Under Fire (7 page)
Dr. Chu’s brisk questions as the man gave him a thorough exam put Zack’s own on hold. There was a tense moment when Zack had difficulty recalling his occupation and the president’s name, but the doctor’s satisfaction returned when he croaked the correct answers.
Zack would be just fine in a few days, Chu declared, then sped out after promising to stop by later. The whole visit lasted maybe two minutes.
Gradually, Zack’s muddled brain cleared. He stared at the ceiling, the silence getting to him a little. If “everyone” had been so worried, where were they? Funny, solitude never used to bother him so much.
As though in answer to his thoughts, the door opened and Cori returned. And damn, she looked gorgeous in a pair of snug jeans and a blue sweater. Smiling, she resumed her spot at his side and his heart gave an odd leap. Like it might’ve been beating, but hadn’t really been
alive
before she came back.
alive
before she came back.
“Dr. Chu says you’re on the mend,” she said.
“Looks that way.” He tried to return the smile, but, God, his face—his whole head—was killing him. “What happened to me?”
Her expression sobered. “Do you remember rescuing me from my Explorer? The damned thing fell off the bridge and into the river with you inside. You . . . almost died.”
Everything came back in a rush. The call, the storm. Cori’s vehicle hanging off the bridge. His determination to get her out alive, whatever the cost.
The cost had been quite high—but he’d do it again.
“How did they get me out?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but even that slight noise skewered his skull. He wished she’d stroke his hair again.
“Lieutenant Paxton went in and pulled you out,” she said with no little awe. “Then Julian did CPR forever and finally got you back, and just in time, too. We all thought you were a goner.”
So did I.
“That was . . . today?”
“That was . . . today?”
Cori shook her head. “Three days ago. We’ve been taking turns sitting with you, but you’ve been really out of it. Pneumonia—which I’m told you’d neglected to get diagnosed, by the way—and drowning don’t exactly make a healthy combo.”
“Yeah, Dr. Chu enlightened me. In my defense, I thought I just had a bad cold, and I need the overtime.” He groaned. “Why does my face feel like it hit a brick wall? It hurts just to talk.”
“I’m not surprised. You’re lucky you didn’t lose all your teeth, or worse. The chain snapped and bashed you upside the head. Cracked your cheekbone.”
Fan-frickin’-tastic. So much for hoping to retain a thimbleful of cool in front of this woman. His head must look like a purple and blue lopsided pumpkin. But he took some comfort in the fact that she’d been staring at him for three days and hadn’t been scared off.
Three days.
Holy Christ, that meant . . .
Holy Christ, that meant . . .
“My team is working today?” There. Nice and casual.
Cori graced him with another million-volt smile. “Yes, thank goodness. They’ve been driving the doctors and nurses crazy! I tried to call Julian on his cell phone while Dr. Chu was with you and give them the great news, but there was no answer. I’ll try again when I leave.”
“Thanks. Did, um, any of them happen to mention who’s covering for me?”
Please, let it be Six-Pack or Eve.
Please, let it be Six-Pack or Eve.
She patted his arm in sympathy. “Don’t worry. Julian is driving the quint while you’re out sick. He said if you woke up before they got back, to tell you he’s glad you’re okay and that everything’s under control.”
“I’ll bet he did.” God, he wanted to laugh. Cry. Hit something.
She gave him a funny look, as though trying to decipher his sarcasm. “In fact, that’s pretty much the message they all gave me to pass along. I’m sure they’ll drop by as soon as they can.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
His trip to hell was now complete. Salvatore had been eyeing the coveted FAO’s position for a while now, and Tanner had gift wrapped and handed it to the man with a shiny bow. The one man on the team with whom Zack’s tension ran the highest, save for Tanner himself.
Yeah, he didn’t need a freaking telescope to read that particular writing on the wall.
His spirits sank.
What the hell will I do now?
What the hell will I do now?
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Her gorgeous face scrunched into a worried frown.
“Nothing.”
