by Mallory Kane
She pointed at a whiteboard, hanging on the wall directly across from his bed, where the name of the hospital, the date and the names of his nurses and aides were written. “You’re in Crook County Hospital. Today is Sunday and my name is Jean. I’ll be back soon.”
Matt studied the tubes and needles that were sticking out of his right hand, trying to decide how much it would hurt to pull them out. He wanted to look more closely at them but for some reason he found it very hard to lift his arm. So he turned his attention to his other arm. He still had his hand. It was sticking out from the huge roll of bandages. It looked swollen and discolored, but at least it was there.
Before he had a chance to wonder what the surgeons had done to it, the room door opened and Irina Castle came in, followed by Brock O’Neill and FBI Special Agent Schiff.
“Matt! Oh my goodness, you look awful!” She laughed self-consciously as she stepped around to the far side of the bed and patted his hand. “I mean, you look wonderful, given all that you’ve been through. How are you feeling?”
Brock nodded and scowled as if he were irritated to see Matt alive. But that was his usual expression, so Matt merely nodded back.
“Where’s Aimee?” he asked Irina.
“She and William are doing fine. Aimee’s been admitted overnight, but they should be able to go home tomorrow.” Irina looked at Schiff.
He stepped forward. “Sorry, but we need to talk to you.”
Matt ignored him. “Irina, Aimee can’t go home by herself. She’s been through too much. Can you do something? I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to have to depend on Margo.”
“Don’t worry. We’re going to take good care of her.” She picked up the cup of water and held the straw to his lips. He took a couple of swallows and coughed.
“Margo Vick won’t be going anywhere near Aimee,” Schiff said. “Not anytime soon. I can promise you that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Once we found out that the baby was being held at the Vicks’ hunting cabin, we got a warrant for Mrs. Vick’s financial and telephone records, and her home. We found that a million dollars had been liquidated within the past week. Mrs. Vick and her accountant claim to know nothing about it. There were also two calls to Margo Vick’s home telephone from a survivalist group of which Kinnard is a member.”
“Was a member,” Matt said.
Schiff’s eyebrows rose.
“Kinnard’s dead. I’ll give you a statement, and I can pinpoint the location of the body within a few yards.” Matt didn’t mention Shellie. He’d give a formal, complete statement later.
The FBI special agent pulled a PDA from his pocket and made a quick note, then continued. “The telephone calls from the survivalist group were short, less than a minute. Mrs. Vick stated that she received a couple of calls in the past week, and she was asked to hold. She said she held for a short while, and then hung up.”
Matt cut his eyes over to the FBI special agent. “It’s possible she was framed.”
“I know. It’s beginning to look that way.”
That surprised Matt. He lifted his head and immediately regretted it. The movement hurt his arm and he felt queasy. “What do you mean?” he asked softly.
“We picked up the body of the second man who was following you. Cunningham gave us the coordinates. He was carrying a cell phone, with a message from an unidentified number. The message was in Arabic. We got it translated. Basically, it said—” Schiff looked back at his PDA “—KIDNAPPERS. NO SURVIVORS TO ID US.”
Matt’s pulse jumped. “The kidnapper was hired by Novus.”
“Novus?” Schiff frowned. “The terrorist Novus?” He turned to glare at Irina.
When he did, Brock took a step closer to her.
“I figured the dead guy might be somehow involved with your search for your husband, but Novus Ordo?”
Irina gazed at him evenly.
“Well, that explains a lot. Not everything, but a lot. We had the voice of the caller who set up the ransom drop analyzed. There were certain inflections and idiomatic inconsistencies that indicated that English may not have been his first language.”
“May not?” Irina repeated.
Schiff nodded. “The results were inconclusive. My expert said it was possible that the caller was trying to alter his phrasing to make us think he might not be American.”
Matt closed his eyes and sighed. “So we can’t prove whether the whole thing was engineered by Novus or not.”
“It would help if all the people involved in the kidnapping weren’t dead. Couldn’t you have left one of them alive?”
“Agent Schiff,” Irina broke in. “Matt needs to sleep. He’s still under the effects of the anesthesia from his surgery.”
Schiff sent her a sharp glance. “Fine. I’ll get his statement tomorrow, when he’s feeling better. Mrs. Castle, may I speak to you after we’re done here?”
She put her hand on Matt’s forehead and brushed his hair back. “We’ll see.”
