Read Honor Online

Authors: Janet Dailey

Tags: #Suspense

Honor (3 page)

BOOK: Honor
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His call went straight to her voicemail. Maybe she’d shut off her phone, maybe her battery was dead. Given the uncertainty of her whereabouts, that didn’t reassure him.

Linc gave it a minute and tapped her number again. The recorded message was twice as irritating the second time around. The hell with it. He was going to drive to her place and see for himself if she was there or not.

He entered her address into the GPS search bar. It wouldn’t take that long to get there, unless the highway was under water. He sped out of the parking lot, spraying through puddles on either side.

Not slowing down until he went down the exit ramp, he pulled around the back of her apartment building a few minutes later. Her spot was empty. No surprise. The wreck wouldn’t have been towed here. He craned his neck and looked through the windshield. Her windows on the third floor glowed amber.

Maybe the ER supervisor had guessed right. But he hadn’t seen or talked to Kenzie yet.

He got out and made his way to the rear entrance. If she was there, he wanted to actually set eyes on her.

There was a long rectangle of opaque glass just above the entrance, meant to illuminate the stairwell during the day. Right now it was lit up, but not brightly. He saw a shadow move quickly down from the third floor to the second, then disappear.

No one came out.

He didn’t think too much about it. Linc pushed open the door and glanced at the security camera, an old clunker, positioned high in a corner. It didn’t move. The lens was flat black, with no gleam to its glass. Painted over, he thought distractedly, taking the stairs two at a time. No one was going to see him, as if that mattered.

He reached her floor and opened the fire door onto a long hall. Another shadow appeared at the other end, then vanished so swiftly he thought he’d imagined it.

He was dead beat by now. Tired wasn’t the word. The mad dash down too many roads and the stop at the hospital had disoriented him. Linc didn’t like feeling so off balance.

There were no more shadows. The fixtures in the hall provided even light. He heard nothing except the faint sound of water running somewhere in the building. Linc walked halfway down the hall before he realized that her door was ever so slightly ajar. A thin slice of golden light edged it.

He tensed. Had someone else noticed it was unlocked and tried it from the outside, then run away just as he’d opened the stairwell door? No telling.

His hand moved automatically inside his jacket for a weapon that wasn’t there. His fingers brushed the smooth lining of his tux. No gun, no nothing.

And no sound from inside. Linc shoved the door open.

He choked as an unseen arm shot around his neck and pressed against his windpipe. Linc felt like someone was climbing his back, fast. He reached up to yank the arm away but in a split second his wrist got grabbed and forced behind his back.

Gasping, he arched his back until he broke free of the steel-strong hold and—damn. Cracked his head against the door. The pain was blinding.

He whirled around, dizzy, and swung a fist. Didn’t connect. Something wet slapped his arm ... long, wet, whipping hair. His attacker was on the small side and had ducked the roundhouse punch. He stared at her, collecting his wits.

“Kenzie?”

She immediately straightened, standing with her arms akimbo and her clenched hands braced against her hips, her breath heaving in her chest.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. “Did you pick my lock or something?”

He sucked in air, his throat swelling from the pressure she’d applied, raw on the inside.

“No. Door—was open. Thought I—saw—” He gasped the words, recovering slowly. “Somebody out here.” He waved at the hall. “Maybe running away.”

Her green eyes widened. “What?” She moved to look down the hall for herself, both ways. “There’s no one there.”

“Hope not.”

She came back in and shut the door hard, then slid the inside bolt into place. “Sometimes it doesn’t latch unless I kick it. Are you all right?”

“Maybe.”

Kenzie kept her distance, but came a little closer. He noticed, vaguely, that she was wearing something white and short. “You scared me half to death.”

He patted her shoulder, which seemed to be bare, for some reason. She smelled awfully good, but it didn’t seem like the right time to nuzzle her or anything like that. At least she didn’t pull away or whack him.

Reassured by the thought, he stumbled to her couch and dropped down heavily. “Had to come. Too bad I didn’t know your first name.” He looked up at her, still not able to think straight. His head hurt like hell where he’d cracked it. “
B
is for—?”

“Babe,” she replied. “My dad thought it was cute. I can’t stand it, never could. So don’t switch.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry, Kenzie.”

