Chapter 18

My eyes slowly opened. I was in a hospital. That much was clear. Beyond the window, the sky was black with a light smattering of stars. I remembered the cabin. Derek. The gun shots. Everything in my body hurt, but mostly, my chest, my side, felt like someone had plunged a knife in me.

Painfully, I turned my head to find Josie sitting by my bedside. I frowned in confusion, trying to remember the last thing that had taken place regarding her. Oh, yeah. She’d disappeared, left drug paraphernalia in my house. Was she here to steal my pain pills?

“Roe?” Tears choked her voice. She scooted to the edge of her chair and looked at me, her eyes wet. I immediately felt guilty about my suspicions.

“Hi,” I croaked.

“How are you, sweetie?”

“Hurts.”

“I’ll get the doctor.”

She rose and it was then I noticed Adam. He stood just inside the door.

“Hey,” he said, coming over to my bedside. “You gave us all quite a scare.”

Before I could respond, the doctor appeared behind him. “You’ll need to leave, please,” he told Adam. “You can come back in a little while.”

Adam nodded and reached out to squeeze my hand before leaving.

“I’m Dr. Mesnick,” he said, patting my arm. He was middle-aged with graying hair and kind, hazel eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses. “How are you feeling, Miss Donovan?”

“Sore, thirsty, strange, woozy.”

He smiled, nodding. “Not surprising after what you’ve been through. If it weren’t for the pain beds we’re pumping through you, you’d be feeling a lot more than sore.”

“What happened? What’s wrong with me?”

“You were shot in the hand. Not a serious injury, but painful. The bullet passed through. You broke your ankle falling down the stairs, but the worst of your injuries are three broken ribs, one of which punctured a lung. Much longer without medical care, and you might not have made it.”

I remembered Derek’s look of concern, his decision, his running out the door. Had the man who’d caused all the trouble also been the one to save my life?

And, what had happened to him? The gunshots… had he shot someone or been shot himself? Or both? Cops were outside, was…

“Lane? Is he okay?”

The doctor frowned. “Lane?”

“Detective Brody. Cops were outside the cabin. What happened?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. But, there is a detective who’s been anxiously waiting to speak with you. He’s right outside. Let me check you over and I’ll send him in.”

I closed my eyes, happiness sweeping through me. Hurry, Doc, hurry. When he was finished, I could see Lane.

The doctor took what seemed like hours, but was really just a few minutes, to check me over. He nodded. “Everything looks good. I’ll send the detective in, but just for a little while. You need your rest. Tomorrow you’ll feel more like having visitors. Your family is outside, too, but I’d rather them wait until tomorrow to come in.”

I nodded. Who cared? Lane was here.

“I’ll be back in to check on you tomorrow,” Doctor Mesnick said, then he left.

I stared anxiously at the door, but felt like my lung had been punctured again when Detective Webber walked in.

“Miss Donovan, how are you?”

Tears surfaced and I shook my head.

His brows furrowed with concern. “Should I get the doc back in?”

“No,” I said. “I’m okay. Just a little…” Confused? Worried? Broken-hearted? “Lane? Detective Brody? Is he okay?”

A knowing look came into his eyes. He nodded. “He’s fine. Taking care of some paperwork.”

Ah, yes. Paperwork. Great. Paperwork had to get done.

“What happened? With Derek?”

A heavy sigh. “He ran out the front door, shooting at us. Didn’t hit anyone, but we…” A shrug. “We had to take him out.”

“Dead?”

Webber nodded. “We’ll need to ask you some questions, if you feel up to it.”

I wondered why cops always said ‘we,’ even when there was only one of them. Maybe silly, inane thoughts like that would keep my mind off Lane, and the fact that he wasn’t the one here. That he wasn’t concerned enough about me to come check on me himself. Instead, he was doing paperwork.

I pushed back the disappointment, pushed back the tears. “Okay,” I said. Starting to feel my eyes droop, figuring the pain beds were taking hold, I said, “Ask away. But you might want to make it quick. Not sure how long I can stay awake.”

****

The next morning, Josie was once more at my bedside. “I only have a minute,” she said. “Your mother is chomping at the bit to come in. We’ve been taking turns in and out of your room, but I was lucky enough to be in here when you woke up.”

“How are you?” I asked. I was feeling better. The pain was still there, but dull and not as severe.