Except that I’m broke, and soon to be jobless. Wanna elope?
Except that I’m broke, and soon to be jobless. Wanna elope?
She sighed. “Cheer up, fireboy. At least nobody tried to kill you.”
“Really, would you please stop calling me . . .
kill
you?” His muddled brain caught up to his mouth. “Your tire! God, how could I have forgotten? Do the police know who shot it?”
kill
you?” His muddled brain caught up to his mouth. “Your tire! God, how could I have forgotten? Do the police know who shot it?”
“Not a clue, and neither do I.”
Something about the soft way she said it, how her tawny eyes darted briefly to the side, made him wonder.
What secrets was Cori hiding behind that firecracker of a personality?
“It was probably random,” he said, trying to reassure her. “Or maybe even an accident. The shot could’ve come from the forest along the river.” Unlikely, given the angle and the bad weather, but stranger things had happened.
“Maybe. It’s just . . . no, never mind.”
Reaching for her hand resting on the mattress, he curled his fingers over hers. “Go ahead, spill it. I’m a friend. Or I’d like to be.”
She looked at him from under her lashes, her gaze haunted. “I’d like that, too, Zack. I have friends, but to be honest, most of them do more talking than listening.”
“I’m all ears, beautiful.” He felt his face heat at how easily the endearment had slipped past his lips. Jesus.
“This is going to make me sound like a nut. The cops didn’t take me seriously, even after my car was shot at.”
“You’re stalling.”
Cori heaved a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.
“Zack, I think someone is watching me.”
4
Cori shifted self-consciously, studying Zack’s expression of wary surprise. Yeah, it sounded just as kooky as it had when she’d told the police yesterday.
“Watching, as in a creepy feeling, or as in the infamous pet bunny boiling on a stove?”
Cori’s face heated. “We’re not talking
Fatal Attraction
at this point, but it’s more than just a creepy feeling. For starters, I’ve seen the same white van everywhere I’ve been for the past three days.” She held up a hand. “Don’t say it. The police already pointed out that I might be ‘overly jumpy’ after being shot at. Imagine.”
Fatal Attraction
at this point, but it’s more than just a creepy feeling. For starters, I’ve seen the same white van everywhere I’ve been for the past three days.” She held up a hand. “Don’t say it. The police already pointed out that I might be ‘overly jumpy’ after being shot at. Imagine.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. You don’t strike me as the nervous type.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Did you get a look at the driver?”
“No, the windows were tinted dark and the vehicle’s been too far away. When I came out of the bank yesterday, it was parked across the street and I couldn’t even tell if anyone was inside. That’s when I finally phoned the officer who took the report on my so-called accident. I told him about the van and the other stuff, and he pretty much gave me the hysterical-little-woman crap and blew me off.”
Zack frowned. “What else has happened?”
“Noises outside at night. Crunching sounds near my bedroom window, a metallic bang as though someone dropped a bucket. A scrape on the porch. Nerve-racking but not directly threatening.”
“Do you live in town?”
She sighed, knowing where this was going. “On the outskirts. The house is set back in the trees and the neighbors are spread out.”
“Cori, I’m not trying to patronize you, but Tennessee is overrun with all sorts of wildlife, especially deer. At night, they’ll come right up to the house and get into everything.”
“I know. Listen to me,” she said, waving him off with a smile that didn’t squelch the inner disquiet. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. You’re tired and I have to run.”
Disappointment flashed in his blue eyes. Then his expression smoothed into calm acceptance. “Already? Well, thanks for coming by and keeping me company. Don’t be a stranger, huh?”
Her insides lit in a warm glow as she stood. Zack didn’t want her to leave! She squeezed his fingers. “I can come back tomorrow, if you want. If you don’t, no problem. I wear big-girl panties now, so I can take the rejection.”
This earned her a lopsided grin. “No comment on the panties, on the grounds that it may incriminate me. Come back tonight?”
“Can’t, sugar. Got a bachelor-party gig in Nashville.”
