Tough As Nails

by Jackie Manning

  “Okay,” he said, barely missing a beat. “I’ll be your escort.”

  She countered with a small sigh. “Larry Cunningham is my escort, thank you.” She tried not to smile when his mouth twitched. “There’s no reason for you to go with me, Mike. I’ll be perfectly safe. Besides, you’ll be bored to death. Long stuffy speeches.”

  “You think you know me that well?”

  The question unnerved her. She wished he wouldn’t keep bringing the subject back to them, making everything seem so personal between them. But he was right. He wasn’t the same man she knew seven years ago. How did she know what bored him? “I’m sorry, Michael.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to baby-sit me. I doubt that whoever is following me will fork out a thousand-dollars-a-plate dinner donation just to snap my picture.”

  “A thousand—” He whistled. “I’m glad I’m on an expense account.” His mouth curved. “That’s mighty steep, but you’re not going without me. Besides, I’m charging you a hefty fee for my protection. You want your money’s worth, don’t you?”

  She smiled. “I’ll call Larry and tell him.”

  He returned her smile with a wry one of his own. “Just remember, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” What he didn’t want to do was frighten her. But from what he’d seen so far, Brianna’s secretary and Larry Cunningham had access to her client files. Brianna wouldn’t agree with him, but both must be considered suspects until proven innocent.

  Mike remembered the photograph of Brianna and Cunningham in the bar. If Cunningham had the hots for Brianna and she’d rebuffed him, even gently, then maybe he was paying somebody to take those pictures. He’d know that Brianna would turn to him, especially if the action seemed like that of someone mentally unbalanced. If Cunningham was also in the shot, she’d never think that he was behind the scam.

  And why wouldn’t Cunningham fall for her? Any red-blooded male would, given half the chance. Cunningham had opportunity. He might have motive. Even though Brianna might never believe it, Cunningham was definitely a suspect.

  “Call Cunningham,” Mike said, “and tell him we’ll pick him up tomorrow night in a cab.” He smiled at what Cunningham’s face would look like when Brianna and Mike arrived at his home.

  Brianna raised an eyebrow. “Let’s compromise. I’ll call Larry and tell him to meet us there.”

  “Fine. Oh, by the way, where’s the dinner being held?”

  “The Plaza.” Her gaze held his briefly, and he guessed that she was wondering if he had anything in his wardrobe besides the blue jeans and leather jackets he was wearing. “Black-tie,” she said almost as an afterthought.

  “Of course. I must have one stashed around here someplace.” Mike turned before he saw her wince, a satisfied smile on his lips.

  THE NEXT DAY, Brianna stepped into the living room and hesitated in front of the row of security monitors. She scanned each screen and the different scenes of the exterior of the building. Directly across the street, a man, dressed in a green jogging suit retrieved his newspaper from the front sidewalk. A white poodle yapped noisily at him from the front step. A young mother wheeling a baby carriage along the shady street crossed at the corner, while three young girls on in-line skates wheeled in a line along the street.

  She smiled. A typical neighborhood on a Saturday afternoon. But was it typical? Really? How many, if any, of Mike’s neighbors knew their actions were being videotaped? Did they know that the attractive Greek Revival dwelling was owned by an international surveillance agency? Of course not.

  Mike was right. Nothing was as it seemed. The thought raised goose bumps on her arms. And the stalker who was taking pictures of her, was it someone she knew and trusted? Someone she thought of as a friend? Someone who smiled and said hello to her at the women’s shelter? Her office building? Or the man who sold her fresh fruits and vegetables at the greengrocer’s?

  She rubbed her arms briskly, pushing away the paranoid thoughts. She glanced at her watch. Where was Mike? He should be back by now. She hadn’t wanted to go with him when he went out to pick up lunch. He seemed to accept her excuse that it was too hot outside. She’d preferred to remain in the air-conditioning, but the truth was, she needed a few minutes alone. Away from her ex-husband.