“I’m fine. How about you?”

I nodded. “Getting better.”

“I was so afraid.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought you might die.”

“I was afraid when I got home and found the…” I looked around. We were alone. I lowered my voice. “The drug paraphernalia.”

“Matt came by. He did the coke, not me. He insisted I go with him and I was afraid if you came home while he was there, he might hurt you. So, I went with him. I didn’t do drugs. I promise. I’m still clean.”

“Where’s Matt?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I managed to get away from him.”

“He’s still not in custody?”

“No. But, the cops are looking for him. I told them where I’d last seen him, all his hangouts. Hopefully, they’ll find him soon.”

There was a noise behind her and I looked up to see Adam come in the room. Josie turned, too, then looked back at me, rolling her eyes. “I guess it’s his turn. If you want to see him.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “We’ll talk again later.”

Josie stood and gave Adam a quelling look before she left. He took her place in the chair.

“How are you?” he asked, his handsome face clenched in worry. I was quickly growing tired of the question.

“I’m okay. You? Tabitha?”

“We’re both fine, thanks to you. You saved our lives.”

I shrugged. “It all just happened so quickly.”

“Did you see this?”

Adam held a newspaper out. I took it.

The headline read, ‘Serial Killer Shot to Death in Showdown with Police.’ Underneath, there was a smaller caption: ‘Jilted Lover takes a Bullet for Ex.’

“What?” Fury swept through me. “I’d say that’s twisting facts just a bit.”

“Well, you did risk your life to save us.”

“I didn’t mean to take a bullet for you. I was just trying to deflect his aim. I don’t particularly want you dead,” I ground the words through clenched teeth, “but I wouldn’t risk my own life to prevent it. At least, not on purpose.”

“Hey, calm down. You did a brave thing, whether it was instinctive or not.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m really tired. I appreciate you coming by, but I think I need to rest.”

“Okay. But, I wanted to say a few things first.”

I sighed and gave a weary nod.

“Tabitha and I are through.”

My eyes flew open. “What?”

He shrugged. “I’ve always sort of known she wasn’t the best person in the world, but I had this uncontrollable fascination with her. She was like a fantasy woman, you know?”

I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure what kind of fantasy would conjure up a cartoon-voiced, egotistical, narcissist, but, to each his own.

“But after what Derek said about her. After what you did. I couldn’t help compare you two, and I was an idiot to let you go.”

“What are you trying to say, Adam?”

He sighed. “I want another chance. I realize how shallow Tabitha is, how shallow I’ve been to choose her over you. Do you think there’s a possibility we can try again?”

I lay there, waiting for the surge of elation, or at least the surge of satisfaction, but neither came. I didn’t want Adam. Didn’t want to have this conversation.

“I’m sorry, Adam. It’s too late for us.”

He looked down to where his clenched hands rested between his knees. “I was afraid of that. It’s someone else, isn’t it? Lane Brody?”

I shook my head. “There’s no one else. There doesn’t have to be someone else for me to know I don’t want to be with you.”

His head rose and he stared at me for a moment, then slowly nodded. “I see. Well, even so. Would you stay at the paper?” Before I could respond, he rushed on. “Not writing obituaries. I want you to have the crime desk.”

“A pity promotion?” I asked, knowing I’d take it even if it was. I hadn’t found another job and this was what I wanted.

“No. You deserve the position. Deserved it all along.”

“What about Phillip?”

“I can’t take it away from him. You can both do it. How does that sound?”

“I’ll let you know for sure when I’m out of here.”

I was sure my decision had been made, though. Already, my adrenaline was pumping at the thought of sinking my teeth back into crime stories.

“You know, I don’t blame you for not wanting to be with me. Truth is, you’re too good for me.”

I peered at him. I wasn’t used to humility from him. Wasn’t sure what his angle was. “You’re in hero worship mode right now. You’ll come to your senses.”

“Nah,” He shook his head and stood. “I might be blind, but I’m not a total idiot. I know what I lost. I just hope the next guy realizes what a catch you are. If not, I’ll be waiting to take my shot.”

I didn’t remind him there was no next guy. Didn’t mention that the only guy I wanted to be next was married. Unattainable. And, nowhere around when I so desperately needed him to be.

