by Davis, Jo
And he should care, why? Who was she to him?
“Come on, fireboy,” she pleaded, soft as a caress. “You can’t die on me. I’ve weathered a lot of crap, but not this. I can’t do it. I’m the one who’s supposed to be dead, not you. Zack, please.”
Aw, fuck. That gurgling sound was his plan for a graceful swan song going down the toilet.
Damsels in distress had always been his downfall—in this case, literally, it would seem. Christ. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what had happened, but apparently, he was neck deep in some badass shit.
“I’m sorry I was rude to you—even though you hit me.”
Appalled, he scrambled to make sense of that. He’d never hit anyone in his life, especially a woman!
“I mean, you did save my bacon. Went a tad overboard, too, if you ask me.” She gave a tremulous laugh. “No pun intended. Work with me here, will you?”
Saved her life . . .
He struggled to remember. Caught flashes of water. Freezing cold. Can’t breathe.
The not-breathing part wasn’t just a memory, either. An elephant must be parked on his chest. Matched nicely with his screaming muscles and throbbing head.
God Almighty, why couldn’t he just—
Soft sniffles interrupted his black thoughts. Muffled sounds of . . . weeping.
Damn, she was crying.
Over me? Curiosity finally won over self-pity. He wasn’t going to die anytime soon—oh, goody—so he might as well try to put an end to the waterworks and the red-hot poker French-frying his brain cells.
And the odd stab in the center of his chest that had nothing to do with illness.
Zack licked his lips. “Hey.” Unfortunately, the word emerged as a great imitation of a cat hawking up a hair ball. All he managed to accomplish was possibly rupturing a lung in the ensuing fit of coughing.
“Zack? Easy, there. You’re going to be all right.”
The warm hand on his arm and the slender fingers stroking his hair went a long way toward bringing him back to the living. Nice.
The band around his chest loosened and he made an attempt to open his eyes. Success took a couple of tries, but then, he had the best of motivators. He really wanted to get a good look at his guardian angel. Blinking to clear his vision, he wondered why his eyeballs felt like they were coated with sand.
Turning his head, he peered at the woman sitting beside him. Slowly, her blurry image came into better focus, though still a little fuzzy around the edges. Where were his glasses?
That fleeting concern quickly gave way to amazement as he recognized the amber-eyed beauty with the honey brown hair. Yeah, even with her eyes red-rimmed and her hair disheveled, the lady was a knockout.
“Cori? What . . .” He swallowed hard, fighting off another bout of coughing as he stared at her.
“Thank God, you’re awake! You’re in the hospital, Zack. You sure know how to scare your friends, you know that? Everyone has been waiting for you to come around. Hang on, I’m going to get Dr. Chu.”
“Wait—”
Cori hurried out the door before Zack could protest. Her sudden departure left him feeling cut adrift in a sea of confusion. Would she come back? He hoped so. Her touch had been . . . more than comforting. Deeper, somehow.
The doctor bustled in, beaming and exclaiming how lucky Zack was after drowning, then almost succumbing to pneumonia. What? Christ, no wonder he felt like dog crap.
Dr. Chu’s brisk questions as the man gave him a thorough exam put Zack’s own on hold. There was a tense moment when Zack had difficulty recalling his occupation and the president’s name, but the doctor’s satisfaction returned when he croaked the correct answers.
Zack would be just fine in a few days, Chu declared, then sped out after promising to stop by later. The whole visit lasted maybe two minutes.
Gradually, Zack’s muddled brain cleared. He stared at the ceiling, the silence getting to him a little. If “everyone” had been so worried, where were they? Funny, solitude never used to bother him so much.
As though in answer to his thoughts, the door opened and Cori returned. And damn, she looked gorgeous in a pair of snug jeans and a blue sweater. Smiling, she resumed her spot at his side and his heart gave an odd leap. Like it might’ve been beating, but hadn’t really been alive before she came back.
“Dr. Chu says you’re on the mend,” she said.
