And then the paramedics were there, and he was caught up in being fussed over by pros. He closed his eyes again, but heard snatches of conversation.
“Left shoulder…” “No other injuries…” “Bullet still lodged…”
He must have passed out or been given drugs because next thing he knew he was on a gurney, being hustled along brightly lit corridors. “Carm?” he called out.
“I’m here,” he heard from somewhere behind him, and then darkness enveloped him once more.
Later—minutes? hours? days?—he fought his way out of a deep sleep and opened his eyes. His brain was fuzzy but he was aware of several facts at the same time. His shoulder ached. He was stretched out on a hospital bed with a guardrail up on one side. The room was dimly lit. There was an IV needle inserted in the top of his left hand.
And a blond head lay on the side of the bed with no guardrail, near his knees. The head belonged to Carmen; the rest of her body was slumped all the way over in a visitor’s chair. She was sound asleep. The position looked extremely uncomfortable. When she woke up, she would probably have a hell of a backache.
When she woke up…
Like that, it all came back to him. The sound of gunshots, his desperate need to get Carmen away from those sounds. The way his heart had raced in panic, the way fear had gripped him like it never had before.
Carmen was definitely a target. Someone wanted her dead. And they’d nearly gotten their wish.
Questions screamed in his head. Who? What? Why?
The throbbing in his shoulder grew worse. He angled his head around just enough to see white bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown he wore. Most likely, he’d been operated on. He managed to reach over to the side table and retrieve his glasses, which he put on. His shoulder did not appreciate the movement. An involuntary hiss of pain escaped from between his lips.
At the sound, Carmen’s eyes fluttered open. Yawning, she sat up, then winced.
“You’d better stretch it out,” JR said with some effort.
“What?” She was groggy; she’d never been the instantly-awake type.
“Your back. You fell asleep funny.”
As she twisted back and forth in her chair, he saw her try to focus on him, muttering, “Hey, who’s the patient here?”
He waited, watched as she came slightly more to life, yawned once more, opened her eyes a little wider. And then, like that, she was awake, and she let loose with that full, joyous grin of hers, lighting up everything in the dismal hospital room, even causing his own pain to lessen.
“JR!” she said happily.
“That’s my name.”
Carmen had never been so glad to see someone, anyone, in her life. JR was up! He was alive! She leaped from her chair and came to the head of the bed, putting her hand on his forehead. It was cool. Whew. “How do you feel?”
“Like someone stuffed a towel in my brain.”
“It’s the meds.”
“I need more of them,” he said, then closed his eyes and grimaced.
She pushed the button for the nurse. “We’ll get you as many as you need, poor baby. What else can I do for you?”
He blew out a couple of breaths before saying, “I also have to go to the bathroom. But I’m pretty sure you can’t do that for me.”
“Oh. Umm…I’m not sure you should get out of bed, JR.”
But he was already sitting up, throwing the covers off with his good hand. He swung his legs over the side; the movement made him wince once again.
“It’s your shoulder,” she said, wincing with him. “They took a bullet out of your shoulder.”
“No kidding,” he said dryly.
“I mean, you have to wear a sling, otherwise it will hurt. That’s what the doctor said.”
“Ah. What time is it?”
“Nearly ten.”
“In the morning?”
“No, it’s still night. Friday night.”
He shook his head, as though to clear it. “I need to call someone at my office, tell them I—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupted. “I talked to your secretary, Daisy.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Well, I sort of thought it wouldn’t be a good idea to mention that you’d been shot—they’re pretty conservative over there, right? So I told her you got real sick, stomach something. Was that all right?”
He nodded. “Good thinking, Carm. Thanks.”
She knew he was in horrible pain, but he did that guy-being-stoic thing. Holding his left arm to his chest, pantomiming a sling, he got up, then stood for a moment, as though making sure of his balance. He then walked around the end of the bed, used his right hand to grab the IV pole and made his way to the bathroom. His hospital gown tied in the back, and Carmen was unexpectedly treated to a view of the back of his long, bare legs. More to the point, through the gaps that opened and closed as he walked, she also got some tantalizing glimpses of his buttocks.
