Although the sound of a woman’s scream from somewhere nearby would always be shocking, this shrill cry of terror sent ice straight to Reece’s heart. Jessica. That’s Jessica.
His feet were moving—running—before he’d even had time to evaluate why he was so certain the brief, horrified cry had come from her beautiful mouth.
“What was that?” his father called after him, as the hotel lobby began to buzz.
Someone else yelled, “Did somebody scream?”
God, yes, it was a scream. It was coming from the hallway down which Jessica had disappeared, looking for a restroom.
He raced around the corner, his feet pounding, his heart set on Detonate. Entering a shadowy corridor lined with unused conference and banquet rooms, as long and eerie as the one in the hotel from the fucking Shining, he heard another noise ahead of him. Far ahead.
It was an alarm. One of those emergency exit doors had been opened somewhere in the depths of this quiet wing. Someone was either escaping…or perhaps dragging another person out of the hotel.
“Stop!” he yelled, not knowing anything but fearing everything. After what had happened at the gallery, his mind went to dark places. An abduction? An assault?
Finally seeing the sign for the ladies’ room, he noticed a strange, chemical smell. Although part of him leaned toward running down to the exit door, whose alarm still rang in a slow whine, he couldn’t pass by the last place he’d known Jessica to be. He slammed against the door, bursting inside, and was immediately slapped in the face and the lungs with the acrid reek of bleach.
“Jessica!”
Hearing a faint, low groan, he crossed the lounge area in two long strides. As soon as he entered the main bathroom he began to cough—the bleach vapors were brutally strong in here. His lungs screamed, his eyes leaked water, and his mouth began to tingle.
He didn’t know where the smell was coming from, but he immediately saw one of the wooden cubicle doors was barricaded. Someone had looped a rope around the outer handle, tying it to the next one. Whoever was inside wouldn’t have been able to pull it open.
His heart thumped as he let himself imagine who was inside.
Reece didn’t even mess with the rope; it was tied in knots that would take precious time to undo. Instead, he punched the center of the door, making a large hole.
And there she was.
Seeing Jessica curled like a comma around the commode, he almost exploded in rage. Judging by the locked door, and the reeking fluid dripping down the wall, it had been poured down on her, leaving her with nowhere to go but the floor.
Someone was going to pay. Dearly.
He hammered the remaining slats out of his way and stepped through the hole, crouching beside her. “Jessica?” How the hell long had she been here breathing these vapors? Judging by the chlorine bleach splashing around his shoes and soaking the color out of her dress—and her skin, all that exposed skin—too fucking long. “I’m here.”
She turned her head and looked up at him, her face splotchy, her eyes as red as her dress had once been. “Reece?” The word was barely a croak.
“I’ve got you,” he said, scooping her into his arms. “Hang on, Jess.”
He shouldered away more of the broken door and maneuvered her through it. He’d taken one step out when a uniformed hotel employee burst into the bathroom, accompanied by his heaving father. The young clerk immediately put a hand to his mouth. “What’s going—”
“Call 911,” Reece snapped. “Do it now.”
Not needing to be told twice to get away from the poisonous air, the young man raced out. Reece’s father remained, his arm thrown over his mouth and nose, determined to help.
“Come on, we have to get her out of here.”
His father nodded, going ahead of him to open the door. “Is she okay?”
“No.” They hit the hallway, where the air was clearer. “Help me get this off her.”
With his father bracing Jessica’s limp, half-conscious body, Reece ripped the sopping dress off her and threw it aside. Seeing how reddened her skin was, from head to toe, he growled with rage. He wanted to commit murder.
“Take her in there, son. We need to wet her down.”
Seeing his father open the men’s room door, he carried her in. His dad went right to the nearest sink and turned on the tap, splashing water all over the marble countertop. Reece gently laid her on it, and got another tap going. As his father began to splash huge handfuls of water on Jessica’s feet and legs, Reece reached around to unfasten her bra—once entirely red, now dotted with white—and pulled it off her. Every inch of skin revealed was splotchy; this fabric had been much tighter on her skin and had pressed bleach into her very pores.
