What Mattered Most (3 page)

Somewhere, John lay on the other side of those doors marked
No Admittance
—his ribs cracked, a gunshot wound to his shoulder. She pressed icy, trembling fingers to her lips in a futile attempt to suppress a horrified moan. He could have died, and she’d never told him she loved him, never told him how much he’d changed her life.

“I’m going to get some coffee.” Beside her, Steve shot to his feet. He never could sit still, and Lanie was surprised he’d managed to stay in the chair as long as he had. “You want something? Juice, milk?”

She wanted to run this night back like a bad movie and start it all over again. Pitch one of those feminine fits John detested, insist he call the auto club for Beth and come with her to Emerson’s. She wanted him safe and whole, with her. Without removing her gaze from the gray double doors, she shook her head. “No, thanks.”

“Will you be okay until I get back?” Steve hovered, hands jammed in his pockets.

She shot him a look, part of her wishing again that Caitlin had accompanied her to the hospital. One thing her cousin never did was ask stupid questions. “I’m fine.”

Steve didn’t question the lie and sauntered down the hall. Lanie clenched her fingers in what remained of her lap. Lord, how long was this going to take? The minutes without news stretched, making her want to scream.
Please, please, someone come through those doors and say he’s going to be all right.

Tension keeping her nerves taut, she pushed to her feet and paced to the window. Below, the parking lot stretched to the road, bright halogen security lights reflecting off the car tops. From the fourth floor, she could see beyond the busy street to the oceanfront district. Emerson’s remained brightly lit, and if Lanie tilted her head to the side, she could just make out the tiled roof of her house. Out of sight was McCollum Road, which would be flooded with patrol units and swirling red and blue lights.

Arms hugged around her stomach, she rested her forehead against the cool glass. Where were Beth and Nicole? And who wanted them badly enough to shoot John to get to them?

The bitter aroma of vending machine coffee preceded Steve into the waiting area. He joined her at the window, and Lanie lifted her head. Taking a cautious sip of his coffee, he shot her a smile. “Come on, Falconetti. Buck up. He’ll be fine. He’s a tough guy.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes against a burning wave of tears. She’d gotten a glimpse of John as he was unloaded from the ambulance, and the images blazed on her closed lids—his straight nose bruised and swollen, a cut still bleeding at his hairline, his wonderful blue eyes closed, dark lashes fanning across the unnatural pallor of his skin. A shudder traveled through her.

Please don’t let him die.

In her womb, the baby—John’s son—stirred, and Lanie pressed her hands to that promise of life. Steve was right. John was the quintessential tough guy. Invincible. Superman. A smile trembled at her lips as she remembered how pleased he’d been with the framed comic book art she’d given him at Christmas. Her fingers drifted up to toy with the infinity pendant, his gift to her.

Forever.

He’d never said the words, but the significance of the pendant whispered volumes. At the time, Lanie had thought the
I love you’s
unimportant. Now she ached to hear the words, ached to whisper them against John’s ear.

She would, she promised herself with fierce hope. As soon as he woke up.

The double doors whooshed open. “Lanie?”

Hope fluttering in her chest, Lanie spun to face her other perfect cousin, the one who’d graduated with honors from med school. “Sheila? Is he okay?”

Sheila tucked a dark curl behind her ear. "He’s having his shoulder stitched up. The wound isn’t a through-and-through. It’s a hotline, more of a graze than anything else. The pain killers knocked him out, but you’ll be able to see him in a half-hour or so.”

“Oh, thank God.” Lanie sagged against the wall, aware of Steve’s supportive hand at her shoulder. “Can’t I go in now?”

Sheila shook her head. “When they’re finished with his stitches. It will only be a few more minutes.”

“Oh.” Lanie wrapped her hands around her stomach. How could the idea of minutes feel more like years?

A soothing smile curved Sheila’s mouth. “Dr. Lott will put him on IV antibiotics and tape his ribs. He has a mild concussion, but his CT scan was clear. No bleeding. The man must have an incredibly hard head.”

Lanie laughed through attacking tears. “You have no idea.”

