The Distraction (18 page)

“Not good enough.” Alec was starting to cough with the exertion. The doctor stepped forward to hold his shoulders still.

“Move slowly,” he cautioned. “You right lung is at half its normal capacity. The muscle over your rib was severed. Overexert your body and you'll injure yourself much worse.”

“You think
you
can protect her in your state?” Jamison asked evenly. “Maxim Stein wants you, Alec. Not her. With you gone, her risk is all but eliminated.”

Alec gripped the side of the hospital bed.

I guess we found your weakness,
Reznik's man whispered in the back of my mind.

Alec couldn't actually be considering this. We needed to stay together. I couldn't leave him hurt. And what was I supposed to do if Reznik's men came back, asking questions? Say I didn't know where Alec was? Like they'd believe that.

Alec nodded.

I stared at him in shock.

“Come with me, Ms. Rossi,” said the police officer. I took a closer look at him now—he had brown, serious eyes and long black lashes. Honey-colored skin and a square jaw.

He reached for my arm, but I backed away quickly, knocking over the IV stand Alec had just been unhooked from. It fell to the ground with a loud clatter.

“Alec, think about this,” I begged. “Look at me.”

“What's going on?” Mike had stepped into the room. Relief crossed Alec's face.

“Mike, get her out of here.” Alec turned his face away from me as Mike stepped to my side.

“No,” I said. “Alec, wait . . .”

“Come on,” said Mike gently. “He'll call you when he can.”

Alec winced, and the thought crossed my mind that he hadn't planned on calling. That this good-bye was more than temporary.

“No phones,” said Jamison. “They'll see each other after the trial.”

“We don't even know when that is!” I shouted.

I reached for Alec's forearm, and he drew back too quickly, as though my touch had burned him. I stared at him in shock as he doubled over, gasping, and then fell into the wheelchair.

“Breathe,” I said, kneeling before him. “Slow down.”

“No more
ifs
,” he wheezed as his gaze found mine. “Good-bye, Anna.”

“Alec . . .”

“Now, Mike.”

Mike pulled me to a stand, and though I struggled, he kept me pinned to his side.

“He's going to hurt himself if he sees you scared,” he whispered harshly.

He was right. Defeated, I forced my chin to lift. I tried to clear my thoughts. Alec and I weren't together, but he would be safe in protective custody. And maybe Agent Jamison was right, and I would be better off without him for the time being.

Somehow, believing that just made it harder to walk away.

W
e went to the only place I had left—my tiny one-bedroom apartment in South Tampa. The décor was sparse to say the least; most of my things had been taken to Alec's high-rise. I did have some clothes though, and a made bed and a couch. Enough to convince my dad I was living there regularly the last time he'd come to visit.

“Stay here,” Mike said as we stepped inside. The air was warm and stagnant. I hadn't bothered to leave the AC on when I was here so infrequently. As he searched the bedroom, bathroom, and closets, I adjusted the thermostat.

Wandering into the kitchenette, I took a look out the window at the patrol car parked on the street. Apparently Jamison had requested surveillance after all.

I wondered if she and Alec would be staying together until the trial. My mind had already started spinning images of a small, dimly lit room with one bed when Mike returned.

“Looks all right.” He rubbed his eyes, exhausted. I couldn't blame him, but though my brain was tired, my body was still agitated and twitchy, like I'd just slammed an energy drink.

“Thanks, Mike.”

He glanced around the living room. I didn't even have a TV here.

“I'll take the couch.”

I shook my head. “Uh-uh. Go home. Get your daughter.” I wasn't jumping up and down at the prospect of alone time, but I didn't exactly need the guilt on my conscience either.

He sat on the rose-patterned sofa and toed off his shoes. “My mom's got her until the morning. She doesn't even know I'm gone.”

He stretched out, then adjusted one of the pillows behind his head. His eyes closed.

I tried to reason with him. “There's a patrol car twenty yards away.”

“Really? I can't see it.” He flipped onto his side. He may not have been as big as Alec, but he still looked like a Cabbage Patch Kid on a Barbie-sized couch. One knee was bent to his chest, the other leg hung over the armrest.

“Mike . . .” This was a losing battle. “At least take the bed.”

“No, thanks,” he snorted. “I'm attached to my nuts. I'd rather your man not rip them off.”

At the mention of Alec, my jaw clenched. Part of me was missing without him. At least if I knew where he was, I could picture him there, know he was safe. But now all I could visualize was the thick bandage over his ribs and an FBI officer with the bedside manner of Nurse Ratched. If the knife had been three inches higher, he would be dead now.

If Alec dropped the case, Maxim left him alone.

If we'd never gone to that stupid hotel, Alec wouldn't have said good-bye.

No more
ifs.

