Building Ties (Military Romantic Suspense) (SEAL Team Heartbreakers Book 4) (40 page)

“Will you at least think about doing some freelance stuff with me?”

Tess laughed and shook her head. A knocked sounded at the door and she automatically moved to answer it.

Surprised, she frowned at the man who stood in the hall.

Ronald Gordon looked thinner, almost haggard. Deep lines of grief etched each side of his mouth.

“I just wanted you to know my nephew is worth more than the paragraph you gave him in your paper. Did you know he and Daniel Delgado were friends? That he became an addict after he met Miguel at their house?

Gordon stifled a sob. “And now he’s dead and Miguel will live on to poison more teenagers with his dope. To cause more parents the pain my sister is feeling because she just buried her son. But you won’t.” Gordon raised his hand and plunged it downward.

Seeing something sharp descending at her, Tess threw up an arm to try and block it. Gordon shoved her back and she staggered, his greater size and strength pushing her, knocking her feet right out from under her. She went down hard onto her back. A piercing pain shot into her shoulder.

Ian and Brett rushed forward.

Brett dragged Gordon off of her as she tried to roll onto her side, but her arms wouldn’t work, nor her legs. Warmth spread through her, and a weightlessness that was not unpleasant. Her eyes refused to focus.

“Dear, God.” Ian knelt and reached for something sticking out of her shoulder.

After a moment of confusion, she recognized it as a syringe.

Am I going to die?

Her eyes rolled back in her head and darkness claimed her.

‡

“S
he’s throwing up,
Brett,” Ian shouted from behind Brett. “She’s having trouble breathing.”

“What did you give her?” Brett plowed his fist into Gordon’s face again and again. “What was it?”

Gordon’s head lolled back, held up only by Brett’s grip on his shirt collar. “Heroin.” The word sounded garbled coming from Gordon’s busted mouth. “I gave her heroin.”

Brett’s heart thundered up through his chest and into his throat. “Oh, God. Jesus.” He released Gordon’s shirt and the man fell flat, then rolled onto his side.

Brett scrambled to his feet, sprinted to the phone on the desk and dialed 911.”

Gordon staggered to his feet and out into the hall. Brett let him go. He wouldn’t get far. The cops would pick him up.

Looking at Tess, so helpless and still on the floor, escalated his anxiety to panic proportion. He could barely breathe, barely think. He had to concentrated on what needed to be done.

The sound of busy signal nearly drove him out of his mind. He yelled in frustration and fought the urge to throw the phone against the wall. He shoved it at Ian. “Keep hitting the redial button until they answer.”

With hands stained with Gordon’s blood, he dragged his cell phone out his pocket, rushed through his contacts and pushed the key.

Miguel’s voice sounded as cocky as always, “Sailor boy.”

“Gordon came to Tess’s apartment and stabbed her with a hypodermic filled with heroin. 911 isn’t answering. She’s dying. Please tell me you have something you give your guys if they O.D.”

Miguel’s tone turned flat. “We’re on our way. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

Five minutes! Five minutes was a fucking
lifetime
! He shoved the cell phone in his pocket.

Ian had finally gotten through to the emergency operator, his frantic voice was high-pitched with stress and punctuated with open sobs. His green eyes looked wild, and he was tearing at his hair with one hand while he gripped the phone with the other. The international reporter who had dodged bullets and been abducted by terrorists was falling apart.

Brett dropped to his knees next to Tess, then just as quickly rushed to his feet again. He couldn’t touch her with Gordon’s blood on his hands. He scrubbed his hands, then got a dishtowel from the kitchen and wet it. He hurried back and kneeled to bathe her face and clean the vomit from her chin. He made sure her airway was clear and rolled her back onto her side in case she threw up again. Her pulse was weak, her skin pasty and white. If he had to, he’d do CPR until it killed him. He wasn’t losing her.

“Don’t leave me, Tess. Keep fighting, baby. I’m here.” Tears blurred his eyes. He kept his fingers on her pulse and monitored every breath. “Fight, Tess. Keep breathing, honey. I love you, Tess.” He didn’t think she could hear him, but it helped him to tell her.

“Get a blanket from the bedroom, Ian.”

The big man struggled to his feet with the phone still clamped to his ear, staggered into the bedroom, and returned with the blanket from the bed. Brett covered her. As he met Ian’s frantic gaze he realized Tess’s father had aged ten years in the minutes since the attack.

Brett had never prayed so hard in his life. He offered God every bargain he could think of in return for Tess’s life. Time crept by. He strained to hear the sound of an ambulance’s siren, and fought the urge to scream and rail. The cell phone in his hand sounded and he punched the button to answer it.

“I am here,” Miguel’s voice came across the connection. Brett gave him the apartment number.

It seemed an eternity before Miguel appeared at the open apartment door. He hurried to Tess’s side holding what looked like a syringe. He stabbed it into Tess’s thigh and pushed the plunger. “This is Narcan and will neutralize the drug in her system. When the ambulance arrives, tell them what I’ve given her.” He shoved the syringe into Brett’s hand. Then he lifted Tess’s eyelids and felt her pulse.

“How long does it take to work?” Brett asked.

“It is already working. They will give her more throughout the night.” The sound of a siren whispered in the distance, and Miguel stood. “Where is Gordon?”

“He stumbled out the door. I beat him until he told me what he gave her.”

