Broken Promises (26 page)

“You
have
to do something for your
brother. He’s hurt. He needs some muscle relaxants. Surely you have
something…?”

“I’m fine. Everybody just calm down,” Alex
said, gesturing with both hands.

Fast as a striking cobra, Drew grabbed Alex’s
right wrist and cuffed it to the stair railing before he could
react. Not a lefty or remotely ambidextrous, having his gun hand
out of commission sort of upped the complication factor.

Bette licked her lips and patted her tummy.
“You mentioned dinner?” She eased to her feet. “You know, I could
do with some dinner. What’s on the menu, anyway? Jackie said the
eats were pretty good.” She finished with an impish grin as if Drew
wasn’t waving a gun around.

“You aren’t going to be around long enough
for a meal, smart mouth.” He turned from Alex and lumbered toward
her.

Unable to keep her mouth shut, no matter what
he threatened, Bette continued, “Have you ever considered laying
off on the free weights? Or maybe shaving the Grizzly Adams beard?
Honestly you wouldn’t look half bad.” Bette paused, hoping to give
Alex time to free himself from the handcuffs. “In fact, you’d look
just like your brother.” She shrugged and smiled up at Alex’s twin.
“Then how would I ever choose between the two of you?”

Drew’s eyes widened, and the muscles in his
jaw bulged with tension. “I’m going to rid you of this aggravation,
brother,” he said, looming over Bette. “She’s nothing more than a
pesky mosquito and needs to be slapped…at the very least. But I
have a more permanent cure in mind. Extermination.” He drew back
his fist for a mighty, swinging blow.

Prepared for such a response, she ducked and
heard Alex suck in a deep breath. Then the basement reverberated
from a loud yell of fury and the sharp crack of wood breaking and
being ripped from the wall.

Bette scooted back. Drew whipped around,
coming face-to-face with his brother, who brandished a three-foot
length of handrail. Drew ducked Alex’s first blow, spinning and
landing a back-fist strike into Alex’s jaw.

“No,” Bette gasped as Alex staggered from the
brute force of his brother’s blow. A red bruise appeared
immediately on his jaw. Blood trickled from his mouth.
Please
don’t let anything bad happen
. Alex was their only chance.

Alex recovered his stance and swung at his
brother, but the blow bounced off his back. Drew yelled with rage
and attempted a head-butt. Just in time, Alex stepped aside and
pounded his brother’s lower back with the handrail.

Drew grunted, stumbled, but recovered and
punched Alex in the gut. Without seeming aware of the blow, Alex
kneed Drew in the groin, collapsing him to his knees.

Alex’s chest rose and fell rapidly. His gaze
was unfocused as he swung the handrail and bashed the back of
Drew’s head. He drew back again and knocked his twin flat to the
floor, then kicked him in the ribs. But in spite of all that
punishment, Drew scrambled to his knees. Alex took another swing at
his brother’s head. The blow knocked him down into a massive heap.
An unmoving heap.

“Alex, stop it! That’s enough. You’re going
to kill him.” Bette tugged on his elbow. He whirled to face her,
his gaze wild and unfocused. “He’s not moving. You’ve beaten him
unconscious.”

“Don’t care.” Gasping, he lurched forward
with the broken handrail still attached to his wrist. “He’s a dead
man.”

Using the full weight of her body, Bette
dragged him back while pleading, “Jackie, do something. He’s lost
it.”

Jackie gazed at her younger brother. “Alex
will be all right. I’m not so sure about Drew.” She kneeled beside
him and checked his pupils, then his pulse. “Definitely
unconscious, but his pulse is steady.” She bit her bottom lip. “At
first, when it was just Cody and me, he was pretty much holding it
together. Then when Bette came, he became much more erratic.”

“It was a personality conflict. That’s all,”
Bette said.

“But when you showed up, Alex, Drew’s deep
anger took over. I think he’s had some kind of psychotic break. I’m
afraid any remnant of our brother is hiding deep inside, if at
all.” The vet shook her head.

At that moment, Bette heard a tiny voice say,
“What’s going on? I heard loud noises.” The child stood in the
doorway of his and Jackie’s “room.” Eyes wide, Cody looked over at
Drew. “Is Uncle Drew dead?” His blue gaze turned to his mother.
“Can we go home now?”

“No, he’s just sleeping.” Jackie took her son
in her arms and hugged him close. “And yes, baby, we can go home
now.”

