by D. N. Leo
“There were no Roman soldiers, Madeline. But you were running from someone. When I found you and managed to land the rescue helicopter, you were running away from me. You wouldn’t stop. Then after I’d gotten to you, bullets rained down on us. I couldn’t see anyone, but I’m sure it was more than one person. When my rescue team approached us, they found no one, but they did discover several bullet casings by the ditch.”
Ciaran winced as he felt a prick from the needle.
“I can see the bullet,” Doctor Thomas informed him. “I’m numbing you now.”
Ciaran nodded slightly in acknowledgement.
Madeline cleared her throat. “I was looking for John Dee’s tomb, but I’m not after gold if that’s what you’re thinking . . .”
“I’m not drawing any conclusions yet.”
“An old woman at Mortlake . . .”
“Mrs. Hanson?”
“Yes, you know her?”
“Yes, but we no longer have any association. I sought her consultation on natural medicine. I was told that people were looking for John Dee’s grave, and Mrs. Hanson claimed she knew where it is. But people came to ask for her advice, and they were never seen again.”
“Well, obviously she sent the Roman soldiers after them!” Madeline exclaimed.
“If you’re not after the gold like the others, why do you need to find John Dee’s grave? Does it have anything to do with your friend’s computer game?”
“Look Ciaran, it could have been worse than a bullet in your shoulder. I . . .”
“This bullet is nothing. I need the truth, Madeline.”
“Stay still, Ciaran,” Doctor Thomas warned.
“Sorry,” Ciaran muttered, his eyes flashing with anger but calming quickly.
First, Stephen took a bullet. Now Ciaran. Who will be next? Madeline bit her lips, unsure what to say.
“Madeline, I need answers.”
She nodded, those deep gray eyes telling her he was not going to let this slide. “Yes, this has to do with the computer game my friend, Jo, developed. She was kidnapped. If I can’t find out who is playing as an avatar in her game, they’re going to kill Jo.” A tear ran down Madeline’s face.
Ciaran shook his head, trying to stay alert. “Who are they?”
“Jo’s boss. The guy owns a game development company. I don’t know why he wanted me to find John Dee’s grave.”
“What’s the avatar?” Madeline flickered in front of Ciaran, starting to fade. Her voice seemed to echo in his head. “Damn it. God damn it, Doctor Thomas.” Ciaran sat up, but then flopped face down back on to the bed.
Doctor Thomas looked at Madeline and shrugged. “I’m going to need more than half an hour. Please help me straighten him up.”
Madeline climbed onto the bed and turned Ciaran so he lay on his side. His face had gone lax, and his skin burned. “He has a fever,” she said.
Doctor Thomas nodded. “Yes, without the painkiller, he’d be in very poor shape. You may want to call his assistant, Lindsay, and tell him that Ciaran won’t make it to the meeting this afternoon.”
Madeline followed his instructions. She skimmed through Ciaran’s address book and called.
“This is Madeline. Doctor Thomas asked me to let you know that Ciaran won’t make it to the meeting this afternoon . . . Inform his family? . . .” Madeline saw Doctor Thomas shook his head. “No, no need to . . . He’d need . . . ah . . .” Madeline saw Doctor Thomas mime the time He’d need until tomorrow. So no more work today. Okay?”
Madeline hung up the phone. “Lindsay said to tell you he’d take care of Robert’s family.”
Doctor Thomas nodded. Noticing the flash of pain that came across Doctor Thomas’s face, Madeline caught him giving her another unusual glance. She pressed, “Who’s Robert, Doctor Thomas?”
Doctor Thomas was reluctant, but not for long. “Ciaran’s head of security. He wasn’t as lucky last night. He was shot in the head and died instantly. No pain. But he just had a daughter born last month. There will be a lot of pain for the living.”
Madeline felt a heavy weight on her chest. It was hard to breathe. It was exactly the same heavy weight she felt when Mrs. Hanson mentioned her grief. How could she have been grieving before this happened? If that was her psychic ability, it certainly wasn’t an ability she wanted to have.
