Break My Heart (The Heart Series Book 2) (21 page)

I rub his forearms, keeping physical contact, assuring myself that I’m still here, too. I did not disappear. Most importantly, I’m not crazy.

“How did you know
he’d
be there?” His gaze is locked on mine, our faces mere inches apart.

Shit. These are questions I don’t have an answer to. I close my eyes in resignation and take a deep breath.
Please, I hope he understands
.

I exhale loudly. “I can’t tell you just yet. I need to talk to him first.”

Tommy sobers, sitting up and pulling away. His hands drop to his sides and rest on the bed as he pins me with a look of determination.

“Something is going on. Him showing up when and where he did....” He gets up, paces around the small room, finally stopping in front of me, hands on his hips. “I saw your face. You were scared shitless.” He stares down at me, but his voice is so soft and determined it gives me pause. “You call this guy’s name in your sleep and claim not to know why. Then he shows up out of nowhere? This whole thing is too convenient for my taste and I don’t like it. I don’t like him.”

A small sneer escapes me. “You don’t like him? You don’t even
know
him, Tommy.”

“And you do?”

I’m instantaneously on alert. Tommy is just as good at his job as I am. Not much gets by him. We just operate differently when it comes to investigative procedures. Mine being caution and calculation, and his, instinct and action.

“If I could just stop by and talk to him—”

“Teague already relieved you from duty until next week. You need to go home and rest.”

Dammit. I can’t believe Nelson. “Nelson had no right to call Teague about this!” How dare he!

I peel the sheets away, jump out of the hospital bed, dragging my IV and wires. I’m about to yank the IV out of my arm when Tommy’s words stop me cold.

“It wasn’t him.” He shuts his eyes tightly, wincing in dread. “
I
called Teague.”

Wrath is coming, and its name is Harper.

I glower at him. “Excuse me?” I hiss, furiously. I can’t believe my ears.

“Lil, you just collapsed. I think you just need to rest up.”

“That was not your call to make, Tommy.” Each word is enunciated, my fists in tight balls, my nails digging into my palms. I’m clenching my molars so hard, my jaw hurts. Blood is roaring through my ears like a river of fury, boiling my veins. I want to punch something. Yell, scream, cry. This is totally unacceptable. I’m finally on field duty. What happens to me off the clock stays off the clock. Teague can yank me back to my desk over this. I can’t have it.

I
decide what is best for me.
I
decide whether to call my boss. I’ve lost my grip on the wheel, veering off course, crashing, wandering aimlessly. Still. No one—and I mean no one, including Tommy—gets to push me aside and assume control of the pilot seat of my life. “This is
my
problem to solve.
I
decide”—Tommy opens his mouth to interject but my voice rises, along with my temper—“what’s best for
me
! Not you!”

Tommy flinches. His chest rises and falls in cadence, his breaths calculated and rehearsed.

“I need my clothes. I want to get out of here.” I cross my arms stubbornly.

“Fine,” he answers, flatly. He clenches his jaw, glares at me.

He turns to leave, falters, and stands facing the curtain, his back to me. I stare at his strained shoulders, and my determination lessens as I take stock of the effect of my words on his demeanor. Every muscle is taut, tension coiling his frame.

I just told him his wishes for me don’t matter. If he cares about me half as much as I do for him, he deserves to dump my ungrateful ass right now.

He shakes his head and mutters something unintelligible. Determination and assertion returning, he spins on his heel faster than I can blink. Our feet touching, he tips my chin, forcing me to look at him. I swallow thickly, trying to hold on to my diminishing bravado. His beautiful brows and honey-brown eyelashes soften the menace in his eyes.

He yanks me closer to him, nothing between us but his shirt and my paper-thin gown. My body melts at his searing touch.

“Let’s get something straight.” Nervous tingles spread through my insides, weakening my resolve. “You will always be
my
business. You might not like it and for that, I’m very sorry. I called Teague because I was worried.” He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes roaming every single inch of my features. “I know it’s your life, Lil, and you decide. But remember that you are a part of me, always will be. I can’t change that, and I’m not sorry for wanting to keep you safe.”