“Why are you even here?”

She seemed more mystified than angry.

“For a very good reason. I saw the accident on TV.”

Someone who kinda had it coming, a car thief or a stupid punk, had been taken away on that stretcher. Not Kenzie. She was right here, real as could be. He felt relief wash through him.

“What accident? You’re not making sense.” She came over and sat beside him, her bare arms folded across her chest.

Linc took a deep, rasping breath, then another. “Don’t you ever answer your phone?”

“Not in the shower.”

He finally figured out that she was wearing only a terry wrap thing tied in a knot above her breasts.

Shower. Right. So that was why she hadn’t heard him.

But that didn’t explain why the door had been cracked open. Her explanation—that it had to be kicked to latch right—didn’t do it for him. Kenzie wasn’t an airhead.

But everybody made mistakes. He’d spent most of the last hour doing just that.

Ow. He was hurting way too much to form a coherent thought. And he was distracted. The wrap was extremely short, at least from where he was sitting. Out of respect and the growing awareness that he’d made a world-class fool of himself by coming here unannounced, he did his best not to look too long at her bare legs, as slender and shapely as her arms.

No fluffy slippers for her—her feet were bare too. And recently pedicured. Golden bronze toenails, polish flawlessly applied, not a chip to be seen.

That could be why she hadn’t kicked the door. He told himself not to ask if that was the reason, for fear of sparking her self-protective instincts a second time. He forced himself to look up, all the way up. Her dark, wet hair trickled little rivers over her shoulders. Linc felt weak.

“Kenzie—ah—you do have a helluva chokehold.” His voice was coming back but he stopped to breathe. She was alive, even if she’d half killed him. That was good. “I seem to remember you telling me you aced hand-to-hand back in basic.”

“Yes, I did. And I still practice.”

“Good for you.” Linc coughed. “But you need to work on recognizing friendlies. Make yourself a chart or something.”

She got up again and tugged at the wrap. Was it slipping?

“How was I supposed to know it was you, Linc?”

“God, I’d hate to be your enemy.” He blinked. “Now I’m seeing sparks.” He forced his eyes closed, but the sparks didn’t go away. “Blue sparks. Wow.”

She seemed unimpressed. “How much champagne did you have at the reception?”

He didn’t answer the question. “It was fun. But I kept thinking about you.” He rubbed his eyes, then his neck. “Ouch. Those nerves are waking up. You know how to hang on.”

Bare, bronze-polished toes tapped impatiently on the carpet. “I’m waiting for an explanation. Right now would be a good time.”

“You bet. Here goes.” He launched into a fast recap of his search for her, starting with the news report.

“That can’t be—” The rosy glow left her face and she stopped him before he could finish. “Linc, I loaned my car to my friend Christine.”

“What?”

He could see her struggling to stay in control. What was going through her mind right now, he couldn’t imagine.

“You heard me. That was her you saw on the stretcher. Unless—”

She didn’t crack. But she avoided his eyes. “Damn it, where’s my cell phone?” Suddenly she was frantic, searching over and under every surface. He didn’t see a landline.

“I left mine in my car.” He got up, feeling rocky.

Ugly twist. Not a joyrider, not a thief—a friend of hers had been at the wheel. Another possibility that hadn’t occurred to him, and he had been trained to think outside every box there was. But Christine had survived. As far as he knew. “I’ll go get it.”

“No! Stay here!”

She grabbed a pair of jeans that had been slung over the flatscreen TV and shook them upside down. A small cell phone bounced on the carpet and she scooped it up, flipping it open and staring at the messages listed on the tiny screen. “Two texts. Nine voicemails. Oh no.”

She pressed the key for call return and got one of Christine’s parents almost immediately. Linc saw her shudder and dash away tears. She turned away from him after that. “Critical condition—I understand—Mrs. Corelli, I am so sorry. I just found out—no, from a friend—and picked up your message. Where is she? Where are you?” She grabbed a pencil and notepad and jotted down the replies. “I’m on my way.” Then she looked at Linc. “Yes, I have someone who can come with me.”

 

“She’s so pale,” Kenzie whispered.

Christine’s mother smiled sadly and didn’t respond right away. She sat at the head of the bed where her daughter lay unconscious, her husband standing at her side.

