Time to Heal (Harlequin Heartwarming) (15 page)

“Where’s the room?”

“Uh…well, I’m not sure. Langley!” He beckoned to one of half a dozen men stationed in the hall. All had their weapons drawn, but it was apparent to Jake that, SWAT team or not, everybody seemed stymied as to what to do next.

“Where is my wife, Langley?” Jake asked as the officer approached.

“Sheriff.” Langley nodded politely. “There’s a small storage room right off the third treatment cubicle. It has a metal door with a tiny window in it at about eye level and a dead bolt lock. Problem is, we can’t approach because he…Kevin, the boy, is armed and close to panicked.”

Jake stared in the direction of the room for a second or two. His lips barely moved as he spoke. “Have you spoken to my wife since he took her?”

“Yes, sir, we have. She called out that we should keep back. She and your boy, Mike, are okay, she said. She wanted a few more minutes with Kevin.”

J.B. stepped closer. “Now, Jake—”

Jake ignored him, still focused on Langley. “Do you know what he’s on?”

Langley shook his head. “PCP or something like it, according to the orderly and Mrs. Falco.”

Jake rubbed at the day’s growth of beard on his face and felt his hand tremble. “She’s… She doesn’t know what she’s up against,” he muttered. “PCP’s vicious. He could blow at any minute.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Langley said, looking respectfully determined. “But I think your lady seems remarkably composed, considering. And your boy, too. Just from the time they holed up in there until a few minutes ago, I could tell the difference in the kid, Kevin. He’s a lot calmer. At first he was yelling and banging around, knocking stuff over. As you say, just ready to blow. Smith and me—” he nodded in the direction of his cohort, still stationed in the hall “—have been right outside the storeroom, just out of sight. As you can hear for yourself, all’s quiet in there right now.”

A commotion at the door caught their attention. To Jake’s dismay, it was the media. Crowding just outside the entrance was a local news crew complete with minicam. With a sweep of the camera, the electronic eye taped the waiting room, J.B., Jake and the armed policemen for the six o’clock news and posterity.

The red-haired anchorman from Channel Six
spotted Jake. “Sheriff McAdam, is it true your wife and son are the hostages?”

Jake ignored him, turning to the police chief. “Get rid of them, Gonzales,” he ordered tersely. “I don’t want anything to harm my wife and son. A TV camera might spook the kid into doing something crazy.”

J.B. looked annoyed. “This is a free country, Jake. We aren’t going to be able to shut out the media.”

Jake glowered at J.B. “When in your political life have you ever wanted to shut out the media, J.B.?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I know you’ll grab any opportunity to get your name on the six o’clock news.” He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice to keep the exchange between Gonzales and himself. “You’d better be careful, Chief. As you are so anxious to point out, you’re in charge here. If anything, I repeat
anything,
goes down here today except the successful rescue of my family, no amount of media coverage is going to make you look good. And if the people of Tidewater don’t string you up, then I promise you I will.”

They exchanged a look stripped of all pretense of liking or respect. Jake stared fiercely until J.B. looked away. Then with a sound of disgust, Jake wheeled and strode down the hall.

“Hey, where you going?”

“To see if I can communicate with my wife,” Jake snapped, not looking back.

Langley hurried after him. Neither paid any attention to the chief of police, who turned, straightening his tie and smoothing his hair. He cleared his throat, readying himself with a smile for live television.

“Sheriff, I don’t know if I’d get too close,” Langley warned, matching his stride to Jake’s. “That kid doesn’t seem inclined to negotiate.”

“Is there a phone in that storeroom?”

“Well, no, sir.”

“Windows?”

“Not much of one, sir. Just a skinny pane.”

“Then how are we going to find out anything if we don’t get close enough to talk to him?” Jake demanded.

“Yes, sir.”

Approaching the storeroom, Jake flattened himself against the wall. With practiced efficiency, he drew his weapon. The violence inside him was fearsome in its intensity. He motioned the other cop, Smith, aside and leaned forward to see for himself. With a swiftly indrawn breath, he cursed in frustration. The window was draped with something. He curbed an impulse to kick the door down. He needed to see for himself that Rachel and Michael were unhurt.