“He has four hairline fractures to his ribs, not to mention his nose, but there’s no reason why he shouldn’t make a full recovery. We shouldn’t have to keep him but a couple of days.” Sheila reached out and brushed tears from Lanie’s face. “Hey, none of that. I promise, he’s going to be fine.”

She’d be more convinced when she could see him, touch him, hear his voice. “Promise you’ll come and get me as soon as he wakes up?”

Sheila hooked her pinkie through Lanie’s, the way they’d done as children. “Promise.”

John swam in a thick grayness, somewhere between light and dark. His body felt as though he should be in pain, but the sensation hovered just out of reach. The cold was real, and shivers racked him.

“John?” A lyrical voice soothed over his nerves, a familiar touch stroking his jaw. He turned toward the warmth. Lips brushed his. “I love you.”

He struggled to open his eyes. “Beth?”

Warm fingers linked through his. “No, it’s me.”

Weighted lids lifted, and the grayness receded in the piercing fluorescent light. He recoiled then focused on the face above him. Warmth and peace trickled through him. “Lanie.”

“I wondered if you were ever going to wake up.” She blinked, tears sparkling on her long, dark lashes. What had happened to bring that look of strain to her face? Her fingers danced over his jaw again. “I love you, O’Reilly.”

The reality of her words slipped away as remembrance flooded his mind—Beth’s screams, Mitchell’s curses, the bullet burning his shoulder. He struggled to sit up, and the lurking pain tore through his chest. “Beth. Oh my God, Beth. Got to find her—”

Lanie’s hands pushed at his arms. “Stop. You can’t—”

He thrust her away, his arms heavy and uncoordinated, agony shooting through him with each movement. He ignored it. “Damn it, I’ve got to find Beth.”

“Everyone’s looking for her. John, you’re going to pull out your—”

A sharp stinging tore through his hand, and he stared at the blood spurting from his skin, the intravenous line lying useless on the bed now. He shoved to a sitting position, his head swimming.

“Oh hell.” Lanie tried to push him back again, reaching for the call button at the same time.

“He’ll kill her. I’ve got to find her.”

“John. Stop it.” Lanie took his face in her hands, her hazel gaze holding his. He stilled, breathing hard, impatience and terror pounding under his skin. “The FBI is here. The Texas Rangers, too. They’ve sealed off the county, and a door-to-door search is underway. They’re going to find Beth and Nicole. I promise.”

Screams and pain filled his mind again. He pulled her hands away, blood dripping down his forearm, and shook his head, trying to clear the dizzy fuzziness. “You don’t understand. She needs me.”

“I do understand. And you can help her best by getting better.” Lanie’s soothing tone grated against his ears.

“You don’t understand.” He snarled the words at her, and she stepped back, a startled expression crossing her face. “You can’t.”

A nurse materialized at his bedside. She exchanged a glance with Lanie. “Mr. O’Reilly? Lie back and let me put your IV line back in.”

Nausea and panic clawed in his throat. “No. I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“John.” Lanie’s voice slipped from soothing to authoritative, the tone he knew she used with recalcitrant suspects. “You are not leaving that bed. Now, you can either let her put the line back in, or we can strap you to the bed and
then
she can put it back in.”

He glared at her, almost hating her for standing between him and Beth’s safety. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Her golden eyes narrowed. “Try me. Steve’s on the other side of that door, and I know he has his cuffs with him.”

With a growled curse, he subsided and allowed the nurse to replace the line. His gaze remained locked on Lanie’s throughout the procedure, although dizziness attacked him again. When the needle was in place again, Lanie smiled grimly. “Now. What did you mean, he’ll kill her? Who is he?”

Agitation crawled along his nerves. “Doug Mitchell. Beth’s ex-husband.”

Startled confusion settled on her face. “I thought—”

“I need to get the hell out of here.”

“You need to rest. If you’ll be a good boy, I’ll go see if there’s any news, okay?”

The brief struggle had exhausted him. The gray depths pulled at him, and he fought the sucking heaviness. He had to stay awake, had to help Beth. He had to—

“Rest.” Lanie’s whisper and her gentle touch washed over him once more. “I’ll be right back.”

The gray rushed in on him, and awareness vanished.

