In His Sights (13 page)

No answer was immediately forthcoming, so he entertained himself by taking a walk on the grounds. He ended up in the small garden area where visitors and staff sometimes took refuge, sitting on a bench for a bit. Almost half an hour had passed before his phone buzzed. He read the display.

 

Sorry, it's been hell. Where are you?

Still here, in the garden area.

On my way.

A few minutes later he spotted her coming through the doors, and rose to meet her. She launched herself into his arms and held on as if she'd never let go, and it made him feel good that she was using him as her life raft in the storm.

“Rough day, huh?” he commented softly. It wasn't really a question, more of a statement.

“One of the worst in quite a while, and that's saying something.” As she drew back, he saw her eyes were red rimmed. Whether from exhaustion or tears, he didn't know.

“I heard about Clay. That's rough stuff.”

“Just about the worst it can get, short of death,” she agreed dejectedly. “If he survives, he's going to need extensive physical therapy and the support of every one of his friends to recover. But at least he's holding on, which is more than I can say for the other victim we had today.”

Reaching out, he took her hand. “You lost one?”

“Another heart attack.” Her expression was haunted. “This one was in his forties, a businessman named Robert Woodrow. He appeared to be in terrific shape—and I'm betting he had no blockages in his heart.”

“Another of our suspicious victims?” His gut clenched.

“I'm willing to bet my license on it. I put in a call to the ME about doing more extensive testing, including toxicology, but Eden is out sick.”

“That must be why she hasn't called me back yet about that list.”

“Give her a few days. I'm sure she's going to be swamped.”

“I will.” He touched her face. “Do you have time for a quick sandwich in the cafeteria?”

She nodded eagerly. “That sounds great. I'm so hungry, but it's been too insane to stop and eat.”

“Let's go.”

In the cafeteria, they picked out some chicken wraps and small salads and a couple of bottles of water. Chris insisted on paying; then they found a table in a corner. They ate for a few moments before Robyn picked up the conversation.

“Where's your partner? Aren't you working?”

“I am.” He swallowed a bite of his wrap. “Tonio's brother, Julian, was the other paramedic who was injured with Clay. As soon as he got the call from Howard, I drove him over. He's in with the family visiting Julian.”

Her eyes widened. “That's terrible! But at least Julian is going to be okay.”

“That's one miracle today, anyway.”

“I'll say.” She paused. “How was Maddy this morning? I've been so busy I haven't been able to call you.”

“She was fine. When she got up and saw me, but not you, I think she was thrown and a little nervous. But when I explained you had to go to work and Rachel was coming over soon, she got over it. And I
may
have bribed her with Pop-Tarts, but I'll never tell.”

Robyn's laugh went straight to the happy place in his groin. “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

“Hey, I'm a guy. You're lucky I didn't feed her chocolate cake and soda.”

“True.”

They finished eating, making small talk until Robyn looked at him with regret. “I have to get going. I need to check on Julian and Clay and make the rounds.”

“Okay.” Just then, his phone buzzed and he eyed the text on the screen. “That's Tonio.”

I'm done. They r keeping J 2nite 4 observation.

Coming,
he texted back.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Yes. His brother is being kept overnight. Your doing?”

“Just as a precaution, due to the concussion. He can probably go home tomorrow.”

“That's good news.”

He walked her to the entrance of the ER, where Tonio caught sight of them and watched with open curiosity. Ignoring his partner, he wrapped her in his arms briefly and gave her a chaste kiss. No need to get her in trouble with the hospital brass.

As they pulled apart, she nodded toward Tonio. “I want to speak to him before you guys leave.” Chris stayed at her side as she reached the other detective. She held out a hand, which the other man took. “Detective Salvatore, I'm Dr. Robyn Lassiter. One of my residents is the one who actually treated your brother, as I was busy in surgery. Did Dr. Rocha speak to you?”