“Bastard,” he snarled as he also removed her underwear. His father averted his eyes but continued to soak her feet and calves.
Once she was wet from head to foot, Reece dispensed liquid soap into his hands and gently washed her face, her neck, her chest, and her arms. He struggled to remain calm as his hands shook with worry and with sheer mind-blackening rage.
She started to shiver. Her lips turned blue, and her teeth chattered. Jessica had been doused with chemicals, was being drowned in barely lukewarm water, and was lying naked on a cold countertop.
“I’m sorry, Jess. I know you’re cold, but we have to get these chemicals off you.”
“You…you…”
“Don’t try to talk. An ambulance is on the way.”
“But you…”
Knowing she wasn’t going to rest until she’d had her say, he bent close so he could hear the words she was so determined to whisper. “What is it? What do you want to tell me?”
A cough, and then a faint, weak smile. “You…called me…Jess.”
Torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to rip apart the person who’d hurt her, he heard shouts from down the hall. His father stopped what he was doing and hurried to the door to direct the rescue workers.
Although he didn’t give a damn about anything except her well-being, he knew Jessica would prefer not to be laid out naked in front of a bunch of EMTs. He suspected when she was more aware, and remembered his dad had seen her that way, she’d be pretty mortified. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her more distress. Plus, knowing the place was crawling with paparazzi, and fully aware some of them had no morals or decency, he also feared she would be photographed as she was carried out of the hotel.
“Can you sit up, sweetheart?”
Nodding, she blinked and watched as he whipped off his tuxedo jacket. He lifted one of her arms and began to slide it in.
“Don’t…ruin it,” she mumbled.
“Jesus, woman,” he said, unable to hold in a laugh, shocked and relieved she was already back to being her independent, bossy self.
She allowed him to wrap his jacket around her, and clenched it tight, some strength having returned to her limbs. Burrowing her face in the collar, she stopped shaking, as if finally warming up.
A second later, his father burst back in, accompanied by three emergency responders. After Reece quickly explained what happened, the one in charge, who introduced himself as Zack, said, “Juan, would you put a respirator on and check out the other bathroom? We need to know what chemicals were used, especially if it was a mix, like bleach and ammonia.”
Reece felt his blood chill, knowing the combination could be deadly. At first, he’d thought someone had played a really ugly prank on Jessica. Now he had to wonder if they’d actually had murder in mind.
Since that night at the gallery, he’d assumed he had been the target of the shooter. He had barely considered her stalking ex to be a serious suspect. “Stupid,” he muttered, angry at himself, wondering if the person who’d shot at them had taken another chance to kill her tonight.
Forcing his attention back on Jessica, he held her pale, cold hand as the lead paramedic, an older African American man with kind eyes and gentle hands, quickly examined her. He checked her breathing, pulse, and blood pressure, not revealing by word or expression what he was thinking.
By the time he was finished, Juan, who’d gone to investigate, came back in. He peeled a plastic mask off his face. “I found four jugs of bleach. Nothing else—including ammonia.”
Thank God.
Zack began to pack up his blood pressure cuff. “You did a smart thing washing those chemicals off her right away,” he said. “She’s obviously got a redhead’s skin—sensitive. It’s why she’s so blotchy. Getting splashed with household bleach doesn’t even affect some people.”
Lucky her.
Juan cleared his throat. “I should have said it wasn’t just the household stuff. This was commercial-grade, industrial-strength chlorine bleach.
Zack’s brow furrowed, his worry visibly increasing. “That increases the danger of burns in her throat, lungs, and nasal passages. We need to get her in right away. Let’s get her loaded up.”
“I’m going with you.”
The man opened his mouth to argue. Reece’s hard stare said he would not be denied.
“All right.”
Jessica had already been moved onto a gurney for examination. Before strapping her in, Zack glanced down at her long legs, stained with bumpy rashes, against her pale skin and the stark white sheet. “Are you cold? Let’s cover you up and keep you warm.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled. She smiled weakly. “Don’t…want to give those jackals with cameras a-any cr-crotch shots.”
The strength of the woman.
