Phil's friend had picked them up in a big SUV almost identical Chris's now smashed one, dropping them at the hospital. As soon as Chris got information about Tiffany he'd bolted down the hallway, leaving her sitting with Carter and Phil in the waiting room. Waiting. It seemed she'd spent the entire day—night—waiting, or captive. She sighed. She was safe and relatively unhurt considering her day. Carter insisted on getting her hand looked at while they were there, so she was also waiting for her name to be called. Waiting for treatment, waiting for information, waiting for all the pieces to whatever the hell was going on to fall into place. She was sick and tired of waiting.
“Camryn Everett?” a nurse called. “Come up, and we'll go on back.”
She followed the woman down the short hallway, Carter shadowing her every step of the way.
The nurse stopped squeaking down the hall to turn around. Narrowing her eyes at Carter, she asked, “Are you family?” her tone as sharp as her gaze.
“He's my fiancé,” Camryn answered before Carter had a chance to say anything. “He's not going to leave my side, so please don't ask him to.”
Giving her a quick up and down to take in the bruises, cuts, and bandages, the other woman let out a disapproving sound. “All right then.” She gestured to the bed. “The doctor will be in shortly.”
“Do you think Simon is okay?” she asked as soon as the curtain was pulled closed, more worried about the man who’d hit them than herself. She didn't know what part he'd had in her kidnapping, but she did know being knocked out for long periods was bad, and as far as she knew he still hadn’t woken up. She pulled in a deep breath. “I'm still scared.”
“I'm proud as hell of you,” Carter told her before kissing her temple. “You fought your way out, found help, and called home.”
“I still don't know anyone's phone number,” she admitted. “I wanted to call you, but the only number I knew was my parents'. Good thing they still believe in landlines.”
He kissed her lips this time. “You're allowed to call your mom when you're in trouble, Lark.”
“How about I stay out of trouble?”
He smiled. “I like that idea.”
~*~
Cam goggled at the doctor, sure she'd heard him wrong. “How many stitches?”
“Ten or eleven,” The man repeated himself, expression pinched. “How did you say you did this again?”
She glanced at Carter. “I'm not abused. I mean, I was kidnapped, but you can stop worrying about my fiancé. He would never hurt me.”
The doctor snorted. “I've heard that before. But if you're okay with what's going on, I can't stop you.”
“Look, if you could please just patch me up, and run a screen for whatever I was drugged with, that'd be great. I don't want to argue, and I'm too tired to be overly nice to people who don't believe what I say anyway.”
“Well then,” he huffed. “Like I said, if you're happy, you're happy.” He swabbed her hand with something cold. “Now, let's get you put back together again.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Her heart turned over in her chest as she watched Carter's face blanch and his eyes dilate as the doctor placed the stitches in her hand. This man loved her so much he was sweating while she was getting stitches. A flash of the future made her stifle a chuckle, causing the doctor to raise his eyebrows. If Carter was having this much trouble with stitches, how in the world would he deal with labor? She wasn't ready for kids yet, but the thought of little ones made her smile.
“You feeling all right, Miss Everett?” the doctor questioned.
“It's been a long day,” she answered, “and I've had an epiphany of sorts.”
The doctor gave Carter a long look. “Really?”
“He's amazing, doc,” she reiterated. “I swear.”
“We're all done here, Miss Everett. The nurse will be in soon with discharge papers.” He turned and left without another word, and Camryn hoped that he had a better bedside manner with his other patients. It was nearing seven in the morning and who knew how long the doctor had been working, but being a judgmental ass didn't earn many fans, at least in her experience.
“Now what?” she asked Carter.
“The police and the FBI are working on—I still can't believe I'm saying this—Abby, and Walker is headed this way to bring us home.
“I'm sorry.” She didn't have any other words.
