What She's Looking For (28 page)

The air burned through Drake’s
lungs as he ran through the quiet, falling snow. How the hell Parker ran as
much as he did, he’d never understand. But he wanted to get a look at the lake
while it snowed, and seeing it from behind the window of a speeding car just
wasn’t the same thing.

He’d left the trail on Parker’s
property and instead ran slowly along the shoulder of the road, picking his way
down the steep switchbacks — thankful for the chains Parker had fashioned for
his shoes.

The man should’ve worked for the
fucking Postal Service. But then you (usually) didn’t get to shoot people in
that particular profession.

The placid gray surface of the lake
spread out far below, the far shore obscured by the increasing heavy snow and a
lowering cloud deck. He marveled at the cold, sterile beauty of it, and at the
abyssal depths hidden below that smooth surface. He hadn’t seen a single car
try to make it up the hill since the snow had started in earnest, and judging
by how slick the surface felt even under the chains around his shoes, he
thought that was probably a good thing.

Parker rather liked the fact the
way that storms and low clouds lent his hilltop property an air of isolation from
town, and Drake was starting to come around to the appeal too. Especially now
that they had something of interest to them at home.

Ashley.

He grimaced at the thought of her.
Parker had made him promise that he wouldn’t divulge to Ashley where he was going,
telling Drake it was too soon, too much for her.

Drake thought it was bullshit then,
and he still thought it was bullshit now. Why should he have to clam up and
essentially avoid her while Parker was gone? Sure, loyalty to his friend would
ensure he’d keep his mouth shut, so why did he feel this need to avoid her?

Because he knew he couldn’t lie to
her. Not knowing what she’d been through. Not seeing those big hazel eyes,
those perfect teeth worrying the corner of her mouth. He’d seen the worry in
her gaze when he’d refused to answer her question about where Parker had gone,
and that worry tore at him.

He wanted to be the man who never
caused another moment’s worry for his woman, who brought only comfort, safety,
security. It’s what he was good at — protecting others. Keeping her safe was
always on his mind, even before Parker had floated the idea, proposed that he
share her with Drake. From almost the first moment he’d laid eyes on Ashley,
he’d known it. He had no idea how he knew that, but he was certain.

She needed safety, a place to
retreat to — shelter. He didn’t know what it was at the time, but after he’d
learned, he had a pretty good idea what it was now. And he wanted to kill the
sonofabitch who’d made her feel unsafe.

Calm down, Drake. She’s not
yours. She’s his — you only get to borrow her now and then.

At first, he’d been fine with that.
It was too soon after Kimber. He’d probably just be in rebound mode anyway. A
little distraction, indulging his need to control, to feel a woman’s yielding
body below him would probably help him forget the disaster that was Kimber.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

He turned the corner on a
switchback, loping down through the deepening snow, and slipped. The chains
caught, and bit into the ice instantly, but he stumbled nonetheless.

“Jesus, this is bad.”

The roadway actually looked pretty
good, recently plowed, with just a light coating of new snow. But it was
deceptive: any car not armed with more chains than a rapper’s necklace was probably
going to be in a world of hurt trying to make its way up the hill in conditions
like this. As he ran down the lonely, snowy road he smiled, just fine with
that. Being alone, in the cold, the feel of the icy flakes whispering against
his cheeks, catching in his eyelashes, calmed him, centered him, helped him
concentrate on something other than how much he wanted to see her.

But he knew seeing her would change
one longing for another, one pain for another, for when he saw her, he knew
she’d ask about Parker. He’d see the hope, the eagerness in those beautiful
eyes. And in those eyes, he’d see what he really was — on the outside looking
in.

“The sooner you resign yourself to
that fact, and get your head screwed on straight, the better off you’ll be.”

He knew he probably looked like a
Unabomber-esque madman, talking to himself as he ran, the white snow encrusting
his two week old length of dark beard. But that was one of the many perks of
living atop the isolated bluff — a man could just be himself. Fuck what
everyone else thought.

But even that wasn’t entirely the
case, because what one certain person thought
did
matter. Yes, it
mattered very much indeed.

A muffled sound drifted up from
down the hill. A faint whirring or whining.

“You’ve
got
to be kidding
me.” It looked like a car had decided to try after all.

That whirring sure didn’t sound
like a truck to him.

He came around another switchback,
listening more closely. The sound came again, much louder this time. Definitely
tires spinning.

Shit.