She opened the window for some air, but when the cold wind rushed into the room, she closed it quickly. Someone died in an attempt to rescue her last night. What if the bullet hadn’t just been in Ciaran’s shoulder but somewhere fatal? Would there be more killing when Zen figured out she had lied to him?
Doctor Thomas looked at Ciaran, who was sleeping like a baby. “Robert and Ciaran were like brothers. Ciaran was really angry at himself last night . . .”
“At himself? Why not at me? Wasn’t it my fault?”
Doctor Thomas stared at Madeline. “Your fault? No! Ciaran was angry at the cowardice, at the actions of those who shot at you from the dark. Robert was his people, his family. I know Ciaran. He’ll never let this go. But before he does something about it, he’ll need proper rest.”
Doctor Thomas packed up his medical bag and shook his head. “I have a feeling that this one is going to be a long haul.”
“I was blackmailed for information. They shot at my friend in New York. Now, they’re shooting at me, and they ended up killing an innocent man, and almost killed Ciaran. Now I don’t have what they want. They might kill my friend tomorrow. It’s all my fault,” Madeline cried. “It’s what I did. It’s my bad karma.” Her suppressed emotions came out in a storm of tears.
Doctor Thomas held her and stroked her back like a father until the weeping subsided. “I don’t know you, Madeline,” he said. “But I have a feeling that you’re much like Ciaran. So I’ll say to you what I’ve always said to him. You can’t take responsibility for other people’s actions. You might have done something in the past that you’re not proud of. But that does not translate into what happens to others. Robert’s death cannot be because of Ciaran’s bad karma. Your friend’s fate cannot be your fault. Ciaran never listens to me. He’s been stubborn since he was a kid. But I hope you’ll give my advice some consideration.”
Doctor Thomas headed toward the door while Madeline wiped the tears from her face.
“Robert’s death came down really hard on Ciaran last night. I didn’t need three hours to operate. I just wanted him to rest. I put him on some sleep-inducing drugs. In his normal condition, it would only give him a couple of hours sleep. But given what happened last night, I don’t know how long the drug will knock him out. When he comes to, he would have any negative reactions to the anaesthetic. He’s allergic to some of the ingredients in the sedative. Because of that, he might throw a tantrum. I’ll leave that for you to handle.”
“What? Me? No—”
“Yes, you can. No one has ever made him do what he didn’t want to do. But you did it today. I am sure one of his little tantrums will be no big deal to you.” The doctor smiled and left the room.
Chapter 20
Madeline used Ciaran’s phone to ask Lindsay to arrange a new cell phone for her. Within fifteen minutes, the phone was delivered to her door.
She used the new phone to access her email. As predicted, there was a message from Zen. The message read, “We had a date and you stood me up. I’m with Jo now in London. Looking forward to seeing you again. Jo says hi, by the way. She misses you. Also, thanks for sending your friend to pay me a visit. Please send him my regards. Hope to catch up soon. Love from Zen.”
He didn’t know what she was up to. As long as she didn’t talk to him, he wouldn’t do anything drastic and wouldn’t hurt Jo. She was his only bargaining power.
Madeline sent Stephen an email asking his whereabouts and got an instant message back from his email saying he was still in transit.
She made herself a cup of coffee. The caffeine jolted her system and made her feel a lot better.
The longer she could keep Ze
n in the dark, the better it would be.
The current issue for her right now was the man lying on her bed. He had taken a bullet for her and had lost a friend for her. Yet they were total strangers.
Madeline went over to the bed, laying her hand on Ciaran’s forehead to check his temperature. She was pleased to find that it had gone down. She tucked away a strand of stray hair on his forehead.
She couldn’t help it but trace her finger over his lips. He looked so peaceful when he slept. How many women have kissed those lips? she wondered and shook her head. Mental slap.
She glanced at the clock. It had been four hours since he had fallen asleep—double the amount the doctor expected. “You’re not invincible, after all,” she said quietly and went back to the desk, using the internet from the phone to do more work.
