“I think I can handle that. And it’s Nic, not ma’am.” She grinned, meeting his excited gemstone eyes. Damn, the man was hot. She found herself devising evil plans to dispatch this Sophie woman he’d mentioned.
Finishing his last signature with a flourish, Grant set the pen down and took her hand in his warm, firm grasp. “Nic, thank you.” He gave her a crooked smile, then spun on his heel, making a hasty departure.
As Grant emerged from the interrogation room, he was startled by Marilyn’s triumphant voice in the hallway, “I win!” She beamed at him while Jerry frowned as he peered at his watch.
“Ma’am?” he asked nervously.
“You took the deal, Mr. Madsen?”
When he nodded Jerry inquired grumpily, “What took you so fucking long?”
Grant started to explain, but instead just shrugged. He wanted to hightail it to the hospital as quickly as possible.
Marilyn answered for him, winking at Jerry. “Mr. Madsen wasn’t sure he wanted to see your sorry mug every week for another entire year, Jerry. It took him awhile to agree to that.”
“Thank you both so much,” Grant broke in. “Nic told me you were instrumental in getting the deal.” He wanted to ask them why they’d helped him, but he had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. He nervously offered Jerry his hand. “Thank you, Officer Stone.”
Jerry pumped the extended hand, grumbling, “Now you have no excuse to miss our appointment tomorrow morning. I’ll harass you then.”
“I look forward to it, sir.”
He went to shake Marilyn’s hand as well, but feeling a wellspring of gratitude, he awkwardly leaned in and gave her a chaste hug instead. “Thank you, ma’am,” he murmured.
Pleasantly surprised by the impromptu hug, Marilyn whispered in his ear, “Bonnie is in room 1165. Go get her.”
He stepped back and a look of stunned anticipation crossed his face. Nodding, he gulped. “I’m free to go?”
“Yeah, the bulls down there know you’re to be released,” Jerry said. “Just don’t get into any trouble between now and tomorrow morning. Okay, Madsen?”
Grant nodded, then practically ran down the hallway.
Marilyn leaned against the wall, a smug look on her face. “Eight minutes and twenty-three seconds,” she gloated. “What made you think he would take the deal faster than that?”
“I knew I should have picked ten minutes instead of five. Those damn attorneys always milk it for every billable second.” He turned to the detective, and she could see his indignant anger was all for show. “Well, I thought the horn-dog would jump at the chance to get back with Taylor. And I was right—did you see his happy dance out of here?”
Marilyn chuckled.
“What made you think it would take longer than five minutes?”
Her smile faded. “The boy has the self-esteem of a gnat, Jerry. I was worried he would feel like he belonged in prison or some such nonsense. His family has really done a number on him.”
She thought back to the two occasions when she’d interviewed Grant’s uncle, the slippery and malicious Mafia don, at his club and then at his house. There’d been something not quite right with Angelo’s responses, but she hadn’t been able to pinpoint the problem. It was incredible to her that Grant was related to people like Angelo and Carlo Barberi.
Jerry nodded. “Well, let’s hope they stay away from him. I will put him back in prison if he commits a crime, even if he’s forced to do it.”
“You’d only be doing your job,” Marilyn said, resting one hand on his arm. “Speaking of jobs, I’m sure we both have to get back to ours. But before we go, I do want to know how you’re planning on paying up. You’re not going to welsh on our bet are you?”
“I—I—I don’t have any cash on me!” Jerry stammered.
Marilyn narrowed her green eyes.
“But I can do you one better,” he amended. “Um, I could take you to dinner? You know, uh, to pay off the bet and all.”
“Hmm, dinner,” Marilyn said, letting the word linger on her tongue while she stroked her chin pensively. She finally flashed him a bright smile. “That would be lovely.”
Jerry returned her smile. “Great, uh, Marilyn. I’ll call you.”
She nodded and they parted ways. The cool detective felt her face flush with warmth as she strode down the hallway. It had been quite a good day!
