Running Blind (5 page)

Instead of sitting, Jenna followed the men out onto the porch. Rain still fell, splattering onto the soaked ground, the hushed thrum of it echoing through Jenna's pounding head. She felt sick. Whether it was from grief or fear or pain, she didn't know.

“The first bullet hit here,” Nikolai said, pointing to splintered wood on one of the porch's support posts. Jenna had been standing just inches away from it when the bullet hit.

“And the second?”

“Right at the edge of the porch.” Nikolai gestured to the spot, then stepped out from under the portico. “The shooter was right at the tree line after the first shot. He ducked into the trees after the second.”

“Think you can take me to the spot? Maybe he left behind some forensic evidence. It's doubtful in this rain, but we'll take a look.”

“Sure.” Nikolai started toward the trees, Jenna's father and brother following, Sergeant Lawrence walking beside them.

Jenna wanted to follow, but her body refused to cooperate, and she stood where she was, staring at the hole in the wooden beam. She'd been close to death and hadn't even known it. If the gunman had better aim, or if it hadn't been raining, or if she'd moved a little to the right…

“Jenna?” Nikolai appeared in front of her, his tan face creased with worry.

“I'm all right.”

“Not now, but you will be. Come on. Let's go back inside.” He put his arm around her waist, and she allowed herself to be led back into the dining room.

“I thought you were helping Sergeant Lawrence.”

“I showed him where I saw the guy. Your brother and father are taking him along the path we took through the trees.”

“And you're here with me.”

“You looked like you could use a friend.”

“I could use some answers.”

“I told you I'd help you find them.”

“It doesn't make sense, Nikolai.”

“Death never does.”

“It's not just that.” She hesitated, everything John had told her filling her mind.

“Then what is it?”

“John told me some things that just don't gel with what I know about Magdalena.”

“Like?”

She told him, the words rushing out and tripping over each other, almost too surreal to repeat. When she finished he was silent, his expression unreadable.

“I don't believe it, Nikolai. I will never believe that Magdalena had a drug problem.”

“How about her husband? Does he believe it?”

“He's on the fence.”

“That's telling.”

“How so?”

“Either he knows more than he's saying, or their relationship wasn't strong enough and he didn't know his wife well enough to stand by her in death. How long were they married?”

“Seven years.”

“That's a good amount of time.”

“They met in college and married while Magdalena was in medical school.”

“And they've always lived in Texas?”

“Yes. Magdalena went to medical school here, and she fell in love with the area. After she and John married, they bought a condo near the hospital where she was doing her residency.”

“And lived there until they moved to this place?”

“Yes.” The move had surprised Jenna. The house had surprised her even more.

“As I said before, it's quite a place.”

“It makes a statement, anyway.”

“And you said it isn't the kind of statement Magdalena usually liked to make?”

“She didn't like to flaunt her wealth, if that's what you're asking.”

“But she did have it, right? A place like this is expensive, and I don't imagine that a doctor who gave so much of her time to charity would have a ton of cash lying around.”

“She wasn't trafficking drugs to finance her lifestyle. Her parents were both doctors. They left her a substantial trust fund when they died. And John is a defense attorney; he makes good money.” Disgusted, Jenna stood and paced across the room, her head throbbing more with every step.

“You asked for my help, Jenna. I can't help if I don't ask questions.”

Of course he couldn't, and Jenna didn't expect him to. She planned to tell him that, but as she turned to face him, the room tilted, the pain in her head exploding until all she could hear was her own heartbeat.

She swayed, reaching out, feeling Nikolai's hand anchoring her in place as the world spun around her.

“I think I need to sit down.” She tried to speak, but the words were no more than a whisper, and she wasn't sure Nikolai heard.

Strong arms wrapped around her, holding her up as she slipped further into darkness.

Was she going to pass out?

No way.

Even at her sickest, even when chemo had stolen her strength, she'd never passed out. She wasn't going to do it now.

“Jen? What's going on?”

She heard Kane's voice, heard her father call her name through the thick darkness that was closing in.

And then she heard nothing at all.

N
ikolai flipped through a six-month-old photography magazine, doing his best to ignore the antiseptic scent that filled the waiting room. After spending three months in a VA hospital, he'd sworn to stay far away from anything that even resembled a treatment facility. Yet here he was, exactly where he didn't want to be, sitting on a plastic seat, thumbing through an old magazine and praying that Jenna was all right.

The waiting room door opened, and Kane walked in, a cup of coffee in each hand. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. Did you track down your sister and parents?”

“The nurse said they're down in radiology.”

“Are they checking for brain injuries?” Nikolai hadn't seen Jenna hit her head, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. He'd tackled her without much thought for anything except keeping her out of the line of fire.

“No.” Kane's response was short, his face drawn with worry and fatigue. Aside from Jenna's injuries and troubles, Kane had a young son at home who needed him and a wife who was expecting a baby any day. The stress was starting to show.

“Then what?”

“They ran blood tests when she came in, and her counts are off.”

“Which means?”

“I don't know. I'm not sure I want to speculate, either.”
Kane dropped down into the chair beside Nikolai and took a sip of coffee.