His gaze traveled around the hall, seeking something, anything, that might get him into the storeroom. There was no air-conditioning duct, no air-intake vent. With his back against the wall, he looked at the door. “Kevin! Kevin, can you hear me in there?”

It was Rachel who answered. “Hello, Sheriff,” she said calmly. Jake’s throat tightened at the sound. If they’d been passing on the street, she couldn’t have sounded more casual.

“We’re fine in here, as I told Officer Langley a while ago. Kevin’s thinking the situation over. He didn’t really intend to cause a stir like this, did you, Kevin?”

Jake heard an indistinct reply and stirred restlessly.

What about Michael?

“Dad…” Michael’s tone was tentative.

Jake struggled with a renewed surge of emotion. “You okay, Mike?”

“Yes, sir. Fine. Uh, Dad, maybe you and your people should kind of back off for a little while. Miss Rachel’s talking to Kevin right now. He’s cool.”

Jake swallowed with difficulty. He took heart from the sound of their voices. Surely they couldn’t manage that tone if Kevin was ready to blow. He stared at his hands gripping his weapon. Or did they even realize how quickly somebody high on
a mind-altering substance could go from calm to crazy?

Suddenly through the door came the muffled sound of a struggle, then Rachel’s sharp cry. Jake’s heart plunged to his belly. His mouth dry with fear, he tried the door with one hand, but it was locked. Michael shouted. Something fell with a loud crash. Then he heard a single gunshot. The sound galvanized Jake as nothing else could. He forgot procedure. Nothing mattered but getting to Rachel and Michael. He kicked wildly at the base of the heavy door while slamming into it with his shoulder. With a crash, it came open.

He took in the scene frantically, lowering his weapon only when he saw that Kevin lay on the floor and Michael and Rachel seemed unhurt.

“Jake…” Her eyes swimming with tears, Rachel looked at him from where she knelt beside Kevin’s unconscious form. Michael stood over them holding the gun wrapped in a white hospital washcloth.

“I had to hit him, Dad.”

Adrenaline and relief were like a rushing river in Jake’s head. He looked at Michael. Blood trickled from a cut on his cheekbone. “What the hell happened?”

“We thought he was calming down when he suddenly stuck the gun up under his chin like he was going to…” Michael was suddenly squeamish about actually saying the words.

Langley and Smith shouldered around Jake, taking in the scene. Langley went down on one knee beside Rachel, and Smith held out his hand for the gun, which Michael handed over readily.

Jake managed to holster his weapon a heartbeat before Rachel rose and launched herself at him, choking back sobs. His arms went around her, strong and embracing. He held her tight, his body quaking with relief. With a sigh, he breathed her name, drank in the sound of his own name whispered brokenly. “It’s okay, baby,” he murmured in her ear, lovingly stroking her hair and the slim, fragile shape of her spine.

Over her head, he focused intently on Michael. The boy was standing tall and taut as though movement might be more than he could manage. Jake’s throat closed with a mighty rush of feeling. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Beneath his hands, he could feel the aftermath of fear still coursing through Rachel. With his eyes, he could see the same vulnerability in Michael. He held out his arm and beckoned. Michael jerked forward and then he was holding them both tight. His wife.

His son.

Safe. Both of them.

Closing his eyes, he breathed a prayer.

A
T FIRST
, Rachel thought she could handle the whole thing without collapsing into Jake’s arms and allowing him to do and say all the things that would make the horror of the past hour bearable. Over the past few weeks, she’d developed a sense of independence and an even stronger sense of her own identity. In spite of the adversity in her life, her self-esteem had blossomed. But an hour as a hostage had melted her newfound assurance like so much wax in a flame. It felt so good to be held close by Jake. He was so big and solid and
safe.
She’d been so scared.

And Michael.
She still went cold at the thought of harm befalling Michael while he was in her care.