The snow was falling heavier now,
the flakes smaller but coming down in twisting torrents that moved sinuously
with the breeze.

Then he saw dirt and snow fly up
from the side of the road up ahead, a halo of steamy exhaust still hanging over
the roadway. A crunching report echoed through the snowfall, the sound muted
but still unmistakable.

“Holy fuck.”

Someone had slid over the side.

He sprinted then, his feet slipping
several times despite the chains, more bone-crunching thuds and the sound of
breaking glass drifting up from below. How far? Who was it?

If they were lucky they’d spun out
at one of the turns, and drifted off, sliding down to the next lower
switchback, but the cringe worthy thumps, and scree of scraping metal told a
different story. His stomach tightened with dread.

“Please don’t let it be … “

He caught sight of it then, and
cursed. It was a mangled car — thankfully resting on its wheels — canted across
the roadway below. It was the same color as Ashley’s car.

“Fuck, no way,” he grunted, shaking
his head. “Cannot be her — she would’ve called.”

Who would she have called? The
man who’s been avoiding her for the better part of two weeks?

He dashed down the hill, following
the huge muddy gouges the car had left in the hillside. The vehicle must have
rolled several times, judging by the creased and torn sheet metal on every side
of the body. Ashley was inside, motionless, eyes closed, her head drooping
forward.

Then he saw the blood. A bright
sheen of it covering one side of her face.

“Ashley! Hang on, girl. I’m coming.”
He tried to keep the edge out of his voice, not wanting to scare her further.

She might not be there to scare
anymore.

“No.” He gritted his teeth. “Not
happening.”

He finally slid down to the car,
reaching through the jagged remnants of the side window, moving the
blood-matted hair out of her eyes. Thank Christ she’d worn a seatbelt — the
vision of finding her broken body on the hillside was something he didn’t want
to contemplate.

The hairs on the back of his neck
stood up, and everything suddenly became so quiet, the beat of his heart and
the roar of his blood in his ears the only sounds that registered. Drake tried
the door, but it wouldn’t move. She was not staying in that car a moment
longer, no matter what.

“Mother …
fucker
,” he
grunted as he pulled hard on the door, the smell of gasoline getting stronger
by the second. “Come on, goddammit. Open.”

The door groaned as it opened part
way — not enough though. She still hadn’t moved, but as he checked her pulse at
her neck, he could see she was breathing shallowly.

Her pulse was okay — weak, but
regular.

Thank God.

The smell of gasoline was stronger
now, and he knew he had to get her out, possible spine injury or not. He sure
as fuck wasn’t going to watch her burn to death on this snowy roadway.

“All right, girl. Gotta take our
chances — you can’t stay in here.”

He reached in, unsnapping her belt,
stinging pain blooming in his arm as he scraped it against the shattered glass
still in the window. The interior of the car stunk like coffee, burned rubber
and gasoline. Other than the blood, she looked okay, though he thought he was
starting to see some shadowing over her non-blood covered eyebrow.

Fishing her slight body out of the
window, careful to keep her away from the glass, he cradled her blood-soaked
head as best he could, carrying her away from the car. His muscles were tight,
the tension in his body humming through him. He felt like he could run her the
rest of the way down the hill.

Be cool, Drake. You know the
drill, just like it’s always been. Just like with Parker.

Blowing out a steadying breath, he
set her down on the snow covered gravel of the shoulder, stripping off his
hooded sweatshirt and wrapping her in it. He crouched down, holding her in his
arms, her head balanced straight with her spine. Then he felt the muscles of her
back tighten against him. Her arms twitched, her hands flapping slightly. Hazel
eyes opened, peering up at him, and he saw recognition in them — and pain.

“Oh … Drake? Happened …?” Her
beautiful eyes closed again, the pained rigidity washing from her body.

“I’ve got you, Ashley. We’ll get
you fixed up here. Just hang on.” He planted a gentle kiss on the cold, bloody
hair plastered to her head, praying that it was just a laceration, knowing how
badly scalp wounds could bleed. With luck, it looked worse than it really was.

He fished his phone out of his
pocket and called 911, giving the dispatcher directions for the EMS unit.

As the distant wailing of the
sirens from the town below grew steadily louder, he prayed that she wasn’t
gravely injured. As he thought about having to give that kind of news to
Parker, he shuddered, clutching her tighter.

You’d better not fucking die on
us.

