Torn (26 page)

Even if they were facing monsters.

“Baby, giving you up wasn't ever an option for me.” He cranked the car.

“It's not an option for me, either,” Victoria whispered.

They pulled away from the curb. And as they drove away, she saw that Dace had walked out of the station. He stood on the sidewalk, watching them as they left.

“A
RE YOU IN
any pain?” the pretty little blond nurse asked him, her brows pulling together. She'd just adjusted his medication—­giving him another wonderful dose of morphine, so pain was the last thing Matthew felt.

“No,” he said, making sure that his voice came out weak and a little slurred. “I can handle it.”

Admiration filled her blue eyes. Wide blue eyes. “You caught that killer today, didn't you?”

Matthew almost smiled. “Just . . . tried to stop someone . . . from hurting others . . .”

Her hand lingered on his arm. “You did a good thing. A brave thing.” She gave him a sad smile. “That poor fellow he attacked . . . he's on the same floor with you.”

Is he?
What a coincidence.

“He's not in very good condition.” She gave a little sad shake of her head. “Someone needed to catch his attacker. And to think . . . it was another professor at the college.” She sighed softly. “I guess you can never know people.”

No, you couldn't. Not who they really were, beneath the skin.

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “If you need anything, just hit that button on your right. I'll come straight in for you.”

He was sure she would.

Matthew watched her as she hurried from the room. Nice ass. Firm and high. He bet she was a runner. With those long legs, she'd be a great runner.

He liked runners. Loved to watch them move ahead of him. Loved to chase them.

Loved to catch them.

He lay in bed as the morphine slipped through his veins. It was cold, and he could imagine it as ice sliding through him, moving ever so slowly until it covered him completely.

His injuries weren't that bad. It pissed him off, certainly, because he didn't like being hurt. He'd never expected old Troy to put up such a fight. He'd known Troy kept that gun in his desk drawer. The guy was always so paranoid about his safety. Probably because he'd spent too much time with criminals during his early days as a psychiatrist.

The drawer had been open once, when Matthew paid a little visit to see Melissa. He'd remembered that gun and thought . . .

All I have to do is show up, armed. He'll react. He'll grab for the weapon.

And North had. So perfectly. Acting as if on cue.

He glanced at the big round clock on the wall and figured the pretty nurse must be back at her station. Matthew eased from the bed. He stood for a moment, swaying a little. Then he smiled. His hand grabbed for the IV machine. He was sure it had some other technical name, but he didn't give a fuck what it was. He grabbed it and pulled it along with him. The wheels rolled with a soft squeak. The stitches in his shoulder pulled a bit as he walked. Maybe he'd get some more morphine for that pull when he got back. He'd call in that sweet runner of a nurse.

He opened his door. Looked left and looked right. The linoleum gleamed beneath his feet. So . . . Jim Porter was on this floor. Wonderfully convenient. But which room was his?

Matthew started walking. The wheels squeaked again, and the noise seemed too damn loud. He took his time, though. If someone spotted him, if a nurse appeared, he'd just act confused.

Morphine could do that to a person. Make him all disoriented.

His gaze slid toward the doors. Names were written on them—­just last names. Oh, that made things easy.

He just kept walking, looking for the right door.

A janitor headed toward him. The guy barely even glanced his way.

A young man in scrubs followed behind him. Again, not even a second look.

Hospitals.
Got to love them.

Then Matthew found the door he needed.
Porter.
He opened it and pulled his squeaking buddy along with him. Maybe he should have taken out the IV before this little trip, but—­nah, why bother?

The curtain was pulled around the bed. His left hand rose and pushed it back. The man in the bed had his eyes closed. Monitors beeped beside him. Heavy white bandages covered his throat.

Matthew crept closer to the bed.

The wheels squeaked again.

And Jim Porter's eyes flew open, locking on him.