With a whimper, she turned her face into Jake’s shirtfront. She was trembling almost uncontrollably, now that the danger was past, and Jake’s hand felt warm, necessary, as he stroked away her shudders. Would it really matter if she leaned on him for just a minute or two?

When she felt Michael step back, she sighed and started to let go as well.

“Get your things,” Jake told her gruffly, leaning back to look into her eyes. Beside them, people worked over Kevin where he lay on the floor.

“I’ll need to take care of this,” she began, her voice unsteady. Kevin would need to be admitted. There were forms, procedures. She had a job to do.

“Is it bad?” Jake asked, watching a doctor’s quick inventory of Kevin’s body.

Looking puzzled, the doctor leaned back on his heels. “Doesn’t appear to be shot at all. He’s unconscious, but it’s from the blow he took on the back of his head.”

Jake looked at Michael. “Did you hit him with the gun?”

“No, sir. I used that thing.” He nodded toward a metal IV pole shoved in the corner.

“What about the shot we heard?”

Rachel shivered with remembered fear. “It went wild, thank God, into that stack of towels, I think. But he meant to k-kill himself.” With a shaky hand, she tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “If not for Michael, he would have.” She looked at him. “You saved his life, Michael.”

Michael shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. “I couldn’t just stand by and let him shoot himself, could I? Besides, Miss Rachel kept talking
to him, distracting him so that I could sneak over and grab the IV pole. It was the only thing in here other than clean laundry.”

Jake reached out and turned Michael’s face to the side. His face grew grim as he studied the bloody bruise on his cheek. “How’d this happen?”

Clearly discomfited, Michael averted his eyes. “Kevin was pretty wild when we first got in here, waving the gun and kicking and knocking everything around. I guess he clipped me there.”

“With the gun,” Rachel said, shivering again. “I think it’s going to need stitches.”

“Then let’s get it done.” Jake put a hand on Mike’s shoulder, and with his other, he motioned for Rachel. As they approached the turn in the hall, he drew up short. A crowd had gathered in the waiting area. Light from the television minicam lent an unusual brightness to the muted mauve-and-blue decor. J.B. was speaking into a microphone, the cadence of his voice rising and falling in tandem with his arms. Beside him, Ron Campbell waited to read a statement.

Spotting Rachel, Helen Falco broke away from the group. She came toward them, her gaze searching and concerned. “Are you okay?” she asked, hugging Rachel tight.

“I’m fine, Helen. But Michael—”

“I know. Officer Langley said he needed stitches. We’ve got a cubicle set up.”

Michael hung back, his eyes on the television crew and the ogling crowd. “Can’t we just go home, Dad?”

“Soon as that cut is tended to, son. Helen—”

She took Michael’s arm and turned him in the opposite direction. “The doctor’s all set up in another wing. We’ll just take a little detour and bypass all the commotion in the waiting room.”

“Well…”

Rachel caught his eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll go with you, Michael.”

He looked quickly away. “You don’t have to.”

Rachel winced inwardly. He didn’t want her. After what he’d seen between her and Ron Campbell, who could blame him? She managed a smile. “Okay. I need to get to the paperwork anyway.”

“Rachel!” Helen gave her an incredulous look. “You’ve just been through an ordeal. Someone else will handle the paperwork. Jake needs to take you home.”

Jake nodded. “As soon as Mike’s fixed up, I’m going to do just that.”

With a sigh, Rachel fell into step beside them.

H
ER HOUSE
was a welcome sight to Rachel. Her stomach had threatened to rebel with every corner Jake had turned on the way home. Only the knowledge that she had no right to feel ill, that Michael had been the one who was injured, had kept her
from giving in to the nausea. She got out of the car on legs that were still wobbly, shamelessly grateful for Jake’s steadying hand. Without a word, she headed straight for her bedroom.

That was where Jake found her a few minutes later. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, her knees raised, hugging a pillow. She hadn’t turned on a light or removed any of her clothes, not even her shoes.