Bette busied herself with gingerly rifling
through Drew’s pockets for his handcuff key. “I’ve got it.” Quickly
she unlocked Alex from the steel cuffs. His breathing was rapid,
and he still didn’t seem quite present.

Still, first things first. While Drew was
still out of it, she ran back to his body. Tugging his hands behind
his back, she cuffed him, then fished his cell phone from his jeans
pocket.

“Bingo. I’m calling 911.”

“Good. Drew needs an ambulance.” Jackie
rolled him to his side. “We need to maintain his airway while he’s
unconscious.”

“I know he’s your brother, but I’m more
worried about the good twin. Something’s wrong. He’s not
himself.”

The vet cast a worried glance in Alex’s
direction. “He’s pale. Have him sit down. Take some slow, deep
breaths.”

“Alex!” Bette snapped. “Sit.” She backed him,
still unsteady, until he sat on the steps.

“Screw it. He’s not going to touch you
again.”

“I’m
all right
.” Somehow, she had to
get through his fog of rage. “Take some deep breaths. You have to
calm down. We’re all okay.” She held up the cell phone. “See, I’m
going to call 911.”

“Yeah, 911.” Still pale, he nodded and did as
she instructed.

After a couple of breaths, his eyes grew
focused. “It’s over.”

“Yes.”

Overhead, there was the thunder of footsteps.
Many footsteps.

~~*~~

Above Alex’s head, the door to the basement
burst open, the wood splintering from a battering ram.

“Un-freaking-believable. Now the troops
arrive.” Alex leaned against the wall, his chest heaving. He nodded
toward the unmoving figure bundled on the floor. “Gently. He’s
nuts, but he’s my brother.”

“Your brother?” Agent Hixon and Detective
Spitz said in unison.

“Yeah. You know”
—
he
paused for another breath
—
“the one the
CPD decided was dead and didn’t bother to investigate further.” He
winced with pain and braced his side with his elbow.

“What about the others?”

He glanced over his shoulder and observed
Bette leading what remained of his family up the stairs. “They’re
fine.” He gasped again. “On the other hand, I could use some
medical assistance,” he got out before collapsing into a swirling
red-and-black well of pain.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Alex struggled to open his eyes. Tried to
sit. Arms wouldn’t move. He tugged. Someone had tied him down.
“Wha…?”

“Careful, Double-O.” Bette’s soft voice drew
him to consciousness and away from feeling imprisoned. “You’re in
the hospital. There’s an IV in your arm, and they’re giving you
blood.”

This time he managed to raise his lids. Dear
sweet Bette’s face hovered over him. Maybe he was dreaming. He
looked over her shoulder and made out an IV pump. Tried again to
sit. Too dizzy. Sank back onto the pillow. He swallowed and spoke,
“You’re safe? Jackie and Cody?”

She caressed the back of his hand, the
comfort of her warm touch centering him. “Don’t you remember? You
were a wild man. Your brother didn’t have a chance once you got
free.”

He cleared his throat. “I don’t remember
anything except he went after you.”

“You lunged and pulled the handrail out of
the wall. It broke from the force, and you bashed Drew’s head with
it, then again and again, until Jackie and I pulled you off him. He
wasn’t moving.”

After all Drew’d been through, had Alex
killed his own brother? “Is he…?”

“No.” She shook her head. “The doctor said
Drew would recover physically, but his mental condition is another
story. By the way, he’s down the hall…with a guard, of course.”

“Good.” He managed to lever onto one elbow.
“I want to see him.”

Bette shook her head. “Uh-uh. The doctors
agree it’s better if you don’t—for now, anyway.”

He let his gaze travel up the IV tube to the
bag of dark red blood. “What’s with the blood? Was I shot?”

“Nope. You know—your sister is a pretty smart
lady. Your kidney—it hemorrhaged. Not too bad, though. They didn’t
have to take it out or anything. But your Rambo attack increased
the bleeding. Fortunately, the cops arrived and got you to the
hospital. The doc in charge says you’ll be on bed rest for a couple
of days.”

He grunted, “Bed rest, huh?”

“Yeah, doll, real
rest.” She gazed down at him, her eyes glimmering with humor. “That
means no monkey business.”

He gazed up at her, cocking an eyebrow. “Sure
about that?”