“Looks that way.” He tried to return the smile, but, God, his face—his whole head—was killing him. “What happened to me?”
Her expression sobered. “Do you remember rescuing me from my Explorer? The damned thing fell off the bridge and into the river with you inside. You . . . almost died.”
Everything came back in a rush. The call, the storm. Cori’s vehicle hanging off the bridge. His determination to get her out alive, whatever the cost.
The cost had been quite high—but he’d do it again.
“How did they get me out?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but even that slight noise skewered his skull. He wished she’d stroke his hair again.
“Lieutenant Paxton went in and pulled you out,” she said with no little awe. “Then Julian did CPR forever and finally got you back, and just in time, too. We all thought you were a goner.”
So did I. “That was . . . today?”
Cori shook her head. “Three days ago. We’ve been taking turns sitting with you, but you’ve been really out of it. Pneumonia—which I’m told you’d neglected to get diagnosed, by the way—and drowning don’t exactly make a healthy combo.”
“Yeah, Dr. Chu enlightened me. In my defense, I thought I just had a bad cold, and I need the overtime.” He groaned. “Why does my face feel like it hit a brick wall? It hurts just to talk.”
“I’m not surprised. You’re lucky you didn’t lose all your teeth, or worse. The chain snapped and bashed you upside the head. Cracked your cheekbone.”
Fan-frickin’-tastic. So much for hoping to retain a thimbleful of cool in front of this woman. His head must look like a purple and blue lopsided pumpkin. But he took some comfort in the fact that she’d been staring at him for three days and hadn’t been scared off.
Three days. Holy Christ, that meant . . .
“My team is working today?” There. Nice and casual.
Cori graced him with another million-volt smile. “Yes, thank goodness. They’ve been driving the doctors and nurses crazy! I tried to call Julian on his cell phone while Dr. Chu was with you and give them the great news, but there was no answer. I’ll try again when I leave.”
“Thanks. Did, um, any of them happen to mention who’s covering for me?” Please, let it be Six-Pack or Eve.
She patted his arm in sympathy. “Don’t worry. Julian is driving the quint while you’re out sick. He said if you woke up before they got back, to tell you he’s glad you’re okay and that everything’s under control.”
“I’ll bet he did.” God, he wanted to laugh. Cry. Hit something.
She gave him a funny look, as though trying to decipher his sarcasm. “In fact, that’s pretty much the message they all gave me to pass along. I’m sure they’ll drop by as soon as they can.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
His trip to hell was now complete. Salvatore had been eyeing the coveted FAO’s position for a while now, and Tanner had gift wrapped and handed it to the man with a shiny bow. The one man on the team with whom Zack’s tension ran the highest, save for Tanner himself.
Yeah, he didn’t need a freaking telescope to read that particular writing on the wall.
His spirits sank. What the hell will I do now?
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Her gorgeous face scrunched into a worried frown.
“Nothing.” Except that I’m broke, and soon to be jobless. Wanna elope?
She sighed. “Cheer up, fireboy. At least nobody tried to kill you.”
“Really, would you please stop calling me . . . kill you?” His muddled brain caught up to his mouth. “Your tire! God, how c
ould I have forgotten? Do the police know who shot it?”
“Not a clue, and neither do I.”
Something about the soft way she said it, how her tawny eyes darted briefly to the side, made him wonder.
What secrets was Cori hiding behind that firecracker of a personality?
“It was probably random,” he said, trying to reassure her. “Or maybe even an accident. The shot could’ve come from the forest along the river.” Unlikely, given the angle and the bad weather, but stranger things had happened.
“Maybe. It’s just . . . no, never mind.”
Reaching for her hand resting on the mattress, he curled his fingers over hers. “Go ahead, spill it. I’m a friend. Or I’d like to be.”
She looked at him from under her lashes, her gaze haunted. “I’d like that, too, Zack. I have friends, but to be honest, most of them do more talking than listening.”
“I’m all ears, beautiful.” He felt his face heat at how easily the endearment had slipped past his lips. Jesus.
