The nurse had already signaled an orderly to bring a wheelchair. “You should have gone around to Labor and Delivery, dear, but we’ll get you over there. How far apart are your pains?”
“I’m not in labor,” I said, then gasped as Evan kicked my liver. “Stop that!” I pressed on my belly.
“Her husband was just brought in,” Barry told the woman. “Dan Collier. Hit and run.”
The nurse nodded and checked her log. “He’s in bay three of the second room on the right, but you’ll have to wait. The doctor is with him now.” She looked at me critically, then gestured for the orderly to bring the wheelchair closer. “You’d better take the chair. Head wounds bleed a lot and we don’t need you fainting and hurting yourself, too.”
Head wound. “How badly was Dan hurt?”
“I don’t know,” the nurse said. “The doctor will speak with you as soon as he’s finished examining your husband.”
I bit my lips and blinked back sudden tears. I’d barely kept it together so far, and now the horrible possibilities crashed into me like a tidal wave of terror. I’d come to depend on Dan’s quiet strength and steady affection, and had started to believe it would always be there. He made me laugh when I was down, and praised whatever I cooked no matter how awful it was. I loved how when we were relaxing on the couch at night, he would talk to Evan about what they would do together when he was older. Our marriage had started as one of convenience, but it had become so much more than that. I’d been afraid to admit it, but I’d fallen in love with my husband. What would I do if he suddenly wasn’t there?
My legs trembled. I must have gone white, because Barry hustled to get me into the wheelchair.
“Are you okay?” he asked, bending down to look into my face.
“I need to see him. Now.” I had to know how bad it was. Had to know if the gift I’d been given was going to be snatched away from me just as I realized how valuable it was.
Barry exchanged a look with the triage nurse. She conferred with someone on the phone, then nodded, and Barry pushed me through a pair of automatic doors that led to the treatment area.
Dan lay propped up on a narrow emergency room bed. Bandages wrapped his ribs, and several scrapes on his left shoulder looked red and raw as if they’d been recently disinfected. The nurses had obviously cleaned him up a little, but there were still remnants of dried blood on the side of his face.
A doctor clipped a thread from a line of sutures on Dan’s forehead, then set aside his tools. “Next time, try not to dodge into a concrete barricade.”
Dan barely smiled. “I’d rather there wasn’t a next time.” Then he saw me, and his smile broadened for a second. Then he frowned. “Why are you in a wheelchair? Are you okay? Is the baby coming?” He started to sit up, wincing, but the doctor pushed him back with a hand on his chest.
“Hang on there,” the doctor said. “You’re not going anywhere, yet.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn’t speak. Dan was okay, or nearly so. I hadn’t lost him, and he wasn’t horribly injured. My fingers pressed against my lips, and I drew in a shaky breath.
“She’s fine,” Barry answered for me, then bent to see my face. “You are, right?”
I nodded, then held my hands out to Dan, so Barry rolled me close to the side of his bed. I grasped the hand he held out to me in both of mine and kissed it.
“The chair is just a precaution,” Barry explained. “She looked a little wobbly when we got here.”
“How far along are you?” the doctor asked.
I finally found my voice. “Thirty-six weeks.”
“Your first?”
I nodded.
“Any pain?”
“No.” I waved my hand impatiently. “Just the occasional Braxton Hicks.” I looked at Dan. “What happened?”
He ignored my question. “Doc, would you take a look at her? Make sure she’s okay?”
“I’m fine! You’re the one who’s banged up.”
Dan turned his beautiful brown gaze on me. His left eye was starting to blacken. “Please? It will make me feel better.”
I cocked my head at his blatant manipulation. “That’s low.”
Dan lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “Whatever it takes to get the job done.”
How could I say no? “Fine.”
“I’m admitting you for observation,” the doctor said to Dan. “You took a good bump on the head when you got that cut. All signs are good, but I want to make sure there’s no concussion before we send you home.” He raised his hands as Dan looked like he was going to object. “It’ll be easier on your wife if you let us keep an eye on you overnight.”
