Deadly Secrets (32 page)

For a second, a fleeting second, the fear vanished as she looked at him.

Ella. His Ella looked back.

Blink.

Fear, shock and confusion slid back into her, the blue shifting more to green.

He ran a hand over her hair, wrong hair on her. The lackluster brunette, with a bit of red, was plain and dull against the white pillow. He was used to seeing it shimmer in whatever color she had chosen. Now it was longer and touching her shoulders. He’d noticed the roots looked red to him, as burnished as his own. Why did she cover up such a beautiful color?

He had never thought of her having normal hair. Or he had, in a vague,
I wonder what she would look like normal . . .
thought. Stupid thought. She looked wrong.

Wrong and lovely.

And still his, by some twist of fate or God’s grace, she was his—at least legally.

But her eyes weren’t bright and full of laughter like he remembered. Her hair—he missed the blue color. Blue or purple or whatever color.

“Hey,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

She shivered and he realized her head was damp. Sweat. Cold sweat.

“Bad dream. That’s all it was.” He kept his voice calm, noting how her eyes darted around the room. How she searched, looked with fear fighting hope.

“You’re safe now, Ella.”

A breath shuddered out and she closed her eyes.

Quinlan kept running the tips of his fingers over the edge of her ear as he brushed her hair back. And again.

Her hand moved, and without opening her eyes, she stopped his hand. Her fingers trembled and then she clasped his hand, her fingers tightening.

“Quinlan?” her voice trembled and then she opened her eyes and focused on him. “Quinlan? Is it really you?” she barely whispered. More like a fractured whisper.

“Yes, baby, I’m here.”

Her eyes held his and filled. “How? When? I made it? You made it?”

She tried to swallow, licked her lips.

He sighed and reached over, pouring her some water. He opened the straw, pulled it free and set it in the water, all the while wondering how to . . .

He stared at her for a moment as she took a tentative drink and he wondered what to tell her. What to keep from her. The cops didn’t tell him, the doctor didn’t say anything other than to keep her calm. How the hell did he do that?

How could she not tell him?

Did he even really know her?

Yes. You know her
.

“What do you remember?” he asked, setting the cup on the bedside table. He let go for a moment to lower the rail on the side of her bed before sitting beside her. He reached for her hand again, careful of the bandages around her wrists, and she clasped it. Her brows furrowed and she looked at him, as if trying to remember.

“I called you. I called and we talked.”

Several months too damned late, but he didn’t say that. Instead, he nodded. “You did. You did, surprised the hell out of me. I’d all but given up and . . . Never mind.” He looked down and then met her gaze again. “You’re alive and safe, the other. . .” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

He tried to understand. Tried to . . .

Her breath came faster, her fingers tightened on his. “Should have told you sooner. So much sooner. But I was scared and stupid. So stupid. But I knew time was running out. They were going to take it. Take it anyway. I told them no. Time and again. No. No. I wanted the baby. I told him they were watching me, but I didn’t have proof. He always wanted proof and I think . . . I think he lied too, but . . .”

Now she was breathing like she’d run a mile and the machine was beeping.

“Calm down. Deep breath . . . Ella. Ella.” Her eyes looked past him. “Ella, look at me. Right here. Look at me.”

He took a deep breath himself, hoping she’d follow. The scents of disinfectant, bleach, and old food hit him. Hospitals. They all smelled the same. He should know, having practically spent half of his childhood in one. “Right here. Eyes on mine. Remember?”

Why he’d said that he had no idea. A memory flashed in his mind, they’d stood in front of Elvis and she’d been nervous. He’d said that then. Her aquamarine eyes had locked onto his. The image burned its way into his brain. Her hair was cotton-candy blue then with pink tips. And then she’d smiled at him, a bright wonderful smile, her eyes flashing with nerves and humor.

There were no nerves now. No humor.

Only confusion. Only weariness and panic.

Panic.