“Thank you for getting here so quickly,” Mrs. Corelli finally said. Her voice was no more than a whisper. “The police called us from the scene. They told us it was your car. I was worried when you didn’t answer.”

“I—I was working with a new client and I went out for a run when I came back. Then I took a shower. My cell was in my jeans. I didn’t even look at it.”

“You didn’t know,” Mrs. Corelli soothed.

“I just wish I had. How long have you been here?” Kenzie asked the Corellis.

“Since ...” The older woman looked up at her husband. “When was it, dear?”

“We got here after dark,” Alfred Corelli said.

Linc took Kenzie’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

She was fighting back tears as she looked at Christine’s badly bruised face. Her friend’s eyes were shut and her lashes were wet. There were wires connected to her scalp and neck, running to machines that registered her every breath and heartbeat.

A doctor came in, glancing first at Christine, then at her parents. Then at Linc and Kenzie. He got the idea instantly: They weren’t supposed to be in the ICU. The doctor didn’t make a point of saying so.

“Kenzie, this is Dr. Asher, Christine’s neurologist,” Mr. Corelli said. “Kenzie is Christine’s best friend. They’re like sisters. I’m sorry, young man, but I don’t know your name.”

“Linc Bannon.”

“Thank you for bringing her,” Mrs. Corelli said simply.

The doctor acknowledged both Linc and Kenzie with a slight nod and a brief hello as he studied Christine’s charts and the readouts, swiftly absorbing information. “No substantial change.”

“Is that bad?” her mother asked almost inaudibly.

“It means her condition has stabilized. Considering the severity of her injuries, that’s a good sign.”

Mrs. Corelli looked anxiously at her daughter. “Can she hear us?”

“Actually, she can,” the neurologist replied in a measured voice. “But the heavy sedation makes it impossible for her to respond or remember. However, her reflexes are there—pupil function, touch sensation—and she reacts to the usual stimuli as well as can be expected.”

Linc knew the drill. The motorcycle accident that had left him with no more than a scar on his face had been a lesson learned the hard way. He’d been lucky, relatively speaking. Christine seemed much worse off.

“The immediate problem is controlling brain swelling.” The doctor addressed both Corellis as he spoke. “Her CAT scans show a skull fracture, and right now we can’t predict exactly what will happen. The next twenty-four hours are critical.”

“I see.” Mrs. Corelli’s voice was dull.

“How long will she be unconscious?” Christine’s father asked bluntly.

“I can’t give an exact date. But we will bring her out of the deep sedation as soon as we can safely do so, Mr. Corelli.”

The older man looked down at his wife, then back at Dr. Asher. “We’re going to stay here with her.”

The doctor nodded. “Someone on staff can arrange for cots and other things you might need. There are different support services and groups to help—one of the social workers will have a list for you. Family involvement is important, particularly in cases like this.”

Mrs. Corelli took the last comment more stoically. She reached out a hand and smoothed a lock of hair away from Christine’s forehead. “We’re right by your side, sweetheart,” she murmured.

“It’s going to be a long process.” There was sympathy and understanding in the doctor’s voice. “Again, the sedation is necessary. The admitting neurologist may have explained to you that patients with head injuries can become extremely agitated at any time, to say nothing of the pain they may experience.”

Pain. He didn’t soften the word. The Corellis flinched visibly.

“Right now, she isn’t feeling any, as far as we know,” the neurologist assured them. “She’s getting the best possible care. Everyone in the ICU is committed to her pulling through. You have my word on that.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Corelli whispered. He wrapped up the consultation in a few more minutes and left the room when a nurse came to get him.

Kenzie went to Mrs. Corelli and bent over to give her an awkward hug, murmuring a few words of encouragement as she straightened. The older woman patted her arm.

“She won’t be alone,” Christine’s mother said. “I’m so glad we can stay in the room. I really think it will help.”

“Yes,” Kenzie said softly. She looked around at Linc. “I—I guess Linc and I ought to go. They don’t usually allow visitors in the ICU.”

“Once I knew you were coming, I told them to make an exception,” Mr. Corelli replied. “Glad I did. It’s good to see you, Kenzie.”

BOOK: Honor
8.13Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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