I grinned as the doctor turned the tables on Dan.
Dan slumped against the backrest. “Okay. But you’ll make sure she’s all right?”
The doctor turned to me. “Let me check the boards. If there’s nothing pressing, I’ll give you a quick exam while they move him upstairs.” He slipped through the curtain.
“You’re going to have one hell of a shiner,” Barry said, moving around to the other side of the hospital bed. “What happened?”
Dan grimaced in disgust. “Some asshole didn’t think the stop light applied to him. Lucky for me, my wife told me to be careful.” He squeezed my hand. “That, and some guy shouting, ‘Behind you!’ in my ear. I jumped out of the way just in time. Unfortunately, I jumped into a concrete barricade.”
“Your guardian angel should be more careful,” Barry said.
“I’ll tell him that, right after I thank him for saving my life.” Dan snorted a small laugh, then winced and pressed a hand to his bandaged side.
I hated seeing him in pain, but I forced myself to smile. “You’ll have to get in line.”
“Thanks for driving Marianne over,” Dan added after catching his breath. “Whose car did you take?”
“Yours.”
Dan pointed at a plastic bag that held his clothes. “Marianne, would you grab my wallet out of my pants?” Then he directed his attention back to Barry. “I’ll pay your fare back to the office, of course.”
Barry’s lips compressed, and he shook his head. “No way.” Then he gave us a half smile. “But I can tell when I’ve been dismissed.” He glanced at me, then turned back to Dan. “Call me if I can help.” He came back around to my side of the bed, then bent and kissed me on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.” He pressed the car keys into my hand, and left.
The muscles in Dan’s jaw jumped as he watched Barry go. I locked the wheels of the chair and stood up so I could look into his bruised face.
Dan’s gaze returned to me as I took his hand again, and his brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I rolled my eyes and snapped, “Yes! I’m fine!” Then I glanced away as an echo of the fear I’d felt for him washed over me, and tears filled my eyes. I kissed the back of his hand. “You scared the shit out of me,” I said softly. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”
Dan clearly understood what I hadn’t said. His eyes looked suspiciously bright too. “I’m sorry, babe. I won’t leave you. Not if I can help it.”
I tried to smile, but tears trickled down my cheeks anyway. I dashed them away, but they kept rolling down my face. I knew Dan meant what he said. He always did. I also knew that no matter how good your intentions, some things were out of your control.
A tall guy in scrubs pulled the curtains aside with a rattle of the hooks, and strode briskly into the bay. “Hi! I’m Hank. I’ll be taking you up to your room.” He checked Dan’s ID bracelet and something on his clipboard. “What’s your name?”
“Dan Collier.”
“Good. I’m taking him up to the third floor,” Hank told me as he walked around the narrow bed unlocking the wheels. “Room 318.”
I stepped back out of the way, until the back of my knees bumped against the wheelchair. I sat down again.
“There you are.” Dan’s doctor said as he reappeared.
Did he really expect to find me so
mewhere else?
“Come with me,” he said, unlocking the brakes on my chair. “I have a few minutes free to set your husband’s mind at ease. Then I’ll let you join him upstairs.”
Half an hour later I found Dan propped up in bed in a semi-private room that, for the moment, he shared only with a uniformed police officer.
“Unfortunately, the car that almost hit you was missing its plates. That’s about the only thing the witnesses are able to agree on. Other than that, none of them could give a consistent description of the vehicle or the driver. I’ll leave you the case number anyway. We’ll be in touch if we learn anything.” The cop nodded to me on his way out of the room.
Dan looked exhausted as I pushed his longish hair off his brow and kissed his forehead.
“No wheelchair?” Dan said by way of greeting me. “Damn.”
“I’m fine. The baby’s fine. Don’t need it.”