“Good. Tell Ms. Kelly we are even and that Gordon will no longer be a problem for her.”

“Don’t let him off easy. Let him face what he’s done here.”

Miguel’s expression remained flat, unreadable. He strode back out the door without another word.

Had Brett just signed a man’s death warrant? Did he even care? Brett searched his heart for some pity for Gordon, and found none.

He gripped Tess’s wrist and felt her pulse again. It felt a little faster, a little stronger. He pressed his ear to her chest and listened to her breathing. It didn’t seem as shallow.

“Just a little longer, baby. Help is coming.”

‡

T
he beeping noise
was driving her crazy. Growing louder and louder, pounding a nail of consciousness into her sleep-dulled mind. Was it a delivery truck outside backing up? Surely it didn’t take that long to—Tess opened her eyes.

The room was shrouded in twilight. A long wall lamp over the bed reflected a soft glow off the ceiling.

Shit!
She was in the hospital. She rolled onto her side and the sticky pads attached to the heart monitor pulled at her skin.

Brett sprawled loose-limbed and sound asleep in a chair by the bed. His six-foot frame overwhelmed the small seat, and his head tilted at an angle guaranteed to give him a crick in his neck. Light brown lashes fanned against his cheeks. His hair, having grown since his return, was actually attempting to lie flat, but not quite making it. Even with beard scruff darkening the lower half of his face, he’d never looked more handsome.

Tess moved her arm, felt the tug of the IV and frowned. Oh God, what about the wedding? Would she be able to walk down the aisle?

Before she’d been overwhelmed by the heroin’s affects she recalled she’d wondered if she was dying and hadn’t cared if she did. The drug, the heroin Gordon had injected her with…Had leached her will to live. Drained it from her consciousness. How insidious and scary was that?

She’d awakened to the brightly-lit bedlam of the emergency room with an IV in her arm and a doctor asking questions she felt too tired to answer. All she’d wanted to do was return to the floating euphoria where nothing mattered. Until she’d seen Brett standing off to one side. She’d never forget the look of anguished worry on his face.

The door opened and a nurse came into the room carrying a basket filled with the paraphernalia to draw blood. Her pale scrubs looked dull gray until she neared the bed and stepped into the dim light, and they turned blue. She offered Tess a smile, and after a glance in Brett’s direction, whispered, “How are you feeling?”

If she said ‘like shit’ they’d make her stay and she’d miss the wedding. “I’m good.”

Brett shifted in his seat, straightened, and then arched his back and stretched. He came to the bed and rested a hand on the railing to watch while the nurse took her temp, vital signs and checked the IV bag.

“The doctor’s ordered another tox screen and a few other tests.”

Tess stretched out her arm where a bruise had already formed from other blood draws and flinched when her shoulder moved. She knew she had a bruise on her thigh where Brett had told her Miguel had injected her. But she also felt sore in other places as well. She looked away while the nurse inserted the needle.

Brett grasped her free hand and ran a calming thumb over her fingers. Dark rings discolored the skin beneath his eyes. Exhaustion dragged at the corners of his mouth. As soon as the nurse finished and left, Tess patted the bed beside her.

After a brief pause, he lowered the side railing and slid onto the narrow mattress to spoon with her.

“How are you really feeling?” he asked.

“A little shaky. And sore in spots.”

“Me too.”

She ran her fingers over his red knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, honey?”

“For…everything.”

Brett let out a sigh. “None of this shit was your fault.”

She guided his hand up beneath her cheek. After a few minutes of silence she asked, “Did they find Gordon?”

“Buckler called my cell phone last night about one. Gordon was dumped out of a car in front of the police station downtown.”

“He was still breathing, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah. A little beat up, but okay. He’s confessed to everything. He’d been looking for his nephew for days when the cops found him dead. He blamed himself for not finding him in time.”

“His nephew had a two-year history of drug addiction. He’s been in and out of jail and rehab.” But things could have been handled with more consideration at the paper. “I didn’t write the piece in the paper about his nephew. It was done by another staff writer. I should have done it.”

“He was just looking for some kind of payback, and you were the only one he was brave enough to take on.”

Tess turned to look over her shoulder. “Is Ian okay?”

“Yeah. Once you were out of the woods. He was in pretty bad shape before.”

“My mom?”

“Luckily by the time I called her, things were turning around. Don’t you remember her coming in?”

She rubbed her forehead. “Vaguely.” She hugged his hand to her. “They are going to let me out in time for the wedding, aren’t they?”

“If the doctor says you’re good to go.”

She was going to be at the church if she had to crawl there. Surely by three o’clock she’d back on her feet. She wasn’t about to miss her own wedding. Not after all this.

“I don’t ever want to go through anything with you ever again like I did last night, Tess.” Brett said, his voice breaking. Her heart sank, but when she attempted to face him his arm tightened.

She hastened to reassure him. “I’m okay. This was just a random thing. It’s never going to happen again.”

After a few minutes his arm relaxed and she turned to brush away the tears still wet on his face. Emotion gripped her throat at seeing them and answering tears blurred her vision.

“Maybe we should move to D.C.,” he said.

“Screw D.C. It’s the Post’s fault I went on the interview with Mary to begin with. I’d just done the phone interview with the editor and I was gung ho to sink my teeth into something controversial. If I hadn’t met with her, she’d still be alive, and none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t move to Washington D.C. if you paid me.”