  She was still reeling from waking up and joining him for breakfast. Just as they’d done when they were first married. He’d come home after working all night at the paper mill, and she’d be waiting breathlessly for him in the bath. Candles, flower petals and soft music. One look and he’d crack that sexy grin, pull her from the water and show her that what they had together needed no special effects. The two of them were enough. And after enjoying the slow-building lovemaking that could drive her wild, they experienced that incredible wonder of climax that left them both breathless and sated. Their time together was precious, as she only saw him in that short span between her morning classes and when he returned from working all night.

  She couldn’t help the onslaught of memories as she sat across from him at the neighborhood breakfast bar a few hours ago. He ordered the same brand of cereal as he liked when they were married. She could barely swallow the dry toast she’d ordered, but he ate heartily, looking as sexy and heartbreakingly handsome as he had back then. It was as if time had stopped. She couldn’t ignore the admiring glances from the feminine staff and other diners, yet he’d acted totally oblivious to them.

  She paced in front of the windows. She hated to feel so vulnerable to her emotions. It wasn’t like her. She was still reacting to that kiss, dammit. And to her own foolish response. She’d put a halt to the kiss, but it had taken almost all of her willpower. She had wanted him to kiss her, to keep kissing her until he dragged her back into his bedroom and did those magnificent things to her body that she knew he could do.

  She wanted him, with a desperation she’d forgotten she possessed. Well, she couldn’t have him. He was poison to her system, and she better well remember.

  She glanced at her watch again. Forcing herself to be sensible, she turned and strode back to her bedroom. In one corner of the room, she’d assembled a small office for herself from a long, rectangular table. She’d work more on her reports, then it would be time to get ready for the award ceremony tonight. When Mike returned with lunch, he could eat alone. She wasn’t hungry for food, anyway.

  HE STARED at the vial of morphine while the telephone number rang. Soon, very soon, she would be his. In less than a few hours, she’d be walking into his trap. And if his luck held, she’d bring Landis with her. He’d have them both.

  The phone answered and his heartbeat quickened.

  “Dr. Brianna Kent’s answering service. Please hold.”

  Damn. He hated to be left dangling like some flounder caught on a line. An uncontrollable anger began to claw at him. He almost hung up but thought better of it. The timing was too perfect. She was expecting that hopeless namby-pamby to try and kill herself. She wouldn’t think twice before rushing to her side. He could be patient, for as long as it took.

  “I’m sorry to keep you on hold,” the woman’s voice said. “I had a client on the other phone.” After a moment’s pause, she said, “How may I help you?”

  Even though she didn’t give her name, he knew by the voice that she wasn’t Simone Twardzak, the bitch’s secretary. His luck was holding. It was possible the secretary might recognize the real Dr. Raynard’s voice.

  “This is Dr. Raynard.” He hesitated a moment, checking his hunch. When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “I need to get in touch with Dr. Kent. Her client, Kristi McFarland, is in ICU at St. Luke’s Hospital. She’s cut herself and she’s asking for Dr. Kent. Will you give her the message and tell her to hurry?”

  “Yes, Doctor. If you’ll hold on, I can connect you—”

  “No, I’ve got to get back. Give her the message, STAT.”

  “Certainly, Dr. Raynard. Should I have her call you?”

  “That’s
not necessary. I’ll see her when she arrives.” He hung up before he had to listen to any more useless chitchat. God, how he hated incompetents.

  A LITTLE AFTER FIVE O’CLOCK, Brianna had just finished dressing and was fastening her diamond earring at the mirror, when her private cell phone rang. Only her aunt and her secretary, Simone, had access to this number. Nora had called last night from her sister’s home in Denver and left word that she’d arrived safely. Brianna had returned her call to reassure her aunt that she’d contacted Mike and was in a safe house. She hadn’t explained that Mike was also with her. She didn’t want to hear that it’s-about-time-you-came-to-your-senses tone in Nora’s voice. To an incurable romantic like her aunt, Nora would never believe Mike and Brianna could maintain a strictly business arrangement. But why shouldn’t Nora be a romantic? She’d been happily married to the love of her life, the Judge, for almost thirty years before he’d died. That kind of love happened only to a special few.

