by Lori Leger
She poured herself a glass of water and took the time to rest her feet while she sipped at it. She was tired and ready to get moved into her new place as quickly as possible. If she worked hard at it Saturday, which was tomorrow, she knew she would have it licked by Sunday. She took a big swig of water before answering her ringing phone.
“Hello.”
“Angel, it’s Red. Liam was thrown from a horse and knocked unconscious. He’s on his way by air med to St. Luke’s.”
The sound of her cordless phone hitting the floor rang in her ears as she grabbed her purse and rushed out the door.
Nearly twenty hours had passed, and still Liam slept, deathly still, except for the steady rise and fall of his chest. He breathed on his own, and tests had shown no sign of brain swelling, bleeding, or fractured vertebras.
Sick with worry, Angelique stayed by his side—waiting, praying for him to wake up and be his normal, irritating self. She said rosaries, cried countless tears, afraid she’d lost him forever—terrified that she’d never be able to tell him how sorry she was for the last hurtful words she’d spoken to him. How much she loved him.
Eight o’clock Sunday morning found her dozing in the hospital room’s only chair. She started at a soft knock on the door. Mike stepped inside, carrying a bag with a local café’s logo on it.
“Hey, Angel. I brought you some breakfast.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” She passed her hands over her hair to smooth the tangles she hoped weren’t too noticeable.
His gaze found hers as he dug into the bag, releasing the aroma of bacon into the small space. “Did you hear a question in there somewhere? Don’t you roll those eyes at me. You’re gonna eat something, and while I’m here to see it.”
“I have been eating,” she fibbed, while trying to remember the last time she had. The fact was, she had been too damned worried to eat. She still was. An aroma that should have had her stomach growling with hunger, did nothing more than make her queasy.
“Mm hmm, I bet.” He sounded unconvinced. “Babe, you’ll be no good to anyone if you pass out. You need sustenance.” Mike partially unwrapped a crescent roll bursting with bacon, egg, and cheese and held it out to her. “Now mange—eat!” he said, forcefully, “Then you can go home for a while and I’ll take over the watch.”
Her mouth watered with nausea at the unappetizing smell and she pushed his handful of sandwich roughly away from her face. “Get that away from me before I barf all over you.” She stood and faced him angrily. “Do I look like the kind of girl who can’t think for herself? I don’t need anyone to take care of me, dammit. When I feel like eating, I’ll eat.”
“Look, Angel, I’m just trying to hel—”
“You’re not. I don’t want to eat, and I’m not leaving because Liam needs me here. And if you’re going to keep up this foolishness, you can just leave.”
Mike froze, looking heartbroken at her suggestion. Seconds passed, making the uncomfortable silence between them seem downright unbearable. He re-wrapped the sandwich and put it back in the bag. Folding the top tightly he placed it on the hospital tray stand. “I’ll just leave it. Maybe you’ll get hungry later.”
“Mike, I’m sor—”
“Don’t.” He raised a hand to stop her. “You’ve made your choice, about a lot of things, it seems. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Mike, don’t.” He walked out, letting the door close heavily behind him. She groaned and sunk her face into both hands, giving into another round of tears. What the hell was wrong with her? Now she’d hurt two men. She finished her tears several minutes later, sniffling into the rough tissues provided by the hospital.
“I smell bacon.”
Angelique stopped sniffling long enough to wonder what she’d heard. She swung around to see Liam, who lay there with his eyes closed. No change. She must be hearing things.
“I’m starving,” he said, barely moving his parched lips.
“Liam!” She rushed to his side. “Oh God, you’re awake.”
He gave several heavy lidded blinks before managing to open his eyes. “What the hell happened?”
“That horse threw you off. Don’t you remember?”
“Horse?” His brow furrowed. “What’s a horse? What’s this place?” He gave her a quizzical look. “Am I supposed to know you?”
Stunned at the questions, Angelique straightened and covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh God! They said there was a slim chance this could happen. Let me get somebody in here.” She turned toward the door so he wouldn’t witness her heartbroken burst into tears.