JR, she couldn’t help observing, had a truly excellent butt, firm and muscled from all the years of running. Heat rose to her face, and she nearly said, “Award-winning buns, JR, and do you need some help in there?”
But she stopped herself. Too out of left field. Instead, she began to pace and tried really hard not to think about why she was here, in a hospital room. Why JR was here. Because when she thought about it, she started shaking, and if she kept shaking, she’d be no good to JR. He was the one who had to be the focus of attention now. He was the one who had saved her life.
Guilt, lots of it, washed over her. She hadn’t listened to him and Mac. Sure they were mistaken, she’d been all “I’ll do it myself.” And her dearest friend in the world was the one who was paying.
The bathroom door opened. Face pinched with pain, JR made his way back toward the bed, still holding his left arm to his chest and hanging on to the IV pole for support. He sat down on the edge of the bed and gazed at her, his face deeply serious. “Carmen. Someone is trying to kill you.”
Fear sliced through her again, but she sat next to him and tried for a smile. “You think?”
“You have to go away, hide. Have you talked to Mac?”
“Yes. You—we—were shot at from behind that hedge that surrounds the public restrooms. They’ve tried to find witnesses, but so far, nothing.”
He shook his head. “Well, at least we know that theory number two is correct—Peg Davis’s murder was an accident. You were the original target.” Her alarm must have showed in her expression because he grimaced. “God, Carm, I’m sorry.”
She waved it away, wishing her face didn’t show everything she was thinking and feeling. “It’s the truth, I know. It’s just…I’m having trouble getting my brain around it.”
The nurse—young, pretty and overweight—came bustling in. When she saw JR sitting on the edge of the bed, she said cheerfully, “I see you’re up.”
“He needs some more pain medicine,” Carmen said.
“Actually, I’ll take a prescription instead.” JR stood. “Where are my clothes?”
The nurse wasn’t happy. “I don’t think your doctor wants you to leave until the morning. We need to watch for infection.”
“We can watch for infection at home.” Pulling the IV pole again, he made his way over to the small corner closet.
“JR,” Carmen said, following him. “You just had surgery. You’re in pain. Please.”
“I’ll be leaving,” he told the nurse. “Please get this needle out of me and bring whatever papers I need to sign.”
She shook her head. “I’ll get the doctor on call,” she said, and scurried out of the room.
“JR,” Carmen pleaded again. “Get back into bed.” At times, he could be the most stubborn man! And this, obviously, was one of those times.
He shook his head firmly as he used his right hand to remove the bag containing his clothing from the closet. “I hate hospitals. Spent too much time in them as a child.”
“You did?”
/> He nodded. “Asthma.”
“When did you have asthma?”
“Off and on until puberty. I grew out of it.”
“You never told me.” Wordlessly, he took his clothing into the bathroom and closed the door. “JR?” Carmen called, ticked off at him for keeping this from her all these years. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There were reasons.”
“What reasons?”
He opened the door, stuck his head out. “I was already a pretty poor specimen, and I didn’t want you to know yet one more thing about me that made me less, well, manly.”
“Manly? You were a boy.”
“Okay, then, what’s the word for boy-y?”
Her whoop of laughter actually got a reluctant smile out of him. First one this evening. Then he closed the door again. “I’ll be out as soon as I’m dressed.”
This time she did say it. “Need any help?”
There was a really long moment before he replied, “Um, maybe. I’ll let you know.”
Again, too restless to sit, Carmen paced back and forth. She allowed herself a brief fantasy of helping JR dress, then put it away—too distracting—before wondering how she could have been such close friends with JR without knowing he’d had asthma. And wondering, too, about all the other stuff she didn’t know about him, because, of course, there had to be other stuff.