Matthew smiled. “Hello, there . . .”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

C
LOSURE.
V
ICTORIA NEEDED
it before she could get on the plane and leave Savannah. So she and Wade didn't go straight back to their B&B. They went to Mercy Hospital, and when the elevator doors opened on the third floor, a nurses' station waited right in front of them.

They asked about Jim Porter's room and a blond nurse pointed to a hallway. She didn't ask for IDs, didn't even ask if they were family. Just pointed and got back to work.

The hospital floors were gleaming, and they passed a janitor swinging his mop. Doctors were buzzing around, nurses going in and out of rooms.

“This is it,” Wade said, stopping before the door at the very end of the hallway. A whiteboard hung near the door,
Porter
written on it with blue marker. The door was slightly ajar and Wade rapped lightly with his knuckles.

There was no response from inside.

“Jim?” Wade said.

Victoria shook his head. “He isn't going to be able to talk, Wade.” She pushed open the door and headed inside. “Jim?” She called. “It's Victoria and—­”

Jim wasn't alone.

Matthew Walker stood beside his bed, his body swaying, one hand gripping an intravenous infusion pole. He wore a green hospital gown and he blinked a bit dazedly at her.

“What are you doing?” Wade demanded as he closed in on Matthew. “Why are you in here?”

Jim's eyes were open. His gaze slid from Victoria to Wade to Matthew, and he looked so confused. And scared.

Victoria reached out and her fingers closed around Jim's. He was connected to half a dozen machines, and beeping filled the room. “It's all right,” Victoria said. “We just wanted to check on you.”

That's what we wanted . . . but why is Matthew Walker here?

Some of the panic faded from Jim's gaze.

“The nurse . . . she told me he was in here,” Matthew said, his voice sounding groggy. “After everything . . . I wanted to see him . . . tell him how sorry I was . . . about Melissa . . .”

Jim's gaze cut toward him. His stare seemed to harden.

Victoria pulled her hand away from Jim's. There was a notepad on the bedside table. She reached for it—­and the pen attached to it—­and handed it to Jim.

He gave her a quick nod of thanks.

Then he scribbled on the pad.
Dr. North? Dead? Saw . . . on TV.
She read his notes out loud as he wrote them so the others would know what he had to say.

“Yes,” Matthew said on a long sigh. “He's gone. He won't hurt anyone, not any longer. I just wish . . .” His grip on the intravenous pole tightened. “Wish we could have stopped him . . . before he took . . . Melissa.”

“Melissa and Kennedy,” Wade said. “Two women. Two victims.”

Matthew's eyes lowered to the bed. “Right. Two . . . He took them both.”

Jim wrote on the pad.
Did she . . . suffer?

Victoria swallowed. There was nothing to be gained from him knowing the truth. “She isn't suffering now. And Troy North won't ever hurt anyone else.”

Jim's gaze met hers. She hadn't wanted to tell him the truth but . . .

When tears clouded his eyes, Victoria realized that he'd already known. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I wish . . . I wish we could have found her sooner.”

Jim's lips parted.

“So do I,” Matthew mumbled.

Footsteps padded into the room and a blond nurse popped her head around the curtain. When she saw them all, her blue eyes flared, but she seemed to focus specifically on Matthew. “Dr. Walker!” She hurried to his side. “You should be resting! Especially after that dose of morphine, you should
not
be wandering around.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Just . . . needed to see for myself . . . young Jim was okay . . .”

“I'll help you get him back to the room,” Wade said.

Jim watched as Matthew was led out. Victoria kept her gaze on Jim, not the others as they filed out. There was something about the way he was watching ­Matthew . . .

Jim glanced back at her.

“Is everything okay?” Victoria asked him.

He motioned to his throat. Right. Getting your throat sliced was hardly okay.

“I wish things could have ended differently.” It was odd. She'd once felt so uncomfortable with the victims—­the live ones anyway. But she'd needed to come to the hospital and see Jim. To tell him good-­bye. So what if Captain Vann hadn't wanted them there? She couldn't leave town without seeing Jim one more time.

