Fast Track (20 page)

A
iden left the suite around seven to work out and didn’t return until after nine. He looked in on Cordelia to make certain she was all right. She was still sleeping soundly. After changing, he left again to get coffee and meet Spencer to discuss what to do about their brother, Walker.

When Cordie awoke, her room was still dark, but a sliver of sun shone through the gap where the draperies met. She rolled out of bed, opened the draperies wide, and looked out on a beautiful sunny day. She convinced herself she was feeling much better. Her aches and pains weren’t nearly as bad, and once she started moving around, the stiffness in her legs eased. Her horribly bruised hip still burned like fire, but it wasn’t unbearable. She could take care of herself now, and to prove it she would get dressed before the nurse showed up to help. She was sure she could manage the plastic sleeve over her cast so it wouldn’t get wet. A new day, a new positive attitude, she told herself.

She was feeling pretty chipper until she saw herself in the mirror. She looked like the kraken. The swelling had gone down, but the bruised skin was more vivid, and her hair—dear God, her hair looked as though it had been styled in front of a jet engine. The expression
her hair stood on end
didn’t do it justice. Maybe she needed a little help after all.

Patty, the fortysomething nurse who arrived later, was a talker. A little on the plump side, with kind eyes and a maternal disposition, she wasn’t anything at all like the voluptuous nurse who had visited the day before. After she introduced herself, she told Cordie she was happy to have a break from taking care of Walker.

“He’s being difficult?” Cordie asked. She couldn’t hide her surprise. Walker was usually the real charmer in the family.

Because Patty was so soft-spoken, what she said made Cordie laugh. “He’s a pain in the ass.” She removed Cordie’s sling and folded it. “Never a ‘please’ or ‘thank you,’ and he yells whenever we try to help. Moving him from the bed to the wheelchair is a trial.”

“I had planned to go see him today,” Cordie said. “Maybe I should wait until he’s feeling better.”

“Don’t wait. He might sweeten up with a friend there. He sure wasn’t happy to see his physical therapist.”

Cordie hoped Patty was exaggerating. She couldn’t imagine Walker being rude to anyone. Aiden, absolutely. Spencer, maybe sometimes. But Walker? No, never.

Once she was dressed, she headed across the hall to Walker’s suite. The guard looked as though he thought she was trying to pull something, but he let her pass and, like a shadow, followed a foot behind her.

“I’ll be right out here,” he reminded her.

“And I’ll be right in here,” she replied, smiling, as she opened the door and slipped inside.

The suite was dark, and it took a second for her eyes to adjust. All the draperies were closed, and a single lamp on an end table was the only source of light. She took a few steps past the foyer and saw him. Poor Walker. He looked so pale . . . and angry. He was sitting in a wheelchair in the center of the living room next to the coffee table. His leg was straight out in front of him. The cast reached the top of his knee, and Cordie couldn’t tell if he could bend his leg or not.

He managed a smile for her and said, “I hear you got hit by a car.”

“I hear you crashed a car.”

She thought she would give him a kiss on the cheek, but the closer she got to him, the stronger the foul odor became. She abruptly stopped. “You smell rank,” she blurted.

“He won’t let us bathe him,” Patty said. She walked past Cordie with a stack of towels.

Walker’s face became a mask of indifference. He glared at Patty until she disappeared into his bedroom and then said, “I wish everyone would leave me the hell alone.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Cordie demanded. He acted as though he hadn’t heard her. She repeated the question in a much louder voice. She was so focused on Walker, she wasn’t aware that Aiden and Spencer had just walked in. “After you have a bath and put on clean clothes, we’ll all leave you alone, for a little while anyway.”

“Do I have to go in the bedroom and lock the door to get some peace?” he growled. “In fact, I think I’m going to do just that.” He started to back his wheelchair away from the coffee table so he could turn around.

Aiden was about to step in and give Walker a piece of his mind for acting like a child until Cordie laughed. The puzzling reaction made him hesitate. What did she think was so funny?

“You think I can’t get you out of a locked room? It would take me five minutes, tops,” she said.

Walker scoffed and stopped turning the wheels of his chair. “What would you do? Get someone to kick in the door?”