The paramedic chuckled as he pulled a concealing sheet over her, from toes to neck, and prepared to fasten the restraint straps.
“Wait,” she whispered, her eyes flickering as she looked for Reece. “Take…all off.”
He bent closer. “Take what, Jess?”
She reached a shaking hand up toward her neck. “Jewelry. Borrowed.”
He smiled at her and pushed her hand down below the sheet. “No, gorgeous. It’s not.”
If she were well and had use of that powerful voice of hers, he knew she’d be giving him hell. But she was in pain, and confused, so she merely closed her eyes and let herself be fastened onto the restraint straps.
That scared the shit out of him, frankly.
“We’ll keep you safe, ma’am,” said Zach. “We’ll protect your privacy as much as we can. You’ll be at the hospital real soon.”
Nodding his appreciation, Reece asked, “Where did you park?”
“Out front. I’m sorry, if we’d known who you were…”
“There’s no help for it now. Let’s go.”
They headed down the corridor, his father hanging back, not wanting to be in the way. “Dad,” Reece said over his shoulder, “my limo’s outside. I’ll have the driver take you home.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come to the hospital?”
“Thanks, but I think we’re in for a long, rough night. Not just with her injuries, but with the press. I’d rather not give them anything else to report.”
Although he’d worked as an electrician most of his life, his father knew this world. He’d seen his children living it. He’d saved them from it. So he didn’t argue. “Call me with updates.”
“I will.”
Hotel security, and some uniformed police officers who’d responded with paramedics, surrounded them as they neared the lobby. Looking for a familiar face, he spotted a young officer he believed he’d met before. “Officer, uh…”
“Wilhelm, sir.”
“Right, Wilhelm. You know my brother, don’t you?”
The rookie nodded, looking nervous. “Uh, sure.”
“He’s in the Seventy-Seventh. Can you give him a call him and tell him what’s going on? I’d like him to look at this.”
“Uh, the Seventy-Seventh is…”
Reece didn’t want to hear about precincts and jurisdictions. “Just call him. Please.”
“Okay. But, uh, I think one of our guys is gonna want to talk to you, too.”
“I’ll be at the hospital. He can find me there.”
The young cop looked like he was about to protest. Reece ignored him, bending over to whisper to Jessica. “We’re about to go outside. Stay strong, Jess. It’ll be over in a minute.”
Pinkish tears had been coming out of her red eyes since the moment he’d found her. But she blinked rapidly, as if fearing things were about to get worse.
He gripped her hand. “I’ve got you.”
“Can you…pull the sheet over my head?”
Juan was pushing the gurney, someone else pulling it. But Zack, who walked by her side, ready to provide emergency services the moment they became necessary, heard her and promised, “Nobody’s gonna bother you, miss.” Looking around, he barked, “Form a wall!”
Three cops jogged over, taking up positions on either side of the gurney. Realizing they were providing a barrier to prevent anyone from getting close to Jessica, physically or with their cameras, he nodded his thanks. He took the fourth spot, by Jessica’s right hip, and put a hand on her arm. Only a photographer on top of a van or a building could have gotten a clear shot at her.
When they reached the hospital, Jessica was taken for tests, including X-rays of her lungs. Reece was left alone in a waiting room making calls. After reaching her sister, the second call was to a doctor friend. He knew he was waking Jamal up in the middle of the night, but he needed somebody to talk him down off the ledge. Since reconnecting as young men, they’d remained in touch, and Reece considered him a real friend.
Jamal said words like chemical pneumonia, chest pain, delirium, and neurological damage.
Reece lost his shit.
After his friend gave him the names of the top doctors in Los Angeles, Reece started making demands. Sometimes it was good to have name recognition, especially when you wanted to get an internationally renowned internist from Cedars-Sinai out of bed in the middle of the night.
“What happened?” Liza burst into the room, a petite tornado wearing sweatpants, a long sleep shirt with a teddy bear on the front, and flip-flops. With wild hair and wilder eyes, she looked like she’d jumped out of bed and raced to the hospital ten seconds after Reece’s call.
He didn’t blame her one bit.