“Angel, stop.”
She froze, releasing the door handle to spin slowly around. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t do that to her. Could he? The trace of shit-eating grin plastered on his face had her fuming, even as Nash murmured a weak apology confirming her suspicions.
“I’m kidding, babe. I remember everything.” He yawned, wiped a hand over his face. “Why all the tears? What’s it been, an hour or so?”
She felt the involuntary lift of her left eyebrow, a sure sign the devilish side of her conscience was taking over. Liam’s mistake was in not taking notice of it.
“Oh Liam. Years, sweetie,” she said, adding a note of sadness, as she walked slowly toward the bed. “It’s been so many years. We’d all about given up hope you’d ever wake. Mike and I…” She nearly choked on the effort it took not to smile at his sudden look of horror, yet she somehow managed to press on. “We waited an entire year, Liam. Mike so wanted you as his best man at the wedding.” She began digging in her wallet and going through pictures. “Here, let me show you pics of the kids. We even named our son after you.”
“What!” Liam bolted upright, before pressing one hand to his head. “That’s not possible. I feel fine.” He leveled a disbelieving glare in her direction. “You married Harper?”
Angelique leaned in to lock her gaze onto his. “Gotcha.”
His brows furrowed. “What?”
“Nearly a whole day, jerk. You’ve been out for about twenty hours now, and I’ve been here the entire time, terrified you’d never wake up, or if you did, you wouldn’t remember me.”
“Angel—”
She waved him off as she turned for the door. “I’ll tell them you’re awake.”
Angelique lingered at the front desk long enough to hear there would be no ill effects from the concussion. Still hovering somewhere between anger and relief, she got the hell out of there before saying something else she’d live to regret.
CHAPTER 20
Sarah began the silent repetition of prayers as soon as she heard the distinct sound of the bedroom door’s locking mechanism fall away. Oh God, please not again. Dear God, please, please, not again. Please don’t let him hurt my girls. Please, God, if he kills me, protect my babies.
She dared not make a sound to let him know she was awake, even though she knew from experience that if he wanted her awake, he’d find an immediate and painful way to accomplish that. She lay there in the bed, both eyes blackened, at least one rib broken, one hand wrapped in Ace bandages in the absence of a brace or cast. She knew she could use several stitches; the cut over her left eyebrow was ugly and jagged, and her mouth was split and swollen. Too hurt and sore to jump when he spoke crudely to her, she simply opened the one eye that wasn’t swollen completely shut.
“Hey, you ungrateful Bitch!” he snarled, giving her a shove. “I’m going to work now. You mind your manners and keep your ass in these two rooms. And just remember what I said about the neighbors. Two child molesters and an ex-con who spent time for raping a pretty little thing like you.” He gave a huff of sadistic laughter. “At least you used to be. You’re not so pretty any more, are you?”
She winced as he grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head painfully so he could see the damages to her face.
“Yeah, that one’s gonna leave a nice scar; no stitches for you, babe.” He chuckled evilly. “You remember what I said, Sarah. If you and those g
irls of mine aren’t here when I get back, I’ll find you, I swear to God I will. I’ll slit their throats and make you watch. Then I’ll cut your tongue out and give you to the ex-con to finish you off. I hear he likes his women quiet.” He pushed her head back onto the bed giving her hair one last painful jerk before he walked out and locked the door behind him. She breathed a painful sigh of relief and dozed off again.
Sarah awakened once more with that same feeling of dread. Only she wasn’t in the awful bedroom she’d suffered inside for five long days. She was in her bedroom suite in Daniel and Leah’s house. She sat up, feeling her face and mouth. No soreness, no stitches. Just a dream, thank God. She held the monitor close to her ear, but didn’t hear anything. The twins were sound asleep.
