Heart pounding, vision washed red with anger, she belly-crawled across the floor and reached for the gun.
Deighton cursed and kicked it away, then grabbed her by the back of her shirt, catching some of her long hair and twisting it roughly as he dragged her off the ground. He was reeling slightly and bleeding from a cut over his eye.
“Bitch,” he snarled, and drew back a fist to punch her in the face.
Before the blow could land, a blur erupted from the sofa and Deighton went smashing to the side.
Parker! Mandy’s heart jolted up into her throat and she gaped as the man she’d almost given up for dead swung into action. He was very clearly not dead. And he was furious.
Battered face set in deadly lines, Parker hammered Deighton with a series of blows that sent the killer staggering across the small apartment. He tripped over the fuel can, which tipped over. Gas spilled onto the floor, adding more of a stink to the air.
Deighton feinted and rolled, avoiding Parker’s next attack, and scrambled for the gun, which had skidded beneath the kitchen table when he’d kicked it out of Mandy’s reach.
Parker dived in pursuit, shouting, “Get the lighter!”
Mandy twisted around, yanking at the knots securing her ankles to the chair. The ropes resisted stubbornly. She was just about to give up and slither across the floor when she felt them start to give.
Working furiously, fingers trembling with the need to hurry, she untied herself, yanked the gag off and scrambled toward the sofa, only to reel back when flames erupted from the cushions.
“Parker!” she screamed. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
She turned toward him just as Deighton got his hands on the gun. Face gleaming with feral madness, the killer spun and leveled the weapon at Mandy. “You’ve ruined everything!”
Parker grabbed his arm the moment he fired, and the bullet whizzed past Mandy, who was beyond screaming, nearly frozen in terror. In the corner of the room, flame met gasoline and the walls went up in curling ribbons of fire.
Twisting Deighton’s gun arm up behind his back, Parker cursed and yanked viciously, dropping the killer to his knees. He cut his eyes to Mandy. “Get out of here.”
She shook her head, somehow finding calm amidst the chaos. “Not without you.”
He looked at her for a moment, and she couldn’t even begin to interpret what she saw in his eyes. Then he nodded, and clubbed Deighton across the temple with his own gun.
The killer went limp in Parker’s grip.
“Come on.” Parker started across the room, dragging the unconscious man with him.
Then he froze and lifted the pistol as a new commotion sounded in the hall. “Get behind me.”
Mandy complied, though the flames were all around them now and the air was growing hotter by the second, gaining smoke and volume and fear.
New terror bloomed. What if that was the sound of reinforcements? What if—
The apartment door burst inward, and she saw dark-clothed men in face masks and riot gear, led by Detective Stankowski’s familiar figure.
“It’s about time you got here,” Parker groused. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small evidence bag with one of Durst’s GPS transmitters inside. “Guess this thing came in handy after all.”
He tossed the transmitter to the detective, then said, “Take this garbage. He’s got the minidisk on him.” He dragged Deighton’s limp form forward and dumped the killer on the floor, between the corpses of his associates. Then he turned to Mandy and held out a hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. The cops can handle the rest.”
As he led her out the door, Deighton regained consciousness and began to curse while the cops handcuffed him and dragged him to his feet. Behind them, Mandy heard shouts from the apartment, and the puff of fire extinguishers. Outside, the wail of a fire engine’s siren grew louder as the second wave of responders approached.
Out in the hallway, though, there was relative calm as Mandy and Parker walked out of the burning apartment hand in hand.
Nothing was settled between them, but they were alive. Mandy told herself to be content with that, to be grateful that she at least had a future.
That lasted until they reached the street, and suited firefighters hustled them back behind a group of barricades. Moments later, Stankowski reappeared and motioned them over to a cluster of police vehicles.
The detective looked harried. “Can you two wait here for a few minutes? I’ll need to go over your statements, but things are getting borderline messy inside. We’re trying to get as much evidence out of the room as we can before the fire crews open up with the water, but—”
“Go,” Parker said quickly. “We’ll be here when you can cut yourself free.”
The detective nodded and turned away, but then paused and turned back. He held out a hand to Mandy. “I’m sorry you had to go through all this. I wish we could’ve gotten him sooner, and spared you this whole experience.”
She gripped his hand briefly, and felt a strange sense of letdown at the knowledge that while she might see him again, this was the end of their work together. “Don’t be sorry,” she said softly. “It’s over now.”
When the detective was gone, the words it’s over seemed to linger on the air.
Around them there was chaos as other firefighters and rigs arrived, and a crowd of curious onlookers gathered to point and speculate. Near the cruisers, though, it seemed as though a bubble of quiet cocooned Parker and Mandy.
She turned to him and offered her hand as Stankowski had done to her. “Thank you.” She paused. “That seems so incredibly inadequate after all you’ve done for me this week, but I don’t think there are words for how grateful I am.”
He didn’t take her hand, simply looked at it, looked at her as if not sure what he was seeing. “Don’t thank me. I should’ve packed you on a plane that first day and gotten you the hell out of here.”