He’d kill someone for putting that look of terrified helplessness in her eyes alone.

Forget whatever else the bastards had done, and they’d sure as hell done plenty.

“Oh, God, Quin. Where is she? She’s so tiny! Where . . .” Her voice was so broken and raspy.

“Ella—”

She interrupted him. “Lisa. I thought she was my friend,” she whispered to him, twisting on the bed, as if to sit up. He held her down, felt her trembling. “I remember. I packed my bag. Was ready to leave to go see you. The car was packed. I didn’t even tell him I was leaving. I didn’t care anymore about helping them, I just had to leave. I called, spoke to another agent, and she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. What if he works with them? I had to get to you. I was scared they’d stop me some way. Scared that I couldn’t save her.” Her words tumbled and tripped over each other. Her voice sounded scratchy and hoarse. Like a really bad case of laryngitis.

“Who? Who did you trust?” he asked, hearing people out in the hallway.

“Baby. Our baby, Quin.” Tears filled her eyes, trembled onto the edge before trickling over to slide down her pale cheeks. “They took her. I know it. They took her. She took her. I couldn’t get away! I couldn’t get away! My baby!” she tried to scream, but it came out as a high-pitched wheeze.

“Who, Ella? Who did this to you?” He rubbed her arms, trying to calm her down, seeing her stats skyrocket.

“Lisa. The tea. Drugged the tea at my house, I think. The tea on the couch. Lisa.” She started to strain, her hands shaking in his.

The door opened and a nurse came in, the federal agent behind the nurse.

“Lisa who?”

“Hammerstein. Lisa . . . The—the bed. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t move!”

“Shhh. Enough. Enough, Ella.” He picked up her trembling fingers, touched her bandaged wrists.

The nurse was checking the stats on the monitor and shaking her head as alarms began to sound.

“Ella, Ella, look at me,” the agent said from beside the bed.

She never looked away from his own eyes, never glancing to see the agent.

“My baby. I want . . . Couldn’t get away. Tied down. The baby was coming. I screamed and screamed and screamed and no one came.” Her voice raked his nerves raw even before the words tumbled and righted into place. “Why didn’t anyone help me? What . . .” Tears streamed down her face and her breaths came in gasps. “Where is she? What did they do to her? A baby. Our baby girl. Red hair. She has red hair. Oh God . . . Oh God, Quin . . . Quin . . .” Her face crumpled and she tried to scream again, arching and twisting to sit up. Her broken voice made his chest tight. Her words . . . “I want my baby! I want . . .” Her broken voice.

He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. “I know . . . I know . . .” Tears filled his eyes.

The agent said something else, and he felt Ella tense at the man’s voice.

“I need to sedate her,” the nurse said.

“Not yet,” the agent snapped.

“I have my own orders, sir, and you shouldn’t even be in here,” the nurse shot back.

“Ella,” the man said.

He watched the nurse put the syringe into the IV and depress it. Ella sobbed and screamed broken wheezing screams against his chest.

“I want my baby. I want my baby . . .”

“It’ll be okay, love.” How, he had no idea. He was so confused and worried and scared and
pissed.
But none of that helped them now.

“We’ll find her,” he whispered into her hair, gently rocking her. “We’ll find her. I swear it.”

He felt her relax against him, the tension easing out of her.

“I
needed
to talk to her!” the agent said, leaning into the nurse.

She propped her hands on her hips. “I get that, but I’m
not
going to compromise her health and the doctor does not want her more stressed. Her blood pressure is still too high.”

The doctor had walked in at some point and checked the chart, the monitor, his eyes meeting Quin’s as the agent and nurse argued. The nurse stood there with the doctor. “She’s to be kept calm.”

Quin nodded, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “She had a nightmare and woke up. She doesn’t remember much but . . .”

“Clearly knows they took her baby. Poor thing,” the nurse said as she helped ease Ella back down.

Quinlan didn’t want to let her go.

