Stone Cold (6 page)

“Barely,” he muttered, kicking his scuffed boots up on the wobbly table. “Some days I wonder why the hell I bother gettin’ out of bed at all. It’s not like anyone’s gonna hire an ex-convict with a drug problem. I’ve filled out job applications at every dive in this city. Hell, not even those places are willin’ to hire me.”

Cassidy knew what that felt like. She wasn’t allowed to disclose the shelter’s address on job applications or resumes because of the privacy issue. With no fixed address, employers weren’t willing to take a chance on her. Not that she had been able to find anything she was qualified to do and still allowed her to continue singing at night.

“Have you thought about trying to get into one of those retraining programs that help people find jobs? Maybe you could learn a trade.”

“I ain’t got the brains for that.”

Cassidy hated to hear people get down on themselves. No matter how bleak things seemed, she refused to believe it couldn’t get better. “You can turn your life around, Bill. It’s never too late to make different choices.”

He snorted. “At least when I was high, I didn’t have to sit around all day feelin’ bad ’cause I was such a screw up. I got to escape it all for a while.”

She knew how appealing it could be to escape your problems. She’d spent too many days blissfully unaware of the chaos all around her. “You know that’s only a temporary solution. When you come down, you still have to face your problems.”

He grinned. “That’s why I made sure I was never without a fix for long.”

Cassidy heaved a sigh as she stood up. She loved living and working at the center because it was so rewarding to see residents embrace their second chance at life, but there were also residents like Bill, who’d already given up hope of a better life.

“Hey,” he said. “I heard you’ve got a hell of a voice. What’re you doin’ in a dump like this?” He looked her up and down. “With a face like that and that sweet little body, you should be makin’ records, not hangin’ out here with us losers.”

She was used to the men in the center coming on to her, which is why she wished the bedroom where she slept had a lock. Unfortunately, that wasn’t permitted because of the center’s open-door policy. Phil and his wife reserved the right to search the rooms when they suspected residents may be using.

“I’m just waiting for my big break,” she said, forcing a smile as she reached for the vacuum cleaner. “We’ve got nothing without hope, right?”

Making her way in to the hall with the heavy vacuum in tow, Cassidy nearly ran in to Phil. “Oh, sorry about that.”

“No problem,” he said, smiling. He shoved his hands in to the pockets of his pressed chinos. “I was hoping to find you. Do you have a gig tonight?”

“I wish.” She was only getting two or three gigs a week. On a good month, she was able to put gas in her car, pay for the insurance, and have a little left over to buy the occasional take-out meal when she was working late.

“Do you think you could keep an eye on things around here tonight? Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but Susan and I are celebrating our wedding anniversary and I’d really like to be able to take her out for a nice dinner.”

Phil and Susan lived in a nice little apartment above the center with their son, who was away at school, and Cassidy knew they devoted so much of themselves to their residents. She was happy to be able to do something nice for them for a change. “You guys go. Have a great time. I’ve got everything under control here.”

“You sure?” he asked, looking uneasy. “I know some of the residents can get a little rowdy at times. Susan wasn’t too sure about leaving you alone with them.”

At the moment, most of the residents consisted of men, but Cassidy wasn’t concerned for her safety. Many of the men had been here for several months and she’d forged friendships with them. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be fine.”

Drake walked in to Jimmy’s later that night after a productive day of pounding the pavement, lining up decent gigs for Cassidy. He’d called J.T. to tell him the good news and when he found out his friend was tending bar again, he decided to stop by for a drink.

“How’d it go?” J.T. asked, handing him a glass of his favorite brand of vodka.

“Good,” Drake said, taking a deep swallow. “Real good. At this rate, she should be able to afford a decent apartment by next month.”

“Glad to hear it,” J.T. said, smiling. “I had my reservations, tellin’ you about Cassidy’s situation, but I’m glad I did. You really came through for her.”

The last thing Drake wanted was praise. He knew he was responsible for her current situation and felt the least he could do was make things right. No one should have to live the way she was. “Turns out revenge wasn’t as sweet as I thought it would be.”

J.T. chuckled. “It rarely is, my friend.”

The hours slipped by as Drake made small talk with friends and acquaintances who approached him, wanting to know which artists he was working with. He talked up his artists as he always did, but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered how Cassidy would respond when she started getting offers from bars and clubs that wouldn’t give her the time of day weeks ago. Would she realize he was behind the offers? If she did, would her stubborn pride force her decline? He had no way of knowing and that was driving him crazy.

It was almost one o’clock in the morning by the time he was making his way toward the door. He waved to J.T., but his friend beckoned him toward the bar.