Drake knew it with a certainty that
chilled his bones even more than the heavy snow falling all around him. If they
lost Ashley … Parker would never survive it.

* * *

No answer.

He’d tried at least a dozen times,
but Parker’s number just rang and rang. Drake knew it’d probably be that way
until his friend was in country again. He needed his friend back here — now.
Not for him, but for her.

He’d texted Erik, the kid calling
him back within thirty seconds. Erik wanted to come out, school or not, but
Drake told him to stay put. He knew she’d probably be okay, and having the kid
around would just make things more complicated. There’d be a time for that —
but this wasn’t that day.

As they’d wheeled her into the ER,
she’d awoken once more, and the same word had rolled off her lips again and
again.

“Parker.”

She’d tried to say something else,
but she slipped off into unconsciousness again. She’d been borderline
delirious, the chilling possibility sneaking into his mind that she’d possibly
been hurt more seriously than he’d initially thought.

“Christ,” he muttered, running a
hand through his hair and leaning against the wall of the corridor. The steady
beeping and the muffled voices were all he could hear beyond the door. He paced
back and forth again, vainly trying Parker’s number once more.

Nothing.

The door to the ER opened and a
tall, blonde in a doctor’s coat stepped out, scanning the hallway. Her eyes met
his and she strode toward him, stripping off latex gloves and shoving them in a
pocket of her coat. “Are you Mr. Woodson?”

“Yeah, that’s me. How is she?”

“I’m Dr. Erickson.” Her sculpted
eyebrows knit together over bright blue eyes. “EMS guys said you’ve had medical
training. Military, is that correct?”

“Uhh, yes. Look, you want to—”

“You could have paralyzed her,
moving her. Do you mind telling me what the
hell
you thought you were
doing?”

“What?” Drake pushed off the wall,
squaring his shoulders, the fiery-eyed blonde working herself up now.

“
Moving
her. Why didn’t you
just let her sit until EMS got there?”

“The car was about to go up. I’m
not going to let her sit there and barbeque right there. Sue me.”

She waved her hand, disgust plain on
her otherwise pretty face. “Luckily for you, she’s going to be okay. Scalp
lacerations, and probably a bruised clavicle. We’ll know for sure once she’s
had x-rays.”

“I want to see her.”

“No.” She pointed a long, slender
finger down the hallway. “Waiting room. We’ll call you when she’s ready for
visitors.”

“
Now.
” Drake took a step
closer. There was no way he was sitting in a fucking waiting room and leaving
Ashley all alone. He didn’t care what Miss Icy Cold had to say about it either.

Incredibly, she stood her ground,
peering up at him, a surprising flintiness in her cool gaze. “You don’t scare
me, big fella. I’ll come get you when she’s comfortable. Not before.”

The doctor spun on her heel, and
walked back the way she’d come, the single plait of her golden hair waving down
her back.

“She’s mumbling ‘Parker’, isn’t
she?”

The doctor stopped, looking back
over her shoulder. “How’d you know that?”

“Because she’s mine.”

“Is your name Parker?”

“No.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Not
your day then, is it? Waiting room, Mr. Woodson.”

* * *

“Watch this! Watch this!”

Drake smiled at the boy once more
as he crashed the toy cars together on the floor for the hundredth time. His
only companions in the drab waiting room were little Aidan, and his distracted
mother, slumped in her chair, a woman he couldn’t really describe, as for the
last half an hour, she’d literally not lifted her eyes from her tablet.

Looking at his phone, Drake sighed.
Still nothing from Parker, and the ice queen doctor hadn’t bothered to make an
appearance yet either. He’d fired down a cup of coffee so burnt, it felt like
it actually
removed
moisture from his body as he swallowed it. Now, as
his stomach roiled, he considered ingesting that coffee had perhaps not been
the swiftest thing he’d ever done.

None of that mattered though. Only
the girl laying in a bed somewhere in the bowels of this sleepy little hospital
mattered. He’d feel a lot better if he could see her, dammit. He hated being
away from her, his need to protect her as surprising as it was strong. And that
fact shook him almost as much as coming upon her mangled car on that snowy
road.

But she wasn’t his. She was
Parker’s.

“Dammit, buddy. I could use a
little help—”

“Where is she?”

Drake looked up to see Parker
standing in the waiting room doorway. His friend’s skin had a dirty bronze tone
to it now, but deep, dark circles shadowed his eyes, the shadow of stubble on
his face making the normally clean shaven man look almost haggard.