Carter wrapped her in his arms. “None of this is your fault, Lark.” He kissed her then, deepening it when she opened her mouth on a sigh. She never doubted he would find her, save her, and even if he wasn't the type to come in with guns blazing, she knew it would be okay. Carter pressed her down into the bed, sliding his hands beneath the thin sweater she'd worn to work with Tabi, smashing her breasts against his chest and fitting his thigh between hers. “God, I am go glad you're whole,” he said between kisses. “I love you beyond reason. I would have gone insane if I'd lost you.”
She raked her fingers through his hair as she poured herself into another kiss. “We need to find an empty room or a supply closet or something,” she whispered as she rubbed against Carter's hardness beneath his pants. “I need to prove I'm okay.”
“Hold that thought,” he replied, voice heavy with arousal. “If we do this much longer, I just might forget we're only behind a curtain.”
“I need you inside me,” she told him, sounding all too whiny to her own ears.
“Knock, knock,” came a feminine trill from behind the mentioned curtain. “I can come back if you need to, um, finish something. I won't tell.”
Right. She disengaged from the love of her life. “We're decent.”
This nurse had a twinkle in her brown eyes, “Hold onto that love.” She handed Camryn a sheaf of papers. “As soon as you sign these, you can leave. The doctor thinks you were given GHB, so ensure you tell the police when you file your report—”
“You have that finding in writing, correct?” Carter interrupted.
The nurse blinked. “Um, yes, it's with her paperwork. Record of her tetanus booster and stitches.” She paused. “The official blood work won't come back for a few days, but it's his opinion it was GHB, and that is in writing.”
Cam smiled. “He's an attorney and my fiancé. He takes both jobs very seriously.”
“No doubt,” the other woman agreed. “Once you sign, you can go, but if you'd like to detour three doors down the hall on the right, I promise I won't tell.” She gave them a big wink and left as soon as Cam inked her name on the papers.
~*~
“I don't know about you, but I want to take that detour before we head back to the waiting room to find out about Simon and wait for Walker,” Camryn said as she wrapped her arms around him. “I need you to make love to me.”
He took her hand in his and led the way, quickly finding the room the nurse had indicated. Once they were inside, he pinned Cam to the door, devouring her mouth with his. “I know we should be worried about Abby, Simon, the FBI, police, and everything else, but right now all I want to do is love you.”
“So, love me,” she said as she unbuckled his belt. “Love me fast and hard right here.”
Her leggings and panties offered no resistance as he pulled them down, finding her hot and wet when he slid two fingers into her. “Wrap your legs around me, Lark,” he ground out as he slid home. He'd almost lost her today, and it had made him crazy. He slammed into her again and again, pushing her against the door, straining his back, trying to get as deep into her as he could. Her whimpers and moans urged him on, until her walls fluttered against him, her muscles clutching him tight.
“Oh, God,” she panted as she shuddered between him and the door, her orgasm causing his own. She kissed him, her tongue owning his mouth, nearly making him hard again. “If that's what happens when I get kidnapped, I might have to do it more often.”
“No,” he barked. “You're never leaving my sight.”
“Carter,” she started. He was still inside her, her legs lock
ed around his waist, and she was joking about the worst day of his life? “You'll just have to fuck the hell out of me more often, then.”
“That I can do,” he promised.
It didn't take long to set themselves to rights and make their way to the waiting room. The news on Simon wasn't good—he was still in surgery for internal injuries sustained in the accident, and there wasn't much Carter could do for him. He wanted to force him to tell them what was going on, why he'd slammed into them with a truck, and what the fuck was going on with Abby. Instead, he sat and waited for his brother to pick them up, the morning sun brightening the room a bit. He glanced at Camryn as she tapped her foot and swayed slightly, apparently lost in her head with a song or dance, finding comfort in a way he couldn't offer. She was his Lark, and he would never, never let her be hurt again.
Chapter Seventeen
There wasn't much to find at Simon's home. By the time they'd arrived, the call had come in from Delmonico that the man had run his vehicle into theirs and now lay in a hospital bed. Brandon walked the house with the Feds, on the lookout for anything that might give information on Abby, this crazy ass land deal, or any of the other incredibly whacked shit happening all around them.