By the time Drake got closer he could see that J.T.’s tanned face looked ashen.

“Um yeah, he’s right here. I’ll put him on,” J.T. said, handing Drake the cordless phone.

“Who is it?” Drake mouthed.

“Just take the call, man.” J.T. poured himself a scotch and tossed it back, lending to Drake’s uneasiness.

“This is Drake,” he said into the receiver.

“Thank God,” a man breathed.

Holding the phone away from his ear, he gave J.T. a quizzical look before asking, “Who the hell is this?”

“Drake, it’s Phil. We met last night. I’m a friend of Cassidy’s, remember?”

Curiosity gave way to full blown fear when Drake saw J.T. throw back another drink.” Yeah, I remember. What the hell’s goin’ on? Why’d you want to talk to me?”

“I called J.T. hopin’ he may be able to help me find you. I’m at the hospital with Cassidy.”

Dread turned his stomach as he cursed the vodka he’d consumed. “Is she okay?”

The other man heaved a sigh. “I’m afraid not. I don’t know how to tell you this, but…”

The silence was killing Drake as he claimed a stool at the bar. “Just tell me.”

“It’s not good.”

“Jesus Christ,” Drake shouted, slamming his fist down on the bar. “Just tell me what the hell’s goin’ on with her!”

“She was beaten badly. She has a head injury, severe internal injuries, and a collapsed lung. The chances of her making it are…”

Drake dropped the phone as the room started spinning. The gorgeous, vivacious woman he’d held in his arms just last night was lying in some hospital bed about to take her last breath?
No. Hell, no!
He refused to accept that.

J.T. picked up the phone. “Thanks for callin’, Phil. We’ll be prayin’ for her. Please keep us posted, okay?”

Drake gripped the edge of the bar as the nausea made his stomach churn. “I have to get to the hospital. I have to see her.”

“She’s in surgery, man. There’s nothin’ you can do. Phil said he’d call as soon as he knows more.”

“I don’t care. I have to go to the hospital.”

J.T. nodded. “You want me to come with you?”

He needed time alone to process what had happened. “No, thanks. You go on home to your wife.”

“I think Phil called from his cell.” Checking the call display, J.T, said, “I’ll call him back and get the details about where she is and—”

“Just text me.” He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

“At least let me call you a cab!” J.T. shouted.

***

Drake was still feeling sick by the time he arrived at the hospital. The clerk at the front desk directed him to the Intensive Care Unit and he went through the motions in a haze of confusion as he travelled on the elevator, made the correct turns, and located the appropriate waiting room.

He walked up to Phil. “Please tell me you have some news on her condition.” He couldn’t stand not knowing whether she was going to pull through.

“She’s still in surgery, Drake. The doctors will tell us just as soon as she’s out of surgery…” His gaze fell to the ground. “Assuming she makes it out—”

“Don’t say that. Don’t even think that,” Drake whispered fiercely, not trusting himself to remain calm. His rage and fear was like a bore, threatening to take out anything in its path. “How the hell did this happen?”

Phil sank down in the plastic chair, dropping his head in to his hands. “It was all my fault. I asked her to keep an eye on things at the center while my wife and I went out to celebrate our anniversary.”

The last thing Drake wanted was to sit down, but he had no choice if he wanted to learn the details surrounding Cassidy’s hospitalization. “This happened at your center?”

“Yes,” he said, looking as miserable as Drake felt.

A nurse approached them, holding out a card. “I’m sorry, sir. The insurance card you provided is no longer valid.”

“I found that in her purse,” Phil said by way of explanation. “I’m not surprised she didn’t have medical insurance. The poor girl couldn’t even afford to put a roof over her head.”

Drake reached into his wallet and handed the nurse his black American Express card. “All of her hospital bills can be charged to that.”

Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked at the card. “You’re Drake Elliott?” she asked, looking at the name on the card. She flipped it over to look at the signature on the back.

“Yes.”

“Are you a friend or relative?”

He glared at her. “Does it matter? I said I’d pay her medical expenses, didn’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” she said before rushing back to her desk.

Phil watched her depart before he said, “I was right last night, wasn’t I? You still have feelings for Cassidy.”

“You were telling me what happened to her.” There was no way Drake was going to dissect his feelings for Cassidy. If he did, he couldn’t trust himself to hold it together.

“We’d never left her alone at the center before. Either myself or my wife, Susan, was always on site and she’s trained in mixed martial arts. One of our residents, Bill, has been having a tough time of it lately.” He took his glasses off and rubbed his blood-shot eyes. “I never should’ve left. I should’ve known he was volatile. He’d been exhibiting symptoms…” He stopped as though he’d revealed more than he intended to.