“This is going to make me sound like a nut. The cops didn’t take me seriously, even after my car was shot at.”
“You’re stalling.”
Cori heaved a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.
“Zack, I think someone is watching me.”
4
Cori shifted self-consciously, studying Zack’s expression of wary surprise. Yeah, it sounded just as kooky as it had when she’d told the police yesterday.
“Watching, as in a creepy feeling, or as in the infamous pet bunny boiling on a stove?”
Cori’s face heated. “We’re not talking Fatal Attraction at this point, but it’s more than just a creepy feeling. For starters, I’ve seen the same white van everywhere I’ve been for the past three days.” She held up a hand. “Don’t say it. The police already pointed out that I might be ‘overly jumpy’ after being shot at. Imagine.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. You don’t strike me as the nervous type.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Did you get a look at the driver?”
“No, the windows were tinted dark and the vehicle’s been too far away. When I came out of the bank yesterday, it was parked across the street and I couldn’t even tell if anyone was inside. That’s when I finally phoned the officer who took the report on my so-called accident. I told him about the van and the other stuff, and he pretty much gave me the hysterical-little-woman crap and blew me off.”
Zack frowned. “What else has happened?”
“Noises outside at night. Crunching sounds near my bedroom window, a metallic bang as though someone dropped a bucket. A scrape on the porch. Nerve-racking but not directly threatening.”
“Do you live in town?”
She sighed, knowing where this was going. “On the outskirts. The house is set back in the trees and the neighbors are spread out.”
“Cori, I’m not trying to patronize you, but Tennessee is overrun with all sorts of wildlife, especially deer. At night, they’ll come right up to the house and get into everything.”
“I know. Listen to me,” she said, waving him off with a smile that didn’t squelch the inner disquiet. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. You’re tired and I have to run.”
Disappointment flashed in his blue eyes. Then his expression smoothed into calm acceptance. “Already? Well, thanks for coming by and keeping me company. Don’t be a stranger, huh?”
Her insides lit in a warm glow as she stood. Zack didn’t want her to leave! She squeezed his fingers. “I can come back tomorrow, if you want. If you don’t, no problem. I wear big-girl panties now, so I can take the rejection.”
This earned her a lopsided grin. “No comment on the panties, on the grounds that it may incriminate me. Come back tonight?”
“Can’t, sugar. Got a bachelor-party gig in Nashville.”
His grin faded some—whether from the reminder of her exotic dancing or from not being able to see her tonight, she wished she knew.
“Okay. Tomorrow, then. I’ll see if I can fit you in.”
“Cute.” Leaning over, she gave him a brief kiss on his dark-stubbled cheek. A peck she meant only as a friendly good-bye but somehow felt like something more. His heat, his nearness, pulled at her, and she straightened quickly. “Hang tight and you’ll feel better fast. You’ll see.”
He gazed at her from beneath a fringe of black lashes. “Can I have that in writing?”
“Hey, chin up. Keep improving and you’ll be out of here by the day after tomorrow.”
“How do you know that?”
Oops. “I keep my ears open. Now rest.”
“Like I have a choice,” he muttered, looking like a sullen little boy.
Lips curved into a smile, she turned to leave. “Bye, Zack.”
“Cori?”
She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Be careful in Nashville tonight. Watch your surroundings.”
Zack’s concern both chilled and warmed her at the same time. With his huge blue eyes and black hair tousled against his pillow, even with the vivid bruise on his pale face, he looked so impossibly sexy, warmth won out.
No sneer of derision for her job, no attempts to sway her to pursue a better line of work. Just honest worry for her safety.
The man was a cool drink of water in the desert.
“Will do.”
Damn, she didn’t want to leave. And, for the first time in a very long while, fervently wished she were headed anywhere else except to take off her clothes for yet another drunken bachelor party.
You don’t have to, the nagging little voice tempted her. You could dip into the till, pay off the rest of that pesky school loan. Who’d care?