  The cell phone rang again. For an instant, she was afraid to answer it. What if the stalker had found out her private number? After all, he knew everything else about her.

  She pushed the thought aside as she picked up the phone. “Hello,” she said, praying that she’d hear her secretary’s voice.

  “Dr. Kent? This is Simone.”

  Brianna sagged with relief.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Simone continued. “But you didn’t answer your pager or your other phones and I haven’t heard from you since yesterday morning.”

  “It’s okay, Simone. For the next day or so this number might be the quickest way to reach me. What’s up?”

  “The answering service just called. Dr. Raynard called from St. Luke’s Hospital. Kristi McFarland was admitted a little while ago. She cut herself—”

  “Oh no.” Brianna let out an unsteady breath. Damn! Kristi must have told her boyfriend about the baby. He must have walked out on her again. “How badly is she hurt?”

  “Dr. Raynard didn’t say. The doctor said she’s asking for you.”

  “I had a feeling something was going to happen. Did he say if the baby is all right?”

  “I don’t know. That’s all the doctor said.” Simone’s voice warmed with a maternal tone. “No news is good news, my mother used to say.”

  “Right.” She couldn’t help but smile at her secretary’s positive sayings, however cliché. Brianna glanced at her watch. If she left immediately, she’d have time to get to the hospital and see Kristi before she was due at the Plaza.

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Okay, Dr. Kent. Good luck.”

  Brianna shut off the phone and slipped it into her beaded purse. She started toward Mike’s bedroom, when she heard the shower running. His bedroom door was ajar.

  “Mike?” she called. She glanced into the dimly lit bedroom and realized it was a replica of the guest room. A large bath connected behind the closet alcove and dressing room. If he was in the shower, she didn’t have the extra time to wait until he finished dressing.

  His words came back to her. I’m not letting you out of my sight. She glanced at her watch again. She didn’t have time to wait for him to finish dressing. She didn’t have a moment to lose. Besides, how long would it take to hail a cab in this neighborhood?

  She would leave him a note, explaining the situation. Mike could meet her at the Plaza.

  She’d be perfectly safe at the hospital. She knew the staff and Dr. Raynard. Wasn’t her first consideration to her client? Kristi needed her.

  “DAMMIT TO HELL.” Mike crushed the note that Brianna had left on his bed with his fist and tore out of the bedroom. He was still swearing by the time the elevator doors opened to the street level and he hailed a cab.

  Twenty minutes later, the Saturday late-afternoon traffic crawled to a stop along the expressway. Impatient, Mike rolled down his window and called to the police officer, who was standing along a row of honking vehicles, directing traffic.

  “What’s the matter, Officer?” Mike yelled over the noise.

  “Fuel truck jackknifed up ahead. Traffic will be tied up, maybe several hours till we clean up the leakin’ diesel.”

  The cabdriver waved his hands in frustration, swearing in a Cambodian dialect that Mike understood.

  He clenched his jaw. Damn, he had no one to blame but himself. He should have known that Brianna wouldn’t respect any rules he’d given her. He took out his wallet and pushed a large bill into the cabbie’s fist.

  Mike burst out of the door. His long strides carried him steadily past the bumper-to-bumper, honking cars and trucks.

  HIS FINGERS TREMBLED with excitement as he saw the blond woman cross the driveway in front of St. Luke’s Hospital. Any minute now she would dash into the lobby and bound past the bank of elevators toward the E.R.

  Yes, she was running. The troublesome bitch could hardly wait to give comfort to the weak and helpless.

  He grinned. No doubt she’d be out of breath when she finally saw him, face-to-face, when he stepped into the elevator with her.