****

Over the next few days, I had a steady stream of visitors. Asia, my mom, my dad, my brothers, Naomi, my co-workers, Josie again, Detective Webber. Almost everyone I could think of. Except for the one person I wanted to see most.

Finally, on the third day of my hospital stay, the day before I was to be released, Lane showed up.

I was breathless and a little shaky from showering and brushing my teeth, more activity than I’d had in days. My body ached, but the majority of the pain was masked by the pain beds pumping through my system from the IV.

Mom and Dad were there, as were Gable and Mitchum. Coburn and Naomi had just left.

When Lane walked in, Mom turned to him. “Who are you?”

“Detective Brody, ma’am.”

“Well,” she said in her ready-to-do-battle voice, “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve wanted to give you people a piece of my mind. How dare you let my daughter get hurt, almost killed? It’s your duty to protect the citizens and you—”

“Mother,” I interrupted. “Detective Brody isn’t here in an official capacity.” He was, but I wanted to stop her tirade. “He’s here to see me, personally. Lane, this is my mother, Rosalyn.” I introduced the rest of my family members and Mom’s expression softened.

“Oh, my. I see.” A hand fluttered to her heart. “Lane, so nice to meet you.”

Lane shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, then smiled, and my pulse sped up. “Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Donovan. Trust me, I’m devastated that Monroe was injured.” His eyes went to me. “If I could have done anything to prevent it, I would have. I haven’t been able to sleep knowing she almost died.”

Oh, brother. He was pouring it on thick. If he meant even half of that, he probably wouldn’t have waited three days to come see me.

Mom turned to me. “Monroe,” she said, her conciliatory tone morphing into admonishment. “Couldn’t you have at least combed your hair?” She brushed my hair down with her fingertips and straightened my covers, adjusting the hospital gown around my shoulders.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said.

She placed a kiss on my forehead, whispering, “Don’t slouch, dear, it makes you look heavier than you are.”

I gritted my teeth until my family made their exit.

Lane stood beside my bed, staring down at me. Beard stubble shadowed his jaw and, even though it had only been a few days since I’d seen him, his hair seemed longer—hanging just below the top of the collar on his black button-down shirt.

He looked good, very good, but tired. Dark shadows rimmed his eyes and his features were tight, drawn with lines of tension. I looked into the stormy blue of his gaze and my heart nearly burst with joy. Just because he was here.

“So,” he said after a few moments of silence. “How’re we coming along, comb-wise?”

I laughed, feeling the tension ease from my spine. “Hard to look at, huh?”

He shook his head and took his hands from his pockets. Dropping into the chair next to my bed, he said, “Not hard to look at. Hard to keep my hands off you.”

I drew in a breath. “Yeah? But not so hard to stay away from, right? This is the first time you’ve been by.”

“I’ve come by quite a few times, actually. Each time, though, you were out like a puppy in a pickup.”

I smiled, kneading the blankets with my fingers as I spoke. “Must be the drugs.”

“Did Tony tell you about Harmon’s will?”

I shook my head.

“He left all his money to the homeless shelter.”

I remembered the look in Derek’s eyes just before he ran out the door. He had to know he wouldn’t survive. “Suicide by cop?”

“Looks that way.” He didn’t say which of them shot him. I didn’t ask.

“Kind of sucks that Carrington and Utley were the targets,” Lane said. “Yet you got the worst of it.”

Yeah, I thought, I got the worst of it all right. Because I’ll never have you.

We sat in awkward silence for a bit, then Lane said, “I’m not sure what to do here.”

“About?”

He sighed and reached out to take my uninjured hand in his. “About the fact that I think I might be crazy about you.”

I lifted my brows. “Think you might? That’s not the most ardent declaration I’ve ever heard. Where did you learn your wooing technique, from Attila the Hun?”

He laughed and his eyes locked onto mine. “Okay. How’s this? I know I’m crazy about you, and it scares the hell out of me.”

I pulled my hand away, liking the warmth that coursed through me from his touch a little too much. “Since you’re married, this probably isn’t a discussion we should even be having.”

“I know.” He looked down, then back up at me, his eyes filled with agony. “How much do you know about my marriage? My wife?”

I shrugged, not wanting to tell him Asia told me she was a mental patient. “Really not anything. Other than that she’s ill. You know, what little you told me.”