He sat back in the chair for a moment while the doctor checked her vitals and whispered in the medical jargon that was familiar to him, yet still meaningless.

The doctor gave him another look and then the room was quiet again.

He grabbed a tissue and gently wiped her cheeks, her eyes.

The agent rattled the change in his pocket. “Damn it,” he muttered. “What exactly did she say?”

“She didn’t say much, but she said she, referred to a woman she trusted . . . Lisa, I think. Sounded like maybe Lisa drugged her tea. Something about tea on the couch and being packed to go . . . Lisa Hammerstein.” He stopped.

“Okay, good. Packed to go where?”

He looked up and met the man’s gray eyes, started to say how she didn’t trust a man she was working with, how she’d spoken to another agent. But he didn’t. Instead he said, “She was packed to come to me when she called. I told her to stay, to wait. I could be out here in about four to five hours and I was. I didn’t want her traveling after . . . after she told me.”

The agent nodded, and only stood there staring at Ella. He’d also called her Ella.

“Lisa. That helps, and her house? She said her house?”

“No, I don’t think so. She said Lisa, talked about drugged tea and being packed to leave. Mostly . . .” He sighed and traced her cheekbone with his finger. “She cried for the baby. Our baby girl. Does any of that mean anything to you?”

The man’s phone vibrated and he checked the ID. “I’ll be back,” the agent said and left.

Quinlan stared after him and then he hurried to the door. He wanted answers, damn it. The doctor was in the hall clicking information into a computer beside her room, but no Agent Jareaux. Where the hell did he go?

“Yes?” Dr. Forrester asked.

Quinlan swallowed. “Her voice. Her voice is wrong, hoarse like someone with laryngitis or something.”

The doctor just looked at him and took a deep breath.

Quinlan hurried on, “She said she screamed and screamed for help but no one . . .”

The doctor nodded. “Makes sense.” He shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what all she went through. Frankly, she may never remember what all she went through, and if she screamed herself hoarse and voiceless, maybe that’s a good thing, Mr. Kinncaid.”

Quinlan couldn’t look away from him and he nodded. Then he nodded again before he turned and went back to Ella. He took her hand and sat back down.

He continued to hold her hand, rubbing the back of it.

“Why? Ella,” he whispered on an exhale. “Why didn’t you call me months ago? Just pick up the phone and call me? Ella, why didn’t you . . . God, Ella, how could you be that cruel?” He rubbed his face with his free hand.

No answer came.

He heard her words again from their conversation Friday, and her words from earlier. So many words practically choking on them, stumbling, and tripping.

She twitched, her hand fisting in his as her head shook back and forth on the pillow.

“You’re safe now, Ella,” he said softly. “You’re safe with me, and this time I’ll damn well make sure you stay that way.”

He pulled the blanket up, tucking her arms under it—her bruised arms. So many bruises, some dark already, others just red. Her wrists were probably a mangled mess since he could see the swelling and the bruises above and below the bandages. Bruises and cuts, blood loss. The hemorrhaging.

. . . you’d be speaking to the medical examiner . . .

A shiver danced down his spine.

He carefully put her hands beneath the covers, not wanting to mess up the bandages or IVs.

“I almost lost you.” Another shiver iced his stomach. “I thought I had lost you, sort of, you know. And that doesn’t matter right now, does it?” he asked, though he didn’t expect an answer. “But this . . . this is too dammed real. My brothers, they all had to worry about wives and girlfriends getting hurt. I thought I would not have to worry about all that, you know? Yeah, you do, I remember that conversation as we walked to Magnolia Grill one night. But I did worry. I do worry. I worried about you, all the damned time. What you were doing, who you were with, if you needed anything, if you were safe.” He blew out a breath and watched her face, lax now again that the sedatives swam through her system. “If you were safe. I told myself that of course you were, or I would know. Somehow I’d know if you weren’t. How, I have no idea. Stupid, I guess. I should have found you, at least made sure you were all right.”