His statement disarms me. Tommy and I are connected in a way that I can’t explain. It’s like once we share oxygen, it’s just he and I, and everything else disappears.

Suddenly, I don’t feel so brave. Because he can see me. He really
can
see
me
.

His presence emanates a warmth my skin absorbs like beaming rays on a sunny day, and I close my eyes, basking in it all the way to my soul.

I truly don’t know what I would do without him.

He keeps me grounded, sane, safe from the things that go bump when darkness overtakes me in slumber.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is barely out before his lips are on mine, his kiss so tender and soft my heart skips a beat. I open my eyes as he retreats, his gaze wary.

“Promise me you won’t talk to him just yet.” The plea is like a blaring alarm in the morning, making me cringe. “I know I can’t stop you from talking to him, but at least promise me that you won’t see or talk to him for now.”

I ponder his request for a few fleeting seconds. Can I make that promise? I think so. I brace myself.

“Fine. I promise I won’t see or talk to him while he’s here in the hospital.”

Tommy kisses the top of my head, his day-old stubble scratching my forehead, bringing me warmth and comfort. I just hug him tighter, inhaling his scent and placing a kiss on his neck.

“Take me home, Tommy.”

He rewards me with that sexy smile I adore. “Yes, ma’am.”

قلب

I asked Chris to call me the second Will wakes up. I wasn’t sure what I’d do until then, but at least I knew where he was, and that he was being watched. But once he’s discharged, I’m picking him up and we’re going somewhere to talk. For starters, about how he ended up in that alley.

After we arrived at my apartment, Tommy’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. 

I assured him that I was fine, but he refused to leave. I called Teague, and I thanked him for the time off, and told him I’d be ready to return to the office on Monday. I made a point to sound chipper and alert. No way am I going back on desk duty.

Tommy’s relief was palpable. I know he wouldn’t leave my side unless he was absolutely sure I was functioning at full capacity. So, on Friday, I made a point of going to the gym with him.

We worked out together, going as far as sparring. I even let him hold the boxing bag while I punched the living shit out of it, pouring everything out through my fists. The idea that the whole time I’d been gone was real…and that I was stuck on an actual farm, made me angrier by the second.

Fucking chickens.
Punch
.

Milking cows.
Punch
.

Animal shit all over me.
Punch! Punch! Punch!

After our workout, I rewarded Tommy with some sit-ups. He was beaming when I wrapped my legs around his waist, not the punching bag, and used him instead. He chuckled as he tried to kiss me every time I came up.

His phone never let up. Reluctantly, he left early Saturday, but not until prying promises out of me to call him if I needed anything. I practically had to push him out the door.

As soon as he left, I headed to my library and did some research about time travel. One of my local librarians offered to help but most of the stuff we found was fiction based. I checked out a couple of physics books. Unfortunately, I can’t go to a college flashing my badge and interrogating professors about time travel. I don’t even know how I’d justify that. For now, I’ll read what I found and wait until I talk to Will.

I spent Saturday night at home cleaning my weapons, starting with my service Glock. Next was my Ruger, my .22 caliber Smith and Wesson, then my 9mm Ladyhawk. Hell, I even cleaned shorty. I love shorty. There are few things as satisfying as letting loose some 12-gauge shotgun rounds.

Cleaning my weapons always soothes me. It’s like building something with your own two hands, then stepping back and admiring your handiwork; the smell of cleaning oil, the systematic motion of disassemble and reassemble, there’s nothing like it. It’s like therapy for me.

I guess some girls collect purses. Some collect shoes. I collect firearms.

There are weapons stashed all over my place. Each room has a ready-to-use-in-case-shit-hits-the-fan doomsday tool handy and readily available. Call me paranoid but I don’t care. I like to be prepared.

After my run on Sunday morning, I hit the grocery store to restock and picked up some things Mrs. N. needed. Tommy checks in around eleven, we chat for a bit, and he promises to text when he gets a chance.

Around lunchtime, I get the call I’ve been waiting for.

“Hey, Chris, what’s up?”

“I wanted to give you heads up. Your mystery guy woke up late last night. I was going to call you when he was ready for release, but….”

“But what? Is he still there?”