Tonio nodded, his expression grateful. “He did. Thanks. I understand the decision to keep him overnight was yours?”

“It was,” she confirmed. “Dr. Rocha consulted with me, and we feel that's best. If all goes well, he can go home tomorrow.”

“Good. You don't know how much I appreciate you all taking good care of him.” The man's eyes grew suspiciously bright. “He's my only brother.”

She patted his arm, then dug in the pocket of her white coat and handed him a card. “Well, he's going to be fine. That's my number. If you have any questions or concerns, give me a call.”

“Thanks.” He paused, then his lips curved upward. His tone was friendly. “So, you and my partner, huh?”

“Um, I suppose you could say that.” Her cheeks flushed. “Though I'm sorry we had to meet like this.”

“Me, too. Maybe Chris can bring you out to the Waterin' Hole for a beer soon, so you can meet the guys from the station.”

She shot a glance at Chris, who nodded. He should've thought of that first, and it annoyed him that he hadn't.

“That sounds like fun. Hopefully it'll be soon.” She smiled at them both. “I have to go. See you later.”

They both stared at her backside hard as she walked away. Tonio was the first to find his voice, giving a low whistle.

“Hot
damn
, my friend,” he said appreciatively. “You are one lucky son of a bitch.”

Chris blinked at him, torn between being irritated at the man for openly ogling his lady and astonished that the man's uptight facade had crumbled. The latter won. And he realized this was the first time he truly felt like
the man was being himself in Chris's presence. That they could be friends as well as partners. A wide smile stretched his face.

“I am, aren't I?”

It seemed things were finally going his way.

*   *   *

“Your water line is fixed.”

Five awesome words that meant Chris could leave his cousin's house and get back to his own. Finally. He loved his family, but there was definitely such a thing as too much closeness.

A little more than a week after leaving, he walked into his house and took his gym bag to the bedroom, tossing it on the bed. His body followed and he flopped onto his back, stretching like a lazy old cat and for a few minutes just savoring being on his own comfortable mattress again.

That lasted all of seven minutes or so before he got restless. Fishing out his cell phone, he checked his texts. One from Tonio saying his brother was home and resting, so Chris sent one back saying he was glad. There was nothing from Robyn, though Chris knew she had the day off. Should he send a text, or call? Was he pushing too hard?

No. He'd continue to take his cues from her. If he was moving too fast, she'd let him know. He decided on a text.

Dinner tonight? My house?

Her answer wasn't long in coming.
Alone?

If that's okay? Want some serious snuggle time with you . . . But don't get me wrong, Maddy is always welcome!!

No, I need some alone time with you too. 7:00?

Great! See you then. ;)

:D

As an afterthought, he added his address since it occurred to him that she'd only been by that one time she dropped him off. Then he got up and began inspecting the house and realized it wasn't nearly clean enough to have his lady over for the first time. Wanting to make a good impression, he started throwing away trash and tidying up. Then he vacuumed, mopped the kitchen, and washed the few dirty dishes. A couple of weeks' worth of dust had accumulated on the furniture, so he took care of that, a task he typically hated.

When he was done, he was proud of his efforts. But now he was sweaty and disgusting, so a shower was in order. He took care of that, and in a half hour was ready to go to the store. The question was what to fix for dinner. Something simple, but good.

On the way to the store he mulled it over. It was hard to concentrate on food when he was suddenly so hot that a bead of sweat trickled down his face. He turned up the air in the car, and that helped. But by the time he got to the store, the nausea was making an appearance for the first time in three or four days.

If the customers coming to and from the store wouldn't have thought he was having a breakdown, he would've cried.

I can do this. I'm okay.

As he searched the aisles, he kept repeating that to himself. He managed to immerse himself in hunting for dinner ingredients, and set about purchasing chicken breasts, jerk sauce, and some fresh veggies. At the last minute he threw in a frozen chocolate ice box cream pie, because he had a sweet tooth and he was no chef.