“That’s great. But the chair would have made it easier for us to get out of here.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m sure they’ll bring one tomorrow when you check out.”
“Close the door,” he said softly.
I looked askance at Dan, worrying for a second if that bump on his head was worse than the doctor had thought, then did as he requested.
I returned to his side and took his hand between mine. I needed to touch him, to feel his warmth and strength. “What’s up?”
Dan answered in a low voice, as if he feared being overheard even through the heavy door. “I don’t think this was an accident.”
A jolt of fear made my hands tighten on his. “Why not?”
“An accumulation of things that aren’t quite plumb.” He stuck out the thumb on his free hand. “Kincaid wanted to sequester you, even though there’s no indication that the Path has you on their radar.” He straightened his index finger. “Then he put surveillance on us without getting permission, or even telling us that he’s doing it.” A third digit joined the first two. “Cindy is called away unexpectedly, right after you find that invoice, so I have to go downtown.” He folded his thumb and spread four fingers. “And perhaps most telling: the car that almost hit me was accelerating.”
“Someone tried to hit you?” Disbelief colored my voice, but I believed him. I just didn’t want to. “To kill you?”
Dan put the tips of his fingers against my lips to quiet me.
“Did you tell the police this?”
My husband shook his head. “And when they asked me why someone might want to kill me, what would I have told them? That we’re at the center of an international occult power play?”
“But why would someone want to kill you?”
Dan clasped my hands with both of his. “You’re close to term. Kincaid wants control of the baby. That won’t happen unless I’m out of the picture. How better to do that than have me run over? Who’s going to look out for you if I’m dead? You’d be alone and vulnerable. Your doctor—a company doctor—says the baby is in distress, knocks you out, does an emergency C-section, then tells you Evan was stillborn. They might even put a dead baby in your arms. You’d be none the wiser. Kincaid would have control of the child, and eventually, Aldwyn’s power.”
I tasted bile, and horror seized my breath. Dan’s story was fantastic, paranoid, and entirely possible.
But was it true? Kincaid had made no secret of the fact that he wanted to be the next Chairman of the Trust’s board of directors. Having control of the Altesse heir might give him the leverage he needed. But would he have planned something so extreme?
“I know Kincaid is ambitious, but—”
“There’s something else,” Dan said. “I don’t think the Golden Path was responsible for Foxworth’s murder.”
“But Altesse hated Foxworth.”
“He did. But their conflict, their rivalry, is like a game of chess for men like that. They have a twisted kind chivalric code. A victory gained through breaking the rules wouldn’t be as sweet.”
“Then you think Kincaid …”
“I think that Foxworth’s plan to deny Aldwyn’s power to the Path and hide you and Evan in plain sight was too slow for Kincaid. Foxworth’s approach didn’t mesh with Kincaid’s desire to use the Elemental’s power directly.”
“But how could he do that? Wouldn’t he need the amulet, or whatever it is the Path uses, to keep Aldwyn in line?”
“Yes. But first he’d need Evan. And Evan would be out of his reach unless I was dead.”
The idea of Dan being dead chilled my soul. “Do you have proof? We could go to the other directors—”
“Not enough. And for that matter, I don’t know how many of them know about you and Foxworth’s plan. We could tell them, and hope they’d counter Kincaid, but I’m not sure that some of them wouldn’t agree with his methods, and then we’d have several more powerful people after us. Not to mention that the more people who know, the greater the chance the Path might get wind of Evan’s existence.”
“Oh, God!” I hadn’t thrown up in months, but I thought I might be sick now. My husband had almost been killed and my baby was in danger. “What are we going to do?”
“We need to get away, to disappear.”
I nodded. I understood that we couldn’t go home; our house was being watched. But what I blurted out was, “We just bought a crib!”
The corner of Dan’s mouth lifted in a rueful half-smile. “I know, kiddo. I’m sorry.”
“We can’t go to family, can we? Kincaid will look for us there, right off.”
