Vulnerable: (McIntyre Security Bodyguard Series - Book 1) (43 page)

“Hurt how? Where are you? What happened?”

“We’re in our office. She’s on the floor. She’s not responding. I think she’s unconscious. It was a student. Andrew Morton,” she said, her voice shaking. “He – he attacked her. He beat her, Shane! He kicked her face and her chest. She’s bleeding and having trouble breathing. He ran off, and I called campus police.”

“Have you administered her inhaler?”

“Yes. Well, I tried to. I’m not sure how much of the medicine got in her. Her face is so swollen – her nose is probably broken – and she’s wheezing badly. There’s a lot of blood in her throat. I can hear it gurgling.”

“Listen very carefully, Mary,” Shane said, his voice eerily calm. He was short of breath, as if he was running as he was talked. “Roll her to her side to prevent her from choking. My guy Miguel is right outside the building. I’ll send him up to you.”

“Okay.” Mary’s voice broke on a sob, and she started crying. “How could he do this to her?”

Shane cursed over the phone, then said, “Mary, I have to hang up now to call Miguel. He’ll be at your door in just a few minutes. Let him in.”

“Okay. Are you coming?”

“I’m heading to my car now. I’ll get to her as quickly as I can.”

Mary ended the call and wiped her face on her sleeve. She rolled Beth to her side and rubbed her back gently. “Help is coming, honey. It’s going to be all right.”

But there was no response from Beth.

Mary stayed at Beth’s side, gently touching her and trying to offer comfort. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she heard a deafening pounding on the door. Mary jumped, then remembered Shane’s instructions.

Mary ran to the door and yelled, “Who’s there?”

“Miguel Rodríguez! Shane sent me! Open the door, Mary!”

Mary opened the door and Miguel pushed inside, a black gun in his hand.

“Where is she?” Miguel demanded, quickly scanning the room.

“In there.” Mary pointed toward the inner office. “She’s unconscious.”

“Andrew Morton did this?” Miguel asked Mary as he holstered his gun. He knelt beside Beth and checked to see that she was breathing. Her breaths were short and shallow, and he could hear fluid rattling in her throat. He checked her pulse, then the reactions of her pupils.

“Yes, it was Andrew,” Mary said. “I’ve called campus police. They’re on their way.”

Miguel nodded, continuing his inspection of Beth.

The door to the Special Collections room opened and two uniformed campus police officers rushed in, a man and a woman. They came right to Beth, and the woman radioed the dispatch operator, who confirmed that the paramedics had arrived on campus, their ETA five minutes.

“I’ll wait for the paramedics downstairs,” the female officer said.

“She’s unconscious,” Miguel told the male officer. “Pulse is fast, breathing is fast and shallow. She’s asthmatic.”

“I used her inhaler on her,” Mary said, “but I’m not sure how much medicine went into her. That’s when she passed out.”

“Who are
you
?” the male police officer asked Miguel.

Miguel pulled out his wallet and showed his identification to the officer. “Miguel Rodriguez, private security. I work for McIntyre Security. Miss Jamison is one of our clients.”

The officer looked at Miguel’s identification, then nodded. “Do you know who did this?” he said, kneeling beside Beth.

“Andrew Morton did it,” Mary said. “He’s a student here.”

“Were you a witness, ma’am?” the officer asked.

“Yes. I pulled him off of her.”

“Do you know where he is now?” he said.

Mary shook her head. “No. He ran off.”

Miguel had pulled out his cell phone and was making a call when the paramedics arrived. He stepped back, speaking into his phone, as the paramedics assessed Beth’s vitals and prepared to load her onto the gurney.

“No, she’s unconscious,” Miguel was saying into the phone. “They’re taking her now.” Miguel glanced at the paramedics. “Where are you taking her?”

“University of Chicago Medical Center,” one of them said, as they strapped her onto the gurney.

“U.C. Medical,” Miguel said. “Right. I’ll see you there.” Miguel ended the call. “I’m riding in the ambulance with her,” Miguel told the paramedics, as they began to wheel her to the door.

Chapter 38

Shane took a deep breath, steeling himself before entering Beth’s curtained unit in the ER. He’d been warned ahead of time by Mary Reynolds that it was bad. Really bad. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes. Beth lay unconscious on the bed, small and battered, covered with an obscene amount of blood on her face and chest. Just looking at her made his chest hurt, as if a giant fist was squeezing the life out of him. His hands balled into fists at his sides as he watched a nurse gently wash Beth’s face with a damp cotton ball.