Happy with what he'd chosen, he checked out and was soon on his way home. Once there, he brought the bags in and started dinner, putting the chicken in a dish and heating the oven. The fresh broccoli and carrots went in a pan to sauté with a liberal amount of butter, something simple he could handle with no problem.

When the doorbell rang about forty-five minutes later, he had to admit the house was smelling pretty damned good. However, it didn't smell nearly as good as Robyn when he flung open the door and pulled her into his arms. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of strawberries and some sort of light, fruity perfume that made him want to eat her like a piece of candy.

“I'm so glad you're here,” he said, tilting her face up for a kiss. He took her mouth slowly, getting a good taste, a preview of what he hoped was to come.

“Me, too.” She stepped back and sniffed. “Oh, something smells wonderful.”

“Yeah—you.” He grinned.

She gave a laugh. “Thanks. But seriously, what's cooking?”

“Jerk chicken and sautéed vegetables. Hope that's okay?” He tried to keep the sudden anxiety from his voice.

“That sounds terrific! I haven't eaten today.”

“Seems like you make a habit of that,” he commented with a frown.

“One of the downsides of being a doctor, I guess.”

“Well, you obviously need a keeper, and I'm the perfect guy for the job.”

“You think?” Her eyes were filled with warmth.

“I know.” He took her hand. “Come on in, put your feet up. Can I get you a glass of wine, beer, or soda?”

“Wine sounds good, whatever's open.”

She sat while he opened a bottle of Cabernet for them. After turning down the oven to warm, he slid the vegetables in and then poured them each a glass. He went into the living room and handed her one, taking a seat beside her on the sofa as he proposed a toast.

“To the future, whatever it may bring.”

Her lips curved up. “I'll drink to that.”

Taking a sip, he set his glass aside. He was really more of a beer guy, but he wasn't about to complain. “How did you spend your day off?”

“After I took Maddy to school, I did some shopping, then came home and went for a run. Then I did some laundry, caught up on a good thriller I've been neglecting, and took a nap. Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“Actually, that sounds really good. Next time maybe we can run together,” he suggested.

She brightened. “I'd like that. I should've thought of it before.”

“Then it's a date.” He refused to think he couldn't handle a run.

He studied her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. The auburn hair falling around her shoulders, those blue eyes staring back with such emotion in them. She had on a pink cotton pullover shirt and a pair of soft, faded jeans that hugged her figure without being too tight.

“You're beautiful,” he said quietly. He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek.

“I haven't felt that way in a long time.” She paused, leaning into his touch. “But you've changed that.”

“I'm glad, because it's true. And I don't mean just on the outside. You're a gorgeous person, Robyn, inside and out. The way you love Maddy, and how you care for your patients. You're simply amazing.”

A pained expression crossed her features, and he frowned. “Hey, what's that for?”

She wasn't looking at him, her voice a murmur. “
Amazing
isn't the word I'd use to describe myself. I've got a lot of sins to make up for.”

Something unpleasant lodged behind his sternum. “What do you mean?”

Raising her head, she looked up at him, shadows in her stunning eyes. “Never mind. I want to forget about the past tonight. I just want to be with you.”

“Will you tell me someday?”

She nodded. “One day.”

“That's good enough for me.”

He tried not to be stung, to think she didn't trust him with her secrets. Deep down, he knew that wasn't it. She
was fighting her own demons, and it took a lot for her to let someone else in, to lance the hurt in her soul and let it out.

He would wait as long as he needed.

Robyn moved as close as she could and captured his mouth with hers. Her breasts pushed against his chest, pliant, inviting.

“Can dinner wait for a while?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“As long as we need it to, honey.”

Taking her hand, he led her to his bedroom, not giving a damn about anything but making love to his lady.

“I love your bedroom,” Robyn said, looking around as he led her inside.

“I love the sight of you in it.”