No. Over her dead, stinking corpse.
Besides, her debts were almost paid. She’d emerge with her pride intact.
Tomorrow, she’d tell Zack the truth.
Well, at least the part about her nursing job. The rest she’d buried with Alex’s dead body two years ago.
Those horrible days were behind her, and she wasn’t dredging them up for anyone.
Not even Zack Knight.
Lionel hunched over his mop, silently cursing the subtle stench of piss and vomit combined with ammonia. Using the considerable skill born of poverty, honed on the blade of hunger, he schooled his features to reveal nothing. To give those around him the comfortable illusion of what they expected to see.
No one ever noticed a janitor.
Sheep, his brother had liked to call the hapless people who fell prey to their schemes. Dumb animals to be herded to figurative slaughter, the wool and meat turned for profit, the carcass discarded.
Never one to forget how easily the cruel fist of fate crushed the complacent, how quickly all was lost, Lionel had always disagreed. The human psyche was a wonderful wellspring of untapped emotions, ripe for exploration. Exploitation.
Consumption.
People wanted to believe their lives weren’t small and insignificant. That they mattered, could be more than they were, safe and loved. A few well-placed kindnesses, whispered caresses, and their bodies, souls, and wealth belonged to Lionel.
Lonely businesspeople. Overworked doctors, lawyers, politicians with everything to lose. Lovers who eagerly surrendered all to him, received the sexual adventure they craved. For a price.
Now he’d reel in the biggest prize of all.
Lionel usually worked alone these days, but he’d been unable to resist this new proposition. Especially after listening to what the man had to say, when the sly manipulator finally caught up with him, that was. Lionel had been indisposed, courtesy of an eighteen-month stay in Hunts ville State Penitentiary. He and his new “partner” finalized their plans right under the ignorant noses of the armed guards.
Sure, his partner could’ve sought someone else to carry out the deed and not wasted months locating Lionel. But no one else quite matched Lionel in skill or motivation. The opportunity to exact justice on t
he hot bitch made the pot of honey extra sweet.
So Lionel mopped, sweating in stupid goddamned coveralls the pallid shade of a dead body, putting up with the stink of Sterling’s ICU in order to study his latest target from beneath the brim of a battered baseball cap. Months of planning with his annoying business cohort, poised to bear fruit.
Corrine Shannon. A wet dream in fuck-me designer jeans and high-heeled boots. As though sensing his scrutiny, she glanced in his direction as she exited the firefighter’s room before striding briskly down the hallway, tight ass swinging.
A chameleon who adapted to suit his purposes, Lionel wasn’t worried. She’d never dream of connecting the grizzled janitor swiping up urine with the enigmatic, urbane friend from her favorite coffee shop. And she’d certainly never know the man he’d been—until he chose to reveal the truth.
His secret was secure. Soon, he’d make his next move. A gorgeous former jet-setter like Cori had to be bored out of her mind in the boring vanilla community of Sugarland. She needed a concerned friend, a confidant. An exciting lover.
Lionel would provide all three . . . with a heaping dose of revenge as the coup de grâce.
Anger boiled in his gut. Lust in his groin.
Lionel’s hands tightened around the mop handle as he thought of Cori’s upset over her rescuer. A man named Zack Knight. Hadn’t been difficult to ascertain the situation with all the firefighters and cops hanging around shaking their heads, looking as though the world were ending. Since the shot Lionel had taken at her tire was intended only to frighten her, he supposed he ought to thank the poor bastard for salvaging his scheme.
Recalling the earlier call from his partner, his lips thinned into a grim line. The man had been pissed enough to shit monkeys.
“What in the goddamned hell was that? Do you have any idea how much creative maneuvering and string pulling I had to do in order to keep your little fiasco quiet on my end?”
“It didn’t go quite as planned.”
“No fucking shit! You’re supposed to kill her after you seduce the information from her, you idiot!”
“I’ll be more careful next time.” If he could, he’d shoot the sonofabitch.
