Selective/Memory: The "Depth of Emotion" Book 2 (The Depth of Emotion) (42 page)

He got out his cell to call Carter and tell him the good news.

“Yeah,” Carter groaned into the phone.

“Yeah, yourself,” Declan countered abrasively, taken back by his tone. “I wanted you to know Aria’s going to be fine.”

When Carter said nothing, he questioned him.

“What happened? Where are you?” He could hear voices in the background.

“At the police barracks,” his brother said. “Marisol’s dead.”

Declan was shocked. “What? How?”

“She pulled a gun on the two troopers who tried to pull her over. She shot one of them, and she was killed in the return fire,” Carter replied, sounding disappointed.

Declan sensed his brother’s tone. “You don’t sound too happy. I’m glad to be rid of that bitch. Aren’t you?”

Carter sighed into the phone.

“Yeah. I’m happy,” he reported. “I just wish I had some answers. Marisol went to her grave knowing details about Lacey—not that anything would bring her back.”

It was suddenly clear. Declan understood how much his brother simply wanted answers, and he felt robbed of those.

“Mom would say there’s a special place in hell for people like her, you know?” Declan reminded him.

“Yeah, I know,” Carter said resigned. “I just have to let it go.”

He was silent for a few minutes. Declan knew his brother was thinking too much, and it worried him.

“You okay?” he inquired.

“Yeah,” Carter said. He wanted to finish what he was doing at the police station. “I’ll be up when I’m done here. Anything on Paige?”

Declan didn’t have much, but shared what he knew.

“She was unconscious when they brought her in,” he confirmed. “She hit her head pretty hard in the fall. They’re checking her for broken bones, internal bleeding, brain swelling—you know.” He left it to Carter’s experience to fill in the blanks. “Blake’s with her now so I can concentrate on Aria. I’m sure we’ll know more when you get here.”

Carter ran his hand over his face. This woman was a mine field; anyone who came into contact with her got hurt. He was glad Marisol was dead, or who knows what else would have happened.

“I’ll be up soon, and Dec?” he said, tightness forming in his chest.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“I’m glad she’s alive…” Carter quietly said.

Declan heard the small amount of justified envy in his words—and he didn’t begrudge him a fraction.

His thoughts went in a different direction.

“Yeah, me too—and I’m glad Marisol’s dead.”

Blake was the first person Declan saw as he entered the room. Surprised, he found Paige conscious and alert when he approached the bed. Scanning her up and down, he saw a cast on one of her arms and legs, a few stitches on her face, and a wrap around her head.

“Hello, pretty lady,” he smiled. “Will it hurt if I give you a kiss?”

She smiled at him. “From a handsome model? I don’t think so. I’ve already claimed one from the fine man sitting next to me, and I’m going to milk this all I can!”

Declan bent low to kiss her on the cheek.

“I don’t think you hit your head as hard as they said you did. Seems like you have a strategy,” he teased.

“Oh, I think I might be just a little pathetic if a nice looking doctor or male nurse walks through the door,” she said, batting her eyes.

Blake clutched his chest and fell dramatically back in his chair. “I’m crushed. I thought I was your knight in shining armor for the day.”

She smiled at him. “You are, you are.”

Putting her hand to her head, she playfully flirted.

“What did you say your name was again? I’ve just hit my head and I can’t remember.”

Blake laughed at her, and Declan shook his head.

“Mm, mm, mm…there’s nothing wrong with you, Paige. You know exactly what you’re doing!”

Paige’s face clouded with worry. “How’s Aria?”

“She’s going to be fine,” he consoled. “She’s had surgery, and now she’s in recovery.”

Worry replaced concern on her face. “Surgery?”

“Yeah,” he said seriously. “Marisol stabbed her.”

He watched as Paige’s hand flew to her throat. He hurried to tell her the rest as Blake reached for her hand.

“Marisol can’t hurt her anymore. She’s dead.”

Blake and Paige spoke at the same time. “Dead!?”

Declan nodded his head, confirming the statement.

“Yes. The police tried to pull her over, so she tried to shoot them. She was shot and killed.”

He was surprised at how little emotion he felt over her death. Blake appeared more shocked than Paige.

“That’s unbelievable, man,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Wanting to change the subject, Declan pulled at his sleeve.

“Why don’t you go get something to drink? I’ll stay here with Paige until you get back. Jeannie’s with Aria; they’re getting ready to move her to a private room. I can stay for a few minutes.”

Blake, never letting go of Paige’s hand, looked at her in question.

“Okay with you?”

She smiled tenderly. “I’m fine, handsome,” she assured him. “Go take a walk.”

He faced Declan and offered him the seat.