“I think I have something,” Sloane called from his position in the bedroom.
He followed Kavanaugh to the back of the house, noting the dirt and grime as he went. If cleanliness was next to godliness, Simon was far from both. Shaking off the shiver crawling up his spine wondering what else was in the house with them, Brandon picked his way to Sloane's side. “Don't hold us in suspense, agent.”
The other man held a crinkled, torn, and otherwise battered legal pad. “I know where he's supposed to meet her for the deal,” he poked a sloppy line of text, “odds are she'll be there on her own.”
“Let me guess, it's today,” Kavanaugh put in, her tone dry.
Of course. “What are we waiting for?” he asked instead of uttering the myriad of snide comments running through his head.
“Not so fast, detective.” Sloane held up a hand to stop Brandon from talking, “Camryn Everett is safe. We can take our time.”
“Sure, why not? It's not like you know where a murderer might be in a few hours.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Say we play it your way. What exactly is your way?”
“We are assuming the buyer is unaware of Abby's manipulations, right?” Sloane began. “So, we call the buyer, cancel the meeting, then wait for her when she arrives at the appointed time and arrest her.”
“Seems too easy,” Brandon rebutted. “And, why are we assuming the buyer isn't in on it?”
“Because they're willing to pay sixteen million?” Kavanaugh answered before Sloane had a chance.
“They say they will,” he replied, “but what if it's a set up within a setup?” He shrugged. “I don't know, it just feels wrong.”
Sloane threw his hands in the air. “This whole thing is wrong, Davis. Without wrong, we wouldn't have jobs.”
Point, Sloane. “True.”
“So, who is this buyer, and how do you call them?”
The other man raised his eyebrows a bit. “Abby was acting as owner and real estate agent, all digitally. The buyers are developers from the west coast, evidently looking to expand their restaurant and hotel business. Sadly, they won't be doing it here.”
“You think they're legit?” Kavanaugh asked.
“I do. Everything I find on them shows McCord Brothers, Inc. to be on the up and up. They got caught in the web and almost spent sixteen mill on land they'd never be able to develop.”
“You found all this on a pad of paper?”
Sloane laughed. “Not exactly. He had all his passwords written on that pad. I just read and deciphered his email.”
“Still seems too easy.”
Kavanaugh bobbed her head in agreement. “Let's hope it stays that way. When's that meeting?”
“Four.”
“We'll all head back to your office, regroup, and get our girl this afternoon,” she directed.
He might not be excited about letting the Feds take the lead on this, but with a kidnapping crossing state lines and a west coast firm involved, there wasn't one thing he could do to take the case himself. “I'll be happy to have this one finished.”
“You and us both,” Sloane muttered as they made their way out of the cramped, dirty, house.
~*~
“Detective?” a nurse asked as she walked into the waiting room.
Chris popped up from his seat beside Camryn. “Yes?”
“Mr. Richardson sustained multiple injuries and is resting now. He is stable, but he won't be answering questions anytime soon.”
“Dammit.”
The pretty nurse's eyes widened at his curse. “I'm sorry.”
Chris looked at the ceiling for a moment, blowing out a slow breath at the same time. “I know, and it's not your fault. It's just a frustrating case.”
The blonde smiled at his friend. “I understand. With a head injury like this, consciousness is unpredictable at best. I hope you get answers, but they won't be coming from Mr. Richardson. At least not anytime soon.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly before turning to Camryn. “You're heading back with Carter once Walker gets here, but I need to stay here.”
“Nope,” Tiffany protested. “You and I both need to get back.” She shook her phone. “Brandon and the Feds have a lead and need us.”
Chris glanced over at the nurse again before he asked, “Can you keep an eye on the patient? We can't have him leaving once he wakes up.” He handed her his card. “Call me when he does wake, and make sure you have one of the local officers close by as well. We don't know what his involvement is with this case, but he did nearly kill us.”