He must have made a sound, because the nurse looked up expectantly. “Hello. And you are?”

“Shane McIntyre.” He swallowed hard. “I’m Beth’s boyfriend.” He approached the foot of the bed, his gaze riveted on Beth.

“She’s been in and out of consciousness,” the nurse said, looking at Shane with sympathy. “She has a concussion, but her vitals are stable. She’ll be okay.”

Shane nodded, relieved, but not trusting himself to speak. His throat had closed up on him. A movement in his peripheral vision made him look off to the side, where Miguel stood against the curtain, a dark and silent guardian angel.

Shane nodded his gratitude at Miguel. Miguel smiled sadly at Shane and clapped him on the shoulder as he quietly left the unit.

“The doctor will be back any moment,” the nurse said.

Shane glanced at the nametag on the nurse’s uniform. “Thanks, Kelly,” he said. That was about all he could manage at the moment. He’d gotten a good look at Beth’s face. At the moment, she was... unrecognizable. Her face was grotesquely swollen and discolored. Her nose was swollen, possibly broken, and her bottom lip was split open. There was dried blood on her face and chin and neck. Even her hair – her beautiful hair – was matted with dried blood so dark it almost looked black.

She lay as silent and still as death.

For a moment, he stopped breathing, his jaw clenched so tightly he feared it might shatter. He wanted to kill Andrew Morton. And he could have. At that moment, if he had his hands around the kid’s throat, he’d crush it without a second thought.

“Can I touch her?” he asked the nurse, walking around to the other side of the bed.

“Yes, just be careful,” the woman said. “We won’t know what, if anything, is broken until after the x-rays. And watch her IV. We’re giving her pain medication.”

Shane glanced down at Beth’s left arm. Hell, he didn’t need an x-ray to know it was broken. If he had to guess, he’d probably say she had some broken ribs, too, and maybe a broken nose.

Shane reached out a tentative hand, surprised to see it shaking. He’d handled plenty of explosives in his career. He’d held a sniper’s rifle as steady as a rock. But right now his hand shook.

A young man wearing a white lab coat swept into the curtained room. His dark eyes went right to Shane, and he smiled. He picked up the medical chart hooked to the foot of the bed and methodically scanned the stack of papers with sharp eyes. “I’m Dr. Prakash,” he said, reaching out to shake Shane’s hand.

“Shane McIntyre. I’m Beth’s boyfriend.”

“I’d like to examine Miss Jamison now,” Dr. Prakash said. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside?”

“I’m staying,” Shane said, a mulish expression on his face.

Dr. Prakash nodded, wisely choosing the path of least resistance. “Very well,” he said.

Shane stepped back from the bed to allow the physician access to Beth. As the doctor examined her, Shane studied her face. Practically every inch of it was bruised and battered. Both eyes were swollen and dark with bruising. There were lacerations on both cheeks and on her forehead. And her mouth... dear God, her mouth.

Dr. Prakash peeled back the two halves of Beth’s hospital gown, uncovering her chest and abdomen. There were bruises already forming on her chest, over her breasts as well as her ribs.

Shane stepped closer to see the damage for himself. Dear God, that little fucker had kicked her breasts. Her sweet, beautiful breasts. Shane fought for control as his gorge rose, threatening to choke him. The knowledge that someone had hurt her made him want to lash out, but at the moment there was no one to lash out against.

Dr. Prakash uncovered Beth’s left forearm and gently palpated the purple and red knot the size of an egg that was halfway between her elbow and wrist.

When he realized he was holding his breath, Shane forced himself to take a deep breath. He didn’t know which was worse: his rage at Andrew Morton, his anger at Tyler for not following Shane’s recommendations to have someone there in the library with Beth, or his own crushing sense of guilt at having failed her.

No matter how he looked at it, the assault on Beth was his fault. He was the one who’d provoked Andrew Morton at the hospital benefit. He’d thought to scare the boy away from Beth. Instead, Andrew had retaliated against Beth. He’d completely underestimated the danger that Andrew Morton posed. The bottom line was this was
his
fault.