“Rachel?” His tone was urgent as he bent beside her. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

She shook her head, her throat clogged with unshed tears. “I’m fine, just—”

“Shook up, I know.” He eased an arm around her and drew her into his embrace. His arms tightened when he heard her choked sob. “You’ve been through the ringer today. You deserve a good cry.”

“Did Michael?”

“Did Michael what?”

“Cry.”

He chuckled softly. “No. He stomped around in his room griping because he hadn’t managed to protect you from a drugged crazy.”

Even Michael. Rachel closed her eyes in defeat. Even now, after she thought she had taken control of her life, men continued to treat her as if she were a little girl. The thought banished the threatening tears with a speed nothing else could have.

“Is he okay?” she asked, wondering why Mi
chael cared if she’d been hurt. She would never forget his expression when he’d opened the door to find Ron kissing her. She felt so guilty… So unworthy of Michael’s boyish chivalry. Of Jake’s husbandly concern.

“Mike’s fine.” He shifted to see her face, smoothing back strands of her hair. “But I don’t think you are. Want to talk about it?”

She tried to control the shudder that swept through her. “I was so scared, Jake.”

“I know, baby.” He kissed her temple.

“I’m sorry.”

“For being scared? Don’t be. Even a seasoned cop would be scared facing a situation like that.”

“Not for that. For Michael.”

“Michael?”

“For placing him in danger. Instead of trying to reason with a strung-out user, I should have made Michael’s safety my priority.”

He leaned back and frowned at her. “That’s crazy talk, Rachel. You had an explosive situation and you handled it far better than many other professionals. As far as Michael’s safety is concerned, if there’s any finger pointing to be done, you aren’t the only person who could have stopped Michael from getting involved. Helen Falco or the two cops who brought Kevin in should have headed him off.” She watched his mouth quirk up at one corner in the slow, lazy smile that gave
her so much comfort. “So, if you want to beat up on somebody for putting Michael in harm’s way, there’re plenty of folks around.”

She resisted the temptation to snuggle close. Sighing, she was miserably aware that Michael’s close call wasn’t the only reason for her distress, but she could hardly tell Jake now. She didn’t deserve his devotion. How different he’d be if he knew what had happened just moments before the confrontation with Kevin. What a mess. She longed to crawl into her bed and have Jake right beside her. She longed to feel his arms around her, strong and protective and loving. She longed to close her eyes and sleep and then wake to find the whole tangle of her life just a bad dream.

“Hey…” Jake reached out and curled his palm around her nape. “You weren’t the only one who was scared. When they told me Kevin had you and Michael and that he was armed, I nearly lost it, Rachel. Everything precious in my life was in the hands of a madman.” He pulled her into his arms. With his face close to hers, he murmured, “Danger has a way of putting things into their proper perspective.” He waited a moment before saying softly, “Do you know what I’m saying, Rachel?”

She didn’t answer. No sound would come from the tight muscles in her throat. She cringed inwardly, thinking of her cold-blooded and half-
baked plan to have an affair to spite Jake. She closed her eyes, trying to forget how shameful she felt. Tears suddenly flooded her eyes, spilling over her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. We’re going to be okay.” He ran his lips over her eyebrows, her lashes, her wet cheeks. He traced the shape of her jaw and chin, stopping at the corner of her mouth. “You taste so good, baby. I’ve missed you.”

He kissed her like a man starving. Rachel responded, giving way to the need that had been locked inside her for so long. She clung to him, wanting to bury the aching pain in her heart that held the ugly little secret of her indiscretion. But she couldn’t do this with Jake. Not after what she’d done, almost done…

She gasped, trying to pull away. “No…wait…” She pushed at him, turning away, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t.”

In the stark silence, Jake’s breathing sounded ominous. Rachel held her breath, expecting his temper to explode. Wanting it. She deserved to be yelled at, stormed over.

His voice, when it came, though unsteady, was dangerously soft. “What is going on here, Rachel?”

