Bittersweet Chocolate (48 page)

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, if ever. But glancing around the room, Tristan’s grief-stricken look, the total defeat etched into Stephen’s features, and feeling Vi’s body wracked by sobs had his eyes misting. He returned Vi to her seat and left her to go talk to his father and Anthony.

“Any word on Marissa’s condition?” he asked.

“She’s critical and in surgery,” Daniel replied, his voice unsteady. “Jesus Christ, the beating was vicious, and her face, you could hardly recognize her. The pain she must have endured. I’ve never seen anything like it.” His voice broke. “Can she survive something so brutal?” He turned away. “She can’t die,” he whispered and walked over to where his wife sat in a dazed stupor.

Christopher knew violence of this type had never touched his parents’ lives before. “Dad, Marissa fought him, his face was battered, his nose broken.” He walked over and sat beside his mom. “She was damn good,” he said with a mixture of awe and pride in his tone. “The man was in bad shape before the dogs reached him. Marissa kicked his ass.

“But Dad, Tristan killed him, used my gun, and when it’s traced, it will come back to me. I told the police I did it,” he acknowledged. “I believe I’ve taken care of everything, but just in case, do you know any criminal attorneys out here?”

Daniel nodded, too overcome to speak.

“Okay, let’s not worry about it now,” Christopher said. “They’ll call my boss and verify who I am. Anthony and I will cover for Tristan.”

Christopher grasped his mother’s ice-cold hands and rubbed them between his. So far, she hadn’t said a word, and hadn’t shed a tear. “Mom, are you all right?”

“I’m afraid,” Clarisse said. “The way we treated Marissa, things like that come back to haunt you. It’s unfair. Tristan doesn’t deserve this, he won’t...will he be able to deal with it if...” She turned and looked at her youngest child, standing alone, his back to the room, staring out the window. “Will he ever forgive us if she dies?” she asked in a whisper.

* * * *

A doctor entered the waiting room

Tristan turned from the window. An accurate reading of the doctor’s expression kept him rooted to the spot. Stephen approached the doctor first. “How is she?” he asked.

“Not good, Mister Wells.” The doctor looked around the room. “Is her husband here?”

“Damn it, no more bullshit.” Tristan strode toward the doctor. His brothers stepped forward and intervened, blocking Tristan’s way. Startled, the doctor took a step back. Christopher and Anthony’s interference gave Tristan the time needed to gain control. “I’m Marissa’s husband.”

“Sorry, that wasn’t meant...you weren’t here before. There are three of you. I didn’t know which one was her husband,” the doctor lamely explained. He coughed and cleared his throat in an attempt to pull himself together. “Mister Corbett, your wife is in recovery, but I don’t hold out much hope of her making it through the night.”

His mother broke down and his father drew her close, trying to console her. Vi had come up beside Tristan to hear what the doctor had to say. She turned and walked over to the window.

The doctor continued. “You can go in and stay with her.” He looked at the rest of the family. “I can only allow her husband to be with her at this time. It’s up to him when the rest of you can take turns seeing her, only one at a time. I’m sorry.”

Tristan went with the doctor, leaving behind absolute silence.

“There is no pride when it comes to survival, only determination.”

―Anthony Liccione

Christopher motioned for Anthony to follow him out of the room. “Mom is never going to forgive herself if Marissa dies,” he spoke in hushed tones.

“I know. I’d better call the rest of the family and let them know what’s happening. Tristan will never forgive any of us, if she dies,” Anthony stated.

“I hear you, and I wouldn’t blame him.”

“On the drive over here, Tristan talked about Marissa being at some risk having the twins, yet she wasn’t afraid to risk it, for Tristan.” Anthony shook his head. “I don’t understand. In our line of work, we’ve seen it all, but Marissa, after what I saw tonight...incredible. I believe if she’d known beforehand that she would die, it wouldn’t have deterred her.”

“I know it wouldn’t have,” Christopher declared. “She deliberately baited the perp, didn’t care who it was—Matthew, Joel, or any number of enemies. She had a plan when she went out to that park. Guessing the perp would be watching her, she drew him away from Tristan and the twins.”

“Son of a bitch, this shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“True, but she’s a survivor,” Christopher stated. “And you know what? I wasn’t exaggerating for Dad’s benefit. She really kicked Matthew’s ass, and what a shock for that little pissant when she fought back, the way she did.”