“But you are speculating, so why not put it out there. Say what you're worried about.”

“Jenna was diagnosed with leukemia four years ago. She's been cancer-free for two years.”

“And you're worried that the cancer has returned?”

“I think that's what the doctors are worried about.”

“Perhaps she's simply worn out. She's been through a lot. The body is more susceptible to illness when a person is under stress.”

“Jenna's immunity is low anyway. She hasn't been the same since the chemo.”

“I'm sure she wouldn't want to hear you say that.”

“And if she did hear me, she'd deny it. She's always been independent and unwilling to show any weakness. I wouldn't put it past her to keep things from the family so that she wouldn't worry us.”

“Like what?”

“Like a relapse.”

“The way I see it, you can sit here and worry or you can find your parents and get more information. How about we go to radiology and see if they're there?” Nikolai stood, dropping the magazine back into the rack where he'd found it.

“It seems to me, I'm not the only one worried about Jenna.”

“I don't think I've made any secret of the fact that I'm concerned.”

“Concerned because you saved her life and want to make sure she stays alive or concerned because you've got a deeper interest in her?” Kane asked as they walked out of the waiting room.

“Is there a reason why you're asking? Other than idle curiosity, I mean.”

“She's my sister. I don't want her hurt.”

“She's already been hurt many times. You can't keep it from happening again.”

“No, but I can warn you that I'd take a dim view of anyone toying with my sister's affections.”

“That's an old-fashioned thing to say, Dougherty.”

“I'm an old-fashioned guy.”

He was also a brother with a younger sister he worried about. That, at least, was something Nikolai could identify with. “I have no intention of toying with anything.”

“I'm glad to hear that. Come on. It looks like radiology is this way.” They turned down a long corridor, walked through double doors and nearly bumped into Jenna's parents.

“Kane. Nikolai. Glad we ran into you. Jenna is on the way back up to her room.” Jenna's father looked worn, his eyes shadowed.

“How is she?” Kane asked the question Nikolai wanted to and frowned as Richard shook his head.

“We won't know until the doctor finishes reviewing the CAT scan results.”

“How long will that be?”

“An hour or so.”

“That's an hour too long.”

“I'm sure your sister feels the same way. We promised her a hamburger and a milk shake while she waits. How about we all go to the cafeteria and see if they have anything resembling that?”

“One of us should be up there with her.” Kane spoke up, and Nikolai knew that any of the Doughertys would be happy to sit by Jenna's side. Whether or not she wanted them there was another story. The last thing Nikolai had wanted when he'd been confined to a hospital bed was sympathetic family sitting beside him watching with sad-eyed concern.

“Why don't I go up?” he asked, and all three family members turned their attention his way.

“I think Jenna would be more comfortable with one of us there.” Kane responded before his parents could.

“Actually,” his mother broke in, “Jenna insisted that we all get something to eat before we joined her. She's got a splitting headache, and she wants some time for the pain medicine to kick in.”

“I'll wait outside the room, then, until she's feeling better.” Because there was no way Nikolai was going to let her lie alone in a room waiting for whoever had shot at her to find her there.

“That's a wonderful idea, Nikolai. Would you like us to bring you something to eat or drink?” Once again, Mrs. Dougherty spoke up, offering a smile that reminded Nikolai of her daughter.

“No. Thanks.”

“All right, then. Jenna is in room 306. We won't be long. Ready?” She took her husband's hand, hooked an arm around Kane's and steered them both down the hall.

Nikolai didn't waste time watching them walk away. The more he thought about Jenna alone in a hospital room, the less he liked the idea. Sure, there were people milling around the hospital, but that didn't mean Jenna was safe.

He hurried up to the third floor, bypassing a nurses' station, and stopped in front of Jenna's room. The door was closed, so he knocked, waited until he heard a muffled response and then walked in.

Jenna stood a few feet away, an IV dripping fluids into her arm as she buttoned a short-sleeved black shirt. She paused as he entered the room, her eyes wide with surprise. “I thought you were the nurse.”

“I'm afraid not. I can find a nurse for you, though, if you need one.”

“That's okay. I was just trying to figure out what happened to my socks.”

“Socks?”

“My feet are freezing.” She was still wearing the black slacks she'd worn to the funeral, and her bare toes peeked out from beneath the hem.

“If you were in bed, they wouldn't be.”

“If I were in bed, I'd be thinking about…” Her voice trailed off, and she turned away, tugging the IV pole with her as she crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“What would you be thinking about?” he asked, even though he knew. She'd be thinking about the cancer coming back, about fighting the battle she'd won all over again. And maybe she'd be thinking that the next battle might be one she couldn't win.

“About how much my head hurts and about how much I don't want to spend the night in this room.” Her skin was pale to the point of translucence, her freckles standing out in stark contrast. Deep red hair fell to her collar, the thick straight strands angling toward her jaw. Had she lost her hair during chemo? Her eyelashes and eyebrows? If so, had she worn a wig or had she painted art on her bald head and flaunted it for all the world to see? Nikolai imagined she'd done the latter. Could almost picture her, bald and beautiful, her head covered with colorful artwork.

“Will you be staying?”