* * *
As Grant neared Northwestern Memorial Hospital, his pace slowed. He’d run all the way from the police station, dodging meandering shoppers, and now that he finally had Sophie’s location in sight, he should have been sprinting to the elevators. Instead, his gait morphed from a run to a jog to a walk.
A niggling question played at the back of his brain, dancing and nudging, poking at his consciousness with an irritating reverberation.
What if she doesn’t want me back?
Sure, Sophie had once told him she loved him, but that was before she found out he was related to Logan. Just thinking about his brother made Grant’s stride decelerate even further, and a wave of regret once again crashed over him.
Willing himself to stop thinking about murders and funerals, Grant instead conjured up the image of Sophie’s beautiful face, intelligent and compassionate, chestnut-brown eyes and flawless porcelain skin framed by wavy strawberry-blond curls. The depth of his love for her seized him with a ferocious intensity. He’d never felt this enamored of a woman. Did she feel the same way about him?
Grant placed his hands on his hips and sighed deeply. Whether she would have him or not, he had to go in and find out. If she never wanted to see him again, at least he might derive some comfort from knowing she was safe and on the mend. Taking a deep breath, Grant pushed forward and the revolving door conveyed him inside.
Emerging from the elevator, he scrutinized a sign on the eleventh floor and turned to his left, his anticipation building as he drew closer to Sophie’s room. Reaching the door, he knocked softly. Hearing no response, he peeked inside.
He took in her prone form, lying on her right side, evidently sleeping. With a guilty wince he noticed her bandaged left arm in a sling over her shoulder, but his expression lightened considerably at the soft, peaceful look on her resting face. Grant was so mesmerized by her vulnerable beauty that he didn’t notice the shadowy figure rising from a chair by the window.
He looked up at the last minute to find Sophie’s father right next to him with a scowl on his face. Will gestured to the hallway. Pushed backward by her father’s brusque advance, Grant backed out of the room and almost crashed into an orderly wheeling an IV stand down the hallway.
Will pointed to an empty spot near the water fountain and they stood, eyeing each other warily. Grant was dog-tired and full of dread about conversing with this man who seemed to hate him, but if he had to fight to have a chance with Sophie, he would. She was worth it.
“How’s she doing, Mr. Taylor?”
“Why are you here?” he countered. “I thought you were locked up.”
Taking a deep breath, Grant responded, “Yes, sir, I was.”
Will glared at him. “Then how did you get out?”
“The prosecutor agreed it was self-defense and knocked it down to a parole violation. They let me off with another year of parole.”
The news did not please Will. “Call it self-defense, call murdering a man whatever you want. The truth is my daughter would not be in there”—he pointed to the hospital room—”recovering from a gunshot wound if she hadn’t gotten involved with you.”
“You’re right, sir.”
Expecting the young man to argue with him, Sophie’s father paused. He wanted to fire off another question but didn’t get a chance before Grant continued.
“I can understand why you don’t want Sophie to be with me, sir.” He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and looked down. “I come from a criminal family, and you don’t want her associating with people like me.”
He looked up to find Will staring at
him blankly.
Grant sighed. “I knew what my family was capable of, and I promised myself I would never put Sophie in danger. But I failed.” His hands tightened into fists. “I never meant for any harm to come to her, but she almost … died. Because of me.” Swallowing hard, Grant confessed, “If I were you, I wouldn’t want a man like me with your daughter either.”
Will kept gawking at Grant. If he was trying to win the older man over, he was doing a piss-poor job.
“I know I can’t guarantee that Sophie will be safe. But then again, can you guarantee her safety, sir? I wasn’t involved in her life when she went to prison, you know.”
“What?” Will shot back angrily. “You’re trying to tell me your entire family wasn’t involved in setting up my daughter?”
“No, sir,” Grant replied nervously. “Uh, truthfully, I don’t know if anyone besides Logan was involved in Sophie’s arrest. All I know is I didn’t have anything to do with it. The first time I met her was outside our PO’s office. I swear.”