I had to think of something else.

“How long were you married?” I asked.

Mike opened one eye and squinted at me.

“Long enough to know it wasn't for me.”

It was too warm for a blanket, but I retrieved one from the linen closet anyway and set it on the floor beside him.

“I get that,” I said. Happily ever afters didn't exist. Someone always left. Or died. Or got knifed by a hit man in a hotel room.

He looked surprised. “I thought you and Alec were pretty serious.”

I flinched. For better or for worse didn't include a good-bye like the last one he'd given me.

“We get along just great when he's in prison or witness protection.”

Mike leaned up on his elbow.

“It's not always this bad.”

“That's the thing.” My cheeks flamed. “I can handle the bad. I
thrive
when things are bad. It's when they're good that I don't know what the hell I'm doing. It's like the magnets in my brain need recalibrating or something.”

He smirked. “I've got jumper cables in my car.”

I smacked his arm.

He laid on his back, fingers woven behind his head. “I know someone like that. He went from looking out for his piece of crap dad, to fixing problems for his piece of crap boss. If there's anyone who thrives when things are bad, it's him.”

“So we're both dysfunctional. Great.”

And now we were both alone, because he'd pushed me away when he needed me most. I got that he wanted to protect me, but it still stung.

The amusement drained from Mike's face.

“What he did back there was probably the hardest thing he's ever had to do.”

“I doubt that.”

He shook his head. “He's gone his whole life looking for an anchor, and now it's just been cut loose. How do you think that feels?”

I pictured Alec drifting, lost, unable to stop or even slow down. An anchor was steady. Unwavering. I had only fleeting moments of those things. And though I'd told Mike I thrived when things were rough, his words made me question if I was strong enough to weather the storm.

“Good night, Anna.”

The conversation was over. Mike had made his point, and if it was possible, I felt even worse than before.

For a while there was only the sound of his breathing.

“Night, Mike.”

I went to the bedroom and shut the door behind me. Quickly, I stripped down out of the scrubs, anxious to rid myself of the hospital smell. I looked around the small room, at the nightstand with my old alarm clock and the perfume bottles on my dresser. I hadn't been here since Alec had been back, which felt like a lifetime ago now. It didn't even feel familiar anymore.

Stiffly, I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing I knew where he was. Wishing I was with him. Wishing all of this was over.

*   *   *

I slept restlessly, and when morning came, I was pulled from my nightmares by a knock at the door. I hadn't been asleep long, and my head was pounding. It took a moment to realize that someone had already answered. Mike.

I sat up, snatched a robe off the back of the bathroom door, and walked out into the living room. There, I found Mike, still wearing the same clothes, talking to an older man in a suit who was standing on the doormat. They both turned to look at me.

“Terry,” I said, recognizing my dad's old friend.

“You two know each other?” Mike asked.

Terry gave him a narrowed look. “I should ask you the same.”

“Mike, this is Terry Benitez. He's a detective who used to work with my dad. Mike is Alec's best friend.”

“Ah.” Terry extended a hand, which Mike took a little skeptically.

“Come in,” I said, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. It was a useless endeavor, of course. There wasn't enough caffeine in the world to clear my head.

“Heard about last night,” said Terry.

“Which means my dad has heard about last night,” I added, cringing at my own pithy tone. I didn't want to be rude to Terry. He'd done so much for me.

Terry chuckled. “I made a promise to a friend to keep my eye on you.”

“That seems to be a theme these days,” I muttered as Mike gave a righteous little snort. He returned to the couch and sat, rubbing his eyes.

“I didn't tell your father,” said Terry. “Figured he should hear it from you.”

I gave him a small, grateful smile. Yeah, that would be a fun conversation.

“The kid that pulled the knife on you two, his name is Nathanial Chekhov. He's got a sheet about a mile long. Says Alec owed his boss an old gambling debt.”

“Well that's bullshit,” I said.

Terry nodded. “I guessed as much. He's been connected to someone named Jack Reznik. A real bad character. Had him in county half a dozen times for serious crimes he always manages to weasel his way out of.” He glanced out the window. “The FBI came in and snatched up the case before we had a chance to press either of them for more.”

And all Agent Jamison planned to do was
monitor
Reznik. Wonderful. Now I felt really safe.

“Alec said he did some work for Maxim Stein,” I said.

Terry's brows flattened. “He's done work for a lot of people. Can't link him to any of them.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “How're you holding up?”

“Fine,” I said. “They took Alec into protective custody.” A blanket of numbness descended over me. Funny how quickly my mind had turned to self-preservation. The scar on Nathanial Chekhov's cheek, the feel of his gloved hand on my stomach, Alec's head on my lap while we waited for the ambulance, they all seemed like an ugly dream now.