“Where’s my sister?”
He quickly explained, not sparing any details. Reece had played this scene; he knew it by heart. When a sibling was hurt or in trouble, desperation and anguish replaced thought and rationality. So going over everything, step by step, was a way of keeping Liza focused and calm.
His technique wasn’t entirely successful, however. When he told her about Jessica asking if her head could be covered by a sheet to avoid the photographers, Liza burst into tears. They streamed in rivulets down her cheeks; she didn’t even try to wipe them off, instead putting her face in her hands and weeping quietly for a solid minute.
Eventually, not even looking up, she mumbled, “So you’re saying somebody intentionally trapped her?”
He thought of the rope around the door handles. Jessica clutching a goddamn toilet. The red skin, the sopping clothes, the hoarse voice, and the confusion in her watering eyes.
You called me Jess.
“Yes.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned forward, as if feeling sick, or in pain. Probably both. “Where is she now? Can I see her?”
He rubbed a weary hand over his face, wanting the doctors to hurry up and let him know how she was. The waiting was driving him crazy, and he knew it would do the same to her sister. “They’re checking her out to see if the vapors caused any internal damage.”
More tears. “Oh, Jess, baby. Why? How can this be happening?”
“I shouldn’t have let her go anywhere alone.” Never had he said truer words.
Her head snapped up. “No, you shouldn’t have. She should never have gone out with you tonight in the first place. Why does she keep getting hurt around you? Who, exactly, have you pissed off, Mr. Winchester?”
Reece didn’t reply, knowing he probably deserved the accusation. This attack, like the first, had surely been directed at him. He’d wondered at first why someone with a grudge against him would go after Jessica, and came up with one possible reason. Maybe an enemy of his had realized he was involved with her—he was already falling for her like he’d never fallen for anyone—and wanted to punish him by hurting Jessica.
If so, their plan was working. He didn’t think he would ever forgive himself.
“I don’t know who did this, but I will keep her safe until whoever did is caught.”
“No, I’ll keep her safe. You stay away from her. Jess gets nothin’ but pain when she’s around you.”
The accusation from the person closest to Jessica—who had already come to mean so much to him—stung. “Maybe you’re right. But I have the resources to ensure no one gets near her again, and to be certain this case is worked on night and day until it’s solved.”
She blew out a slow breath, nodding. “I guess you do. But if you really want what’s best for her, after this is taken care of and she’s out of danger, you’ll stop bringing your baggage into her life and go away.”
Reece crossed the room to look out the window into the dark night. He knew Liza was right. People got hurt around him. Most importantly, Jessica got hurt around him. If there were any justice, he would be the one in the hospital, and she would be fine. Looking at his history, at the crimes of his past and the secrets he’d kept, Reece figured if anyone deserved some retribution, it was him.
She most definitely did not.
You called me Jess.
“Do you have any idea who is doing this?” Liza asked.
He faced her. “Not really, though the police were already chasing down leads from the shooting.”
He hadn’t seen Sid at tonight’s event, and honestly, this attack didn’t seem like something that slimeball would have done. He seemed more the take-a-wild-shot or club-somebody-in-the-head-from-behind type. The trap set for Jessica had been thought out, not to mention vicious. Someone had stood on the toilet in the next cubicle, looked down at her, and doused her with potentially lethal chemicals. Such an act screamed personal.
There was another possibility, one he hadn’t seriously considered before he’d found her in that bathroom. “Tell me what you know about this Johnny character.”
“Johnny…you mean her ex? What does he have to do with it? He’s out of the picture.”
“Not entirely,” he said, realizing Jessica hadn’t told her sister about the obsessive man’s recent phone call. He didn’t want to betray a confidence, but with Jessica in danger, he needed to know everything. So he filled her in, admitting Jessica herself had wondered if he had been the person who shot at them last week.
Liza’s hand went to her mouth and she staggered back, collapsing into a chair. The fear mixed with anger on her face told him how serious a possibility this could be. “That bastard.”
“She wouldn’t tell me his full name,” he bit out.
“Dixon. Johnny Dixon. Last I heard he was living in Anaheim.”