“Irina, what about—what about the sabotage?” Matt whispered.
Irina leaned over. “We’ll talk about that later,” she said softly.
Just then the nurse came in. “It’s time for Mr. Parker’s medication.”
Irina kissed him on the forehead. “Don’t worry about Aimee,” she whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Brock hadn’t said a word the entire time. In fact, he’d hardly moved, except when he’d intercepted Schiff. He’d just listened intently to everything that was said.
As Irina and Schiff left the room, Brock met Matt’s gaze and nodded, the scowl still on his face.
The nurse injected something into the IV tubing that ran from the bag of fluid down into his hand. “There you go, Mr. Parker.” She peeled off her exam gloves, then turned and looked at him.
“Who was that man?” she asked, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed.
“The guy in the suit?”
“No. The one with the eye patch. The dangerous-looking one. Who was he?”
Matt’s eyelids were getting heavy. “You mean Brock O’Neill?” he muttered. “That’s a real good question. I’m not sure any of us know who he is.” He peered at her. “You want me to introduce you?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh, no. I was married to a dangerous man once. I’ll never make that mistake again. You get some sleep and I’ll be back later to check your vital signs.”
MONDAY 1100 HOURS
THE DOOR TO MATT’S hospital room was closed. It had taken Aimee much longer than she’d anticipated to be discharged, although the doctor had promised her yesterday that he was only admitting her overnight for observation. The nurses on her floor had brought her a set of scrubs to wear and had outfitted William with clothes from the pediatric floor.
But now, finally, she was here. She was supposed to be waiting downstairs for a taxi that the floor clerk had called, and she felt slightly guilty for leaving the driver sitting there, but she had to see Matt.
She shifted William’s baby seat to her left hand and started to knock. But she hesitated. What if he were asleep? Or being given a bath? Or what if he didn’t want to see her?
She took a deep breath. No matter what he wanted, she was going to see him, if only for a few minutes. She wasn’t about to leave the hospital without making sure he was okay.
“If he’s asleep, we’ll go,” she whispered to William. Instead of knocking, she gently pushed the door open.
The room was dark. The curtains were closed. The only light came from the weak, recessed fixture above the bed. He was asleep.
She knew she should turn around and leave, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She’d been so afraid he wouldn’t make it. They’d taken him away so fast once the helicopter had landed.
She moved carefully over to the bed, hoping that William would stay quiet. The shadows cast by the dim light emphasized the pain lines etched between his brows and around his mouth.
His hair was a little bi
t tousled, enough that she wanted to reach out and brush it back from his forehead. And his mouth was as straight and grim as it had been the last time she’d seen him, right before the emergency doctors had taken him off the helicopter and rolled him away.
“I’m so sorry,” she mouthed, not really sure why she was apologizing. Mostly that he’d been hurt so badly for trying to help her, she supposed.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered.
She jumped, jostling the baby seat. William made a tiny whimper of protest, but Aimee couldn’t take her eyes off Matt.
He opened his eyes, those deep, dark eyes, and looked at her.
“Matt,” she breathed, her pulse hammering in her throat. “You’re—okay?”
His mouth curved up slightly. “Depends on what you mean by okay. I’m here, and essentially in one piece.” He lifted his right hand, which was attached to what looked like a tangle of tubing, and pressed a button on the bed. The head of the bed raised up.
He winced slightly, and Aimee’s gaze went to his left arm, which was covered by a fat bandage. “What—what did they say about your arm?”
His long, dark lashes swept downward. “The doctor came in earlier. He said all I needed to know was that they cleaned the wound, sewed some muscles and tendons back together, and stitched it all up.” He looked down at the bandage. “He said it wouldn’t be pretty, but with a little luck and a lot of physical therapy, it would probably work okay, thanks to whoever cleaned and bandaged it.”
Aimee took a long breath. “I’m so glad.”
“Me, too, although I have a feeling he really meant a lot of luck.” He raised his gaze to hers. “How are you? You look good.”
“I’m good,” she said, nodding. “I’m fine. I brought someone to see you.”
“William—?” Matt’s voice broke, and Aimee’s heart felt like it was cracking in two.
She smiled. “He wants to say thank you.” She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat.
“Let me see him.”
She set the baby seat down and took William into her arms. “Can I sit down?” She nodded toward the side of his bed.