A code blue came over the public address system. Instinctively, Christopher ran toward the room Tristan had entered earlier, Anthony on his heels. As suspected, two orderlies struggled with a furious Tristan, trying to eject him from the room.

“Tristan, stop!” Christopher grabbed one arm, Anthony the other, and to the relief of the orderlies, literally dragged Tristan away. Back in the waiting room, Daniel and Stephen came to their aid.

“Tristan, please,” Stephen begged. “Let them help her if they can. Don’t get in the way.”

“Excuse me,” Detective Sanderson said from the doorway. The occupants of the room turned en masse.

Tristan shook off his brothers’ holds and moved away. Ignoring the detective, he walked over to the window and stood next to Vi. Christopher saw her grasp Tristan’s hand, which seemed to bring his raging emotions under control. The two stood together, not speaking, staring fixedly out the window.

Christopher brought his attention back to the newest occupants of the room and moved toward Sanderson. “Can I help you, Detective?”

* * * *

Jonas whispered to Sanderson, “Damn, he’s bigger than the gunshot victim.”

Ignoring Steppling, Sanderson said, “I was hoping to have a word with your brother.”

“Sorry, no can do. As you can see, we have a family crisis, and I’ve already spoken to your captain. Anything you need to know, you should direct to him,” Christopher stated. “I thought I made that perfectly clear, earlier.”

“Hey, I’m just following up on your brother’s shooting, but now with this...”

“Listen, I believe my brother was the victim, and he told you everything he knows. If he thinks of something, he’ll contact you. This is not the time.”

Undaunted, Sanderson started toward Tristan. Christopher blocked his path. “Look, I know there’s more to this than I’ve been told by your brother and his wife. I need to talk to him. He can either do it here, or do it at the police station.”

Daniel Corbett came up beside Sanderson, introduced himself, and said, “If that isn’t satisfactory, you can contact my son’s lawyer?”

“Sir, I only want to ask a few questions. If he’ll cooperate, there won’t be a need for him to bring any lawyers into it,” Sanderson explained. “Though getting an attorney is certainly his prerogative.”

In unison, Christopher, Anthony, and Daniel reached into the inside breast pockets of their jackets. At their sudden movements, Sanderson stepped back and Steppling moved to his side. Surprised to see business cards in the outstretched hands, both relaxed.

“If you have any questions,” Christopher remarked as all three Corbetts handed Sanderson a card. “Any one of us can help you.”

Sanderson took the cards, glanced down at them, whispered several foul expletives, and abruptly left the room.

“What’s on the cards?” Jonas asked, trailing behind Sanderson.

“All three of them are attorneys.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jonas mumbled. “Attorneys...I thought you said the brothers were feds?”

“It’s what they told me. I guess that’s something else about this family we’re not supposed to delve into.” Sanderson stopped and turned to Steppling. “Wait here, keep out of sight. Maybe you’ll overhear something. I’m going to see what information I can get from the doctor.”

Sanderson strode off in the direction of ICU. The nurse looked up at his approach and he smiled. It was Miss Johnson from the other night. “Hi, remember me.”

“Yes. How can I help you, Detective Sanderson, right?”

“Correct. So what can you tell me about Mrs. Corbett’s condition?” He was surprised to see tears spring to her eyes. “What...she’s not dead, is she?”

“I’m not supposed to do this, but come with me.” She led him into one of the private ICU rooms. “This is Mrs. Corbett,” she said and stepped back so Sanderson would have a clear view. A doctor standing beside the bed looked up at the sound of Sanderson’s sharp intake of breath, which said it all.

“No! Son of a bitch, it can’t be.” He stepped back and the nurse closed the door.

“For my money, the brother couldn’t have shot the bastard responsible enough times,” Miss Johnson whispered.

Sanderson left ICU and nodded to Steppling to follow him as he passed the waiting area.

“What’s up?” Jonas asked.

“Case closed.”

“Why? What happened, what did she say? Is she dead?”

“Let’s say what I saw makes me wish I had pulled the trigger.”

“Jesus Christ, Larry, what the hell did you see?”