He made a mental note, already trying to decide whether to ask Rowan or Raine to track this guy down. Rowan was a cop. He usually did things by the book.
Raine did not.
“Do you really think he could be the one after her?”
“It’s possible. He stalked her. Is he really capable of hurting her?”
“Oh hell yes.”
“What did she ever see in him?”
“Jessica met him and saw this big, good-looking country boy. Honest and open.” Liza sneered. “I saw somebody I thought was playing a part and was probably a fucking racist.”
He gripped the back of a chair, his fingers digging into the tired upholstery, wondering if Liza had been proved right. Judging by everything he’d heard about this Johnny Dixon, he suspected she had been. “What happened?”
“He wore the nice, considerate boyfriend mask for a while, maybe a year. But it started to slip. When she tried to pull away, he got really mean. Guilt-tripped her, beat her down.”
Glowering, he came closer. “You mean he…”
Liza snorted. “No man’d dare smack Jessica around. If she didn’t kill him, I would.”
She eyed him steadily, asking a question he easily read. It was also easy for him to answer. “I’d cut my hand off before I’d harm a hair on her head.”
As they continued the stare off, he didn’t say another word, wondering what it would take to get Liza to trust him. The more he talked to her, the more he respected her. He wanted that trust, though he doubted he’d ever get it.
Finally she nodded. “Okay then. We understand each other.”
“I think so.”
That didn’t mean she liked him or would ever trust him with her sister again. At least she believed him when he said he wasn’t an abusive pig. It was something, anyway.
“Johnny never understood anything except getting what he wanted. He worked on her emotions. She’s got a vulnerable streak. Has she told you anything about her childhood?”
“Yes.”
Jessica had mentioned it the night they met. Over the past couple of days at work, he’d gotten her to talk a little more. It hadn’t been hard to get the picture. Spunky, feisty kid who thinks she’s pretty tough gets put in the system and struggles to survive for two years while she’s taught what toughness really is.
“So you probably know why she tries to be so strong. But she has a really soft heart, and he knew how to work on it. He made her feel guilty, threatened to hurt himself, or both of them. He also worked hard to steal her self-confidence.”
“I think she found it again,” he said, his tone dry.
Her sister might have smiled, reminding him of the one thing they did have in common: they both cared very much for Jessica Jensen.
“Yeah, she found it,” Liza said. “But not until a while after she walked out on that piece of Kentucky-fried shit.”
He actually smiled. Liza and Jessica might not look alike, but the sisters were similar in a lot of the best ways. “She told me he didn’t take the breakup well.”
“Huh-uh. We moved, we changed numbers. He came after her pretty hard.” She rolled her eyes. “You can bet who he blamed. Every time he saw me, he let loose with all the N-words he’d been saving up while they were dating.”
“The coward,” he muttered. Jessica must have hated him for that, and hated herself for bringing such ugliness into her sister’s life.
Before Liza could respond, the waiting room door was pushed open. Reece couldn’t muster any surprise when he saw his two brothers stride in. His father had probably called them both before the ambulance even left the hotel driveway. A hint of relief hit him dead center when he saw Rowan’s furious expression and Raine’s serious one.
In times of crisis, Winchesters always stood together. They were a powerful, united wall, like the solid blue one that had blocked Jessica from the view of the press when she was being taken to the ambulance. They’d been that way since they were young and their world had erupted into death and insanity.
For a while, Reece and Rowan had protected their baby brother, six years younger, from the darkest moments. Eventually they learned Raine had secrets of his own. And while there were still some things they had never talked about—nightmares he and his twin had hidden from the entire world—now the three of them trusted each other like no one else.
Rowan grabbed him for a quick hug. Raine, always more reserved, put a hand on his shoulder.
“How is she?” Rowan asked.
“Being checked out.”
“Dad said she was awake and talking when they brought her in?”
“She was conscious.”
She was also coughing like she was going to hack up a lung, and covered with rashes. Not to mention dizzy, confused, watery-eyed, terrified, and in pain. But sure, conscious.
You called me Jess.