Tears rushing to her eyes, Lanie sagged against the wall next to the recovery room door. He was alive, alert, and she should be thankful for that. Fear curled through her. She closed her eyes, pushing the tears down. Just reaction. And damn hormones again. Not because he’d lied to her about Beth’s past. Not because he’d asked for Beth first.

“Lanie?” At the sound of Caitlin’s husky voice, Lanie opened her eyes. Sometime during the night, Caitlin had swapped the leather jacket she’d worn earlier for her black duty jacket with FBI emblazoned on the back in large, white letters.

Hope flaring in her chest, Lanie pushed away from the wall. “Did you find them? Are they okay?”

Caitlin wrapped her hand around Lanie’s. “Not yet. Deputies are searching the woods, and we’ve set up roadblocks. The Rangers from A Company are going door to door.”

Lanie sank onto the bench against the wall. Confusion tightened her throat, leaving her voice a harsh whisper. “God, Cait, why is this happening? Where are they? John says Beth’s ex-husband did it, but there is no ex. She’s a widow. Beth told me her husband died.”

“She lied.” A manila folder balanced on her knee, Caitlin sat next to her and pulled a mugshot from the file. She held the photo out for Lanie’s inspection. “This is Douglas Mitchell. They divorced four years ago.”

The photo shook in Lanie’s grip. Malevolence glowed in the man’s dark eyes. “What was he arrested for?”

“Domestic abuse. Assault. Child endangerment. Violating a restraining order. He jumped bail three years ago while awaiting trial in New York on those charges.”

Lanie swallowed hard. “John said Beth’s life is in danger.”

Caitlin nodded. “It was an ambush, very systematic. Beth’s car was tampered with, and there’s a second set of tire tracks on the shoulder, up the road from where the car died. He had to have been watching her to know what route she would take.”

“Beth was armed. Why didn’t she—”

“Fear does awful things to people. Trust me, she had reason to be afraid of this guy.”

“He left John to die, to bleed out alone.”

“From a graze wound? I don’t think so. The previous assault charge stemmed from an altercation between the two. According to the NYPD report, O’Reilly interrupted Mitchell’s attack on Beth.”

Caitlin’s odd tone sent shivers along Lanie’s stripped nerves. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.”

Lanie cupped her fingers around the bulge of her stomach. The baby lay still, and a detached part of her mind remembered reading that infants slept in utero. The idea of her baby sleeping, protected from the chaos around him, comforted her. “You’re a lousy liar, Cait. Now what don’t you want to say?”

“If Mitchell wanted John dead, he had the opportunity to kill him instantly. He chose not to.”

“But—”

“Tell me about John’s relationship with Beth.”

The shivery unease intensified, and her fingers tightened on her stomach. She remembered whispering of her love to John as he awakened, and his first thought had been of Beth. That was only natural under the circumstances. It didn’t mean anything. “What relationship? They’re partners.”

“Is that all?”

Anger curled along her skin, pushing the apprehension aside. “Damn it, Cait, what are you implying? They work together. Show me partners that aren’t close friends.”

“When John stopped Mitchell’s attack on Beth, they were sharing an apartment.” Caitlin pulled a copy of a report from the file.

“You just said she’d left an abusive marriage. He’s her partner—maybe she went to stay with him.”

Caitlin shook her head, and Lanie turned away from the sympathy lurking in Caitlin’s green gaze. “In New York, maybe. When they went to work for the El Paso P.D., they rented the apartment together. Both names were on the lease.”

“God, what did you do, wake the landlord?” She held onto the anger, using it as a shield.

“Yes, I did, and he wasn’t happy about it. They leased the place for a year, until Beth moved here. O’Reilly resigned from the El Paso P.D. a couple of months later and rented an apartment in Houston until he moved in with you.”

Lanie pushed to her feet, pacing to the window. Uncertainty pulsed in her throat. “So maybe there was a relationship beyond the partnership. Obviously it’s over.”

“Obviously,” Caitlin agreed, her voice quiet. Lanie spun, glaring at her.

“What does it matter now? John’s alive, you have a suspect, and you’ll find Beth and Nicole. He can’t leave the county if the highways are blocked, so what’s the point of all this?”

