The Spellbinder (9 page)

She got into the limousine and settled herself comfortably on the maroon velvet seat. “Then you invite Harris,” she whispered. “I think he would like it better.”

He nodded. “Wait until we get to the restaurant. I don’t want to rattle him while he’s driving.” He got into the car and shut the door. “Harris has an even greater sense of place than Randal.” He leaned forward. “Mexican, Harris.”

The red-haired driver nodded. “Right, Mr. Devlin. There’s a restaurant two blocks away that’s supposed to be pretty good.” He put the car in gear, cruising slowly down the alley toward the brightly lit street. “As good as anything can be in California. The people out here don’t know how to do much of anything.” The long limousine emerged from the alley, and Harris stopped, waiting for an opportunity to turn into traffic. “Remember that
Mexican restaurant on Broadway? Way uptown? Now,
that
was a good—
Damn
what …!”

The glass of the window next to Sacha exploded and then shattered. She froze, staring at the small hole in the glass.

“Get down!” Brody shouted. He hurled himself across the seat, covering her body with his own. The glass shattered again and there was a sickeningly solid thunk. Brody’s body stiffened against her.

A bullet! That had been a bullet, she thought in panic. Someone was shooting at her, and Brody had— She could hear Harris cursing, she felt the sudden cool rush of air as the door beside her was jerked open. Something warm was flowing down her breast. Blood! Had she been shot?

“Are you both all right?” It was Levine’s voice. “It was a sniper from the hotel across the street. My partner’s on his trail right now and— Merciful God!”

“Is it safe to leave her?” Brody asked tersely. “Damn you, Barry, this wasn’t suppose to happen. What the hell is the use of having security if you can’t even keep one woman safe?”

“You’re shot,” Levine said, dazed. “God, I’m sorry, Mr. Devlin. We never expected a sniper. I’ll call an ambulance.”

It was Brody who was shot! “Get off me,” Sacha whispered. “Brody, why did—”

He looked down at her. “Are you hurt?”

She nodded. “No, but you are. Oh, Brody. “Tears
stung her eyes, and she couldn’t seem to get more words past the tightness of her throat.

“I’m okay.” He moved off her and collapsed on the seat beside her. His face was pale and taut as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Blood. Blood on the sleeve of his white shirt, blood dripping down his arm. “Harris, take me to the nearest emergency room.”

“I’ll call an ambulance.” Levine started to turn away. “It shouldn’t take long for them to get here. There’s a hospital about eight blocks away.”

“No!” Brody said sharply, opening his eyes. “That nut may still be around. We’re not staying here. Follow us to the hospital and see if you can manage to prevent Sacha from getting murdered on the way.” Then, when Levine continued to stand there undecided, he shouted “Get going, dammit!”

Levine stepped back and slammed the door. “The hospital is on the next street over. Take a left at the corner and then head north.”

Harris started the car and stomped on the accelerator, skidding recklessly out into the traffic. “Just hold on,” he said huskily over his shoulder. “I’ll get you to that hospital double quick, Mr. Devlin.”

Sacha moved across the seat. “The blood,” she said numbly. “I’ve got to stop the blood. Where were you shot?”

“Only in the left arm.”

“Only,” she echoed. What if he was dying? What if the bullet had severed an artery and he was bleeding to death? The thought jarred her out of
the chill of horror that had paralyzed her. “I don’t have anything to cut your sleeve away but you need a pressure bandage or a tourniquet or something. Harris, do you—”

Harris tossed her a white cotton towel. “I use this to clean the windows. Don’t put it on the wound, but it might do as a tourniquet.”

She swiftly tied the towel tightly around Brody’s arm above the source of blood on his sleeve. “Hurry, Harris, please hurry.”

“It should be the next block,” he said. “It will only be a few minutes.”

She anxiously studied the primitive tourniquet. Oh, Lord, why couldn’t she remember more about first aid? You were supposed to loosen tourniquets, but she couldn’t remember how many minutes before they began to endanger the circulation. “Harris, do you know how—”

“Here we are.” The limousine turned onto the hospital emergency lot and up to a ramp leading to a double door. Harris jumped out and came around to open her door. “If you want to run in and get some help, I’ll stay with him.”

