We All Sleep Alone (Finley Creek Book 11)

by Calle J. Brookes

To make this work, he’d have to be very careful.

  Izzie was still sound asleep in his passenger seat. Allen left her there and unlocked the kitchen door and stepped into Logan’s parents’ home. A fresh wave of grief hit him, like it did every time he was there.

  Maybe that was why neither he nor Shelby were in a great hurry for her to move there yet.

  Too many good memories.

  It had been his second home for a while there. He wouldn’t have made it through losing his own parents and being suddenly saddled with a fifteen-year-old without Logan’s family to help him back then.

  The Lannings had become their family.

  There were guns in the study, locked in cabinets that Shelby had mentioned having removed when she finally moved in.

  Shelby was severely frightened of guns after what had happened to her five years ago. There was no way she was going to be able to move in with weapons in the house. Allen had promised to see them sold. Tonight, Barry’s collection was going to come in handy. Tonight, he had more respect for the man Barry had been than he ever had been before. Barry had taken Allen and Logan shooting several times, making certain both of them had known exactly how to handle those weapons.

  He’d told Allen a tool was only as good as the man wielding it, and that he hoped what he had taught them was never needed. Allen had needed to know it.

  It was one of his father’s guns that Logan had used that night.

  Allen flinched as he remembered what had happened.

  No. He wasn’t going to let himself think of that. Not tonight.

  Not with Izzie there, dependent on him.

  He wanted, needed, to protect her. Allen knew himself well enough to understand that.

  No doubt, it stemmed from his failure to protect Jess, and Shelby. Lacy, Jillian, and Ariella. Izzie and Nikkie Jean before. Logan.

  For some reason, he’d conflated Jess and Izzie in his head. Dark hair, dark eyes, targeted at the hospital where they worked. Vulnerable and almost alone.

  Needing him. Even though Jess had needed him for selfish reasons, she’d still made him feel needed before he’d found out the truth about her.

  Allen missed being needed. He understood himself well enough to know that.

  Izzie wasn’t a damned thing like Jess. Izzie was far more…real. She probably wouldn’t welcome his interference in her life—once she tuned back into reality. He didn’t care.

  He was going to keep that woman safe. Period.

  Honest. She was honest to a damned fault—and loved to point out his failings to him.

  Unlike the rest of the nurses on staff—this one had no bones telling him when she thought he was wrong. She didn’t tiptoe around him, either.

  He respected that.

  Allen found what he was looking for in the gun cabinet in Barry’s study. There in the floor underneath a rug that cost more than some people made in a year, was another forty thousand dollars in stacks of twenties, fifties, and hundreds tucked away in a tiny, fireproof safe.

  He’d not have to hit an ATM after all. Forty thousand would keep them for a long, long time. If they were careful.

  Allen took it all, including the safe—though technically he supposed it was Shelby’s, as the contents of the house and the house itself was fully in her name. He’d pay it back—when this ended and Izzie was safe.

  He had to face the facts. He had no confidence that the TSP would find Izzie’s attackers anytime soon. This could drag out indefinitely. They had no idea how long this was going to last.

  They needed that money.

  He returned to the garage in time to see a still-drowsy Izzie climb gingerly out of the passenger seat, a terrified look on her pretty face.

  One curl stuck straight up on her head. Never had she looked more like a lost waif than she did right then.

  The sweatshirt Nikkie Jean had helped her dress in was Allen’s and far too big. It hung almost to the knees of her jade green scrubs.

  “Can you explain what am I doing here?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I wouldn’t be asking if I did.” Big dark eyes stared at him suspiciously. Fearfully.

  “Do you remember the attack in the W4HAV parking lot?”

  She hesitated a moment, then nodded. “I think so. Starting to. It’s a bit cloudy.”

  “That’s the sedative they gave you before fixing your arm. We all agreed that would be the quickest, quietest way to keep your presence unknown. It’ll wear off shortly.”

  Her eyes were trained on the gun in his hand. Wide and scared. She would be after what had happened to her.