Realizing Liza was watching from a few feet away, he introduced her to his brothers. He could tell by her expression she hadn’t stopped thinking about Jessica’s ex, wondering if he could really have done something so hateful to a woman he still insisted he loved. Reece had seen so much of the ugly side of people that he believed anything was possible.
“So what do you need us to do?” asked Raine, direct as usual.
“Keep her safe, first of all.”
“No question.”
His youngest brother was still all military—disciplined, powerful, strict, and relentless. He looked and carried himself like a soldier. Anyone who remembered the cute, cheeky little kid on a cereal commercial would never recognize him as the hard-ass standing before him in camo pants and a black T-shirt.
Rowan cleared his throat.
“What have you got?” Reece asked.
His twin looked back and forth between Reece and Liza. She got the message.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m going to go get some coffee and try to reach Emily again. She had a show tonight. I know she’ll want to be here.” She offered to bring back coffee for everyone, but all three brothers declined, with thanks.
After she was gone, Reece asked, “What have you found out?”
“I just got off the phone with the lead detective, who’s an old friend,” Rowan said. “He’s going to let me come in unofficially. He’s already requested surveillance footage. Each hallway is completely covered, from several angles. Unless the person who did this is a five-year-old who got in and out through one of the small bathroom windows, we’ll see them on the recording.”
Raine barked, “How long will it take?”
“The night manager insists they have to get approval from their general manager, who’s on vacation,” Rowan said with a frown. “If he doesn’t respond by morning, we’ll get a court order to make them hand it over.”
Great. Morning sounded like forever from now. Every minute Reece remained in the dark about Jessica’s condition increased his tension. The clock on the wall seemed to be stuck…or moving backward. His famed patience and control both seemed to have deserted him; the longer the night dragged on, the more tense he became.
“I have one more piece of news,” Rowan said. “Sid Loman is dead.”
Reece’s heart stopped beating. “What?”
“His body was found on a side street in Venice Beach a couple of days ago. They didn’t identify him until last night. The guys who responded to the first report looked at missing persons cases, but didn’t bother searching APBs.” He looked and sounded disgusted at the beginner’s mistake. “The medical examiner’s office thought to do it and put it together right away.”
“Cause of death?” asked Raine.
“GSW.”
Reece had made enough cop movies to know that meant gunshot wound. “Any chance it was suicide?” Guilty conscience?
“Not unless he had a five-foot-long arm that bent backward. The angle of the entry wound says whoever did it was standing above him. Marks indicate he was tasered first.”
Tasered and shot down in the street. Reece tried to feel something, but his mind was too focused on Jessica to have much of a reaction to the murder of a former employee. That would probably sound cold to most people; but for Reece, who controlled everything, including his emotions, it was reflex.
You called me Jess.
Swallowing as that control slipped again, he tried to give his full attention to his brother.
“The cops in Venice spent the day looking into this guy’s background. He travels a lot to Vegas. Looks like he has a serious gambling habit.”
“Any idea who killed him?” asked Raine.
Before he answered, Reece asked another question. “Could his murder have been connected to the gallery shooting?”
“Las Vegas police say they know him. He’s in deep with a pretty dangerous bookie. So now Venice is wondering if he was the actual target, rather than you.”
It was a reasonable assumption. If not for what had happened tonight at the hotel, Reece might even consider it a likely one. But tonight had happened. Jessica had been attacked, and it sure hadn’t been by a man who’d been dead for days. Unless the two events were completely unrelated, which seemed unlikely, he didn’t think the bullet that ruptured the gallery window had been intended for Sid. So why had he stopped one a few days later?
“Maybe he saw something,” Reece murmured, rubbing his jaw.
“What do you mean?” asked Rowan.
Reece tried to pull his thoughts together, visualizing Friday night, seeing how it might have played out. Directing it. “I fired Sid and told him to get out of the building immediately.”
Raine’s eyes narrowed as he took in the information. Rowan already knew as much and merely nodded.
“He storms out of the gallery. Instead of going to his car and leaving, he goes out to the beach, needing to walk off the anger. He also needs to stay close because he wants to figure out a way to end run around me and get Sharon to give him his job back.”