“Where is this guy now?”

“In police custody.”

“What the hell happened?”

“According to another resident, a woman who watched the whole thing from an upstairs window, Cassidy followed him out of the house when she found out he had drugs on him. She was desperate to convince him not to use them, but…” Phil was visibly shaken as he tried to finish the story.

Drake knew Phil wasn’t the man who’d administered the blows that put Cassidy’s life in jeopardy, but he had put her in that situation by leaving her alone with some madman. He couldn’t forgive that any more than he could forgive himself for giving her no choice but to live in a shelter for recovering addicts because she had nowhere else to go.

“I need to know exactly what he did to her,” Drake said, curling his hands in to fists.

“He tried to force himself on her.” He took a deep breath. “When…”

The rest of the words fell on deaf ears as an inferno of rage assailed him. Images of Cassidy at the man’s mercy in some dark alley with no one there to protect her or hear her screams began to filter through his head. “The woman…” he said, trying to force the words out, “why didn’t she call the police or try to stop it?”

“She did, but by the time they got there, Bill was already gone and there was nothing they could do to help Cassidy.”

“Did he…?” He swallowed the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat. “Did he rape her?”

“He tried, but she fought back. That’s when he became enraged. He beat her, kicked her, slammed her head into the pavement…” Phil rubbed away the sweat beading on his forehead. “I’ll never forget the sight of all that blood.”

Drake got up and started to pace, hoping to find an outlet for his fear and fury. He couldn’t sit there doing nothing, waiting for a doctor to tell him whether he’d ever be able to say… he was sorry. He was so sorry for putting her in this position. He hated what she did. He hated that she’d betrayed him, but he never intended for her to pay with her life.

“Bill took the ring. I guess he wanted it to buy drugs.”

Drake stopped pacing long enough to look at him. Hands braced on his hips, he asked in a deceptively low tone, “That dirt bag took her engagement ring?” An image of Cassidy exploded in his head. She was laughing and crying through her tears as he slipped that ring on her finger. She told him it was the happiest moment of her life and she’d never, ever, take the ring off.

“I begged her to get rid of that ring,” Phil said. “I knew it was an invitation for some of the transients passing through our center. Most of them aren’t bad people, just desperate.”

He was almost afraid to ask the next question. He already felt bad enough, but he feared hearing Cassidy’s reason for keeping his ring may bring him to his knees. “Why didn’t she take your advice and just get rid of the damn thing?” If that ring had contributed to this…

Phil smiled. “She told me this over morning coffee, not during one of our therapy sessions, so I guess I can share it with you.”

“You think I really give a goddamn about doctor-patient confidentiality right now?” Drake asked, taking a step forward. He was a big man, towering over the therapist, but the other man didn’t seem nervous or intimidated in the face of Drake’s anger. Probably because he dealt with out of control people for a living.

Phil gestured to the chair next to him. “You may want to have a seat when you hear this.”

Without questioning the reason, Drake suspected he may be right, so he acquiesced. “Fine, tell me.”

“She said that ring represented hope and faith to her.” He shook his head. “It was amazing, given all she’d been through that she still tried so hard to maintain a positive attitude. She said she never wanted to forget the way she felt when you slipped that ring on her finger. You believed in her. No one had ever believed in her before. She said that gave her hope that the future would be better than the past had been. She also told me that your faith had given her the strength to start rebuilding her life and she never wanted to lose that.”

“Tell me why she did it,” he said, dropping his head into his hands. “Why the hell did she start using again that night? Why did she sleep with my brother?”

“Only she can tell you that,” Phil said, clasping his hands in front of him. “If she wakes up—”

“Not
if
she wakes up,” Drake said, raising his voice. “
When
she wakes up. Don’t even question whether she will. I know she will.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said, quietly. “I’m praying you’re right.”

Before Drake could respond, a doctor walked through the restricted swinging doors pulling a mask off his face.

“You’re waiting to hear about Miss Ross?” the doctor asked Phil.

“Yes,” Phil said, leaping to his feet. “How is she, doctor?”

“It’s too soon to tell. She made it through the surgery, but the next twenty-four hours will be critical.”

“Can I see her?” Drake asked, his throat scratchy. “Please.”

The doctor frowned. “Are you family?”

“He’s her fiancée,” Phil said, quickly.

“Fine,” the doctor said. “Someone will let you know when you can go in. But only for a few minutes.”