Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 (62 page)

She tried to yell, but all that came out was a wheezy grunt.

“I don't even need to lay a finger on you,” he chuckled. “I'm just going to sit here and watch you die.”

For what?
she wanted to scream.
For some payoff from Diane? A favor you owed her?

She decided then, her brain fogging over and eyes watering, that even if she lost, she would not let him win. Praying for a few more seconds, she picked up the chair. Ancho's eyes widened as he realized her intent. Before he could lunge for her, she swung the chair with all her might and sent it crashing through the window, sending a shower of glass into the cold winter air.

TWENTY-TWO

M
ax was getting ready to shove past the guard just as Laney's window exploded. He didn't waste any time in more conversation but, skirting the stunned guard, slammed his key into the lock and sprinted to Laney's room, the guard right behind him. He was in time to see a figure dashing down the darkened hallway toward the dining area.

“I'm on him,” the guard said, going in pursuit.

Max barreled through Laney's door and his heart seized. She was facedown on the floor next to Jackie's crumpled form.

Tanya ran in. “What happened?”

“Turn on the lights,” he shouted.

Tanya flipped the switch and he knelt next to Laney, frantically checking for bruises or blood. “I don't see anything. Call the medic. See if you can help Jackie.”

Tanya did so while he put his cheek to her mouth. She was breathing, but it was a wheezy, high-pitched sound. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw the bag of cookies.

“Oh, no.” He leaped to his feet. “Where's her EpiPen? Help me find it. It's in a yellow pack that she carries with her.”

Tanya held the phone in one hand and dumped out Laney's purse. “It's not here.”

Max saw the corner of Laney's training bag where it had been kicked under the desk. With fingers gone cold, he unzipped it and found the yellow box, tearing open the top and unwrapping the hypodermic.

Laney's face was a bluish color, eyes closed, lips swollen.
Please, God,
he prayed as he deployed the needle into her upper thigh. There was no reaction. He rolled her on her side to ease her breathing.

“When's the medic coming?” he shouted to Tanya.

“He's here,” she said, as the man pushed by her.

“Ambulance is on its way,” the medic said.

Fear and helplessness surged through Max as he clung to Laney's hand while the medic monitored her pulse and breathing and checked Jackie, whom he found to be breathing normally.

Please.
He'd begged just the same way when Robby lay dying, and God had answered no. So many years the anger of that denial had shaped his life. Now he asked not with the child's faith, but the desperate hope of a wounded man who had lately begun to believe that the Father who denied him his brother had not abandoned Max Blanco.

“Laney,” he said, voice breaking. “Stay with me. Please stay with me.”

The security guard appeared in the doorway, panting heavily, holding a cuffed Ancho, who still held on to his arrogant grin. “Looks like she's gotten hold of some peanuts, poor thing.”

Now a crowd of girls began to cluster in the darkened hallway.

“What is going on here?” came the authoritative voice of Coach Stan. The hallway was suddenly brilliantly illuminated.

Ancho sneezed violently multiple times. A sizzling realization went through Max's brain. He remembered after the lake episode, someone else who'd had a violent sneezing fit when the lights were turned on. He looked at Ancho. Max wanted to say something vicious to this insane man who had conspired with Jackie to kill Laney, but there was no space in his thoughts for hatred, only worry for Laney, the woman his heart finally admitted he loved desperately.

The guard shoved Ancho toward the sound of the police sirens and paramedics crowded the tiny room, ordering them all out in no uncertain terms. Max reluctantly stepped to the hallway, where he nearly plowed into Beth.

He saw it there now, guilt buried deep in her eyes and he wondered why he had not noticed it before. “You hit us, that night. You hit us and you drove away.”

Her face crumpled. “I didn't want to, but Jackie made me. I was groggy. I was upset.”

Pity and disgust mixed together. “All these years you could have come forward, but you didn't. Your coach and your mother covered up for you and you let them.”

“I tried to help Laney when I could,” she whispered.

He took her shoulder and turned her to look through the doorway. “Look how you helped her, Beth.”

Beth gasped at the sight of Laney with an oxygen mask being strapped to a stretcher while another was being rolled in for Jackie.