“Very.” She nodded for emphasis. “The doc
also says your kidney needs some time to heal. He’s ordered more
tests to make sure there’s no permanent damage.” She rose from the
bedside chair. “Sorry, but I gotta go. The office is hopping with
patients and their curious owners. Honestly, I never saw so many
pets brought in early for their annual checkups.”

Shadow
. “Oh, God, I left Shadow in the
woods behind the house. Tied to a bush.”

Bette giggled, a happy sound that warmed his
heart. “I found her. She’s fine. I wouldn’t let them take me away
in the ambulance until I looked for her. And Drew’s Rottie has been
taken to Finger Lakes Rottweiler Rescue.”

“I don’t think anyone’s going to want that
ugly brute,” Alex said, tamping down the impulse to shiver.

“At least he’ll have a chance at being
rehabilitated.” She picked up her purse.

“Any chance you’ll ever get over being a dog
lover?”

“Not one in a million, Double-O.” She leaned
over and planted a measly kiss on his forehead. “See you after
office hours.”

“Don’t leave on my account.” A solemn-faced
Agent Hixson stood in the doorway.

“I’m not. I
really
have to go to
work.” She shot an uneasy smile in Alex’s direction and mouthed
good luck
, then zipped from the room.

“Attractive, if you like that type,” Hixson
said.

Alex glared at the agent and tried to lever
up to an elbow, but collapsed back onto the pillow, grimacing from
pain. “And what type would that be?” he asked with a growl.

Hixson gave him a knowing expression. “You
know, Jersey Shores bimbo. More hair than brains.”

“She’s no bimbo,” Alex said through clenched
teeth.

“Whatever.” The agent shrugged. “I’ve
debriefed everyone but you. They say you’re going to live, so I’d
like to tie this up and get back to Buffalo.”

“No thanks to you.”

Scowling, Hixson settled on Bette’s recently
vacated chair. “What transpired after you took off from the
winery?”

“I headed to the Rideout place and found
Bette—Ms. Spinelli—trying to escape from one of the basement
windows. That didn’t work too well. A minute or two later, I saw
someone—my brother, it turns out—come around the house. He had her
in a choke hold with a weapon pointed at her head.” He continued
with what he remembered. “My brother threatened her. Exterminate
was the word he used. As for the rest, you’re out of luck, pal. I
don’t remember.” He shrugged. “Whatever the others said I did,
that’s what I did.”

Alex took Hixson’s stony expression as a sign
the fellow agent wasn’t thrilled with the response. “Seriously,
dude, I don’t remember what happened. The doctor would probably say
my memory loss is due to trauma or blood loss. But if I remember
anything beyond what I’ve already told you, I’ll give you a
call.”

The agent rose stiffly, his jaw set. “If you
can’t remember, you can’t remember.”

Alex frowned. Before he could say anything
else, there was a tap at the door. A short, stocky man dressed in
blue scrubs entered. “Got an order to take Mr. MacGregor to Medical
Imaging,” he said, looking from Alex to the agent and back
again.

“Fine. I’ll hold you to your word, MacGregor.
You damned well better give me a call when your memory
returns.”

“Said I would…
if
it does.” Guess
Hixson didn’t really believe Alex’s memory loss was real. Jerk.

The patient escort’s brows shot up, but he
made no comment and set about transferring the bag of blood to an
IV pole attached to the gurney.

“Thanks for dropping by, Agent Hixson.” Alex
gave a royal wave as the agent nodded curtly and left.

“So what are they going to do to me in
Medical Imaging?” he asked the orderly.

“I’m just a patient transporter. They don’t
tell me anything.”

Nodding, Alex moved gingerly onto the
stretcher. “Yeah. Like that all over.” The patient transporter
aimed the gurney through the door and started down the hall.

All Alex could think about was how Bette’s
beautiful face was all he ever wanted to see first thing every
morning when he opened his eyes…for the rest of his life.

~~*~~

Alex spent the next day and a half being
transported hither and yon. If someone wasn’t radiating his
insides, someone else was drawing multiple tubes of blood. The only
bright spots in his boring life as a hospital patient were Bette’s
visits after office hours.

Finally, after all the tests were negative,
the physician in charge of his care told him he could discharge in
the morning, but Alex finagled him into signing a discharge order
for that evening.

Glad to be free from IVs, tests, and
tasteless hospital food, he headed over to his sister’s house.
Bette should be off work by now, and he wanted to surprise her.