She didn’t get up. With her head still bent, she stared at her hands. Wetting her lips, she whispered, “I need some time.”

“Time.” He stood above her. Rachel could almost hear his frustration. “How much time, Rachel? I’ve tiptoed around here like a hired hand for almost six months now. How much longer?”

Rachel’s breath caught with pain and guilt. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.”

She shook her head mutely.

“You don’t know,” he repeated, louder.

She wiped both cheeks with her fingers and looked at him. “You probably don’t understand, but—”

“Understand?” He scowled at her. “You’ve got that right, Rachel. I don’t understand. In fact, I’m wondering if you yourself understand what’s going on.” He began pacing, making no effort to keep his voice down. “You can’t sit there and tell me you didn’t want me just now, Rachel. I ought to know. I’ve had eighteen years to figure you out.”

Reaching the armoire where the dressing area branched off, he turned swiftly and struck the top of it with his fist, making Rachel jump. “So don’t talk to me about understanding! I’m thinking maybe I’ve been too understanding as it is. Maybe that’s the problem here. Maybe if I’d been a little less
understanding
and a little more demanding, we wouldn’t have limped along for half a year living like brother and sister.”

“I’m sorry.” It was a whisper.

“That’s it? That’s all? You’re sorry?”

“I…It’s complicated.”

He released a pent-up breath, almost a groan. “Are you trying to drive me crazy, Rachel?” He stared at his hands before raising his eyes. “I don’t know what you want.”

He waited a moment or two, expecting…what? Rachel drew in a deep breath and got slowly to her feet. What was there to say? What kind of defense could she use without revealing what she’d done? Should she confess? Or would a confession relieve her conscience at Jake’s expense? She pushed her hair from her face with a shaking hand. She only knew one thing: she couldn’t make love with Jake until she’d sorted out the tangled feelings that had driven her to even consider an adulterous liaison.

She got slowly to her feet. How ironic that just when she finally conquered whatever demon had kept her from enjoying sex with her husband, she had entrapped herself in a web of deceit.

“Okay, this is it, Rachel.”

Rachel raised her eyes to Jake’s. He looked so tired. Her heart turned over. She wanted to touch him, to cradle his strong jaw in her hand, to feel the vulnerability she knew would claim him if she could only just step into his arms and say that she was ready to take up their marriage again.

“I’m not coming to you anymore. It’ll have to be you next time, Rachel. You decide when you’re
ready to be a real wife again.” His tone dropped until it was almost a whisper. “That is, if you want to be a wife again. I can’t take this anymore.”

I
N HIS ROOM
, Michael closed his eyes and clutched his pillow tight to his belly. He’d been half-asleep when Jake began to yell. He’d heard every word. How could he not? His stomach had gone into a knot like always when things were bad. He’d never thought to hear his dad use that tone with Miss Rachel. He knew Jake loved her more than he loved anything. Or anybody.

Huddled in his bed, he couldn’t shut out the low rumble of Jake’s voice. He shouldn’t be listening to this. These were private things they were saying to each other. Hurtful things. He tossed the pillow aside and grabbed his jeans. Scrambling into them, he slipped from his room, intending to go to the boathouse. He liked it there. It was quiet, peaceful. A person could really think out there.

In the hall, he waited a moment, staring at his feet dejectedly. This was all his fault. They wouldn’t be having this trouble if he hadn’t come along out of the blue, letting Miss Rachel find out that Jake had once made a big mistake.

Things were going from bad to worse. That’s what really had him worried. Here was Miss Rachel refusing her rightful husband when just that afternoon she’d let that wimpy Ron Camp
bell slobber all over her. Outrage made Michael’s mouth thin and his breath quicken. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Good thing it had been him and not Jake who had pushed that door open. For a few heady seconds, he visualized Jake planting a big fist in Campbell’s smooth face and a karate-like kick where it hurt the most.

He straightened abruptly as Jake suddenly came out of the bedroom. Jake looked startled but said nothing until he’d closed the door softly. He started down the hall, taking Michael with him.