The coffeemaker was starting to gurgle, and I reached for the mugs.

He glanced back at Mike. “That why you're here?”

“That's right,” said Mike.

Terry looked impressed.

“I've bumped up your escort,” he said. “The officer outside will take you wherever you need to go. Follow you if you'd rather. He'll keep an eye on you entering and leaving buildings. Check out spaces where you'll be alone, like your home. His name's Marcos; you met him last night at the hospital. He's a good cop. I've known him since he was a cadet.”

I couldn't help the bristle of annoyance, remembering the dark-haired officer who'd told me to make my visit with Alec “quick,” but I was grateful, too.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I can't promise it'll last forever.”

“No,” I said. “I understand.” A protective detail wasn't standard practice when someone was attacked, especially when the culprit had been taken into custody. This was a gift from a friend, and I had no doubts Terry was calling in some serious favors to make it happen.

The coffeemaker hissed behind me, and I filled the three mugs. “I guess that means you can go home, Mike.”

Mike rose and moved into the kitchen for a cup. “Give me some coffee, then we'll talk. If it's good, I might not want to go.”

“It's bad,” I assured him.

I looked between them—two very different men here for the same reason. I was acutely aware how lucky I was, but hated feeling like a burden.

“Any idea where Alec is?” I asked Terry. “Or how long he'll be there?”

Terry waved off the coffee I offered, and smiled sympathetically.

“None,” he said. “My advice, get back to a regular routine. It'll make the time pass faster.”

I felt heavy, pulled into the floorboards. Alec hadn't been back long, but already he'd become my routine, even if that routine was highly irregular.

Terry left a few minutes later, and shortly after that I convinced Mike to go, but only after he'd programmed his phone number into my cell and gone out to speak with Marcos, my new best friend. He told me he'd pick up our bag from the hotel before he started his shift, and would bring it by later.

I kissed him on the cheek. “You're all right, you know that?”

He smiled that hundred-watt smile. “Pass that along to your friend Amy for me.”

Internally, I cringed at the reminder of what had gone down at the picnic, but Mike didn't seem to be thinking of that. He was still grinning.

“Don't forget to text me when you leave and get to work.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Teach my daughter that,” he said. “She's only seven and she already thinks she's the boss.”

“Well, she is,” I called after him as he retreated down the steps. I remembered the way they were together. Chloe was a daddy's girl. If she said jump, I was sure Mike asked how high.

As I shut the door, the heaviness descended again.

“Routine,” I told myself. I touched my neck, shivering at the feel of the bandage. Slowly, I pulled it free, fingertips brushing the small scab that had formed there.

With two hours to go before I was scheduled at Rave, I decided to check in on Jacob. I found the number in my purse for his foster mother and made the call, but he had already left for school. She promised to deliver the message and told me that he'd been doing well.

“Really?” I asked. “No offense, but he was pretty torn up about his sister last time I saw him.”

“I know,” she said. “I guess he worked through it. He's been happy as a lark these past couple days.”

“Great.” I frowned. That didn't sit right.

After that I tried Alec's cell, but it went straight to voice mail. I thought of calling my dad but decided I'd need a lot more caffeine before I even attempted that.

I showered with the door open, the curtain pulled back halfway, and a steak knife next to my shampoo. No one was going to surprise me while I was naked. Not ever again.

Because my car was still at the hotel, Marcos, the officer who'd been guarding Alec's room last night, took me there. It turned out he was a pretty nice guy. A little green. A lot serious. But nice. He followed me to Rave, walked me to the door, and asked that I not leave the building after my shift until he came to get me. I had no doubts he'd be right on time.

I was on my way to the back to drop off my purse and get ready when Derrick waved me over. He was wearing black cargo pants tucked into combat boots today, and a loose white knit sweater that hung off his shoulder. He killed it in that outfit, and already I was trying to replicate it in my mind with items from my closet.

“Anything I should be worried about?” He tilted his chin toward Marcos as he slipped back into the patrol car. There was an appreciative look in his eye—clearly he was admiring the view.

“Oh. He's just a friend,” I said.

Derrick hummed the equivalent of “yeah, right” and linked his arm around mine.

“You have a visitor,” he said quietly.

My heart skipped a beat. “Alec?”

Derrick's chin jutted out. He stopped in his tracks. “The guy who pulled a gun in the middle of my spa? Uh,
no
. Much as I appreciate him taking out creepy stalker boy, I'm not interested in a repeat performance, thank you very much.”

Four months ago, Alec had rescued me when Melvin Herman, who we'd learned had been hired by Bobby to play the role of stalker, had cornered me in the break room. A lot of customers had been freaked out by the whole thing, and Derrick had lost a ton of business. I was lucky he'd kept me on after that.