Will’s only response was “Humph.”
Longing to get to Sophie, Grant pressed on. “I’m sure you don’t believe me. Why believe a criminal, right? And I know if you had your way, I’d leave here and never come back. But this is Sophie’s decision, sir. I have to hear it from her. If she doesn’t want me here, I’ll leave.” It will hurt like hell, but I’ll leave, he silently promised himself. “But please, let her make the decision. Please, sir.”
Rubbing his jaw, Will glared at Grant. Then he dropped his arm to his side and let out a defeated sigh. Looking down, he stated quietly, “She’s all I have now.”
Grant winced, thinking about Sophie’s deceased mother. Her recent death must be much fresher in both their minds than the loss of his own mother.
“I know I can’t control her,” Will admitted. “I can’t stop her pain. But don’t you dare put her in danger again. If she’s at risk, you must leave her. If she’s in danger, you have to walk away to keep her safe. Can you promise me that?”
Considering his demands for a moment, Grant said, “Yes, sir.” He would be the first to walk away if it meant protecting Sophie from danger. Will examined his face for any sign of dishonesty, but found none.
Standing up taller with his shoulders pressed back, Grant asked, “May I go in now?”
Nodding his head, Will frowned and walked away.
This time Grant did not hesitate when entering Sophie’s room.
* * *
She was still sleeping, and he crossed with soft steps to sink into the chair formerly occupied by her father. Quietness blanketed them as he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. She looked so calm and comfortable, and he longed to join her, to wrap his body around hers in that thin hospital gown and drift off to sleep. Would they ever be together again? Or would she flinch in fear upon seeing him?
He leaned forward to investigate the gauze bandage peeking out from under the tan-colored sling and felt utterly disgusted. The crack of the gunshot echoed in his head, followed by the vision of Sophie slumping back against the sofa. Grant shuddered.
Sophie rolled to her left side, and the pain from her wound startled her awake. Her cry of anguish pierced Grant’s guilty heart. She managed to sit up without further jarring her injury, and her right hand instinctively cradled her left elbow. Her shoulders hunched and a tear rolled down her cheek. She was still so exhausted, completely worn out from physical pain and unremitting emotional worry for Grant. She was not surprised to find herself crying yet again.
“Please, Dad, don’t bother the nurse again. It’s feeling better today, I promise.”
“You’re in pain,” Grant said in a choked voice. And it’s my fault.
Sophie whipped her head around to find Grant with a white-knuckle grip on the chair’s armrests. Inhaling sharply, she felt tears begin to flow as she gazed into his clouded blue eyes.
“If you want me to leave, just say so, Sophie.”
She gave him a baffled look. How could he ever think she’d want him to leave? “I, um, I—these are tears of joy, Grant. You’re here. You’re free. You’re not in prison.” Smiling through her tears, she added, “How did you get here?”
“Thanks to your quick thinking in calling Jerry, I only got another year of parole.”
His silky smooth voice and good news was a salve for her wounds. For once she did not feel the throbbing ache in her elbow. “So, you probably have another year with Jerry, then. Can you handle it?”
Grant was finally able to breathe again. “I’m not sure I can tolerate that Cubs fan for another whole year, but I’ll do my best.”
They felt drawn to each other by a palpable force. Finally Sophie asked, “Why aren’t you holding me?”
Grant was next to her bed in a second. All he needed was an invitation, yet he still hesitated before touching her. “I—I—I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
“The only way to hurt me is if you don’t get your butt in this bed this instant.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Grant gingerly climbed in, taking painstaking care not to bump her left elbow. There was just enough room for him to fold his body around hers, resting his hand on her hip. As her back met the warmth of his chest, a happy smile danced across her face.
Their right hands stroking and caressing, Grant nuzzled into her strawberry tresses and planted a soft kiss on the back of her neck, which elicited shivers of excitement up and down her spine.
“Your dad is going to love this,” he whispered.
“Where is my dad?”