He picked up the pen again.
Me, too.

She put her card on the bedside table. She felt so helpless. “If you ever need anything, please let me know.” LOST was taking care of his medical bills. Just a small thing, but . . .

He was writing again.

Melissa always . . . hated that guy.

Victoria's eyes narrowed on the text. “Dr. North?”

Jim gave a hard shake of his head, then winced. He wrote,
Walker.

“I thought they were involved,” she said, voice careful.

Jim's brows shot up.

“That's what he said.”

Anger flashed on his face. He wrote,
She never told me.

“Sometimes people keep secrets.”

The machines beeped around them. Sadness had slid over his face.

She wanted to comfort him. “Melissa loved you. And you loved her.”

He nodded.

“Isn't that all that really matters? Maybe any secrets she kept . . . she kept them because she didn't want to hurt you.”

He put down his pen.

“Everything seems hard now,” Victoria continued, aware that her voice had gone ragged. “You probably don't believe this . . . but I truly do understand. Just
breathing
seems hard, and the idea of going back out into the world with everyone else, acting as if life is normal when you know it's not, when everything has been ripped away from you—­that idea terrifies you.”

Jim watched her. His eyes—­they looked dead.
I know that expression. I saw it in the mirror after my mother's trial.

“But the world can only scare you if you let it. Take it one day, one minute, at a time. Small steps, no big leaps. One day you'll decide to take a walk in the park, and the sunshine won't seem so glaring to you . . .”

Tellingly, his gaze slid to the shut blinds in his room.

“Another day, you'll join friends for dinner, and the conversation—­it won't seem so empty to you.”

His stare came back and doubted her.

“It won't,” she said again, giving a determined nod. “You'll go through bad days and good days, but you
will
get through them all. And then . . . when you think that life is just—­just there, that you're only going through the motions . . . it will change.”

Jim shook his head.

“It
will
change. And you'll stop wondering why you didn't die. You'll stop thinking about how much easier death would have been.” She knew. She'd been there. “And you'll find that you're living.” Her laughter held a bitter edge. “None of that will be easy. None of it will be quick, but it will happen.”

And it was there. The faintest flicker of hope in his eyes.

“If you ever want to talk to someone who's been there . . .” Her gaze slid to the card she'd put down for him. “Give me a call.”

This time, Jim nodded.

“Right.” She exhaled and blinked quickly. “I'll be expecting my phone to ring.” And
not
to get any texts from a dead man. Victoria moved briskly away from the bed, and she found Wade staring at her.

She hadn't even heard him come back into the room. His gaze was so intent and focused on her. Emotions were burning in that golden stare. Emotions that stole her breath. But Wade didn't speak, not until they were in the elevator, heading back down to the ground floor.

“You never told me . . .” Wade's voice was gruff. “That you thought it would have been easier if you died.”

“Guilt is hard to carry. And what I did . . . it wasn't an easy choice.” Taking a life. But . . . Wade would know that. Wade would understand. Her fingers curled around his.
Fit
his. “I'm glad you followed me that first night. I'm glad that Gabe made us partners.”

He lifted their locked fingers and pressed a kiss to her hand. “Guess this is where I confess . . .” The elevator doors opened. They walked out of the hospital and toward the parking lot.

“What do you have to confess?”

“I asked Gabe to partner us.”

Now she stopped, truly surprised.

“Ah, baby, you really didn't see it, did you?” He cocked his head as he studied her. The sunlight poured down on them. And it wasn't so glaring. Just bright. “After that case in New Orleans . . . when I almost fucking
lost
you, everything changed for me. There was no more playing around. No more denying. There was only you.”

Her heart was beating too fast in her chest.

“Only you,” he said again, “and that's how it's been for me since that day. I asked Gabe to put us together because I wanted to be close to you. I wanted us to have a chance.”