She didn’t want to leave Brody. He hadn’t moved since they had started the journey and she didn’t know whether he was unconscious or not. What if he died before she came back? If she was here, she would find a way to pull him back and keep him with her. He
belonged
to her. She refused to let death have him. “You go.” Her arms slid around Brody, holding him with fierce possession. “I’ll stay with him.”

Harris nodded and whirled toward the emergency room. “Keep an eye on that bleeding.”

He barreled through the doorway, throwing the double doors wide, and disappeared into the hospital.

“How is he?” Cass Radison’s voice was jerky as he strode into the emergency waiting room.

Cass’s gray hair was rumpled, and his face was almost as pale as Brody’s had been before he had been taken away from her, Sacha realized. “I don’t know, they wouldn’t let me stay with him while they examined him. They took him into one of those rooms.” She gestured to a wide black door across the room. “I told them he needed me, but they wouldn’t let me go with him.”

“Are you okay?” Cass’s eyes narrowed on her taut face and then traveled to the bloodstains on her white T-shirt. “Harris said no one had been hurt but Brody.”

“I’m fine. It’s Brody’s blood.” She shuddered. Brody’s blood. Brody’s life in danger. “He saved my life, you know. It’s my fault he was shot.”

“Forget it. That’s water under the bridge,” Cass said impatiently. “Right now we have to worry about making sure Brody will be fine.
Damn
those security men.”

“I owe him my life. I can’t forget it.” She folded her arms across her breasts, hugging herself, trying to stop the chill. “What if he dies, Cass?”

“He won’t die. Harris said he didn’t think it was serious. It was only an arm wound.”

“Only!” Her eyes were blazing. “That’s what Brody said. What’s wrong with all of you? He was
bleeding.
What if—”

The black door suddenly opened and a short stocky man dressed in blue-green cotton trousers and tunic strode into the room. “Miss Lorion?”

“Here.” Sacha hurried forward. “How is he? He wasn’t hurt badly?”

“I’m Dr. Farland. Mr. Devlin will be fine; the bullet only grazed his arm.”

Relief surged through her with dizzying strength. “Thank God,” she murmured. “I was so afraid—”

“Can we take him back to the hotel?” Cass interrupted. “This place is going to be swarming with reporters and police as soon as word gets out. Brody isn’t going to feel like answering questions.”

Dr. Farland shook his head. “We’d like to keep him overnight to make sure he doesn’t go into shock. We gave him a shot when we first began working on him, and he’s still pretty groggy.” His lips twisted. “We don’t like the idea of the media crawling all over here either, but the hospital has no desire to be accused of negligence in Mr. Devlin’s case. The best we can do is arrange to put him in a private room on the VIP floor and instruct the head nurse not to permit any visitors. Some member of his family will have to sign the admittance forms.”

Sacha aroused herself from the euphoria of relief. “I’ll sign them. I’m his sister.”

The doctor frowned. “I’ve never read anything about Mr. Devlin having a sister. I’m afraid we’ll have to ask for some form of proof.”

“I don’t have any proof, but I’m truly—”

“She’s not his sister.” Cass’s words cut through her protest. “But I have his power of attorney. Will that do?”

Sacha stared at him in bewilderment. “But I
am
his sister. I can sign!”

Cass shook his head regretfully. “Look, I’m sorry, Sacha, but we have proof that you’re no close relation whatsoever.” He turned back to the doctor. “There’s been a little misunderstanding here. Will the power of attorney be sufficient?”

“I don’t see why not. See the admittance clerk and sign the papers.” He sighed wearily. “And I’ll try to keep everyone away from him but necessary staff. I hate it when we get celebrities here.” He turned and strode down the hall.

“I don’t understand,” Sacha spoke very slowly, trying to pierce the gray mist of confusion and shock surrounding her. “You
know
I’m not Brody’s sister?”

He nodded, his eyes sympathetic. “We received a report two days ago and a confirmation this morning. You’re the daughter of David Brownlett, a fifth cousin of Raymond Devlin’s, who was in Budapest at the same time as Brody’s father.”

“David Brownlett,” Sacha repeated, her expression blank. “Yes, I remember that name being on
my list.” She was silent a moment, trying to comprehend it. Brody was not her brother. He did not belong to her. “Why didn’t Brody tell me?”

“I’m sure he meant to.” Cass shrugged. “David Brownlett was dead and had no remaining family. Brody probably found it difficult to break the news to you.”

