Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) (31 page)

* * * *

Back in the hotel, Chyna opened her briefcase and looked down at all the notes of her book that she had written out in longhand. She pulled them out and tried to get them in some kind of order, then called down to the hotel desk and asked for the use of a computer. The best they could do was an electric typewriter, so Chyna instructed the hotel to secure a laptop through an electronics rental store and add the cost to her bill. In no time at all a bell boy appeared at her door with the laptop and a copy of her bill that required her signature. Chyna thanked him with a tip, and enthusiastically assembled her notes and typed all night. She had to force herself to stay awake, drinking cup after cup of black coffee. When she was finally through, she looked down at the title,
Face in the Shadows.

Remembering Kirk as he lurked mysteriously in darkness, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. She had a reputation for taking chances, but this one was the biggest chance of all. Had she brought a man out of the shadows, only to see him return for a completely different reason? Had she experienced true love, only to see it snatched from her hands because of her devotion to the written page? She faced so many uncertainties. Not only was she worried about telling him, but she also worried about her fans. All of her books had been stories about handsome men strutting across the pages of her novels making love to their heroines. They were stories that held the readers spellbound as they imagined themselves in his arms. When he made love to the heroine, he made love to them. He was always dark, dashing, and handsome. He was the ideal man that took her story and led it through countless sizzling bedroom scenes, conflict, horror, and at last, to a happy ending.

She sat back against the bed’s headboard grasping a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, wondering how she was ever going to tell them. How could she possibly explain to microphones, flashing cameras, inquiring faces, and adoring fans that a scarred up monster—a hulking Frankenstein that stayed buried in the recesses of an old mansion—an ugly deformed freak that lurked mysteriously in midnight shadows—a growling beast that had pulled a series of orgasms out of her that almost made her faint—was the hero of her next novel!

* * * *

Quinn walked into Kirk's dimly lit hospital room and looked down at his bandaged head lying silent and unmoving on his pillow.

"How's it going, old buddy? I thought I’d come down and see how you’re coming along."

Kirk heard him, but wasn't allowed to talk. He started to lift a finger in response, but before he got the chance, Quinn turned and scraped a straight chair along the floor and sat down.

“Hey, you in there pal?” Quinn asked, frowning down into the deep eye holes until he saw Kirk. Satisfied that he was awake and listening, Quinn began his rasping speech in suggestive tones. “You know I would say it's lonesome in the old mansion with you and Elaine here at the hospital, but…well, I can't. You see, Chyna keeps me pretty busy. Yeah, Kirk, you need to get up out of this bed, man. I think she's going to wear me out. God, is she hot. Always thinking up ways to get me on top of her.” Quinn looked closely at Kirk, trying to get his reaction.

“For instance, the other night, right after she had taken a shower she left her door open, see. Knowing I was out there she starts smoothing some kind of scented oil all over herself—" Quinn paused, his voice rasping. "—and I mean,
all
over her, man. Then, believe it or not, she puts on this tiny little robe, corners me in front of the fireplace and pulls it off. Oh man. I don't have to tell you my temperature shot up to the boiling point. Well, I mean why wouldn't it, huh? She's gorgeous, right? Then, before I know what’s happening, she rubs up against me, see, knowing I have a hard time resisting her anyway. But hey, I try, right? I try
real
hard." Quinn leaned closer to Kirk's bandaged head, his suggestive tone deepening.

"Well, to make a long story short, pal, she was wild that night. Wild and hot. This is one lady that needs more than one man to keep her satisfied, you know?" Quinn chuckled. "Well, you've read her novels, you know what I mean. God, is she good, or what? Always ready for a romp, right?" Quinn pulled his shirt collar back revealing some scars on his neck and shoulder, then chuckled. “Looks like my scratches match yours.” With a cruel look on his face, he got up and pushed the chair back. "Oh, by the way, I just wanted to mention that little mole she has right near the nipple on her left breast…cute huh?"