And they did.

A real chance. One that wouldn't be haunted by ghosts or monsters. One that was just open for them.

She didn't know if she loved Wade. Didn't know if she could surrender just yet to that overwhelming emotion, but . . . she couldn't imagine her life without him. She wanted him close. She was happy when he was near.

One day. Another . . .

And the words she'd spoken to Jim came back to her.
And you'll find that you're living.

With Wade, she was living. Not just going through the motions. He'd brought her back, and she wouldn't give that up—­wouldn't give him up.

She rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. “I think you're the best partner that I've ever had.”

When he laughed softly, the last bit of cold she'd felt slipped away.

M
ATTHEW WATCHED THEM
from his window. Lovers, had to be.

Wade and Victoria. He'd suspected as much, considering the way the guy had done a full-­on freak-­out when her life was threatened. A man would do anything for the woman he loved.

Lie.

Cheat.

Steal.

Kill.

Been there, done that.

Matthew picked up his phone. He dialed quickly. The sweet nurse had given him more morphine, and the drug was slipping through his veins, but he had to make this call before he gave in to that dark oblivion.

The call was answered on the second ring.

“Case closed,” Matthew murmured.
Debt paid.
“Do whatever the hell you want now.”

V
ICTORIA WASN'T SURE
what to make of Asher Young. He was waiting at the B&B when they returned, and his dark brown eyes held no emotion as they seemed to assess her and Wade.

Judging.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. After all she'd been through that week, she wasn't in the mood for anyone's judgment.

“You were a SEAL with Gabe,” Wade said, nodding at the other man. “If Gabe trusts you, that's more than good enough for me.” He offered Asher Young his hand. “Welcome to the team.”

No smile curved Asher's face.
Quiet. Intense.
His hair was nearly jet-­black, and a thin, white scar slid under his chin. “Gabe said you were one of the good guys,” Asher murmured, his voice deep and tinted with the faintest Texas drawl.

Wade gave a hard laugh. “Then it looks as if Gabe might have lied to you.”

No, he hadn't.

Wade released the guy's hand and glanced over at Victoria. Did Asher see the shadows in Wade's eyes? The pain?

He'd taken a man's life, and she knew that wasn't sitting easy on him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. Hold him tight. But they weren't alone. Asher had followed them into their little cottage so they could all make plans for their departure tomorrow morning.

Time to head back to the reality that waited in Atlanta.

“Gabe also spoke very highly of you, Dr. Palmer,” Asher told her with a nod. His voice had . . . softened when he talked to her. Gentled.

She caught the narrowing of Wade's eyes behind him.

“He said you're the best when it comes to the dead. But then, I'd already heard about your reputation.”

“Thank you.”

He offered his hand to her. Right. She should shake it. Her hand was immediately swallowed by his bigger grip. She figured that Asher was close to Wade's size, maybe an inch taller, and built along the same hard, dangerous lines.

Wade moved behind her. His body brushed against hers.

“Got it,” Asher murmured. He immediately let her go. “Sorry I wasn't any help on this case. Didn't realize shit was going down so fast. I was pissing away time at the airport when I could've been giving backup to you.” He gave a hard nod. “Don't worry. I won't be making that mistake again.”

“Wade handled it,” Victoria said. She glanced back at him. “He did what was necessary.”

“Doesn't mean it was easy,” Asher responded. “I know. Next time, man, you can count on me.”

She focused her attention on Asher once more. “Why did you decide to join LOST?” She got why Gabe had hired him. Extra muscle could only be a good thing. Especially the way their cases were going lately, but . . .

“Not just me,” Asher murmured. “My twin sister will be working for the team, too. Gabe hired her first. I was just the tagalong. Story of our lives. ”

She was surprised.

“Ana was the best bounty hunter in the Southeast,” he said, more than a hint of pride entering his voice as he rolled back his shoulders. “When it comes to tracking, she's the best.”