Tiffany's face was pale, her leg wrapped in a cast obtained about the same time Camryn's hand was stitched. It turned out that her leg was broken in the accident after all. “He didn't,” she declared with a stubborn tilt to her chin. “He just made my job harder.” Her blue eyes were cold, and Carter knew she wasn't someone he ever wanted to cross. The woman was small, but she was made of steel, her current situation with a broken bone or two notwithstanding.
“Walker will be here soon,” he reminded the group. His brother was known for being perpetually late, but not for his lack of driving skills. He spent so much time in his own head or a world of his own making he often lost track of time. On a night—morning—like today, though, Carter knew his brother would be with them as quickly as possible.
Chris's expression was weary, world-worn, and exhausted, but he nodded just the same. “Now, we wait.”
“Did the doctor say you needed surgery?” Camryn asked Tiffany.
The other woman swiped at the crutches leaning against her chair. “They want me to see an orthopedist when I'm home, but they don't think it needs rods and screws.” She sighed, her pretty face crumpled into a grimace. “I don't have time for this.”
That made Cam crack a smile. “Who would? My family gets nabbed, but you're always the one hurt.”
“Let's hope this is the worst of it. I'd prefer to stay bullet free this time.”
Didn't they all?
~*~
“Everyone settled?” Walker asked once his SUV was loaded with the large group. It seemed they kept adding members to their strange little band, she almost wondered who else they could pick up. Camryn held in a laugh at her absurd thought. A thriller writer, detective, officer, attorney, Broadway actress, and a retired insurance investigator all packed into one vehicle. Now, they all had to actually make it home in one piece. She hoped Walker was up to the challenge of making that happen.
Once he had sufficient affirmative answers, he put the truck in gear, the first few miles were quiet, with no one speaking. Once they were about ten minutes from the hospital, he asked, “What's the latest? The writer in me is dying to know what the hell is going on—nothing makes a bit of sense.”
Tiffany laughed at his admitted
curiosity and puzzlement. “Evidently, the Feds found a smoking gun so to speak, so Chris and I have to meet with them as soon as we're back.”
“Really? That's all you'll tell me?” Walker whined. “I thought you were more fun than that, Officer Morgan.”
“I'm not really in a fun mood this morning,” she replied, her tone flat. “What with the broken leg and the alleged murderer and the kidnapping and all.”
“Noted. I'll go back to being quiet and trying to figure out what the hell is going on, on my own,” Walker said through a chuckle. “Y'all just rest, and I'll get you all home.” He turned slightly to eye Camryn. “Your brother is planning to take a look at you once we get there. You too, Morgan.”
“Of course he is,” Camryn murmured. She would have been surprised if Caleb hadn't insisted on seeing her after everything she'd been through. Instead of saying anything else, she leaned into Carter's body, absorbing his heat and soothing herself with the beating of his heart. They were all fine. Maybe a little banged up, but otherwise whole, and she would take every bit of comfort from that she could.
“Wake up, Lark,” Carter whispered much later. “We're here.”
Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she asked, “Where's here?”
“Aylesford Memorial.”
“Caleb.” She didn't say more except to let out a yelp when Carter swung her into his arms to carry her into the building. Over Carter's shoulder, she saw Chris trying to force Tiffany to accept help before finally giving up the fight and letting her hobble into the building under her own power. She had no idea what time it was, but being home—or at least close to home—made her feel much better.
A more than thorough physical by Caleb later, she was declared okay, and the work done in West Virginia adequate. She was exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep. That and have this whole mess cleaned up and the bad guys behind bars. Thankful that part wasn't her job, she just hoped Chris, Tiffany, and the others would put this whole thing behind her soon.
“You might have some memory loss,” Caleb explained. “It isn't the memory eraser that some date rape drugs can be, but I want you to be careful.” He glanced at Carter. “You're in charge.”
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