“Yes, but that’s not why I am calling.” She sighs. “Brad is on his way to pick him up for questioning.”

CHAPTER 19

Ileana

Breaking my own speeding record, I arrive at the hospital in half the time.

Anxiety prickles my skin. Deep inside, there’s an Ileana who’s been waiting for this moment.

Seeing Will again.

Following Chris’s directions, I take the elevator to his floor, flash my badge to the nurse behind the counter.

She points down the shiny linoleum hallway. “Last door on the right.”

I guess they’ve been waiting for the FBI to arrive to talk to Will. I wave my thanks and speed-walk down the hall, my All-Stars squeaking along the way. My heart races inside my chest the closer I get to his room. What the hell am I going to say?

Everything comes to a screeching halt at the sight of him.

He’s sitting on the bed, already dressed in his clothes: pleated slacks, suspenders, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’s just as I remember. His dress shirt is stained with droplets of blood. As if receiving some signal, his gaze finds mine. Intense blue eyes light up the second they spot me.

“Ileana.” His voice is hopeful and deep, as if rescue has arrived when all faith had been abandoned.

“Will.” Elation and dread swirl inside, battling for position. Part of me is beyond thrilled he’s here. Just as quickly, the thought of Tommy makes me sick with guilt.

Disloyal. Traitor. He’s not yours. You belong with another.

“Has anyone been in to talk to you?”

His brow furrows in question. I guess he didn’t think that was the first thing I’d ask. “A doctor did. He said I was dehydrated and wanted to keep me for observation, but I refused. Now they won’t let me leave and won’t tell me why.”

Right. “Did you tell anyone your name, anything?”

He eyes me as if I’m crazy. “I don’t think that would be wise, do you?” A hint of despondence flashes through those deep blue eyes and he quirks his brow. “Not that anyone has asked. They just keep telling me to wait.”

They’re stalling him. “Good. I don’t have time to explain, but we have to go.
Now
.”

“What are you doing here?” Nelson appears behind me. And he’s not alone. Charlie is with him looking mighty pissed off.
Shit
. Busted.

“I’m here to see my friend. I’m taking him home.” My voice is leveled and methodical. I’m trying to stay calm and collected. Rational thinking and logic are my best friends at this moment.

“I don’t think so. He’s coming with us.” Nelson’s determination gives me pause, but I press on.

“Is this official FBI business?”

“It is.”

“On what grounds?”

Charlie’s gaze swings between us. “Outside. Now,” he orders.

I signal at Will to stay put, and follow them just outside the doorway into the hall.

“He’s a suspect in your disappearance,” Nelson quickly offers.

How the hell did he come up with that?

“That’s a mighty big leap, Nelson. How did you conjure that up?”

“On a hunch, we sent a sample of his DNA to DC along with your dead serial killer. We believe they might be related.”

God damn it to all that is holy. I did not see that one coming.

Taking a deep breath, I challenge, “A hunch. You?”

“Yes.”

He’s so full of shit. Nelson does nothing without crossing every damn ‘t’ and dotting every ‘i.’

“Whose idea was it to run the blood, Nelson?”

He glances at Ryan with a bit of trepidation, and I realize I’m not the only one waiting for his answer. Charlie is too. Seems I’m not the only one out of the loop.

“Tommy was there when you confronted this guy. He had genuine cause to suspect involvement.”

I shut my eyes in dismay. Tommy instigated this, getting the FBI involved, and getting my co-worker to break protocol.

“We’re still waiting on the results,” Nelson continues. “We just have a few questions and then we’ll go from there.”

“What cause did you have to run his DNA? Did you ask him for permission? Do you have a court order?” I know he doesn’t. He’d need probable cause and I’m sure he didn’t have any.

Ryan squares his shoulders and faces his partner. “B, tell me you got something.”

Nelson looks away in answer. This is bad. Never keep your partner in the dark.

“What did you do, B?”

“Ry, if we just talk to him, you’ll see.”

“Jesus, B, what the fuck?” Charlie is pissed, the harsh fluorescent lights turning his scolding glare menacing. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have figured something out.” Charlie runs his hands over his face in frustration and excuses himself, leaving me alone with Nelson.