“Sure. Bring him over here.”
She bounced the baby in her arms as she walked around and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. She propped William on her lap.
Matt lifted his right hand, then checked his gesture. “Think the tubes will scare him?”
As if in answer, William cooed and waved his arms.
“I don’t think anything about you could possibly scare him. He’s happy to see you.”
“Yeah?”
“William? You know who this is? Remember Matt? He’s your godfather. He saved you.”
“Aimee, don’t—” Matt’s hand fell back to the bed.
“Don’t what? Tell my son the truth? You did save him. You saved him and me.”
Matt leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “If you’re going to tell him the truth, tell him the whole truth. Tell him what happened to his father. Tell him that I didn’t have the sense or the courage to refuse to take Bill skydiving. I didn’t have the good sense to make him take some practice runs or do a buddy-dive.”
“Bill had skydived before. His carelessness wasn’t your responsibility.”
Matt blinked. “Why have you suddenly changed your mind?”
“Changed my mind? What are you talking about?”
“Are you feeling sorry for me? Is that it? What happened to blaming me for letting him die?”
“I never blamed you.”
“Hah.” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I saw how you looked at me when I brought his—when I brought him home.”
“Matt, I can’t remember what I did or said or even thought that night. What I do remember is what Bill always told me. ‘You can count on Matt.’ He said that the day before you and he left on your trip. ‘Matt’s safe as houses.’”
Matt lifted his head and looked at her. “I don’t know why he thought that.”
“I do, now.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“It took me a while to understand what he meant. He knew you, maybe better than anyone. He knew you’d die, if by dying you could save an innocent life.”
He shrugged and winced. “For some reason, Bill always believed in me.”
William was getting restless. He began to fret. “I guess I’d better put this little guy back in his seat.”
“Can I—?”
Aimee knew what Matt was trying to ask. She held William close enough that Matt could press a kiss to his fat little cheek. “Hey there, William,” he whispered. “Are you glad to see your mom?”
She turned to fasten William back into his seat.
“Aimee?” She didn’t look up. She was busy blinking away the tears that she couldn’t stop. Seeing Matt kissing her little boy had shattered the last fragile pieces of her heart.
“Aimee—”
She lifted her head without really looking at him. “I’m listening. I just need to get William Matthew settled.”
“Could you—maybe one day—give me a chance?”
She froze for an instant, wondering if she’d heard what she thought she had. Then she tested the last strap, to be sure William was safe in his seat.
Slowly, she raised her gaze to his. “Give you a chance?”
The muscles of his jaw worked. “I—” He swallowed. “I love you.”
She gasped softly. “You said that before. I thought you were hallucinating.”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t hallucinating.” Then his gaze wavered.
She’d seen him face killer snowstorms, assault rifles, gasoline fires, a horrible injury, but this was the first time she’d seen him nearly paralyzed with fear.
Her mouth stretched into a grin, even as fat tears slipped from her eyes and plopped onto her hands. “I am—so glad,” she said, her voice shaking with sobs. “Because I wasn’t sure how I was going to—tell you that I fell in—love with you the minute you bullied me into letting you go to the ransom drop with me.”
“You did?” he said, his brows shooting up.
“Well, it didn’t hurt that you made the supreme sacrifice of warming me with your own naked body.”
“Anytime,” he said, smiling at her.
“Promise?”
“You—” He paused. “You’re okay with me being William’s stepfather? I mean—are you saying you’ll—you know?”
“I have something to tell you. When Bill found out he had cancer, he made me promise him something.”
“Yeah? What?” Matt still looked scared.
“He made me promise that when I was ready, I’d think about you first.”
She’d done pretty well so far, but remembering Bill’s words and thinking about how prophetic they were, she looked at the man she knew would keep her and her son safe. Love and desire welled up inside her, and pushed away the last bits of the rigid control she’d always clung to like a lifeline. For the first time in her life, she broke down and sobbed.
Matt lifted his hand. “Aimee, are you okay?”
“Sure.” She sniffed.
“You’re crying.”
“I know,” she wailed.
Matt’s mouth curved into a smile. “Does that mean this qualifies as a special occasion?”
She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth as tears streamed down her face. “I think it qualifies as the first in a lifetime of special occasions.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-3946-7
HIS BEST FRIEND’S BABY
Copyright © 2009 by Rickey R. Mallory
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterp
rises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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