“Ahhh,” said Rowan. Reece knew that his twin was starting to visualize the scene, too.
Raine cut to the chase. “You think Sid saw the shooter, ran and hid, and the guy waited him out and shot him down so he couldn’t identify him.”
Rowan smirked. “You never could let anybody finish a story.”
“It was taking too long.”
“You know our brother. He’s always writes those long scene descriptions.”
“Fuck off,” he told them both, not truly annoyed by their badgering. As always, their presence lightened his mental load. That had probably been their intention.
Rowan opened his mouth to reply, but Reece’s attention was immediately drawn to a gowned doctor who walked past a window overlooking the corridor, then turned and walked into the waiting room.
“How is she?”
“Are you Miss Jensen’s family member?”
Liza, carrying a foam cup of coffee, arrived in time to hear the question. “I’m her sister.”
From the beginning, the doctor had come off as unpleasant, especially when he learned Reece had called in someone else, who would be arriving shortly. At Liza’s claim, he smirked, appearing skeptical. “You’re her sister?”
“Don’t even!” Liza snarled, looking ready to throw her coffee into his face. She was as intimidating as Jessica. “Now answer the question. How is my sister?”
Liza was as intimidating as Jessica. “We’ve run several tests and are treating what we can. The skin rash is already clearing up, after several more washings. Her eyes have been flushed. The redness is still there, but the watering is slowing down.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” said Liza, looking hopeful.
“Unfortunately, being exposed to so much industrial-strength bleach meant she ingested dangerous vapors. She has minor soft tissue damage to the nose, mouth, and throat.”
Liza sniffled. “Oh, lord”
Reece put a hand on Liza’s shoulder, bracing her. This time, she did not shrug it off.
“For that, she only needs rest, antibiotics, and pain medication.”
The doctor’s inflection told Reece the worst was yet to come. Liza must have realized it, too. She crossed an arm over her chest and put her hand on top of Reece’s, gripping tightly.
“The most serious issue is her lung inflammation. In exposure cases like these, patients whose lungs are affected can develop chemical pneumonia, which can be quite serious, sometimes leading to the failure of other organs.”
Reece closed his eyes, trying to maintain steady breaths. In. Out. Stay calm.
Hands landed on both his shoulders. Rowan and Raine stood behind him, and each one of them was offering the same thing he was providing Liza: a strong hand as a reminder of support.
“We will keep her here for a minimum of thirty-six hours to watch for the onset of pneumonia.” The doctor pursed his lips. “The throat injuries are unfortunate; we had to intubate her.”
In. Out. Stay calm.
Hearing Liza sniff, Reece glanced over to see tears trailing down her cheeks. He held her hand tighter, and she gripped his like she was drowning and he her lifeline.
The doctor was apparently used to ignoring the tears of family members. “She needs to be kept on oxygen, and on IV pain medication and steroids, for a minimum of twenty-four hours. I’m afraid with the throat irritation, the experience isn’t going to be pleasant for her, especially when the tube is removed.”
How doctors could describe torture as “unpleasant” boggled the mind.
“But it’s better to be safe than sorry when dealing with something as tricky as this. We’ll keep doing X-rays and breathing tests. As long as nothing more serious appears to be developing, she should be all right to go home in a day or two. She will have to continue checking in to make sure she doesn’t develop bronchitis.”
“If nothing more serious develops,” Reece said.
Liza parroted him. “If.”
As Liza thanked the doctor, Reece stood still, remaining calm.
At least on the outside.
Inside, he was a roiling, seething mass of anger, confusion…and fear. Though he was someone who prided himself on remaining rational and practically emotionless in most situations, he felt as though he had ingested a chainsaw and was being cut to ribbons inside. He couldn’t stop wondering if he was to blame for Jessica’s condition. It would have been bad if she had been hurt in an accident. But for it to possibly have been because someone was after him was something he wasn’t sure he could get over.
He kept going over the doctor’s warnings. Soft tissue damage. Chemical pneumonia. Organ failure. Below all of those fears, though, was a steady refrain that had been repeating in his mind, all night. The four words she’d whispered crept out of his memory to accuse him, console him, and challenge him.