She stopped. Frowned. So much—way too much—of their friendship had been one-sided, she realized. Carmen had always been the needy one. What about JR? Who, if anyone, had tended to his needs? Was this lopsidedness all her fault? Had her personal dramas preoccupied her to the extent that she ignored what was going on with JR? Or did he deserve some of the blame? Had he taken great pains to keep her from knowing when he suffered? They would have to talk about this sometime soon.
When he opened the bathroom door, he had on his suit pants and loafers, no socks. He’d managed to get the hospital gown off, as far as it would go, at least; the IV mechanism blocked full removal, so the cotton gown hung limply from his left forearm. His chest was bare, except for the network of bandages crisscrossing his left shoulder and underarm. He really did have a nice chest, Carmen observed, with well-developed pecs and flat abs. He was lean, yes, but still, definitely a babe magnet.
She wondered, maybe for the umpteenth time in the past few days, why she’d never truly noticed that about him before. Had she been wearing blinders?
“I can’t seem to find my shirt,” he said, frowning.
“They had to cut it off you.”
“Oh. Then I guess the hospital gown will have to do. Would you mind helping me get it back on?”
She stayed right where she was, at the foot of the bed, and crossed her arms. “You were shot, JR, and you’re in a lot of pain. Why are you doing this? Let’s get you some pain pills, let me help you back into bed.”
“Nope. I want to go home. And you’re coming home with me. No one can get in without a key. It’s a secure building. You’ll be safe there, for now.”
“Of course I’m going home with you,” she said, giving up on getting him to change his mind. “I’m going to take care of you.”
“You don’t have to take care of me,” he muttered.
“Too bad,” she said cheerfully. “Okay, now, if you insist on being a macho idiot, let’s get this hospital thingie on.”
As she busied herself helping JR back into the hospital gown, Carmen noted the broad muscles of his back, the warm, golden color of his skin. She ran her tongue over her mouth. She wanted to kiss his skin, to taste him.
Ohmygod. It was, finally, time to face it. She was attracted to JR! There were all kinds of sensual tinglings in her body at the thought of, well, of being with him. She was hot for him. Hot for JR!
Was it real, this attraction? It had popped up only recently, right? The day after the Nordstrom shooting? Maybe it was some kind of survivor reaction—she’d read about that in a magazine. People getting physical with each other right after their lives had been threatened. A kind of primal need to rejoice in being alive. Maybe it would go away when all this was over.
Which was a good thing. After all, JR was her friend. Her best friend.
Your best friend who’s in love with you. She could almost hear Shannon whispering in her ear.
But, really, wasn’t it kind of…odd? He was so not her type. And she was so not his. Still, at the moment, survivor mentality or not, the feelings were here and they were real and they were new.
Or maybe they were old, as old as their friendship.
“Carm,” JR said, interrupting her train of thought. “Plan to stay with me, at my place, for as long as it takes.”
She came around to face him, batting her eyelashes. “Why, Gaylord,” she said in a broad, Southern-belle accent, “how forward you are.”
“Are you listening to me, Carmen?” he said without smiling. “You’re not going back to your place. Not until we find out what’s going on.”
His single-mindedness was beginning to annoy her. “Hey. Has anyone ever told you that you like to give orders just a little too much?”
“Okay, yeah, when I’m scared, yes, I get pushy. And I’m terrified. Not for me. For you, Carm.” Suddenly, out of nowhere, JR’s blue eyes filled. “You…mean so much to me.” Two thick drops made their way down his cheeks.
She stared, openmouthed and struck dumb. JR, who never cried, was moved to tears. Because of her!
Unbearably moved herself at the sight, Carmen reached up to stroke his face. “Oh, JR, the feeling is so mutual. You mean the world to me.” With her thumb, she gently wiped away one of the tears that had fallen down his cheek, then planted a gentle kiss on the damp spot.
He was mortified. He wanted to die.