“I wouldn’t have gone.” She let her hand fall to her side, feeling a beat of depression at the realization that the walls had gone back up and he’d once again retreated inside himself, to the place she couldn’t follow.
Well, she was done trying, wasn’t she? If they weren’t meant to be—if he couldn’t believe in them enough to make it work—then she was going to have to be enough of a grown-up to let it go.
So she smiled even though her heart was breaking, and said, “Don’t look so concerned, Radcliff. We had a deal, and I stand by my word. I’ll be at work first thing Monday, ready to do my job for you. Move ’em in and ship ’em out, right? Well, you can consider me shipped out as of now. It’s time for me to go home.”
Even though she knew she was supposed to wait for the detective, she turned and walked away from him, headed for the road beyond the barricade, where several taxis had paused in the traffic. Stankowski knew where to find her. So did Parker for that matter, but she suspected she’d see the detective long before The Boss came calling for her.
And if that thought was enough to have her breaking down in tears the moment she got the taxi door closed and promised the driver she’d get money for him at her apartment, she was the only one who knew about it.
PARKER TOOK two steps after her before he made himself stop and stand, watching her go.
“You’re an idiot, you know,” Stank said, coming up beside him as the cab turned the corner and was lost from sight.
“I know.” Parker said, feeling the grief and guilt weighing him down like a rock pressing on the center of his chest.
“You should go after her.”
“No.” Parker shook his head. “I can’t.”
Not yet, anyway. He had things to do first.
Chapter Sixteen
Mandy spent the weekend doing normal things. She hung out with Kim and the Wannabes at Jillian’s, and even managed to work up to a flirt with a friend-of-a-friend from Mass General. Her heart wasn’t in it, though, just as it wasn’t into the idea of rearranging her apartment, finishing the unpac
king she’d neglected and forcing some sort of style into the place.
She kept trying to remind herself she was lucky to be alive, but the sentiment rang hollow. She might’ve escaped one fate but she’d fallen to another, one that she knew better than to succumb to a second time. Heartache.
Her father finally called her back Sunday night, and though they might never be close, she did feel as though the experience with Durst and Deighton had helped her understand him a bit better. They ended the conversation with vague promises to get together, both of them knowing it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
By Monday, though, she’d made her decision. Forget waiting for another year worth of E.R. experience—she was going to pull all the strings she could find to win the Meade Fellowship this year, damn it, even if it meant calling on her father.
She was done waiting around for her life to start.
When she called to ask where she could send additional references, though, she got a rude shock.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Sparks, but this year’s Meade Fellowship has already been decided. The official announcement will be made later this week.” On the phone, the administrator’s voice brooked no argument. “Would you like me to roll your application through to the next round?”
“Yes, please,” Mandy said faintly, her fingers going numb on the handset as she stood in the hallway outside exam room one.
After the admin had hung up the phone, she pressed the handset to her ear to gain a few moments’ worth of peace. She turned her back on the rest of the E.R., trying to ignore the organized chaos of a normal Monday morning.
Well, that was just great. She’d finally decided to jump-start her life, and someone else had already beaten her to this year’s fellowship.
“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. Then, remembering her new vow not to wait around for things to happen, but instead to make them happen, she dialed information, got another number, and punched it in. “Cedar Sinai central operations,” a chipper male voice answered. “How may I direct your call?”
“Dr. Stewart Royal, please.” Mandy crossed her fingers, and was rewarded when the operator simply put her through without asking why a lowly E.R. doc would want to speak with the head of the Meade Foundation.
Based on life with her father, she half expected her call to head straight to voice mail. Shock shimmered through her when the line went live and a man’s voice said, “Royal here.”
“Dr. Royal, this is…this is Mandy, um, Dr. Amanda Sparks from Boston General.” She shook her head to clear it, wishing she’d planned out what she wanted to say.
Before she could fumble onward, he said in a cheerful voice, “Of course, Mandy, I’m glad you called. May I be among the first to congratulate you?”
“Huh?”
“On the Meade Fellowship,” he said, then paused. “Radcliff hasn’t told you yet?”
“No,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper as her throat closed in on itself. “He hasn’t told me anything.”
“Well then, it’s my pleasure to tell you that based on your supervisor’s glowing recommendation and supporting documentation from the Boston Police Department, praising your guts and scientific acumen, that you’ve been awarded this year’s Meade Fellowship.” He paused, and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “You’re going to China, Dr. Sparks. Dr. Wong is looking forward to working with you. He’ll expect you two weeks from tomorrow.”
Mandy leaned her forehead against the cool tiles of the corridor wall and concentrated on breathing. “Thank you,” she finally said. “I’m honored, and I’ll do my very best to make the Meade Foundation proud.”
“I’m sure you will.” Dr. Royal paused, as if expecting her to say something else. When she didn’t, he chuckled. “I’m going to hang up now and let you process that information. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to call.”
Mandy whispered, “Thank you,” again, her vocabulary having apparently devolved to those two words.