He’d fucked this case up from the very beginning because he’d let his emotions get in the way of his judgment. He should have told Beth up front that Tyler had hired his company. He should have assigned close protection inside the library from the very beginning, despite Tyler’s objections. It killed him to think that if Mary hadn’t intervened when she did, Andrew might have killed Beth, whether he’d intended to or not.

He was done playing nice with Tyler. He was going to do things his way now.

The sound of Beth coughing, choking on her own saliva, yanked Shane out of his own dark thoughts. He rushed forward just as Dr. Prakash gently grasped Beth’s shoulders and rolled her to her side, steadying her.

“You’re okay, Beth,” Prakash said, his voice warm and sympathetic. “Beth, can you hear me? You’re in the hospital. You’re going to be okay.”

Beth’s eyes flickered open, and she cried out.

“Beth.” Shane moved into her line of sight, his hand hovering over her head. He wanted to touch her so badly, to comfort her and let her know he was there, but he didn’t dare touch her face. Instead, he laid his palm gently on the top of her head and leaned close.

“Sweetheart, it’s Shane,” he said. “I’m here. You’re in the hospital. You’re safe.”

Beth started crying then, horrible gut-wrenching sobs that nearly tore Shane apart. His eyes stung with tears.

“Shane!” Her gasp was hoarse, so weak he almost didn’t hear her.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, his face hovering over hers. He wanted desperately to put his lips on her, but there wasn’t a single spot inch on her face that was unmarked. Finally, he laid his lips gently on her hairline, no pressure on her skin, just the faintest brush of his lips. “I’m here, baby.”

Her entire body went limp as she lost consciousness again.

“We’ll be sending her for x-rays and a CT scan soon,” the doctor said. “For now, stay with her. Call for the nurse if she wakes up again. We need to monitor her concussion closely.”

Shane nodded, pulling a chair up beside her bed. He noticed that the nurse had left.

“I’ll give the order to have her admitted,” Dr. Prakash said. “She’ll be here with us for a while.”

Shane stayed by Beth’s side. He wanted to hold her hand, but both of her hands were battered. She must have tried to protect her head with her hands, because her knuckles on both hands were cut and bruised.

The nurse returned a few minutes later to resume gently washing the blood from Beth’s face and neck and hands. Shane stared at the water in the basin as it changed from pink to bright red to a deep, dark red. Beth’s blood. Andrew Morton had shed Beth’s blood. The fucker could have killed her.

Shane heard a discreet noise from the curtained entrance to the unit. He looked back and saw Cooper standing there, stiff and silent. The man’s gaze was glued to Beth’s still form.

“How is she?” Cooper said.

“Her vitals are stable,” Shane said, “but she’s in a hell of a lot of pain.”

“Has she regained consciousness?” Cooper asked.

“They said she’s been in and out of consciousness. She came to once since I’ve been here, for about a minute or so. She was distraught.”

Cooper scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing. “I called Tyler and Beth’s mother. They’re on their way.”

“What about Andrew Morton?”

“He’s in custody at the County jail,” Cooper said.

“Good. Call Gabrielle Hunter,” he said. “She’ll want to be here.”

“Troy Spencer’s here,” Cooper said. “He wants to know what you want to do about Morton.”

Shane’s jaw clenched tightly. “Send Troy to the Courthouse. Tell him I want Andrew Morton charged with everything we can throw at him. Assault, battery, unlawful imprisonment, and anything else Troy can dream up. Oh, and call Richard Morton. Tell him just what his sick bastard of a son has done.”

“Richard knows,” Cooper said. “Chicago PD arrested Andrew at his parents’ house. Andrew lives with his parents.” Cooper glanced once more at Beth, frowning, and then he slipped away as quietly as he’d come.

Shane stroked Beth’s hair with a feather-light touch. On the surface, he was afraid of hurting her. But deep down inside, he was afraid she might rebuff him if she woke and found him here. He couldn’t bear it if she turned him away now.

He had no idea what to expect when she finally regained consciousness, and that scared the shit out of him.

Chapter 39

The first thing that registered in her mind was pain – bright, blinding pain. She hurt all over. Her head was throbbing, and every breath she took felt like a knife stabbing her in the chest. She was cold one minute and hot the next. When she felt a pinch on the inside of her right elbow, she opened her eyes and looked, seeing an IV line taped there.

At first she was confused, disoriented. She didn’t know where she was or what was happening. She only knew that she hurt. She started gasping as panic set in.