“Well, where is she?” Parker’s eyes
darted from the boy to Drake, taking everything in, assessing the room in that
preternatural way Drake had only seen a few times.

His friend was spooked.

“Nice to see you too.” Drake waved
a hand toward the hallway. “Got her in the ER still, I think. Doctor’s kind of
a hard ass though.”

“Hey!” A storm crossed Aidan’s
chubby countenance, his cheeks puffing up. “Don’t say that word!”

“Sorry, kid,” Drake muttered,
shrugging.

Parker walked slowly up and down
the length of the room, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. The walk was
measured, meandering — but Drake wasn’t fooled into thinking it was anything
other than what it really was.

Pacing.

After a few minutes, the nurse
called Aidan and his lights-are-on-but-nobody’s-home mother back, finally
leaving the two men alone.

“You could’ve called, you know.
We’ve been here awhile now. Left you a shit-ton of messages.”

Parker looked down. “Couldn’t — was
supposed to have a seat on a bird out of fucking Fairchild, but it fell through.
Got here as fast as I could though.”

“She’s going to be okay.”

Parker’s eyes met his, and for the
first time Drake saw something there he wasn’t sure he could ever recall seeing
in their depths before.

Fear.

“I can’t let it happen again,
Drake. Not again.”

“It’s not like that, and you know
it.”

Parker stopped, lacing his fingers
behind his neck, the dark shirt pulling tight over his torso. “No, it
won’t
be like that. I won’t let it.”

Drake sat back in his chair,
gripping the worn upholstery of both arms. “Do you plan on telling her any of
it? Fuck, I doubt
I
even know all of it.”

Parker’s eyes flashed. “No, you
don’t. And you don’t want to either.”

“Damn right I don’t.”

You’re a liar, Drake.

“So why are you sweating me about
telling her? She doesn’t need to know — not now.”

“Yeah, she does, Parker.” Drake stood
up, stretching even though he didn’t need to. “You weren’t here to listen to
her call your name over and over, asshole.”

“She did? Why would she—”

“Because she needs you. She needs
you
here
— with her.”

Parker strode out to the hall,
looking either way, then stalked back into the waiting area. “Who did you talk
to in the ER? Coleman?”

“You know the doctors here?”
Drake’s head tilted to the side. “I guess I really
don’t
know the whole
story.”

“Who, Drake?”

“Erickson. Tall, blonde,
personality challenged.”

Parker scrubbed his face with his
hands, his fingers scraping through the stubble. “No idea who that is. New?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’ve
been to this place exactly once in the past five years.”

“Are you Parker, by chance?”

Both men turned toward the voice,
Dr. Erickson stood with her profile to the room, looking them over. “She keeps
asking for you—” she snapped a quick glance at Drake “— and for him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Drake
folded his arms across his chest.

The doctor locked gazes with him,
but said nothing.

“Doctor, hello.” Parker extended a
hand, taking hers in a gentle shake. “How bad is she hurt? Can we see her? She
might calm down if I can talk to her.”

Her blue eyes slid over to Drake
for a moment then met Parker’s “She’s got a laceration to her scalp — nothing
too bad, but she needed quite a few stitches. Possibly a broken clavicle too,
but we’re still waiting to get her into x-ray.”

“Still?” Drake frowned. “We’ve been
waiting almost an hour.”

She lifted her shoulders. “Small
hospital, Mr. Woodson.”

“I’d like to see her, doctor,”
Parker said, his voice softening. “Just for a minute?”

“She said something that I wanted
to run by you, Mr. … “

“Parker, please.” He smiled at her.
“Of course, anything.”

“I’m thinking she might just be a
little shaken up, though she doesn’t appear to be in shock.” The doctor
scratched her temple with the end of her pen. “She said that she needed you,
that she was yours.”

Parker cleared his throat. “Probably
just delirious, as you said.”

“Mr. Woodson told me she was his
though.” The doctor’s eyebrow crooked upward, her keen gaze moving between the
two men. “Yes, I suppose she’s just confused …”

“Can you let us back there, doctor?
Let me say hello to her. She’ll feel better.”

“Okay, just for a second though.
She needs to rest if she can — she won’t like having to move that arm for the
x-ray techs.”

As they followed the white-coated
beauty down the hallway, Drake shook his head, a relieved grin on his face. The
man certainly had his ways, melting the ice queen in mere moments.

Parker was back.