“You mean, he felt sorry for me,” she whispered. “And when he found out I was in trouble, he was too kind to tell me.”

“Kind?” Cass raised a brow. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard Brody referred to as kind.”

“He is kind,” Sacha said. “You don’t understand him. He can be—” She broke off and closed her eyes. She drew a deep, quivering breath. “But he shouldn’t have been kind this time. He shouldn’t have let me impose on him.” She laughed huskily, and her lids opened to reveal blue eyes glittering with tears. “
Impose
is such a weak word, isn’t it? He saved my life, and I’m
nothing
to him. How can I ever repay him? How can I …?” She trailed off helplessly.

“Sacha, he’s not going to want you to repay him,” Cass said quietly. “Whatever his reason for helping you, it wasn’t to make you indebted to him. He doesn’t play that kind of a game.”

“But the debt exists, and I pay my debts.” She ran her fingers distractedly through her hair. “I’ll have to find a way of paying this one too. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Let me take you back to the hotel,” Cass said.
“You can’t do any more here, and Brody would want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Did they catch the man who shot Brody?”

Cass shook his head. “He was gone by the time the security man located the hotel room the shot came from.” He paused. “Do you know who he was?”

“Not exactly. It could have been either Gino or one of his friends.”

“Gino?”

“Gino Amanti. He wants to kill me,” she said flatly. “I don’t want to talk about this now. It would do no good. You won’t find him. Gino is too clever at evading the police. The only way I can make sure Brody is safe is to keep away from him. I shouldn’t have let him talk me into staying with him, but he seemed so sure his security could protect us.” And she hadn’t wanted to leave him. She had wanted to stay with Brody and she had almost cost him his life. “It was a mistake.”

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” Cass repeated. “You look as if you’re ready to pass out at any second.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “You’re a very nice man, Cass. I do not deserve your kindness. I almost killed Brody.”

“Bull,” Cass said roughly. “I don’t know what this is all about, but you’re not the type of kid who would do anything wrong. Brody is a grown man, and he knew what he was doing.”

“I hope so. I don’t think I could bear—” She stopped abruptly. “I’m not going back to the hotel. I’m staying here with Brody.”

“Sacha, you can’t help—”

“I’m staying,” she interrupted. “I want to be with him. Can you arrange for them to let me stay in his room, or shall I spend the night here in the waiting room?”

“There’ll be reporters all over the place. They’ll eat you alive if they find you out here.”

“Then you’d do well to make sure I’m stowed away safely in Brody’s room, now, wouldn’t you?”

Cass sighed. “I guess I’d better. Wait here, I’ll go sign those papers and see what I can do.”

Dawn streaked the sky with mauve and palest gold. Through the open blinds at the window the warm colors of sunrise poured into the room, bathing Brody’s body. His face, even though gray and drawn because of the gunshot wound, was still mesmerizing, Sacha thought tiredly. Spellbinder.

It seemed like such a long time since that night she had sat in the audience and tried to pinpoint Brody’s appeal. He was no longer only the spellbinder; he was real to her. He was a man who could laugh at himself and the world around him, a man who could be gently and caring, a man who belonged to her.

But he didn’t belong to her. It was hard to remember that Brody was not her brother when she still felt so close to him. If she walked out that door right now, she knew she would still remember the sound of his laughter—and the way his eyes could soften from hardness to tenderness in
the space of a heartbeat—for the rest of her life. How could he not belong to her when she still felt like this?

Brody’s lids quivered and then slowly opened, his gaze focusing on her face. “Sacha?”

Sacha’s hands closed tightly on the arms of the visitor’s chair. She had been expecting, waiting, for this moment all night, but it still came as a shock. “Good morning. May I get you anything? Shall I call the nurse?”

“No.” He gazed at her drowsily. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugged. “I thought you might want company. Hospitals are not warm, wonderful places.”

“I remember you saying you didn’t like them. Have you been sitting in that chair all night?”

“Why not? It was better than sitting in the hotel and worrying. I wouldn’t have slept anyway.”

“There was no need to worry. The doctor says I’m going to be fine.”

“Yes.” She moistened her lips. “They didn’t catch the man who shot you. Cass said to tell you that Randal is still working on it. The police are going to want to see you too. He says he’ll try to stall them until you leave the hospital.”