In his youth, before he learned how to take care of himself, JR had been pushed around by bullies. Once in high school, the elastic on his bathing trunks had given way during a swim meet, and he’d had to back out of the pool with his hands over his privates. Another time, in college, during pledge week, his fraternity brothers had pinned a truly pornographic sign on his back without his knowledge, and he’d been unaware of it for a full half day, even though sniggering and outright belly laughter had followed him wherever he went. So JR was not unfamiliar with being humiliated.
But this was, without a doubt, bar none, the worst yet.
He turned away from Carmen, using his right hand to swipe at his suddenly damp cheeks. “Ignore me. It’s the meds,” he muttered. “I’m not usually this emotional.”
“I won’t tell the manly men club,” she teased.
She was making light of it; at another time, he might, too. But at this moment, nothing would make that terror of being perceived as weak go away. Sure, a man could cry—in theory, at least—but not when he was trying to be strong, when he had to be strong. Not when the woman he loved needed him to be a rock-solid support.
He was saved from further self-flagellation by the sudden, loud eruption of salsa music. “Oops,” Carmen said. “Forgot to turn off my cell.”
She went searching for her purse; after she found it, she went searching for her phone, buried somewhere in the chaos of purse contents. When she finally found it, she flipped it open. “Oh, yes, hi…. I see…. Yes, he’s still here… I… Yes.”
“Who is it?”
“Hold on.” She put a hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s Detective Marshall.” Carmen went back to listening to Mac, nodding. “Okay, yes…. He was just saying the same thing. Both of you have an annoying tendency to bark orders at me.” Closing her eyes, she sighed loudly. “No, he wants to go home…. Yes, I’m going with him…. Oh, right. Hold on.” She directed the next bit to JR. “Your car. It’s still in Venice where we parked it this morning.”
“Actually, it probably isn’t. Let me talk to him.” When she handed him the phone, he said, “Mac?”
“How you doing, Counselor?”
“I’ve been better. Thanks for all you did today, by the way.”
“Just doing my job.”
“Thanks anyway,” he said. “Listen, my car was probably towed. I was parked in one of those two-hours-only zones, and the parking police in that area are pretty vigilant.”
“Yup, it was probably towed.”
“Anything you can do about that?”
“I’ll see. Meantime, if you’re insisting on leaving, I’ll be there in a half hour or so. I’ll drive you both back to your place.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s ten p.m. I’m just getting off my shift. I’ll be downstairs. After what you went through today, you deserve a police escort, don’t you think?”
Between doctor’s lectures, paperwork and getting the prescription filled, it was nearly midnight by the time Carmen and Mac got JR back to his place. At the door, Mac met her eyes. “My boss wants you down at headquarters for a chat.”
“Why?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve told you all I know.”
“Maybe, but there have been two shootings in public places and that’s a major menace to society. So we interview you again, dig deeper this time, find out what we might be missing.”
“Good idea,” JR said. “I’ll be there with her, of course.”
Carmen slanted him a doubt-filled look. “You need to rest. I’ll ask Shannon.”
He ignored her. “Tomorrow morning, okay, Mac?”
“Fine. We’ll be taping her statement. I want experts to hear it and determine if there’s something we need to follow up on.”
“What about protection?”
“I’m on it.”
“Good.”
They were doing it again, discussing her as though she wasn’t in the room. Part of her was annoyed, but another part understood that men would be men, and the “protecting the womenfolk” segment of their brains was hardwired.
Her concern, at this moment, was getting JR to rest.
She put a hand on his arm. “We’ll be there in the morning, Mac,” she said. “And thanks again for everything.”
After she got JR settled into bed and gave him a pill, he announced he was starving. Thrilled to be able to do something, anything, for him, she went into the kitchen and whipped up some eggs and toast. By the time she brought them to him on a tray, he was sound asleep. So she sat in a chair by his bed, watched him sleep and ate them herself.
One Hot Target Page 8