  Then, before she even knew what happened, he’d stick her with the morphine syringe. By the time they reached the top floor, all the fight would be gone from her body. He’d load her on a gurney, cover her up and head down to the morgue in the basement.

  His grin widened as he thought how weak and helpless she’d be. Never again would she tell lies that put young, innocent men behind bars.

  Too bad he couldn’t let the bitch live a little longer. How he’d love to see her eyes bulge with terror when she realized who he was and the revenge that awaited her.

  He relished driving her crazy with the waiting.

  But damn, he couldn’t let her live any longer. Time was running out.

  Chapter Six

  Brianna hurried through the main lobby of St. Luke’s Hospital, her high heels clicking on the polished tile. She glanced at her watch: 6:38 p.m. Forty minutes had passed since Dr. Raynard had called and left his message with her service. If Kristi’s wounds were minor, by this time she might already be resting comfortably in a room in the Psych Unit on level 8. A nurse would have been assigned suicide watch for the first eight hours, at least. But if Kristi had arrived in critical condition, she might still be in E.R.

  Wherever Kristi was, Brianna needed to speak first to Dr. Raynard. She would feel better knowing the attending physician’s prognosis before seeing the teenager.

  Making her way past a very pregnant woman waiting in front of the visitor elevator, Brianna headed toward the E.R. at the end of the corridor. She paused when a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in green scrubs stepped forward from behind a potted palm and walked swiftly toward her.

  “Dr. Kent?”

  She turned toward him. His full dark beard and thick eyebrows matched the color of his brown eyes. Her gaze dropped to the large paunch that hung over the shirred waistband of his uniform. She hid a smile. He looked pregnant, she thought for a brief instant.

  “Yes?” she said. “I’m Dr. Kent.”

  “Dr. Raynard asked me to tell you that Kristi McFarland has been taken to her room. If you’ll follow me.” He turned back toward the bank of elevators, then pressed the up button.

  She felt a tug of relief. If Kristi was already in her room, then her injuries couldn’t have been severe. “Where’s Dr. Raynard now?”

  The orderly shrugged. “He’s helping E.R. get prepped. There was a five-car pileup on the expressway. He thought it would be better if you went directly to your patient’s room. He’ll join you there as soon as possible.”

  Brianna hesitated, glancing at the E.R. doors at the end of the hall. How much had Kristi told Dr. Raynard about what caused her to cut herself? Had Kristi’s boyfriend brought her here? Was he still in the E.R. waiting room?

  “I’ll only be a minute,” she called over her shoulder at the orderly. “I need to speak to Dr. Raynard.”

  “That’s impossible. You can see him later.”

  The man’s command
ing voice caught her by surprise. She studied him closer. He was dressed in hospital green scrubs, but maybe he wasn’t an orderly. Was he a specialist or a visiting doctor from another hospital? But before she could read his title on the ID tag clipped to his front pocket, he turned and strode toward the first open elevator.

  Brianna followed him, her gaze on his shoes. As she hurried to keep pace with his long strides, she noticed that instead of the soft-soled footwear most hospital personnel wore, he wore hard-soled leather oxfords. Expensive leather.

  Maybe he was a doctor. “I didn’t get your name,” she called out to him. “Are you a doctor?”

  “No.”

  So, her first assumption had been correct. Besides, a doctor would have introduced himself, if only for professional courtesy. Well, whoever he was, this guy wasn’t very talkative. “What room is my patient in?” she asked, matching his no-nonsense tone.

  He stepped into the empty elevator, leaned over to press a button on the control wall, then held the doors open for her. When he turned around, she noticed a stethoscope dangling from his neck. Unusual for an orderly, she noted.

  Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “You don’t have to go with me,” she said as she stepped inside. “Tell me the room number and you can return to your duties.”

  “I’m going upstairs anyway.” He released his left palm from the doors. Before they began to whoosh shut, she jabbed her right hand against the door to keep them open. “What floor is Kristi McFarland on?”

  Before he could answer, a red-haired woman called to her from a room farther down the hall.