When she next looked up, it had become dark, and she was famished.
On the bed, Ciaran stirred.
Madeline picked up the hotel phone and ordered dinner. Shortly afterward, Ciaran opened his eyes. She sat at his bedside and smiled. He didn’t smile back.
He tried to sit up and was successful on his second attempt.
Ciaran stood from the bed. He swayed with dizziness and leaned against the wall to get his balance. Madeline watched and said nothing. Ciaran grabbed his shirt and walked toward the door.
She stopped him on his way and handed him a couple of pills and a glass of water. “Painkillers. You’ll need them.”
Ciaran grunted out a thank you and downed the pills. As soon as the water hit his throat, he had only enough time to put down the glass of water before he ran to the bathroom to vomit. When he emerged, he looked pale as a ghost. Doctor Thomas was right, Ciaran hadn’t handled the anesthesia well. He put on his shirt and walked toward the door of the room. Remembering his shoes, he walked toward the bed where he had kicked them off earlier.
Dinner arrived just in time to break the awkward silence.
Damn it, she thought. She was usually a lot better at handling situations like this.
“Hungry?” she asked with a smile.
Ciaran shook his head. “I should go back to my room.”
“Why don’t you have something to eat? Doctor Thomas warned me the anesthesia wouldn’t agree with you, but you needed it. He needed to do a proper surgery, and you needed to rest.”
Ciaran gave Madeline a blank stare then smiled. “You think I’m grumpy because of that? What else did Doctor Thomas tell you?”
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t find more words so she settled with those. “I’m sorry about Robert. I’m very sorry you’ve lost your friend because of me, Ciaran.”
His eyes darkened. “It’s not your fault.” His voice was so low it was almost a growl. He backed out, nodded a goodbye to Madeline, and strode toward the door.
She grabbed him from behind and held him.
Ciaran paused.
She kissed his shoulder. Jo always said Madeline’s sultry voice was her best asset. She might as well utilize it now. She murmured, “I’m so sorry, Ciaran, I truly am.”
She felt his body tense up and turned him around. She wasn’t sure whether it was what she said or her voice that captured him. She swiped a strand of hair out of his face. Black hair framing the face of a dark angel that was looking down at her. “I think it was my fault,” she said.
He reacted, but before he could say anything, her mouth was on his.
Her kiss was persuasive. She could feel his muscles relax a bit. Madeline stopped the kiss. “Somehow you think you’re responsible for what happened. You could have ignored the distress signal from my phone. But you didn’t. And your friend died because of that.”
Ciaran said nothing.
She kissed him again. This time, the kiss was deeper.
“If you don’t accept that it was my fault, then you can’t say it’s your fault either.” She looked into his intense gray eyes which were full of inexplicable emotions.
Ciaran slid one hand around her neck and the other at her lower back, almost lifting her off the ground, and kissed her. Strong and hard. Every muscle in her body quivered. Then he released her. “It wasn’t your fault. And thank you for the sympathy kiss. I appreciate it.” He nodded a goodbye and walked straight out the door.
She paused and stared at the wall.
“What did he just say?” she thought and cursed once she’d realized he had left the room. She stormed out after him. She had to let him know that she would follow him all the way to hell and back. It was her genuine intention, she was . . .
Madeline looked around the long, dark corridor of the fifteenth century castle. She had no idea where Ciaran’s room was.
She heard a thud and realized that the door of her room had slammed behind her. Here she was, standing in a castle, wearing a hotel robe and nothing else—and without a key to get back into the room.
Chapter 21
She tiptoed across the cold tiled floor of the foyer, through a dark, cobblestoned courtyard to the reception desk and asked for a key to get back into her room.
“I’ll be fine getting back by myself. Thank you,” she said to the concierge who offered to escort her back to her room.
“Very well ma’am. And the King’s suite is on the top floor, at the end of the East Wing.”
“I’m in the Queen’s suite.”
“I know, ma’am. But I thought you . . . Oh, I beg your pardon . . .” The concierge nodded a goodbye and scurried out of the reception room as fast as he could while Madeline glared at him.