His king-sized cherrywood bed dominated the room, with its four posters and dark comforter. She looked perfect in his room, and now he regretted ever bringing anyone else here. Not that he would mention that to her. Ever.

Slowly he undressed her, revealing her sun-kissed skin inch by inch. He couldn't resist spreading kisses over her, starting with her face and neck, then working his way downward until he was on his knees at her feet, where he'd stay forever if she'd let him.

He urged her thighs apart and parted her sex with his fingers, rubbing. She didn't protest—far from it. Widening her stance, she moaned when he tasted, running his tongue along her slit to the nub near the front. Back and forth, getting her nice and wet, making her boneless with want.

Gently he sucked her clit, working the magic button until she pulled at his hair.

“Chris,” she breathed. “I don't want to come yet.”

Chuckling, he wiped his mouth and stood, pulling her over to the bed. He flung the covers back and they crawled onto the mattress together. She pushed him onto his back and began to explore his body much the same as he had hers. Kisses were peppered over his chest and abs. Then lower as she lavished attention on his cock.

God, she could suck like nobody, ever. Her pink tongue darted around the head, lapping at the precum weeping from it. He spread his legs, giving her access to do what she wanted. She cradled his balls in one hand, manipulating them, driving him crazy. Then she took him deep in her throat, something he knew wasn't easy for her, and rendered him almost incoherent with lust.

“Baby—” He gasped. “Need to fuck you.”

“Please!”

Rolling over, he grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer and ripped open the package. With swift movements he sheathed his cock. Then he pressed her onto her back and moved between her legs, bringing the head to her entrance.

Pushing inside her was simply heaven. She was tight and slick, so hot. Her sex gripped him like a vise, stroking him from base to tip. He slid in to his balls, then out again. In and out, savoring the rhythm their bodies made, how attuned to each other they were.

The delicious friction drove him higher. As he increased the tempo, she wrapped her legs around his waist and met him thrust for thrust, nails digging into his back. That was such a turn-on; knowing that she could
lose herself, come unraveled in his arms, he couldn't hold back anymore.

His release exploded and he drove home with a hoarse cry, and remained there, shuddering as he emptied his balls. His heat filled her and she cried out as well, bucking against him, riding out her orgasm.

Spent, he cradled her for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of being connected. But too soon, his erection softened and he had to pull out. So he rolled onto his back and brought her with him, settling her head on his chest.

“Hungry?”

“Famished. That was quite a workout.”

He felt her smile against his chest. “Maybe we'll have time for a repeat after we eat and before you have to get home? When do you have to let Rachel go?”

“I've got a couple of hours,” she said.

“All right.” He kissed the top of her head. “I'll take whatever I can get.”

“I know this isn't what you signed up for—”

“Stop.” He rubbed her back, kept his tone soothing. “I want all of you, Robyn. Even the part of you who's a mom. Haven't I made that clear?”

“Yeah. I guess you have.” She burrowed closer.

“Then don't worry about anything right now. Let's enjoy every moment and let things happen.”

“You make it hard to say no.”

“So don't.”

“That simple.” Hesitation colored her voice.

“It can be.”

With that, she became quiet and relaxed in his arms.
He wasn't ready to put a name on his growing feelings, but he knew he didn't want to let her out of his home, or his bed.

Not now. Not ever.

*   *   *

The next few days passed by in a blur of happiness. There was only one blight on Chris's world: his illness was back with a vengeance, worse than ever before.

He started to think Robyn might have a point about black mold or some other contamination, so he placed calls to experts. Several of them. He had men trooping in and out, going over every square inch of the house and property with a fine-toothed comb. If there was anything in or around the house causing him to get sick, they assured him they'd find it.

But they found
nothing
. The problem was baffling, and disheartening.

He didn't know what to do, other than move back in with his cousin or go to a hotel room, but he was reluctant to do either. No way did he want to impose on Shane and his family more than he had, and his relationship with Robyn was too new to ask to stay there. Nor did he want to stay in a hotel. Something had to give, though. He only knew that whenever he was away from home for a couple of days or more, he started to improve.