“Probably standing outside your room like a vicious guard dog. I had to fend off his snarling threats to get in here.”
“Oh, Grant, I’m sorry.” She blushed.
“That’s okay, Bonnie. You’re worth it.”
She sighed. “He doesn’t like me being with bad boys.” Then she chuckled. “Though I don’t know why he thinks you’re one.”
As they lay together, Sophie recalled the last time they’d held each other—in Grant’s bedroom after she cooked him dinner. So much had happened since then. It had all gone to hell. She cringed, remembering Grant’s anguished expression when she’d screamed at him on the ship the next day.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” she said.
“What?” Grant’s body tensed.
“On Rog’s ship—when I accused you of lying to me. I just was so overwhelmed to find out about Logan—”
“Shh,” he tried to soothe her. “It’s not your fault, Sophie.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll never doubt you again.”
Grant’s voice filled with remorse. “Please don’t say you’re sorry, when I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I never should have dragged you into this mess.” He sighed guiltily. “I never should have involved you in my family’s affairs.”
“No, I did that all by myself, Grant. I’m the one who got involved with Logan.” She felt his body tense again. “I’ve been beating myself up for not recognizing that you and Logan were brothers.”
She drew a deep breath, and Grant’s body seemed frozen, listening to her intently. “When I saw the two of you together, you looked so alike!” She took his trembling hand into hers. “But then it finally dawned on me why I didn’t see it.”
He studied the back of her head nervously, steeling himself. “Why was that?”
“You may look like Logan, Grant, but you’re nothing like him. You’re nothing like your family. You’re a good man.” She drew his right hand to her lips and kissed his fingers softly.
Grant closed his eyes. He didn’t quite believe he was a good man, but at least she did. She believed in him. He wanted to be worthy of her grace.
Then she grinned, thinking about her father. “It’s kind of ironic that I had to date a convict to find a good man.”
“Thank God you went to prison, Bonnie. I never would have met you otherwise.”
“And I’m grateful you’re a criminal thug as well, Clyde.” They snuggled closer and
both felt sheer exhaustion from their crime spree—a crime spree that had finally come to an end.
Pacing the hospital hallway, Will decided he’d waited long enough. Surely Sophie had kicked that Mafiosi to the curb by now? What was taking so damn long?
Will burst into the room only to stop short right inside the door. His eyes burned at the sleeping figures on the bed, curled around each other so tightly that there was not one inch between them. Will had never seen such a look of serene bliss on Sophie’s face, and his own face curled into a scowl.
Apparently this Madsen man was here to stay.
40. Going Home
Still asleep, Grant unconsciously brushed off whatever was nudging him on the shoulder. However, the hand continued joggling his arm, and Grant’s eyes opened to stare directly into the ample bosom of the nurse leaning over him.
“Get out of that bed, young man!” she hissed.
His eyes widened and he quickly extricated himself from the wonderfully warm cocoon he and Sophie had created. At his departure, she groaned, shifting in the bed while yawning and extending her toes like a cat stretching after a nap.
“What were you thinking?” the nurse chastised, glaring at Grant before hovering over Sophie to dress her bandage. “This is a hospital, not a hotel—unless you need to be admitted too?”
“No, ma’am,” Grant said apologetically. He felt a little disoriented. That was the best sleep he’d had in a long time.
Feeling groggy herself, Sophie scrunched her forehead. The nurse had been very kind to her during her stay, and now she was harshly reprimanding Grant for sleeping? Something didn’t seem quite right.
The solidly built nurse began bustling around the bed. “C’mon, honey, we need to get you dressed. You’re being discharged and your father is waiting for you.”
That was it. Sophie sat up and glanced at Grant standing a respectful distance from the bed. “Did my father send you in here, Chavonne?”
Nurse Chavonne appeared surprised, but then averted her eyes, bending down to the overnight bag on the floor. “These are the clothes your roommate brought for you?” she asked innocently.
With Good Behavior [Conduct Series #1] Page 45