Sarah sat up and wrapped herself in a thick terry cloth robe to ward off the chill of the early spring morning. Unable to help herself, she exited her bedroom and quietly made her way down the hallway to the nursery. She opened the door and tiptoed over to the cribs. Smiling as she saw both their blankets pulled over their heads. She’d bet her life savings that she’d find them in identical sleeping positions, as usual. It must be one of those uncanny twin things, like inventing their own language.
She reached out with both hands to lower the blankets, but her hands froze in mid-air as something caught her attention. Sarah’s right hand cautiously moved to the dark red spot on Sammi’s bed rail. She touched the sticky substance and brought her fingers closer to her nose, detecting a faint metallic odor. Her entire body tensed, immobilized by a stark dread as her eyes widened involuntarily. She forced herself to move, reached trembling hands out toward the blankets and pulled them slowly off of her daughter’s golden curls. She lowered them to reveal their faces to just below their mouths. The absence of rosiness in their cheeks filled her with a panicky dread.
She pulled the blankets back quickly and had to swallow the bile that rose up in her throat to choke her. Shaking uncontrollably now, she reached out and touched her daughters, searching for some sign of life. She raised her trembling hands, now covered with the dark stickiness, too sick inside to utter a sound at the sight of her daughters’ blood.
She heard the laugh, low and menacing, coming from behind her. Sarah turned slowly and stared in shocked horror as Troy leered evilly at her. He held a knife in one hand—A wickedly sharp knife covered in blood; the blood of her innocent babies.
“I told you what I’d do, didn’t I, Sarah? This is your fault—all your fault.”
He started with a throaty chuckle that turned into deep, rumbling laughter. Within a few short seconds, his laughter turned into full blown, soul wrenching screams.
Daniel was halfway down the hall with a glass of warm milk, when a blood curdling scream scared him so badly he dropped the glass on the thickly carpeted floor.
“Sweet Jesus! Sarah!” He ran to her room and flung open the door, then froze, uncertain of what to do next. Sarah was sitting up in bed, staring at her hands, her face twisted with heartbreaking anguish, and screaming loudly enough to wake the dead.
“Dear God! What’s wrong?” Leah cried, running into the room. “She’s having a nightmare, Daniel!” She ran over and placed her hands firmly on Sarah’s shoulders. “Sarah, wake up. It’s a dream, sweetie, it’s only a dream.”
At the first touch Sarah wakened, her screams reduced to gasps and violent quakes. She sat there, trembling, gasping for breath, her face streaked with tears. “The babies,” she moaned.
Daniel approached slowly. “They’re fine—the babies are fine, Sarah. I’d just checked on them a minute ago.”
“I-I need to see them. I have to make sure that Troy—that he-didn’t h-hu-hurt them,” she stammered, between hitches of breath.
Leah took a gentle hold of her arm to help her out of bed. “Calm down, Sarah. Come on, let’s go see them right now so you’ll know they’re okay.”
Daniel trailed the two women as they walked arm in arm to the nursery. Sarah approached the cribs, reaching in to place both hands on her daughters’ chubby pink faces, ran her fingers through their golden brown curls. Seeming to accept they were fine, she covered her face and sobbed quietly into her hands.
Daniel’s gaze clashed with his wife’s as they gathered Sarah into a comforting embrace. Leah spoke in soothing tones. “Honey, we’re gonna keep you and your girls safe, right Daniel?”
“You’re damn right we will,” he whispered, his voice tight with fury for the man who’d caused this kind of terror in a woman.
“Are you okay now?” Leah asked.
Sarah breathed in shakily, and released it in a rush before nodding. “I’m fine.”
Leah placed an arm across her shoulders to lead her out of the nursery. “Would you like a cup of hot cocoa, or some chamomile tea, maybe?”
Sarah nodded as the two women left the nursery.
Daniel stayed behind, watching over the sleeping babies. The two of them slept soundly, unbothered by their mother’s episode of night terror. He contemplated the girls, arranged in identical sleeping poses, as they were prone to do, and placed his large hands on their tiny, warm backs.