“My wife cheated on me during our marriage. She had an affair with a friend of mine. A fellow cop.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s not the worst of it. Although I left Catherine when it happened, I took her back. I thought the affair was over.”

“But it wasn’t?”

“No. I was called out one night to a shooting at a motel. It was Catherine. She’d murdered her lover because he was going to leave her.”

I drew in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. “That must have been…” I couldn’t find the words.

Lane gave a humorless laugh. “It was pretty rough. She showed more passion in killing her lover than she had toward me during our entire marriage.”

“She was found unfit to stand trial?”

“Yeah. She’d already been under a psychiatrist’s care. Had some episodes throughout her life, even as early as her teens. I knew she was unstable when I married her. I just had no idea how unstable. Besides, I thought I could help.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh and shook his head. “She’s in a mental institution now. Not really aware of what’s going on. Or what happened back then.”

“Yet you haven’t divorced her?”

“It’s been a difficult decision. I’ve always felt I should wait until she wasn’t so… I don’t know… defenseless.” He raised his gaze to the ceiling, then back down, shaking his head. “My mother was horrified at the thought of me abandoning my wife. No matter what she’d done. Mom is still bitter over my dad’s desertion and thinks only the lowest form of humanity would do that to another person. I know how passive, how wimpy this must sound, but it was easier to give in to the pressure, since I didn’t have to actually live with Catherine. I wrestle every day with whether to cut her loose and reclaim my life, or see it through to its bitter conclusion.”

I nodded, but I didn’t understand, not really.

“Now, though. After meeting you. After falling—” He stopped and I held my breath, wanting him to say it, yet not wanting him to. He didn’t. “After all that’s happened, I’ve realized. I want to be free. I can’t live like this any longer. I spoke with an attorney today.”

“You’re not… you didn’t do it for me, did you? I can’t have that burden on me. You need to do it because it’s the right thing for you. For your life.”

“No. It needed doing. It was way past due.” He came to his feet and stared down at me. “I’m not sure what will happen now. What I’m facing as far as the divorce, but I don’t want to lose whatever you and I might have.”

“Lane, I can’t be romantically involved with you. Even with the divorce. It’s just too soon after. I’ve been down that road.”

“I understand,” he said, but I heard the disappointment in his voice. “No pressure. I just want to be in your life. Be around you. I want to take it slowly with you, but I do want to take it.”

I closed my eyes, feeling a lump of tears in my throat. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Feeling the way we do… I don’t know. Maybe it would be best to put some distance between us. I’m afraid if I’m around you, I won’t be able to…” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “I’ll want you too much,” I finally confessed.

His eyes roamed over my face, as if taking in every detail. They stilled when they reached my lips.

“A human heart beats an average of 100,000 times every twenty-four hours,” he said softly. “Mine just did that in sixty seconds.”

My throat and lips suddenly felt so dry I wouldn’t have been surprised if tumbleweeds formed inside my mouth. I slowly ran my tongue over my parched lips, wishing for ice chips, but I couldn’t speak, not even to ask for them.

His gaze followed my movements and he gave a long, ragged sigh. “Monroe…” he whispered hoarsely, bending toward me.

My breath caught as his head drifted down. I knew what was going to happen, but I didn’t stop it. Just waited for that first touch of his lips on mine. And then, it was there. First, I felt the rasp of his whiskers against my face—slightly painful, yet in a good way, a delicious, thrilling way—then, the burning touch of his mouth. Shock waves coursed through me and I whimpered as his lips—first tender, then more insistent—pressed against mine.

It was inevitable, had been from the moment we’d first met. This kiss… this explosion of pent-up yearning. His hand wound into my hair as he pulled me from the pillows, melding me even closer to him. My ribs twinged from my injury but I barely noticed, and I most definitely didn’t want to end the kiss.

His tongue was warm and insistent, probing against mine. I opened to him, feeling the need to cry… to laugh… to shout from the rooftops as my heart thumped its painful, rapturous rhythm.

Then, just as abruptly as it started, it was over.

He released me and I almost groaned in frustration. Or, maybe I did. My ears were ringing and I wasn’t sure which sounds escaped and which ones were trapped inside my body.

Lane dragged in a swift breath and ran shaking fingers through his hair. He looked down at me, guilt and longing showing on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. And then he was gone.