  Allen had almost forgotten he still held it. He put it in the duffel bag with the rest of the supplies he’d scrounged together. “Elliot Marshall and Rafe decided that you needed to be removed from the city before whoever has targeted you realized you escaped. If they already haven’t.” He wasn’t going to lie to her or sugarcoat. This woman was made of steel, despite her fragile appearance at the moment. “I volunteered to make that happen.”

  “Why? Why you?” She rubbed a small, slender hand over her eyes, seemingly started to see it encased in a temporary air splint. When she looked at him, all the questions were written right there for him to see.

  “I made the most sense.” It was a wonder the crazy woman was even on her feet. Allen stepped toward her.

  Izzie immediately stepped back. “Where exactly are we?”

  He hesitated. There had been no love lost between the nurses and Logan. Far from it. He’d started to hear rumors within a week after Logan had died about how his friend had treated some of the less experienced—younger, more easily targeted—nurses around the ER.

  Apparently, according to Nikkie Jean and Lacy, Izzie had been a favorite target. “We’re at Logan’s place. He left it to my sister. I needed a place to hide my car.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re leaving. The two of us. Together. That was one thing Marshall was clear on. We’re leaving Finley Creek.” Allen made a split-second decision. Izzie was stubborn and hard-headed. She was likely to balk the instant she realized what his plan actually was. “As quickly as we possibly can.”

  It was probably best if he seized the upper hand now while she wasn’t quite capable of fighting back.

  The woman was bound to argue. They didn’t have the time for that.

  He tossed the duffel bag with the gun and spare clothes he’d grabbed from some of Logan’s old things from the guestroom closets into the van.

  Allen stalked to her. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her gently until they were practically nose to nose. Those eyes of hers—told him everything she was feeling. “We’re leaving in that van. You are going to actually sit down, shut up, and do what you’re told until we get somewhere safe. I don’t want you to worry about anything but resting. I’ll handle all the heavy lifting tonight.”

  Drowsy brown eyes stared at him. She was shocked. He didn’t care.

  It was best to get the upper hand with this woman early on. Otherwise, she’d be challenging him every step of the way.

  He stared at her, feeling like something indefinable was shifting within him. Like his world was changing in an instant and he had to be prepared for whatever came. It would most definitely involve her.

  Izzie kicked him.

  Right in the shin.

  Allen grunted and dropped her—a little more carelessly than he should have. He’d have to remember that the little waspish woman would sting when she got angry enough. “That was a bit unnecessary, Nurse Izzie.”

  “Hands to yourself, Dr. Jacobson.”

  “In the van.” He inspected her quickly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No. I’m not getting in that van with you. I’m not made of glass, you know—you didn’t hurt me. I can take care of myself. Despite recent evidence to the contrary.”

  “Izzie, don’t make me put you there. I can do it, too. You won’t be able to stop me. Now, in, lady. I’m tire
d and sore, and I want to get someplace safe for the night sooner rather than later. You’re going to have to tolerate me for a few days.” Weeks. Elliot had indicated it could be a few weeks when he’d thanked Allen for stepping up. Told him again that he didn’t have to do this. There was no way Allen was going to tell the woman that, though.

  “Why you?” She raised her chin and shot him a challenging look, just visible in the low light of the garage. “How did I get stuck with you instead of Jake or someone else from the TSP? I wouldn’t mind being on the lam with Daniel McKellen or Mike Evers.”

  The last was said around a yawn. He’d make a point of checking her every few hours. Drowsiness could be a sign of complications from the concussion. Although a sedative did the exact same thing.

  “Anyone but me, huh?” He wrapped his fingers around the sweatshirt band. She wasn’t escaping him. “Well, I’m the one you’re stuck with. I’m the one who carried you into the damned hospital. I’m the one who made certain you were going to be ok. I’m the one who fought to protect you tonight. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. For some reason, I’m the one trusted to keep you safe now. I take that seriously.”

  “Why don’t I remember any of this?” She was trembling beneath his hands. Allen tightened his hold.