“They said if I told the truth, I'd never race again,” she whispered, tears running down her face.

Ancho jerked to a stop before the guard propelled him out the far hallway door. “Don't tell them anything, baby.”

“Baby?” Beth croaked.

“I think he's your father,” Max said, and a hush fell over the hallway.

“My father?” Beth's face went slack with shock. “That's not true. I hardly even know him.” She looked again at Laney. “I just wanted to win.” She started to sob then, the uninhibited wails of a young girl. “I'm so sorry.”

Her naked grief stirred him with pity. Of all the people involved in the accident, maybe Beth was more a victim of Jackie and her mother than Laney. He took Beth in his arms and hugged her. After a deep breath he said, “I know.”

* * *

Three days later, Laney looked in his direction only once after she suited up and stepped into the hot box before the race, skin suit open a few inches at the neck, ear buds in place. It was okay, she was in the zone and he knew she carried a little piece of him with her; the little paper bird he'd cut out for her was pressed next to her heart.

This time, as he'd waited in the hospital corridor, knowing Laney would survive the anaphylactic episode unharmed, he cut the paper not with strokes of anger or fear, but with a profound sense of peace. Each snip brought some healing until the place inside that had been tattered was now fresh and clean, like the crisp white paper on which he worked.

Pale and teary eyed, she'd accepted that small offering, it seemed to him, with that same sense of peace in her face, shadowed perhaps by sadness at the betrayal by people she had trusted and cared about.

“I feel terrible about Beth,” she'd said in a small voice.

“Me, too.”

After a few moments of plucking at the hospital sheets, she'd heaved a sigh, tears trickling down her cheeks. “Thank you, Max, for everything.”

No, thank you, he'd wanted to say. Thank you for that sweet spirit and gentle heart, the steady faith that cast light into his own life where it was desperately dark. Instead of talking, he'd clutched her hand and just watched her, drinking in the fact that she was safe and well and still in his life.

And now here she was, ready to race. The other girls did not mention the absence of both Beth and Jackie, though Coach Stan had briefed them all as tactfully as he could, sticking to the facts and quashing any speculation. He'd already been on the phone all morning, talking to the parents of the skaters or speaking to them in person as they arrived to watch their kids compete in the ultimate race. The bald truth was harsh. Beth's skating career was over, her legal future uncertain, and both Jackie and Diane Morrison were in custody, along with Trevor Ancho.

Jen patted him on the shoulder. “Dad's glued to the television, but he insisted I come and watch it live.”

“I'm glad he's going to be okay.”

“He'll have to make some lifestyle adjustments and go through therapy, but we'll manage.” She regarded him slyly. “I heard you telling Laney that Ancho is Beth's father. And you thought I was pulling your leg about heredity.”

He laughed. “Who would have thought Beth got that photosensitive sneezing from her father? I didn't figure it out until...” He did not want to cast his mind back to Laney's room, to remember her struggling for breath. “Anyway, it's just weird, but it further explains why he was willing to go to such lengths for her.”

“Maybe Beth and her father have more in common than the Achoo Syndrome.”

He sighed. Heredity really was a strange thing. Laney and Jen were biological products of a drug addict, yet because of the love of a man who had not fathered them and the grace of a Heavenly Father, they were both spectacular women.

He wondered what would become of Beth. “Sad thing is she didn't even know he was her father. Diane kept that from her, too, apparently.”

They went quiet as the racers took their places at the start line. His pulse revved.

Focus on your race plan.

Plant the tip of your blade.

Explosive start.

The starting buzzer sounded and the racers surged forward
. Go time.

Laney exploded from the start line with perfect form and laser-like concentration. Max experienced each turn, each straightaway as his heart beat with hers. The pack of skaters ebbed and flowed around her.

Every backbreaking practice, inhuman workout, the hours upon hours of mental preparation came to bear on that four-lap race. He knew she was going to win. Five hundred meters and forty seconds later, she did just that.

First place, with Tanya coming in second. Both snagged a place on the U.S. team.

When she crossed the finish line, arms raised in triumph, Laney looked for him.