Their echo had also made him face something, a truth that had been dancing around in his mind. He didn’t just care about Jessica Jensen. He was falling in love with her. He’d never been in love before, which was probably why he hadn’t even recognized it as it happened. But seeing her on the bathroom floor and hearing what she was going through had him ready to cut out his own lungs to give to her.
What he felt for her was hard, it was uncomfortable, and it was painful. It was also completely consuming, which was why he’d begun to suspect it was love. He had no idea how she felt about him, other than strong attraction, but it didn’t matter, as long as she was all right.
You called me Jess.
Yes, he had, after being a stubborn ass from the minute he’d laid eyes on her.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again, as long as she pulled through. He’d call her whatever she wanted him to, and be glad to have the chance.
As long as she didn’t hate his guts for putting her in danger.
* * *
Maisy sat alone in her mansion—close to where Reece’s place was being rebuilt—waiting for news coverage about what had happened at the hotel. She hated waiting; she’d spent too much time doing it when she was young. She’d waited for visiting day, for bland meals, for medicine. Mostly she’d waited to get out.
She didn’t like thinking about it, so she instead thought about her and Reece, living together in her beautiful house. Going room to room, she admired the shine of the gold plate she’d had put on every fixture, including the toilets. She loved the hand-painted tiles with adorable little puppies she’d used for all the kitchen counters.
Mostly she loved the colors. The interior decorator she’d hired when she bought the place had wanted everything to match. How stupid. What was the point of having a lot of rooms if they all looked alike?
No, she’d wanted something different every time she walked through a door, which was why her house was sorted by color. The white room was closest to the front door, with ultrabright carpet and walls. She had breakfast in the yellow room. The purple one was for dinner. The black one she used when she wanted to disappear. The red one was for when she was angry. Her bedroom was all green, with jungle wallpaper covering every surface, including the ceiling.
It was perfect, and all hers. She’d never had her own house before, but she’d bet this one would win awards for how beautiful—and expensive—it looked. After she and Reece were married, they would have big parties and invite people in for tours. For a fee, of course. Maisy might be rich, but she knew you only stayed rich if you watched the pennies and then the dollars would take care of themselves.
As she changed into her pajamas, Maisy let herself drift into happy memories from earlier tonight. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything better than the redhead kissing a disgusting, germ-ridden toilet bowl. Well, maybe the chemicals splashing all over her dress, turning it into a polka-dot nightmare. Everything had worked out perfectly.
Lucky Maisy. Lucky, lucky Maisy.
During the dancing, she’d gone looking for a place to set her trap. A few people had been walking down the other hallway, using the facilities, but she’d shut off the overhead lights, and they stopped coming. She’d found a maintenance closet, almost crying out with joy when she saw the big jugs of bleach. The hotel worried about their workers’ safety: there were long rubber gloves and little single-use face masks on a shelf above the chemicals. It was like somebody up there was looking out for her.
She’d had a real scare when Reece and the woman had disappeared for a while, until she’d spotted them in the lobby. Getting close enough to eavesdrop, she’d heard the woman say she was heading for the bathroom. Then it was just a matter of giving her some friendly advice about avoiding the line, and getting over there to wait for her to show up.
Lucky Maisy. Lucky, lucky Maisy.
Wondering if there were any news updates, Maisy turned on the TV to one of those entertainment channels. They were talking about it, and she quickly turned up the volume.
“Chemical accident?” she said, repeating the newscaster’s words.
Did they really think it had been an accident? Was the girl too dumb to realize she hadn’t been alone in the bathroom? If they thought it was an accident, nobody would be looking for her, would they? Reece would think it was sad, then he would get a look at the redhead’s scarred face and bald head and would never want to see her again. Everything had worked out the way it should. And once again, Reece was all hers.
Maisy was the only woman he needed, and it was about time she proved it. Her competition was out of the picture, ugly and bald. Their house was all ready.
All she had to do now was bring him here, tell him of her love, and everything would be perfect.