Sarah’s screams came back to him, as well as her words. I have to make sure Troy didn’t hurt them. He didn’t know what horrors Sarah had witnessed in her nightmare, and he didn’t want to. He’d known men like Troy Richard all too well in his lifetime; men who treated their family members with less feeling and respect than they would a stray dog or wild animal.
Daniel had grown to love these two little angels, sound asleep in their cribs. The thought of anyone trying to hurt them or their mother made his skin crawl. He clasped his hands tightly together over the cribs, asking God to help him keep his promise to Sarah.
She gripped her mug of cocoa until the blood drained from her fingers. Blood. Just thinking the word caused an uncontrollable shiver to run up Sarah’s spine.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She jerked her head violently at Leah. “God, no! I wish I could forget about it. And I wish Liam were here,” she added. “I guess I got used to having him around. I just…I feel safer when he is.”
Leah patted her arm. “He’ll be pleased to hear that. Tiffany told us they only wanted to observe him one more night. He’ll be released later this morning.”
Sarah gazed out at the darkened windows. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Four a.m. You want to try to get in another couple hours of sleep?”
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll sleep again until Liam’s back, or Troy’s behind bars—whichever comes first.”
Daniel walked in at the tail end of her statement. “Even after he’s back, Liam may need to stay off his feet for a while, but Melanie Finley called to say she’d like to stay here to pick up the slack until he’s up again.
Sarah nodded, thinking it’d be nice to see Mel again, while also wondering how Officer Finley would handle being under the same roof with Liam.
Melanie pulled up under the canopy of St. Luke’s Hospital, spotting Liam immediately, wheelchair and all. She lowered the passenger window in time to hear him tell the nurse behind him his ride was there as he pointed to her car. When he attempted to leave the confines of the chair, she saw his nurse grip his shoulder tightly and tell him to stay put until she wheeled him to the car.
As soon as he was safely ensconced behind the closed car door, he waved to his nurse. “Adios, Nurse Ratched!” he yelled, earning a glare from his care-giver. “You wretched woman,” he growled, as he raised the window. “Wretched Ratched,” he said, with a low chuckle.
“Ratched? I’ve never heard of that name before.”
Nash shook his head. “Her tag says B. DeVille. I heard someone call her Betty.”
“Then why do you call her Nurse Ratched?”
Liam stared at her, seeming disappointed. “Nurse Ratched from ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’?”
“I’ve never heard of it. Is it out on DVD or pay per view yet?” She neve
r took her eyes off the road.
Liam’s jaw dropped in shock. “It’s classic Jack Nicholson. I can’t believe you’ve never heard of it. It swept the Oscars in 1975—Best actor, best picture, best damned near everything.”
“And just how old were you in seventy-five, Nash? Because I wasn’t born yet,” she said, in her own defense. And by the time I was old enough to watch television mom had already sold the set to keep the electricity from being cut off.
“I was only three years old,” he said, scowling at her. “I just like to educate myself about things like that.”
“Yeah? Well I used to read the dictionary to ‘educate’ myself in my spare time.” A snort from her passenger had her looking in his direction.
“So, you were one of those kids.”
“What kids?”
“Brainiacs…nerds…” he said.
“My mother never had any money to entertain us so I found my own ways to fight boredom. And stop being obnoxious.” She shook her head impatiently. “Jesus, you must have been a horrible patient.”
“You don’t have to call me Jesus—”
“You’re not funny,” she shot back.
“You have a lousy sense of humor.”
She put the car in drive and eased away from the canopy. “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t change the fact that you are so not funny. Now what did you do to the nurse to piss her off?”
He touched the tender spot on his head. “I was told she’s the only grumpy old nurse in that hospital, and I had to deal with her the entire time I was there. Crappy luck, Finley—I’ve always had damned crappy luck.”
Mel shook her head as she braked at the edge of the parking lot. “I don’t believe in luck, now buckle your seat belt and quit all that bitchin’, Prince Charming.” She stared straight ahead, heat infusing her body as she felt his glare on her even as he did what she asked.
“I need you to swing by someplace for me before we go back to the ranch,” he said.