He nodded and gave me a lopsided smile that said he was proud I understood the situation. “You got it in one.”
“Where will we go? How long will we have to hide?” The ground was shifting under my feet. I wrapped my arms around my belly. “I’m due in a month! What about clothes, and baby things?”
Dan captured my hands and spoke quietly. “I packed bug-out bags for us and the baby right after Kincaid asked you to move into that secure facility. We can buy anything else we need.”
“You planned this three months ago?”
He held his hand up in the Boy Scout’s three fingered salute. “Always prepared.” Then he wrapped his fingers around mine again. “But I hoped we wouldn’t need them.”
I chewed my lip as I stared into his eyes, trying to assimilate the sudden turn my life was taking. Finally I said, “I guess we’re not going to hand out Halloween candy this year.”
A sad smile shaped Dan’s mouth.
I blew out a deep breath, trying to suppress the sense of impending loss that was rising in me. I liked the street we lived on, and our little bungalow, and our eclectic collection of furniture. I liked the neighbors who lived next door and barbequed every Saturday, sending mouth-watering aromas throughout the neighborhood. I liked my job, tedious as it sometimes was. Would I ever return to any of it? “What’s the next step, then?” I asked.
“Hand me my pants.” He pointed across the room at the plastic bag that held his clothes. “Then go steal us a wheelchair.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MARIANNE
You want to leave now?”
“Yes, right now. Kincaid won’t expect it, and that will give us a head start.”
“You just got run over! You need to rest!”
“I need to get you somewhere safe, more.”
The determined expression on his face was a blend of pain, emotional and physical. I could refuse, but I knew that it wouldn’t matter how much sedative the nurses gave him, Dan wouldn’t rest until I was safe. If I didn’t help, he’d find another way to make our escape happen. I growled in frustration and went to find a wheelchair.
It took me ten minutes to track down a chair that wasn’t in use or under the eye of hospital staff. When I returned with our borrowed wheels, a cute nurse’s aide was serving Dan his dinner tray. Dan was propped up against several pillows, his bare chest rippling with muscles and scrapes. A purpling bruise peeked out from under the wrappings around his ribs. H
is dark curling hair had fallen over the bandage that covered his sutures, and his black eye only served to make him look rakish and more handsome.
“Thanks, Becky.” Dan smiled at the young woman as she laid a napkin over his chest.
She blushed and fluttered her lashes. “Can I get you anything else? An extra pudding cup, maybe?”
“No, I’m good. But thanks.”
Becky backed out of the room, smiling at Dan, oblivious to my presence. When she was gone, I shut the door. “Another conquest.”
“Can I help it if I exude animal magnetism?” Dan attempted a wide-eyed innocent look. It didn’t work with the black eye.
He pushed the tray table at me. “You should eat.”
I lifted the lid covering the plate, exposing a sad Salisbury steak covered with mushroom gravy, a lump of mashed potatoes, and a pile of overcooked green beans. Hospital food. I replaced the cover. “Not hungry.”
“Eat it anyway. Evan’s hungry.” He threw back the sheet, and with a grunt and a grimace maneuvered himself off the bed and onto his feet. I reached for him, wanting to help, but he fended me off with a raised hand. “I can do this.”
I opened the pudding cup and slurped down a spoonful. Slowly, and with a fair amount of effort, Dan struggled into his pants. Then he leaned against the bed and pointed to the shoes parked under the chair. “I may need your help with those.”
I brought his shoes over and held them so he could slip his feet in. I knelt to tie them, glad the ER staff hadn’t cut the laces to get them off. I glanced up and could tell from Dan’s frown that he hated being dependent on me. “Where’s your shirt?” I asked to distract him.
“Gone. I bled all over it, and they cut it off to spare my ribs.”
The mental image of Dan’s ivory Alpine sweater covered with his blood made me shiver. “I should have stolen a scrub top for you, too.”
Betrayed by Trust Page 17