His grin faded some—whether from the reminder of her exotic dancing or from not being able to see her tonight, she wished she knew.
“Okay. Tomorrow, then. I’ll see if I can fit you in.”
“Cute.” Leaning over, she gave him a brief kiss on his dark-stubbled cheek. A peck she meant only as a friendly good-bye but somehow felt like something more. His heat, his nearness, pulled at her, and she straightened quickly. “Hang tight and you’ll feel better fast. You’ll see.”
He gazed at her from beneath a fringe of black lashes. “Can I have that in writing?”
“Hey, chin up. Keep improving and you’ll be out of here by the day after tomorrow.”
“How do you know that?”
Oops. “I keep my ears open. Now rest.”
“Like I have a choice,” he muttered, looking like a sullen little boy.
Lips curved into a smile, she turned to leave. “Bye, Zack.”
“Cori?”
She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Be careful in Nashville tonight. Watch your surroundings.”
Zack’s concern both chilled and warmed her at the same time. With his huge blue eyes and black hair tousled against his pillow, even with the vivid bruise on his pale face, he looked so impossibly sexy, warmth won out.
No sneer of derision for her job, no attempts to sway her to pursue a better line of work. Just honest worry for her safety.
The man was a cool drink of water in the desert.
“Will do.”
Damn, she didn’t want to leave. And, for the first time in a very long while, fervently wished she were headed anywhere else except to take off her clothes for yet another drunken bachelor party.
You don’t have to
, the nagging little voice tempted her.
You could dip into the till, pay off the rest of that pesky school loan. Who’d care?
, the nagging little voice tempted her.
You could dip into the till, pay off the rest of that pesky school loan. Who’d care?
No. Over her dead, stinking corpse.
Besides, her debts were almost paid. She’d emerge with her pride intact.
Tomorrow, she’d tell Zack the truth.
Well, at least the part about her nursing job. The rest she’d buried with Alex’s dead body two years ago.
Those horrible days were behind her, and she wasn’t dredging them up for anyone.
Not even Zack Knight.
Lionel hunched over his mop, silently cursing the subtle stench of piss and vomit combined with ammonia. Using the considerable skill born of poverty, honed on the blade of hunger, he schooled his features to reveal nothing. To give those around him the comfortable illusion of what they expected to see.
No one ever noticed a janitor.
Sheep, his brother had liked to call the hapless people who fell prey to their schemes. Dumb animals to be herded to figurative slaughter, the wool and meat turned for profit, the carcass discarded.
Never one to forget how easily the cruel fist of fate crushed the complacent, how quickly all was lost, Lionel had always disagreed. The human psyche was a wonderful wellspring of untapped emotions, ripe for exploration. Exploitation.
Consumption.
People wanted to believe their lives weren’t small and insignificant. That they mattered, could be more than they were, safe and loved. A few well-placed kindnesses, whispered caresses, and their bodies, souls, and wealth belonged to Lionel.
Lonely businesspeople. Overworked doctors, lawyers, politicians with everything to lose. Lovers who eagerly surrendered all to him, received the sexual adventure they craved. For a price.
Now he’d reel in the biggest prize of all.
Lionel usually worked alone these days, but he’d been unable to resist this new proposition. Especially after listening to what the man had to say, when the sly manipulator finally caught up with him, that was. Lionel had been indisposed, courtesy of an eighteen-month stay in Hunts ville State Penitentiary. He and his new “partner” finalized their plans right under the ignorant noses of the armed guards.
Sure, his partner could’ve sought someone else to carry out the deed and not wasted months locating Lionel. But no one else quite matched Lionel in skill or motivation. The opportunity to exact justice on the hot bitch made the pot of honey extra sweet.
So Lionel mopped, sweating in stupid goddamned coveralls the pallid shade of a dead body, putting up with the stink of Sterling’s ICU in order to study his latest target from beneath the brim of a battered baseball cap. Months of planning with his annoying business cohort, poised to bear fruit.
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