What the hell is in my house? This is not my imagination!

A week later, he woke up barely able to get out of bed. In the bathroom, a wave of horrible sickness
overwhelmed him and he fell to his knees, vomiting into the toilet.

And was shocked to see crimson.
Blood.
He blinked hazily, a tendril of fear snaking down his spine. He thought at first he must be imagining things, but no. There was no mistaking that he was in real trouble.

After his stomach was emptied and raw, he flushed and pulled himself up with difficulty. His legs were weak, shaky. In fact, his whole body was trembling like he was a geriatric Chihuahua on speed. He broke into a cold sweat, and his heart was racing.

Quickly, he brushed his teeth and considered whether to attempt a shower and get changed for work. Immediately he discarded that idea. There was just no way he was going to make it to the station. In fact, he should probably call Tonio.

Wearing only his sleep pants, he started from the bathroom and was scared to realize he had to brace a hand on the wall in order to walk. God, where was his phone? Sofa table? Kitchen counter? He had to find it. Now.

It took him at least five minutes to make it from the bedroom down the hall to the living room. Wobbling to the sofa, he held on to the back of it and scanned for his cell phone. Spotting it on the coffee table with his keys, he started around the arm of the sofa—and fell.

His legs gave way like someone had cut the muscle and tendon holding him together. His knees hit the carpet, the blow somewhat cushioned, and his vision swam. He crawled to his cell phone and fumbled to unlock the
screen. Finally he made out Tonio's name on the contact list and punched the button to dial him.

“Come on,” he said, anxious. “Answer.”

The man picked up, thank God. “Hello?”

“Tonio? Hey, it's Chris.” He stopped, panting. Why couldn't he get enough air? “I—I can't make it in today. I can't . . . I'm not . . .” The room dipped and the phone slipped from nerveless fingers, then bounced under the couch.

“Help me.” Distantly, he could hear Tonio's voice raised in concern.

He got on his stomach and fished for the phone, but it was out of his reach. He'd seriously fucked up. Should've called 9-1-1 instead of using his cell to call his partner. That would've been quicker to get help on the way, more direct. Using all his strength, he pushed up and stumbled for the kitchen, the closest landline phone. The other was in his bedroom—he'd never make it back there.

God, he couldn't breathe. His heart was threatening to explode, and agony was ripping his chest in two.

Lurching for the kitchen counter, he grabbed for the phone, felt his fingers wrap around the cool metal. But he fell again, taking the base, cord, and all with him, felt the line jerk from the wall. The phone clattered across the tile a few feet away, and he stared at it.

Horror swept him in an icy embrace. His body was done. He couldn't move. Couldn't get air. The pain was so intense, spots began to swim in front of his face. Black spots growing larger and larger. Like spilled ink, obliterating everything.

He felt himself go. Knew he was falling into a black
abyss that he might never awaken from. And there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

Then there was nothing.

*   *   *

“Chris! Chris! Breathe, goddamn you!”

He wanted to obey the voice. Couldn't.

“Oh God. Hello? Somebody help me!”

Nobody could help. Too late.

The voice rattled off something. Numbers, a street. He couldn't make sense of it. Or of the pounding on his chest when more voices joined the first one. They were trying to crack his chest open, and he didn't understand why.

Hurts.
So much. He tried to tell them. But they weren't listening. They kept right on trying to rip him apart, while demanding he live. He didn't know how.

When the blackness engulfed him again, he sank into the ether. He had no choice.

*   *   *

“Dr. Lassiter, we've got a victim coming in hot. ETA five minutes,” Lee told her. “Another heart attack, according to the paramedics.”

Dammit, this could not be happening again! “Okay, thank you. Let's get prepped.”

“Already on it.”