This time when the line went dead, she hung up the phone. Then she turned to face the E.R., staring around and feeling as though she’d never seen the place before. Worse, she was pretty sure she’d never see it again once she left this time.
And she knew that was exactly what Parker intended.
Hurt and angry almost beyond words, even though she was equally elated, she marched past the front desk, ignoring Aimee calling her name, no doubt to remind her that she had patients backing up and it was her job to process them as efficiently as possible.
“I’ll show him efficiency,” she muttered as she shoved through Parker’s office door. “I’m sure you told yourself you were doing me a favor, but—”
She broke off. The office was empty. And not just empty as in there was nobody at the desk. Empty as in there was almost nothing on the desk, or anywhere else, for that matter.
A few boxes were stacked against the wall, neatly labeled in Parker’s slanting, masculine script, making it look as though she wasn’t the only one leaving.
But that didn’t make any sense. He’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? She wasn’t going to be at Boston General much longer, because whether or not she appreciated his methods or his motivation, she’d gotten the fellowship and was headed for China.
But if that was the case, where was he going?
Refusing to feel even the faintest flicker of hope, she spun on her heel and marched back to the front desk, intending to demand the whereabouts of The Boss.
She didn’t need to, though. He was standing by the front desk, talking to Aimee, who was no doubt reporting Mandy’s behavior. Little tattletale.
Still fuming, though a little confused, too, Mandy strode across the E.R. lobby and faced Parker. She put her hands on her hips and glared up at him, knowing she was creating just the sort of scene he preferred to avoid and not caring in the slightest. “Am I supposed to thank you?”
Expression as cool as ever—damn him—he looked down at her. “It’d be a nice start.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she snapped, but then reminded herself that she was a grown-up and a professional. She gestured toward the lounge. “Should we take this somewhere private?”
He just stood there for a beat, then crossed his arms and leaned back against the main desk, seeming, for some reason, amused. “I think not.”
His amused indifference only added to her pique. She blew out a breath. “Fine. You want to throw down here? Let’s go, boss. First off, you wouldn’t have hired me if you didn’t want to, pressure from above or not, which means either you were testing yourself, or you really didn’t care either way about seeing me again. I think we’ve proven the latter isn’t true, so I’m going with the former. Well, guess what? Same thing goes—I wanted to prove to myself that I was over you.”
“Did it work?”
“You know damn well it didn’t, which is undoubtedly why you called in however many favors it took to get me the Meade Fellowship a year ahead of schedule.” Mandy was aware that her tirade had attracted the attention of pretty much the entire E.R., staff and patients alike. She didn’t care anymore, though. She stepped up to him, getting in his face when she said, “You’ve got what you wanted. I’m leaving in two weeks. Hell, I’ll leave today if that’s what you want. What I don’t get are the boxes. Why are you packing?”
There wasn’t an ounce of change in his expression, but somehow the air warmed when he said, “Because I’m going with you.”
PARKER WATCHED the expressions flicker across her face in rapid succession: shock was followed by suspicion before he saw a flash of something that gave him hope.
“Why?” she said, getting straight to the heart of the matter in typical Mandy fashion.
The answer was something he’d been hoping to work up to, but since she asked he forced himself to answer with the simple truth. “Because I’m not only crazy about you, I love you, and I want to be with you no matter where you are. If that means going to China and learning abou
t plants, then that’s what I’ll do.” He paused, and said quietly. “If you’ll have me, that is.”
An absolute hush descended, as though the staff members and patients were all holding their breaths, waiting for her answer.
Or maybe it was just him holding his breath. He’d spent the weekend convincing himself that this was the way to go. Stank hadn’t been totally on board, but Parker told himself that he knew Mandy better, that she’d appreciate the spontaneity from him. But as she just stood there, looking at him, he suddenly realized she could take it exactly the opposite, that he was being controlling rather than spontaneous, that he’d just made the biggest decision of their relationship without talking to her first.
Fear tightened his gut. Had he blown it at the most crucial moment?
“Look, Mandy,” he began, feeling the first prickles of flop sweat and mentally scrambling for a way to backpedal before she turned him down flat. “I don’t want you to think that I’m making decisions for you. Think of this as a request. Hell, I’ll beg if you want me to. Let me come with you. Give us a chance to—”
She launched herself at him, cutting him off midword as she wrapped her arms around his neck and cut him off with a hard, smacking kiss.
The slippery, coiled knots that had tied him up all weekend—hell, ever since she’d come back into his life—loosened all at once and he brought his arms up to hold her, hard, as she twined herself around him. Laughing, he kissed her back, and kept on kissing her even through a smattering of applause and a chorus of wolf whistles from the crowd.
To hell with decorum. He wasn’t letting this one walk out of his life. Not ever again.
AFTER A KISS that was both too long for a public place and too short for Mandy’s taste, she pulled away and looked up at him, finally seeing the emotion in his eyes. The love. “I love you back.”
“China?” he said, as though everything else was already settled between them.
“Are you sure? You don’t even believe in homeopathy.”
He shrugged, a rueful grin tugging at his lips. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll learn something new.”
Doctor's Orders Page 17