He smiled, cheeks wet with tears, as Laney took her victory lap and he felt every inch of it, deep down in his soul. When she made it to the side of the ice, she reached up to him and they twined their arms together. Over the roar of the spectators, he kissed her. It wasn't a congratulatory kiss or even a gesture of the deep friendship they shared, but a kiss of love that shone in his heart brighter than burnished gold.

“I love you, Birdie,” he breathed.

Her laughter was effervescent. “Love you back. Always and forever.”

* * *

“Bend lower, back parallel to the ice,” Max said. “Tuck your hands behind you when you get into the flow of it.” The arena was empty now, no sign of the electric excitement that had infused the place the day before when Laney had won the five-hundred-and one-thousand-meter events to cement her spot on the U.S. team. She'd been immediately engulfed by the media, who had gotten wind of her story and the scandal that had inevitably surfaced when the arrests were made.

Nolan crouched down to the ice and Max skated closer and showed him how to position his arm and dig in for the start.

Nolan took off and made it several yards before he lost the proper form, put his head down and just flat-out skated hard and fast.

Max laughed.

The kid would be a good speed skater someday, maybe even a great one.

“Looks like he needs a trainer,” Laney said, leaning against the rail.

“Hey there. You got away from the reporters and fans all clamoring for your time?”

She chuckled. “Now I know why stars sneak out the back exits. Actually, I've been with my dad, but I did get to tell him I've been signed by a sponsor. I thought it would help his recovery to know that.”

“Absolutely.”

“Coach Stan was named as head coach, in spite of the whole mess.”

He nodded. “Excellent. You've got a great coach, the best facilities and a sponsor—everything you need to bring home a medal.”

She ran a finger along the wood. “I wish you could continue to train me.”

“You'll have the best in the world doing that.”

Nolan zipped by, flashing them a cocky grin.

“Are you going to train Nolan?” she asked.

“No, but I'm going to make sure he takes advantage of your scholarship program and gets his skate in the door, so to speak. I've put a call in to his mother to discuss it with her.”

“That's great. We never really talked about the future.” She chewed her lip. “What are you going to do?”

Now that the victory flush of the race had died away, he felt less sure. Maybe he'd caught her in a breathtaking moment and the sentiment they'd shared in that instant didn't carry over. The silence lingered for a moment before he steadied his nerves. “I'm going to train.”

“Who?”

He heaved out a breath.
Ready to make it real, Blanco?
“Me.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I'm going to give it four years and try one more time to make the team.”

Her gasp carried through the arena. “Max, that's great. Why did you change your mind?”

“All this time I've been racing angry, trying to beat the physical restrictions of my body because of the rage inside me.” He paused and gathered up the words. “You made me see that I should have been racing because that's what I was made to do, for the joy of it. I'm going to try it one more time, for the right reasons, and see where it gets me. Maybe the Winter Games, maybe not, but I've got to find out.”

She vaulted over the railing and wrapped him in a huge hug that sent him skidding a few paces and nearly knocked them both to the ice. She pressed kisses all over his face. “I'm so happy for you and I'm going to cheer you on every step of the way.” She fisted her arms in the air. “Blaze is back!” she chortled.

He had to laugh at the enthusiasm. “I've got a long way to go before I'm back, but at least I'm ready to start.”

When their laughter died away she tried to let go, but he didn't allow it. Instead, he held her tight. “You know I love you.”

She nodded.

“It's not the right time.”

A frown pulled the corners of her mouth, and pain rippled through her eyes. “But...”

“You're going to be busy this year, training for that gold medal. You think I pushed you hard? Just wait until the U.S. team trainers get hold of you.”

Her body felt so slight in his arms, the light gilding her hair with platinum.

“Yes,” she agreed, head cocked. “But I can take it. I'm ferocious, some would say.”

“I wondered...” He cleared his throat. “I've got something for you to keep with you, if you want it.”

She smiled. “You know I am going to keep the little paper bird with me always.”

“This is something that might go with the medal you're going to win. Another kind of gold.” He took the slender band from his pocket.

Her eyes went wide. “Max?”