Kirk clenched his teeth, listening as Quinn got up to leave.

When Quinn opened the door, he turned and looked back at Kirk, a smirk right at home on his dark, handsome face.

The light in the room was dim and Kirk was quiet, but beneath his bandages were the red, sore, sutured lines of a surgeon's scars—and tears.

The urgent sound of a woman’s voice echoed throughout the hospital, "Dr. Vincent Wilder, stat, 525! Dr. Wilder, stat, 525!"

Dr. Wilder’s eyes jumped to the cold, impersonal box of plastic and metal parts that was mounted up in a corner of the doctor’s lounge. He threw his almost-full cup of coffee in the trash and ran down to the elevator. He pressed the up button, but too impatient to wait, he turned and ran to the stairwell and hiked up two steps at a time. When he burst in, he saw the nurse motioning for him to hurry. The two of them began a quick stride down to the room. "That's Kirk Grayson's room, what's wrong?"

"I don't know everything. Elaine is with him. She'll tell you."

He threw the door open. "What the hell’s goin’ on here, Elaine? What's wrong?"

"I don't know. His pulse has dropped radically, and he’s getting weaker by the minute. He pushes me away when I try to do anything for him, and he keeps mumbling Chyna's name."

He turned to the other nurse. "Nurse, get Chyna Marsh on the phone. She's staying with the Graysons. The number is on the check-in form." Turning back to his patient, he put his stethoscope to Kirk's chest. "Is he in any pain?"

"I don't think so."

"When was his last medication?"

"Only two hours ago."

The doctor reached up and opened his eyes through the small holes in the bandages. Shining a small light into them, he looked for signs of trouble.

"Let me die!" Kirk mumbled, the tortured words coming through the small hole in the bandage. Then his hands came up and began fighting the doctor.

"Elaine, get some orderlies!"

Almost immediately two burly young men came in and managed to keep Kirk down while the doctor sedated him.

Looking down at Kirk but talking to Elaine, the doctor spoke worriedly. "It's as if he's retreated back into his old shell."

"Surely he's not going to die!"

"No, but he's had some kind of emotional shock." The doctor continued examining him, then said, "Being in this state of mind, I don't know what he might do. There's only one thing I know of that could send Kirk back."

"What?"

The doctor glared at her. "What the hell do you think, Elaine? If he thinks he’s lost Chyna, that’s emotional suicide."

The nurse ran in. "Doctor, there's no answer."

"Keep trying,” he yelled. He looked at Elaine again. “When was the last time she was here? Was there an argument? What the hell did she say to him?”

“No…it’s been…I haven’t seen her.” Elaine was afraid to say anything, but thought back to the night Quinn was here, and wondered if he might have said something to upset him. Suddenly Elaine ran out of Kirk's room and told the nurse not to bother calling, that she would take care of it later.

* * * *

Chyna was just walking in from her New York trip and the phone was ringing. Quinn didn't seem to be anywhere around, so she answered it.

"Do you love Kirk?" the feminine voice on the other end rasped.

"Of course," Chyna answered, wondering what was going on.

"Then you'd better get down here quick."

"Who is this, and what are you talking about?"

"This is Elaine. It’s been days, why haven't you been in to see Kirk since his surgery?"

"You know where I’ve been, I've been in New York. I had to attend a funeral and take care of some business. I'm coming to the hospital as soon as I get cleaned up."

"Chyna, Kirk is in trouble. For some reason he thinks he's lost you. If I were you, I wouldn't wait around, I'd get down here before he does something drastic. He's already assaulted Dr. Wilder, and when he comes to, there's no telling what he might try. You're the only one that can help him, Chyna, and I don't think you have time for a leisurely shower. If you care about him, Kirk needs you now."