In his room, Ciaran yanked off his shirt and tossed it onto the bed. He went into the bathroom to try to get a look at his back in the mirror. He peeled the bandage off so hard that the new wound started to bleed again.
He could feel the warm blood trickling down his back. He braced his hands on the basin and closed his eyes to absorb the sensation of it.
Blood had been spilled, and he had to remember that. He’d never forgive those who harmed the people he loved and protected.
He turned on the tap to let the cold water run and then dipped his head in the running water. It didn’t stop his blood from boiling with fury. Rage.
There were two people in his life who had seen and condemned his demon. One was his father, and the other one was, ironically, Robert.
He looked at himself in the mirror and could see the fury burning in his eyes, in his soul.
He made medicine, and he was one of the best. Yet his father died with illness before he could say a parting word to him. And Robert? What could he have done to save him from a bullet in the head?
Through his haze of anger, Ciaran heard a knock on the door. He ignored it.
Then came a bang.
He brushed his hair back with his fingers, mumbled some profanity, and, leaving the water and blood to drip down his body, yanked open the door.
In front of him was Madeline in her hotel robe and bare feet—and if he was not mistaken, she was angry. Ciaran braced his arm on the door frame, more to maintain his balance than to appear intimidating.
Madeline had her hands on her hips, and he knew from the set of that beautiful mouth that venom was coming his way.
She looked him up and down, and then her arms flopped down to her sides, and her big brown eyes watered.
Ciaran cursed on the inside. “You’re here to give me another round of sympathy kisses? Or did you want to upgrade it to charity sex?” he asked.
Madeline snarled and flew at him. He caught her hand in the air before it hit his face. He could have let it slip and taken the slap. He certainly needed it.
“Leave me alone, Madeline,” Ciaran said and retreated inside.
“Oh for pity’s sake . . .” Madeline said and shoved him from behind so hard that he almost fell on his face. “You want to bleed to death, go ahead. I’ll stand here and watch. But I’m going nowhere.” She kicked the door closed.
That was it. His rage was coming on full-force. Ciaran stood up. “Get away from me. I don’t want to
hurt you.”
Madeline kept her stance, blocking the door. Ciaran tried to yank it open to shove her out, but she was a lot stronger than he thought. Or maybe he was a lot weaker. He snarled and walked back into the room. The next thing he knew, a tray of crystal and a decanter flew across the room.
“Keep your distance from Madeline, or you’ll hurt her” was the only thought in his mind at the moment. His father had been the only person who could help him control his rage. But his father wasn’t here.
Now, he had to destroy.
Had to burn.
Had to ruin.
The fury clawed at him. It was a battle between Ciaran and the inanimate objects in the room, with the objects at a distinct disadvantage in the fight. He flew at a cabinet. The cabinet doors cracked and crumbled, one after the other. He crushed the bedside table. He destroyed everything and anything within those four walls. Then he stared at the mirror in the bathroom.
He felt her hands pulling him back from behind. He heard her beg, “Please stop, Ciaran. That’s enough.”
He fell to the floor, exhausted, and Madeline grabbed a towel to stanch the bleeding from his wound. He got up, staggered to the bed, and dropped face down onto a pillow, letting the fury wash over him.
It was strong and irresistible, and there was nothing he could do about it. Then he felt the warmth of her hands, wiping the blood from his back.
In his near delirium, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Please stay.”
Chapter 22
A few hours passed. Madeline still stared at the broken cabinet doors. Lying in the bed in Ciaran’s arms, she felt every movement of his body, his energy. Their bodies fit like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that were meant to be next to each other.
What would the big picture be like? Her life? His life? And everyone else around them? Would they make a complete picture? Would the other pieces fit to one another?
His heart rate had slowed, the pain that was seeping out of his pores had subdued, and he was once again peacefully asleep. Then he stirred. Madeline propped up on her elbow and rolled away from Ciaran. He opened his eyes, then sprung to his feet.