“I’m not sure he plans to leave at all.”

Oh God. Lanie closed her eyes. Caitlin’s quiet words conjured awful images. “You think he’s going to kill them, don’t you?”

“He left John alive for a reason—to punish him, maybe, because Beth preferred him. If he kills Beth, she can’t want anyone else. And O’Reilly has to live with the aftermath.”

They were already living with the aftermath. She opened her eyes to stare at her cousin and lifted a trembling hand, rubbing at her temple. “Why did Beth lie about being divorced?”

Caitlin shook her head, a frown furrowing her brow. “I don’t know. She took back her maiden name, but she wasn’t trying to hide her whereabouts.”

And John had perpetrated the lie as well. He’d never mentioned a romantic entanglement with his partner, either. Her teeth took hold of her lower lip in a punishing grip, and she rubbed her thumb over the infinity pendant. A shiver traveled down her spine. What else didn’t she know?

I’ve got to find Beth… She needs me… He’ll kill her.

John’s words rang in her mind. Right now, what she didn’t know could wait. Beth and Nicole’s safety couldn’t. “Cait, we’ve got to find them before it’s too late.”

“I know. I’m heading back out in a few minutes. I wanted to check on you, and I’d like to talk to O’Reilly if he’s awake. He may be able to give us a focus.”

Lanie glanced toward the window, thinking of Beth and Nicole, somewhere out there in the darkness. Nicole’s bright smile swam in her memory. Surely he wouldn’t hurt his own daughter? Urgency surged through her, and for the first time in eight months, she wished she weren’t pregnant. Without the burden of her baby, she could be out there, helping.

She wanted Beth and Nicole safe. Their safety had to be the first priority, but with their safety would come answers to the questions pounding in her brain. The thought filled her with a fascinated dread.

John had never said he loved her. He whispered how much he wanted her, how beautiful she was to him, but never that he loved her.

And you never said you loved him, either, not until tonight. That didn’t mean the emotion wasn’t there.

Other uncertainties rushed in, filling the void of unanswered questions. His lack of interest in their child. The forgotten doctor’s appointments. The nights she woke alone, to find him standing at the window, brooding and staring out at the waves.

Had he been thinking of Beth? Wishing he were free of Lanie and his unborn son?

A sob strangled in her throat. She’d thought she had everything—John, his love, their child. The suspicion that she had nothing crept into her mind.

Stop it. Just stop it. Later, there would be time to sort everything out.
Right now, the focus had to be on Beth and her daughter. Dragging in a deep breath, Lanie met Caitlin’s gaze and swallowed hard against the lump lodged in her throat. “He was awake just now. He…he was upset. He even ripped out his IV line.”

“I’ll keep it short.” Concern shown in Caitlin’s eyes. “Do you want me to take you home?”

To that empty house now filled with doubts? Lanie shook her head. “No. I want to stay here. I’ll try to catch a nap later.”

Caitlin’s gaze flickered to Lanie’s rounded stomach and away. “You should think about—”

“I’ll be fine.” Her voice sounded harsh, and she concentrated on smoothing it out. “I don’t sleep well now anyway. Dr. Shaw says that’s normal. I’ll rest, I promise.”

“Do you want to come in while I talk with him?”

Lanie shook her head. “No. I think I’ll go find a vending machine and get some juice or something.” Food held no appeal, but not taking care of herself wasn’t an option.

“Okay.” Caitlin smiled in reassurance, her hand rubbing over Lanie’s upper arm. “I’ll be right out.”

Even a slight smile made her face ache. Lanie leaned against the wall, eyes closed. “Take your time,” she whispered.

“Lanie?”

Her eyes snapped open at Caitlin’s soft question. When she saw the knowing concern in the dark green gaze, her self-protective defenses kicked in. “Don’t worry about me. Go talk to John and find out what you need to know.”

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s not true.”

She had no doubt Caitlin knew what was in her mind but damned if she’d admit it. Old habits—and old competitions—died hard, and allowing anyone to see her weakness wasn’t an option. “Right now, I’m thinking you’re wasting precious time.”

“You’re not your mother.”