Nerves strung taut, she paced the floor, double-checked that everything was ready. But she couldn't have been prepared to see the paramedics rushing through the doors with a very familiar man on the gurney.

Chris's hair was plastered to his head with sweat and his face was pale, eyes closed. Her lover was in real trouble.

“In the first room,” she called sharply, pointing. Then she whirled and found Shea. “I need another doctor here, now!”

Shea's eyes were wide. “There's nobody else available! You don't have a choice.”

Spinning on her heel, she rushed into the room, where one medic was hanging Chris's IV on the pole and the other reported on his vitals: his blood pressure was not low and sluggish, as expected, but extremely high.

“He's also vomiting blood, and in respiratory distress,” the medic said, stepping back to let the nurses take over.

Her mind went cold, clinical. “Vomiting blood?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Sure enough, she noted the traces of pink froth around his mouth.

None of the other victims had arrived with this symptom—and it made all the difference. Nausea, sweats, general fatigue, racing heart, trouble breathing—and vomiting blood. In that instant, one terrifying word jumped to the forefront of possible diagnosis:
poison
.

“Get him intubated,” she snapped to Cori, one of the nurses. To Shea, she ordered, “Draw blood. We need a full tox screen from the lab, right fucking now. Include tests for the big three poisons—cyanide, arsenic, and strychnine.”

“Poison?” Shea gasped.

“Just do it.”

How could she have missed this before? But clever killers knew that poisons were most often completely missed by doctors and medical examiners, misdiagnosed
from the start because the poisons, especially cyanide, were virtually undetectable and mimicked any number of diseases. Especially heart disease resulting in heart failure. Killers were also well aware that tests for these poisons were not standard, and the poison wouldn't simply show up in routine blood work. Doctors had to know
exactly
what they were looking for in order to find it.

And she would goddamned well find it. Chris was
not
going to die. She wouldn't allow that to happen.

Even if her team thought she was crazy, they obeyed her instructions without question. Faced with a ticking clock and little recourse, she couldn't wait on the test results. Working quickly and with the help of her nurses, she administered two common antidotes for the poisons she suspected.

She knew that, if it was going to work at all, the treatment should be effective within minutes. “Hold on, Chris, do you hear me? Hang in there.”

His heart rate was so high, she was terrified the organ would give out. If it hadn't been for the breathing tube and oxygen, he would've asphyxiated already. His vitals were erratic, but gradually his pulse slowed, his pressure stabilizing. When his pulse finally fell within the normal range and stayed there, the room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“My God,” Shea said quietly. “How did you know it was poison?”

“The froth around his mouth and the vomiting blood. Combined with the other symptoms he's been complaining about, it finally clicked.” She put a hand over her mouth as she stared at her unconscious lover. “With a
man who seemed so perfectly healthy otherwise, it should have occurred to me sooner to look toward a more sinister cause.”

“That's not true,” Shea said. “Statistically, poisonings are extremely rare, especially those done with intent to harm. And the symptoms are too common to raise suspicion.”

“I know. I just have to get my head wrapped around this. I need to see him settled into a room and talk to his partner. Then I've got a few phone calls to make.”

Reaching down, she touched Chris's hair. His eyes were still closed, and he'd be out for a while. But she'd take it over the alternative any day. Glancing at Shea, she saw concern and understanding on the other woman's face. Shea knew without saying anything that the detective had come to mean so much more to Robyn than just a friend.

She had spent the last few years so afraid to get close to another man, to fall in love with someone who might leave her, as Greg had. Now she'd gone and done it anyway, and had almost lost Chris.

She didn't have a damned clue what to do about these rampant feelings.

With dread, she went in search of Tonio and found him practically wearing a hole in the tile, along with Shane and a tall, ruggedly handsome man she didn't recognize. This man appeared to be a few years older than the detectives, perhaps in his mid-forties. As she approached, they turned to her, naked fear etched on their faces.