“Oh my God!” Chyna muttered, throwing down the phone. She left her luggage at the door and ran out to her car. She ran stop signs, red lights, veered around other traffic, arriving at the little hospital in half the time it would have ordinarily taken. Running into the hospital, she quickly made her way around old people, invalids in wheelchairs, patients in walkers, and those that seemed determined to keep her from Kirk. When she finally burst out of the fifth floor elevator, she didn't stop at the nurse's station, she went directly to Kirk's room. Stopping abruptly outside his closed door, she took a deep breath, then gently opened it. Her heart lurched when she saw him lying there so quiet and helpless. She walked over to him, and looked at his closed eyes.

He looked dead.

"Kirk," she whispered, a sob in her voice.

Nothing.

She turned around, looking for a chair, then pulled it up and sat down beside him.

"Kirk. It's me, Chyna."

She sat in silence for a moment, then heard his raspy voice.

"What in hell are you doing here, Chyna?” Kirk said, barely mouthing the words. “Couldn't Quinn take care of you?" He paused, his voice breaking. "Well don't come to me. The doctor put you on my list of
don’ts
for a while." After a slight hesitation, he added, "But I've put you on there forever."

"Everyone around here is talking in riddles. What is going on, Kirk? Whey are you so bitter, and why is Elaine mad at me?" She looked at his fresh bandage and thought about the lip print she left on the other one. "Didn't Dr. Wilder show you the lip print on the other bandage?"

"Yeah, real cute. Just like the little mole next to the nipple on your left breast."

With a frown, Chyna glanced down at her left breast then up at him. "What is this all about, Kirk?"

"Hell, Chyna, don't act so fucking innocent. I know all about you and Quinn all alone in that big mansion together. Is that why you haven't been to see me? He's keeping you pretty busy, huh?"

"Me and Quinn? What do you mean?"

"I mean, he told me all about your night in front of the fireplace."

Chyna's eyes widened. "He told you about that?"

"So it's true, right?"

"Well, sure, but why are you upset with me?"

"What were you wearing?"

"Wearing? My little silk shantung robe."

"Yeah, and what was under it?"

Chyna suddenly understood. "Nothing," she whispered.

"Get the hell out, Chyna."

Tears began gathering in Chyna's eyes. "But Kirk—"

"Stop right there. I don't want to hear anymore of your lies,” he growled. “And I don't want to hear anymore about your little rendezvous with Quinn."

"But Kirk, it wasn't like that. Don't you see—"

"Goodbye, Chyna.” He turned away, mumbling, “Have a good life."

Those final words plunged deep into her heart like a knife. She felt so helpless. It would be useless to try and explain. He would never believe her about the night in front of the fireplace. Quinn had done too good a job of poisoning his mind against her. Without touching her, Quinn had cut her heart right out. He might as well have used the white-handled knife—she felt just as dead.

Kirk watched her get up and walk to the door crying. "Chyna!"

She turned and cast a hopeful look at him.

"Leave the ring on the table."

Chyna lifted her left hand and caressed the ring with love, then looked at him as if she were lost. He watched her as she carefully wedged it off, laid it down carefully, and walked out of his life. When she went through the door, she had her head lowered, dabbing at her eyes, and almost ran into Dr. Wilder.

"Chyna! We've been looking everywhere for you. We called the mansion and Quinn said your luggage was there, but he hadn't seen you." The doctor looked toward Kirk's door. "I see you’ve been in to see Kirk."

"Yes," Chyna sobbed.

He leaned down, trying to see into Chyna’s flooded eyes. "Hey, why the tears?” the doctor asked, lifting her chin with one finger. “Now that you’re here, everything is fine.”

"Kirk and I are through," she whispered. Hearing herself say it, new tears began to cascade down her cheeks.

"What?" the doctor asked, surprised. He looked closely at Chyna and recognized the signs, and just managed to catch her as she collapsed against his chest. “Oh, jeez,” he said, looking around the barren hall for a place to sit down. Remembering that the cafeteria was only one floor below them, he put his arms around her and said, “Here, come with me. What you need is a cup of good strong coffee, and then you can tell me what happened."