“Keep an eye on her,” he sternly ordered, causing Declan to raise his eyebrow.

“Yes, sir!” he playfully mocked.

Both he and Paige watched as Blake left the room.

Paige waited for a moment, to assure Blake couldn’t hear their conversation. Still uncertain of what Declan had seen, she wanted to explain if he uncovered what Marisol had done to her. She didn’t really care because that brief moment took Marisol’s focus away from Aria and onto her—and anything was worth that.

“Declan…I know you might be a little confused about me…” Paige seemed ready to offer an explanation, yet hesitant to give one.

Declan stopped her.

“I’m not confused at all,” he said. “I don’t know what did, or didn’t happen. What I do know is that you saved the woman I love. It’s a debt I can never repay.”

His expression was full of emotion. He closed his hand over hers, tenderly touching the bruised skin.

“All I can say, Paige, is that if you need anything—ever—I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

Paige was touched by his sincerity. It made her speechless.

“I mean it, Paige,” he assured her. “I know you’re Aria’s friend, but I’m forever in your debt. Whatever you need from me, I’ll always be there for you.”

It was more emotion than Declan had ever exhibited to anyone other than Aria.

Paige moved her unbroken arm over to take his hand, to respond to his touch.

“Just love my girl, Declan,” she said, tears now threatening to fall. “Make a choice. Don’t let anything pull you two apart—ever. You’d be making a huge mistake.”

They were wise words, and they sank deep. Paige was right. Never again, no matter what, would he lose Aria. He’d watched her bleed—perhaps almost die—and felt moments tick like hours until help arrived. He wished they hadn’t lost the time they did when they were apart, but he was determined that they were going to be together. If she needed convincing, he’d convince her. Too much time had been wasted—but that was all about to change.

From now on, they’d be together. He’d make sure of it…

Her anger hadn’t abated since she’d run out of the house.
Damn him! He ruined everything!
All was going according to plan until he showed up. Marisol would have loved shoving the knife directly into Aria’s jugular if she hadn’t wanted to watch Declan squirm. Knowing that Aria would need medical attention, Marisol drove to the hospital lot and parked far enough away to view when they arrived through the Emergency Room entrance. As predicted, two ambulances arrived within moments of each other. She was only interested in the one transporting Aria and Declan; Paige was inconsequential. Marisol cared not if she lived or died.

As pandemonium ensued throughout the triage area, Marisol slipped past the hospital staff unnoticed, ducking into the staff room long enough to lift a lab coat and put it over her clothes. All she had to do was wait and remain incognito while following Aria’s whereabouts. Eventually she would be left by herself, and in her weakened state, Marisol would finish what she started…

Declan sat with Paige for a little while, but was anxious to return to Aria. Giving her a light kiss on the head, he told Blake to keep a close eye on her. Jeannie had just called his cell from Aria’s room, where they had moved her.

They both wanted to see her, but Blake said she could go as soon as the doctor would give his approval. He promised he’d take her—in a wheelchair, and he’d push it!

Declan couldn’t wait to be near her, happy that she and Paige would be on the same floor. He knew Aria would like that.

His breath caught in his throat as he walked into her room. She was pale and looked so fragile. Everything looked so complicated. Machines were hooked to bags hanging on poles that trailed down into her arms. The tubes ran into a machine that beeped in an alternate pattern. There was a sofa in the room, and a chair on each side of the hospital bed. Jeannie occupied one, her hand holding one of Aria’s. She looked up at Declan as he approached, her eyes red rimmed from tears.

“She’s in and out of it, honey. She’ll probably be like this all night from the anesthesia and the surgery,” she said in explanation.

He walked to the other side of the bed, lowering his large frame into the other chair, across from Jeannie. Lifting her hand, he saw that it was punctured and taped, and he tenderly placed it to his cheek.

Together, they sat there, in silence, as beeps and tones worked in concert to administer healing to Aria. Never taking his concentration away from the events in that little room, Declan watched as Aria breathed, Jeannie prayed, and he said a few prayers of his own…

The doctor touched Jeannie’s hand and patted Declan on the arm before he disappeared into the hall. Following him, Declan stood in the doorway to ensure his view of Aria was uncompromised.

“She’s going to be fine,” the doctor reported. “Her vitals are good.”

Jeannie quietly thanked him for everything. The doctor shook hands with Declan and told him he’d be back to check on Aria tomorrow.

As she approached Declan with her scarf and coat in hand, Jeannie told him that she’d like to go to Aria’s house to get her some of her own underwear and pajamas, knowing that she’d hate to be in a hospital gown once she was more conscious. Agreeing with her, Declan then decided to inform her of his own plans.