“Nothing so barbaric,” she said sweetly. “I know a lot of ways to get you to come out. I could use tear gas, I suppose. That’s quick and easy. Your eyes will burn for a week, but I guarantee you’ll open the door. Or I could—”

He stopped her. “You’re out of your mind. Where are you going to buy tear gas?”

Exasperated, she asked, “What did I do at St. Matthew’s High School?”

“You were a teacher.”

“And what did I teach?”

Before he could guess, she said, “Chemistry, Walker. I taught chemistry. I won’t buy tear gas. I’ll make it, and room service will bring me everything I need. Some vinegar, a little baking soda, a few hot spices . . . should I go on? Or would you like to hear what else I could put together to get you out of a locked room?”

She was bluffing, of course. Yes, she did know how to make tear gas, but she never would, and she didn’t have the faintest idea what she would say if he asked her how she would get the tear gas into the room.

“You’re a ghoul,” he grumbled.

“Yes, I am,” she agreed cheerfully. “Now, are you going to bathe, or do I call room service and start mixing up a few surprises to get you to cooperate?”

He put his hands up in reluctant surrender. “Okay, you win.”

Before he could change his mind, Patty swooped in to roll him into the bedroom.

“Don’t leave, Cordie,” Walker called out. “This won’t take long.”

The way he smelled? She thought it would take the rest of the afternoon.

Aiden came up behind her and put his arm on her shoulder. “Tear gas, Cordelia?”

“You really know how to make that stuff, don’t you?” Spencer sounded impressed.

“Yes, I do,” she said as she turned around to face them.

It had been a long time since she’d seen all three Madison brothers in the same place, and she couldn’t help but notice the similarities. There were distinct differences as well. Spencer and Aiden were both tall, and their muscular builds were a testament to the time they spent working out. Spencer was slightly bulkier in the shoulders than Aiden, but Aiden had the more chiseled body. Walker, on the other hand, didn’t show the same signs of physical fitness. It appeared his lifestyle was beginning to catch up with him, because he was thinner than she remembered, and his skin had a sallow hue that suggested living in the fast lane had finally taken its toll. Despite their different physiques, all three brothers were handsome and could be models. Aiden would look right at home in
GQ
. Spencer would be more suited to
Sports Illustrated
. And Walker . . . he was different. While at one time he would have been a candidate for the cover of
Esquire,
he
now looked like a subject for a medical journal.

Spencer patted her on the shoulder. “You look so much better today. I can barely see the bruises,” he told her. “I don’t think anyone would even notice. Doesn’t she look good, Aiden?”

“Cordelia always looks good.”

She was about to thank them for their lies when a knock sounded at the door, and a big, burly man dressed in white came in.

“Walker’s cooperating, Edward,” Aiden said.

“Edward’s an RN,” Spencer told her. “He was going to help us drag Walker into a shower.”

Aiden introduced the nurse to Cordelia. When he took her hand, he frowned and examined her face. “You were in the car with Walker?”

Cordie turned to Spencer and gave him an accusatory scowl. “Barely noticeable bruises, huh?” she said with a laugh.

“She was hit by a car,” Aiden explained.

She didn’t stop Edward when he gently removed her arm from the sling. He checked her fingers and remarked, “Not too much swelling. That’s good. When do you see the doctor?”

She didn’t have the faintest idea. She didn’t even know the name of the doctor who had put the cast on.

Aiden answered. “She has an appointment with a specialist day after tomorrow.”

“I do? How do you know that?” she asked.

“I made the appointment for you.”

“When?”

“At the hospital.”

“When were you going to tell me?” she asked, surprised and perturbed that he was making plans for her without her knowledge.

“Day after tomorrow.”

“He won’t take the cast off that soon,” she said.

“No. It’s just a check to make sure you’re healing properly. I’ll take you.”

“Aiden, I might not be here in a couple of days.”

“Yes, you will.”

Cordie wasn’t about to get in an argument with him now. She would wait until they were alone. Then she’d have her say and make him listen.

“I’ll go help with Walker,” Edward said. He turned to Cordie before he left. “It was a pleasure meeting you. If you have any problems, you let me know.”