  She truly was an attractive, intriguing woman. Big extra-dark brown eyes were surrounded by long black eyelashes that almost looked fake.

  Fairy eyes.

  Her skin was faintly olive. There were freckles on her high cheekbones, but they were light. A man had to look extra-close to see them. Her lips were pink and soft looking.

  The chin was small and pointed and stubborn. Extra stubborn, if a chin could be.

  No surprise there.

  She was too thin—a testament to the hell she’d recently been through—and a bit shorter than average.

  Quietly beautiful in an understated way.

  Allen took a step toward the van, guiding her with him. She wasn’t going to like what he did, but damn it, he was going to keep her safe.

  “In, lady. We have an escape to make at the moment.”

  55

  This was crazy. She’d basically been abducted by Allen Jacobson.

  Her friends had been in on it.

  Izzie hated that she had missed such an important conversation that pertained to her life here. “What did Jake say?”

  “After we wheeled you into Rafe’s office through the back way—Rafe did that with Nikkie Jean by his side—you settled on Rafe’s couch and fell asleep. A great stream of drool was left on the leather, by the way. The rest of us discussed what happened, why it happened, and how to deal with it. Especially Marshall and Rafe.”

  “What were you doing? Where was Jake?”

  “No one could reach him, Izzie. Believe me: they tried. Even Marshall. As for me, I was keeping Nikkie Jean from calling the governor and requesting the national guard be assigned to follow your every move for the rest of your life. That, or the FBI had been mentioned as a possible resource. Or sending you to a shipping-container fortress somewhere in St. Louis, complete with a dozen armed guards.”

  Well, ok, she could almost see that being necessary. Nikkie Jean being involved with Rafe’s twin meant that her calling the governor—who was married to Rafe’s sister—was a distinct possibility. Nikkie Jean didn’t panic often, but when she did, it was chaos. When Nikkie Jean was afraid, it was so much worse. Panicked and afraid—catastrophe. “But why you?”

  “Because Marshall insisted that I stay close. Trying to limit who knew I was out there with you.”

  “Why?”

  “No one saw us out there together. Nikkie Jean and Rafe were already on their way outside. He was walking her back to the hospital to get her things and was going to take her back to his and Jillian’s place to meet up with his uncle and the children, who were visiting. If they hadn’t already been in the hall at W4HAV, they wouldn’t have heard me yelling in time to chase off the attackers. Marshall wants to use that to the TSP’s advantage right now.”

  “How is that going to work? Don’t you have—oh, I don’t know—twenty-something surgeries scheduled for the next few weeks? A life to get back to? A girlfriend? A wife? Sixteen kids and a dog somewhere?” She was most definitely grumbling at him. The fear was gone from the big, dark pixie eyes.

  She’d been so afraid when she’d first looked at him. Terrified. No wonder. She’d wakened in a place she definitely hadn’t fallen asleep in, with a man she didn’t really know all that well.

  Something about her fear punched him right in the gut. Brought out every protective instinct he had. “Nikkie Jean has decided to put it around that Rafe asked me to take his place. Virat is going to run my department temporarily while I take this opportunity. Basically, I’m your cover. As for you, Nikkie Jean and Marshall concocted a nice little story of you being in a car accident because of the storm. You’re off on medical leave. Again.”

  “Good thing I only used half my leave last time. This is getting insane.”

  Allen stood there, pointing toward the passenger seat. Waiting. She’d have more to say.

  He had a feeling Izzie would have definite opinions on just about everything.

  He almost couldn’t wait. When she practically growled at him, Allen smiled.

  He hadn’t felt this alive and actually useful for in a long time.

  “I’m sorry they pulled you into this. They shouldn’t have.” Izzie wavered between anger and embarrassment. “I’d have been ok tucked into the hospital somewhere for a day or two while I slept off the effects of the concussion.”

  Those effects had her fighting off a yawn. Yawning would weaken her position and she knew it.

  “I don’t think you’d have been able to hide that long. Not at FCGH. Far too easy to find you out there.”