“That’s it, Jonas, I’m not sure. She wasn’t even recognizable,” Sanderson said with a catch in his voice. “It’s the captain’s baby, now. Let’s go get that coffee.”

* * * *

The doctor came into the waiting room. “Mister Corbett, she’s stabilized. You can go in, if you like.”

Tristan returned to Marissa’s room and sat beside her bed, speaking softly. “Rissa, please, Korey and Kristen need you, I need you.” How long he sat there talking to her, he didn’t know, and he wasn’t aware of anything but her, until Stephen drew his attention.

“I called my family, but I’m afraid they won’t get here in time. This will devastate her cousin Frank and her sister Brittany. They were the closest to her.” Voice dropping to a shaky whisper, he asked, “May I sit with her for a bit?”

Tristan didn’t argue. Stephen deserved a chance to say goodbye. Marissa was dying and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do to prevent it. In his heart, Tristan arrogantly had assumed love would solve their problems. But now—he looked at her again, and left her with Stephen. He walked from her room and out of the hospital, and didn’t stop to speak to anyone.

He drove home and let the dogs out into the yard. They were unusually subdued. He fed them and sat watching them for quite a while. Considering their attack on Matthew, he wondered if Animal Control would get involved, and try to have the dogs put down. Hell, he’d do whatever it would take to prevent that from happening. Maybe Christopher and Anthony could handle that.

Going inside, he took a quick shower, dressed, and made his way to the nursery. Kate was there and his expression must have relayed his despair. She burst into tears.

“She’s on life support, and I won’t lie to you. She endured a savage beating, left her barely identifiable, and stabbed...I’d never seen such cruelty.” His voice grew husky. “I’m going to sit with the babies before I go back to the hospital.”

Kate nodded and rushed from the room.

Tristan walked to Korey’s crib first. Lying awake cooing and gurgling, staring at the mobile above his head, his amber eyes, so alive, Korey most resembled Marissa. He took his son from the crib, stopped to check on Kristen, and found her asleep. They were so young they wouldn’t remember their mother. He settled down in the rocker and relaxed, garnering comfort from his son’s warmth and baby fresh scent. Within moments, the smooth, even motion of the chair lulled the baby to sleep.

Tristan stood and kissed Korey’s cheek before placing him in his crib. He bent over Kristen’s crib and kissed her brow. A tear fell on her forehead, and he gently brushed it away, straightened, and saw Kate hovering in the doorway.

“Tony called,” she whispered. “He said you should come back to the hospital.”

Tristan hurried from the room, not waiting to hear more, because he didn’t want to hear what he suspected put into words. It had been several hours since the surgery, and he had hoped. With his optimism shattered, he was going back to say goodbye, grateful for the time he’d had with her.

Anthony met him in the corridor. “Chris is with Mom and Vi. Stephen and Dad went for a walk. Seeing Marissa in that condition again was too much for Stephen. I just came out of her room. She hasn’t been alone for more than a moment or two. The doctor suggested I call you.”

Tristan nodded and strode toward ICU. Inside Marissa’s room, he stood staring down at her lifeless form for several minutes before dropping down on the chair next to the bed. He grasped her cold hand, his grip tightening as he took note of the damage distorting her features that had required wiring her jaw. Her right hand had a cast. The pain must have been excruciating, yet she must have persisted, fighting back, defending her life.

“Rissa, if I could, I’d kill the son of a bitch again.”

He looked at the tubes and wires. Struggling to keep the tears at bay, he whispered, “Goodbye, Rissa. I love you...have from the beginning.” Kissing her hand, he subsequently rested his cheek against her palm. Her fingers twitched and he leapt from the chair.

Her eyes opened and she stared straight at him. Tears sparkled in her eyes, trembled on her lashes, and she blinked several times in rapid succession. “Dahlin’, can you hear me?” He wanted to pull her close and kiss her, but the paraphernalia protruding from her body prevented intimacy. He settled for another kiss on her palm.

“God, please, don’t take her from me. Fight, baby!” his voice exploded out of him. “Damn it, Marissa, you’re the strongest woman I know.”

Her eyes closed.

He turned toward the nurse in attendance and moved aside when she approached the bed. She spent several minutes checking the equipment, reading monitors, and adjusting gauges. Then she shook her head.

“It could have been a reflex. Nothing has changed,” the nurse told him.