There was a big problem standing in front of her, but she doubted Edward would be able to help her with Aiden.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make.” She crossed the room and stopped. “Spencer, why don’t you call housekeeping and ask them to send someone to clean all this up. It’s a mess.” She saw Aiden’s expression and put her hand up. “Yes, I see the parallel.”

His laughter followed her out the door. It wasn’t at all the same, though. Aiden’s definition of messy was completely different from that of normal people. Leaving a scarf on a table made the room a mess to him. Okay, maybe she left a few more things around the living room than just a scarf, but it wasn’t enough to be considered messy.

The security guard walked her back to her door. “Mr. Madison was concerned when he couldn’t find you. He calmed down as soon as I explained you were looking in on his brother.”

Aiden was concerned? Did he think she’d left the hotel? And if so, how would she have accomplished it? She couldn’t step out the door without a guard shadowing her, and if she ever dared to push the elevator button, she’d probably be tackled and dragged back to the suite. As long as Aiden was running things, she wasn’t going anywhere.

She went into her bedroom to get her phone, walked past the closet, and came to a quick stop. The closet had been empty the night before. Now it was filled with clothes. She flipped the light on and walked in. They were her clothes, and not just a few. All the racks were full. On one shelf were three pairs of jeans, all nicely folded. On another shelf were T-shirts.

Had Aiden done this? And if so, why? Moving everything back or packing it all for the trip to Boston was going to be a real pain. She heard the door to the suite open. Regan was talking on her phone as she walked into the living room. She put her phone on the table along with her purse, then glanced up and saw Cordie.

“Alec has a box of your shoes. He’ll be here with them in a few minutes. He ran into a friend in the lobby,” she said.

Thoroughly perplexed, Cordie asked, “Why is he bringing my shoes?”

“Since you’re going to be staying here for a while, I thought you’d want your clothes and your shoes.” She dropped down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her. “You should relax.”

“I’ve done nothing but relax,” Cordie said. “Why do you think I’ll be staying here? I’m ready to go home.”

“But I just brought some of your clothes over.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’? You need your things.” Regan patted the cushion again. “Please sit.”

Cordie gave in and plopped down beside her. “Regan, what’s going on?”

“Alec thinks you should stay here awhile longer. You’re safe here, and he thinks it’s going to take some time to figure out who pushed you in front of that car.”

“We may never know who did it, although I do have my suspicions. I can’t stay here forever,” she argued. “This is Aiden’s place, not mine. I’ve intruded long enough.”

“He’s the one who insisted you stay with him, and he’s got plenty of room. The bedrooms are far apart,” Regan pointed out. “You won’t be in his way because he’s rarely here. And no one can get to you, Cordie. You couldn’t be any safer.”

“Yes, I know, but—”

“You also have help here, getting dressed.”

“I can dress myself.”

“Can you put on your skinny jeans with one hand? What about hooking your bra? Maybe when you can move your fingers on your left hand it will be easier, but now you’re kind of stuck, aren’t you? Walker has nurses who will help you.”

“When I get home, I can hire someone if I need to.”

“What about security?”

“I’ll lock my doors.”

“You know you should stay here.”

Living in such luxury—and yet she felt trapped. If she were being completely honest, she would admit her resistance had little to do with her feelings of independence and more to do with her fear of being alone with Aiden. How could she move on and forget about him if she was living under his roof, seeing him every day, yearning for him to touch her? Cordie wished she could pour her heart out to Regan and tell her what had happened with Aiden in Sydney, but she couldn’t. A couple of nights of insanity in Aiden’s arms didn’t make a relationship, and if Regan knew, she would worry about Cordie, and God only knew what she would say or do to her brother. It wouldn’t matter that they were consenting adults. There was also the fact that Cordie had gone to great lengths to make sure Regan and Sophie believed her infatuation with Aiden was a thing of the past. Boston, she decided for the hundredth time, couldn’t come soon enough.

“I’m not used to being pampered, but I have to admit it’s been very nice. Room service is wonderful, and having my sheets changed is lovely. I don’t have to lift a finger.”