“If the doctors and my family have their way. Unfortunately, I don't plan on falling in line and doing what everyone wants.”

“If you did, I'd be disappointed.”

She looked up and met his eyes, smiling for the first time since he'd entered the room. “Yeah?”

“You're a fighter. Why should you stop fighting now?”

“Funny, I was thinking the opposite before you walked in. I was thinking that maybe I should stop fighting and just let whatever is going to happen, happen.”

“If you did that you wouldn't just disappoint me, you'd disappoint yourself.”

“Maybe, or maybe I'd just be relieved.” She smiled again, her lips colorless, her hand shaking as she brushed hair from her cheek.

“Your brother told me about the cancer, Jenna. Is that what
you're afraid of? Or are you afraid that the man who shot at you will try again?”

“Neither. And both. I know that whatever happens is in God's hands, and I know that I have nothing to fear, but I've just gotten my life back. I don't want to lose it again.” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, refusing to meet his eyes.

And Nikolai felt the same burning need to protect that he'd felt when he was a kid trying to keep his small and broken family together.

He reached out, tucking strands of silky hair behind Jenna's ear. “You won't lose it. I'll make sure of that.”

She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Do you really think it's up to you?”

“Inasmuch as I'm able, I'll keep you safe.”

“I appreciate the thought, but it isn't necessary. As soon as the doctor clears me to leave, I'm getting on a plane and I'm going home. There's nothing more I can do here anyway. Magdalena is gone. Her husband seems content to let his parents help Benjamin heal.”

“What about the Panthers?”

She shrugged. “I doubt they're so determined to kill me that they'll follow me all the way to Washington.”

“They followed you here.”

“Strange, don't you think? I was tied up and completely helpless, and they let me live. Now, they're trying to kill me. Why?” she asked as she rubbed her forehead.

“I've been wondering the same thing.”

“And?”

“I don't have an answer, but I plan to get one.”

“Let me know if you do, because I'm coming up blank.” She closed her eyes, deep red lashes lying against pale skin.

“We can talk about this another time. Why don't you lie down and rest for a while?”

“Rest while my family and the doctors make plans about my treatment and discuss my diagnosis? I don't think so.” But she didn't open her eyes.

Nikolai pulled a blanket from the end of the bed, and draped it over her, tucking it around her shoulders, his knuckles brushing her neck and cheek. Her skin was warm and incredibly smooth, and heat shot up his arm, settled deep in his belly.

He let his hand drop away and took a step back, stopping short when Jenna grabbed his wrist. “Are you leaving?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No. I need you to back me up when I tell everyone I'm planning to leave the hospital as soon as the nurse takes out this IV.”

“Jen—”

“I hate hospitals, Nikolai. I spent the better part of two years in them, and I'm done. The smells, the sounds.” She shuddered.

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I've spent a fair amount of time in the hospital, too.”

“Were you ill?”

“A roadside bomb nearly killed me in Iraq. I was in the hospital for three months being treated for burns on my legs. I nearly lost my right foot.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be. I survived, and I know how blessed that makes me. I also know how hospital smells can turn the gut. I'll back you up.”

“Thanks.”

“As long as the doctor doesn't think leaving is going to be detrimental to your health.”

“Forget the thanks, then.” She scowled, her eyes flashing with irritation.

“I told you I would do everything I could to keep you safe. If that means you have to stay in the hospital, that's what it means.”

“And you really think I'm going to stay here just because
you, a few doctors and my family think I should?” She stood, fists settling on narrow hips.

“I think you're going to do whatever it takes to regain your strength so you can help me prove that Magdalena had nothing to do with the Mexican Panthers and drug trafficking.”

“Don't try to be reasonable, Nikolai. I'm not in the mood.”

The comment surprised a laugh out of him, and Jenna offered a weak smile in return. “Well, it's true.”

“Then what are you in the mood for?”

“Answers, I guess. And my own bed in my own room in my own house with Dante warming my feet.”

“Dante?” It hadn't occurred to Nikolai that there might be a man in Jenna's life. But, of course, there would be. She was that kind of woman. The kind who probably had a dozen suitors knocking at her door at any given moment.

“He's a scoundrel but I love him.” She smiled, her expression more relaxed than it had been all day. Either Dante had provided her with many fond memories or the pain medicine she'd been given was kicking in.

“Have you known each other long?”

“Me and Dante?”

“Yes.”

“I took him in about a year ago. Sometimes he disappears for a day or two, but I can't turn him away when he comes home.”

The guy sounded like a loser, but it wasn't Nikolai's business. It
shouldn't
be his business, anyway. “What does Kane think of that?”

“Of Dante? I don't think he cares one way or another.”

“That's surprising.”

“Why? I've got my own place. The animals I keep there are none of my brother's concern.”

Animals? “Dante is a dog?”

“A cat. Why? Did you think he was human?”

“He has a human name.”

“Because he came scurrying out of my neighbor's fire pit about two seconds after Fred set a match to the wood and leaves in it.”

“Dante's Inferno?”

“Exactly. Fred told me to let him run, but Dante was scrawny and homely, and I felt sorry for him.”

“And now you own a cat.”