  She was going to clobber Nikkie Jean—this whole thing had the earmarks of her best friend’s machinations. Not able to call out the governor like she’d wanted, of course Nikkie Jean would manage to find a way to whisk Izzie as far out of danger as she possibly could. With one of the few people on the planet Nikkie Jean actually trusted.

  What Izzie didn’t understand was what he was going to get out of it.

  “What else did Nikkie Jean say?”

  “She wasn’t saying much at all,” he said in that same unhurriedly maddening tone. He kept dragging her toward the shiny silver van that probably cost more than Nikkie Jean—a pediatric surgeon—made in a year. The tires alone probably cost more than Izzie made in a month. “She was too scared. She loves you.”

  That reminder had her going along with him. Nikkie Jean had had enough trouble lately. She didn’t need to be worrying about Izzie at the moment. Nikkie Jean still felt guilty for Izzie getting shot. She still blamed herself for not recognizing Wallace Henedy as her mother’s lover from Nikkie Jean’s childhood.

  Guilt and pregnancy hormones had convinced Nikkie Jean she was responsible for Izzie. Completely.

  If Izzie didn’t know where Nikkie Jean was coming from, it would have driven her crazy. Nikkie Jean was acting out of love. Izzie totally understood. She would have probably done the same thing for Nikkie Jean. “What did she do? Blackmail you into taking custody of me?”

  “Something like that.” He unlocked the passenger door, and before Izzie could evade him, he wrapped strong hands around her waist and lifted her into the seat. Ok, so he was just as strong as he looked. Nothing wimpy about him. Ripcord lean and strong. His hands practically scorched her through the bulky sweatshirt she was engulfed in. “Stay, lady.”

  “You need a dog, Allen. Something you can train to follow your every command.” But she stayed. She wasn’t afraid of him—not really—and she still hadn’t shaken off the sedative.

  Maybe. She was getting a clearer head by the minute. Headache of doom was there—but she was starting to be able to think again.

  No thought she had right now was a good one.

  Allen, her new abductor, had taken charge and t
here was no denying that.

  She was too loopy right now to fight him. When the sedative wore off, she’d be in too much pain to care what was going on or where she was. Or who she was with.

  Izzie had had enough pain to last a lifetime.

  Sobering thought.

  She fingered the new cast on her left arm. She had an air splint on the right. Her right leg burned and ached every time she moved.

  She couldn’t even drive herself anywhere right now. Even with the sedative, she still felt the pain. Enough to remind her that it was about to get a whole lot worse.

  Just how completely dependent on him she was at that moment struck her.

  He was her only hope in the real world for the foreseeable future.

  All alone and stuck with Dr. Allen Jacobson. She wondered what the doofy first-shift nurses would have to say about that.

  “What did you and Nikkie Jean give me, anyway?” It had to be the sedative clouding her head or something.

  He named the sedative, and she tried to remember the side effects. Could cause drowsiness—she remembered that part, at least. No kidding. “Head still groggy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Probably will be for another hour or two. It was one of the safest sedatives, barely a step up from a local.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  In pain? That was a mild description. She’d had enough broken bones recently to know what it felt like. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry. The break was relatively mild at least. Colles fracture, and not too bad of one. Easily reduced. Rafe and the ortho tech handled that and decided conservative treatment was all that was needed. No surgery. You’ll need to do X-rays in about a month, if we can manage that. You got lucky. Those bastards slammed you to the concrete pretty hard. Hard enough I heard you hit—over the storm. I actually expected more damage than what you have.”

  “I know.” She winced when she remembered what had happened. There was one indisputable fact. If he hadn’t been there, she’d be dead right now. Or in such serious trouble she couldn’t even begin to contemplate it at the moment. “Thank you, by the way. For getting me inside, for…fighting them off.” For saving her life again. They could have killed him. Taken her. It put things into clearer perspective. “It’s starting to become a habit with you, isn’t it? Tornado, active shooter, crazy abductors in the rain.”