heroic. Half the town crowded the parking lot and watched.”
“Who has Dubs?”
“We do. Dr. Tucker held on to him until Aidan got there to oversee the investigation on Carter’s behalf.”
“Why wouldn’t Doug do that?” She felt her eyes drooping. But they snapped wide. “He wasn’t hurt, was he? Carter said no one else was hurt.”
“He wasn’t hurt. He’s a suspect.”
“That’s enough, Mags. She’s in recovery.” Carter carried a tray of food. “Okay, they have you on a light diet: broth, gelatin, ice cream, and graham crackers. And they said there’s still a good chance you’ll vomit.” He adjusted her bed, allowing her legs to straighten enough for the tray to balance across her thighs without tipping.
“Thank you.” The broth smelled delicious. The last thing she’d eaten was the awful, rubbery food on the flight close to twenty-four hours ago. By the time she’d finished eating, she was exhausted and the nausea had returned.
She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sound of Carter’s voice talking to Maggie near the foot of the bed. At one point he said, “She’s sleeping again, is that okay?” An unfamiliar voice responded, “It’s fine. It’s a good sign that she can sleep without medication.” She felt the tray lift off her legs and the bed recline. Without opening her eyes, she called out to Carter. Her voice was weak, but he had heard her. She felt someone at her side. She knew it was him.
“You should go, too. Get some sleep. Play with the dog. Find out who wants to hurt me.” She felt his lips brush her forehead. The sensation was fleeting, but she absorbed his conviction.
“No one’s going to hurt you. I promise.”
Chapter Seventeen
With the Jeep’s windows rolled down, a concession for which she’d had to campaign, she reveled in the sun and fresh air on the long, flat road connecting Brandwyne to Trappers’ Cove. Henley looked over her shoulder and smiled. Dublin had his head out the window behind her, his tongue waving in the breeze. She felt the same way after a week in the hospital.
“Are you tired?” Carter asked.
“Nope. I am great. Was going stir crazy in there.” She laid her head back and rolled it on her neck to face him. “I think I was spoiled by my nomadic years.”
“I feared it was bad memories.”
“It was at first. You helped with the worst of it. But, oh, maybe half an hour into my second day, it was the being cooped up and coddl
ed. I still wanted to scream and run, but for all different reasons.” She put her hand on his thigh. It amazed her how easy it had become to touch him, how addictive. The passion always simmered below the surface. But it had become much more than that; her feelings were deep-seated. She hadn’t thought herself capable, after Jacob, of this type of attachment. “If I haven’t said, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Thank you.”
To her disappointment and consternation, he politely smiled and patted her hand. He lifted it from his leg with an impersonal, “No problem.”
“You haven’t mentioned the investigation in days, and you were evasive then. What’s going on?” She braced herself. “Was it Doug?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Why was he a suspect?”
“He had your spare keys. He was right behind me, but I didn’t hear him climb the stairs. It felt, at the time, reasonable to investigate his possible involvement.” Carter had already explained how Doug had gotten her keys. And that Doug had sealed the keys in an envelope he’d placed in her mailbox as he hadn’t known what time her flight was due to arrive. But Doug had been in the diner eating in plain sight of half the town when Carter had sped down Main Street. It was the lights and sirens that had drawn the deputy to her apartment. “Not Doug.”
“I’m glad; it would have been awful if it were. But at the same time, we’re no better off than we were.”
“Right. That’s why you’re going to stay with me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I took the liberty of packing a few things for you. If I missed anything, or there’s something specific you want, I’ll grab it later. Make me a list. You’re all set up in one of the spare bedrooms.”
“At what point were you planning on mentioning this?”
“I’m mentioning it now.”
“I’m not moving into your house, Carter.”
“Yes, you are. You heard the doctor’s instructions when you were discharged—they were reluctant to release you, and you need to be monitored for a least another week. May I remind you your condition was guarded? You don’t have an extra bed. I do.” Henley noticed how he gripped the wheel. And that he’d yet to make eye contact with her. “I’d insist on this, regardless. Whoever your attacker is, he still has your keys.”
