Falling for Her (22 page)

“I don’t know if you saved her or made things worse, cat, but I don’t doubt you love her. She’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Sugar opened her eyes and pressed her chin against Junior’s head. “I love both of you.”

Don’t! Don’t love me
. Jamie wanted to shake her back to smart, back to that IQ she claimed to have. When she felt better, when she had her brains back and remembered how he’d failed to keep her safe, she’d see he was dangerous to those he loved.

Sirens sounded as he pressed the towel against her wound. “Hold this for a minute, sweetheart, while I go open the door.”

“I do love you, Jamie,” she said; then her head fell to the side as she lost consciousness.

“What the hell happened here?” Jake asked as he followed two cops and the EMTs in, Maria on his heels.

Jamie pressed the paramedic’s hand onto the towel he’d put over her wound and backed away. She’d said she loved him. She had taken a bullet meant for him.

“I almost got her killed,” he spat, standing back as the paramedics carried Sugar to the ambulance.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

W
hy did she smell medicine? And who was that chattering like a squirrel on speed?

“Wake up, dearie. Is your name really Sugar? Says here on this chart your name’s Sugar Darling. Sounds like some kind of porn star to me. If you are, can I have your autograph? Gertie and Frances won’t believe it, and they’ll have to come meet you in person. I watched a porn movie once. Back when I was young and wild. Can’t say I liked it much. Still, if you’re a star, then you’re the second one I’ve met. I met Ellen DeGeneres first . . . sorry, dearie, you’re my second famous person, and if I’m being honest, I liked Ellen better’n you. She’s the tiniest little thing. Looks bigger on TV. She’s gay. Did you know that? Doesn’t bother me none. I figure God has better things to worry about than who someone loves. You know, like murderers and child molesters. The wars popping up all over. Now them things, God surely worries about. I’m not home to watch her show because I’m here taking care of all my wounded little birdies, but I tape her and watch her at night with a glass of wine. Gertie says drinking spirits is a sin, but . . .”

Sugar cracked open an eye to see a small, thin woman with pink-tinted hair, and wearing a pink pinafore, bustling around the room with the energy of a busy hummingbird. “Who are you?”

The woman gave one last adjustment to a vase of flowers, then came to the bed and leaned her face over Sugar’s. “Oh, good, you’re awake, dearie.” She pressed a button on a little box at Sugar’s side. “The nurses will want to know.”

“Nurses?” Sugar eyed the plastic bag hanging above her and followed the tube coming from it to the needle in her arm. “Hospital? Why?” Her throat felt like she’d swallowed the contents of a sandbag. “Water?”

“Patience, dearie.” The woman patted Sugar’s shoulder. “See, here’s your nurse now.”

The pink woman disappeared from sight, and a young man in a teddy-bear-print scrub shirt came into view. “Water?” Why was she so thirsty?

He handed her a cup of ice. “This to start. If you hold it down, then we’ll get you a little water. I’m Mike by the way.”

The sliver of ice felt like pure heaven on her tongue, and she sucked on it, letting the melted drops slide down her parched throat. The man went to lift her hospital gown, and she grabbed his hand.

“I just need to look at your wound, Sugar. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Wound
. It all came back then. She’d been shot. Precisely, Rodney had shot her.

“Jamie? Is he . . . is he okay?”

“If you mean the man who sat outside your room all night, guarding you, yes, he’s fine. Open your mouth.”

A thermometer was stuck under her tongue, keeping her from asking more questions. He’d sat outside all night? Not that he was responsible for her, but why hadn’t he stayed in her room?

The door opened, and Maria stepped in, then stopped. “Oh, sorry. We’ll just wait outside.”

Mike glanced over his shoulder. “No, come on in. I’m done for now.” He turned back to Sugar and smiled. “I’ll be back in about ten minutes. If your stomach’s not upset from the ice, we’ll get you a cup of water.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, honey, how are you feeling?” Maria said as she rushed to the bed, taking Sugar’s hand.

“Pretty good, considering. I think there’s some drugs in that bag though, so that must be why I feel like I’m floating away.” She yawned, but forced her eyes to stay open. “Jamie?”

Jake stepped up to the bed. “We made him go home to get some sleep. While you’re here, one of our men will be stationed in the hall. We’ve got everyone else out investigating, trying to find out where Vanders might have stayed, who might have seen him. Kincaid’s talking to one of our FBI contacts, and he’d like to meet with you.”

“Who? The FBI?” Rodney really would kill her if she talked to anyone about him, especially the FBI.

“Maybe, but I mean the boss first.”

“I don’t know.” She couldn’t think right then, just wanted to pull the covers over her head and go to sleep. But first, she had to know. “Jamie? Is he mad at me?” Maria and Jake exchanged a glance, confirming her fear. Tears burned her eyes, and she just wanted them to leave before she embarrassed herself and cried.

“Ah, I think it’s girl-talk time. I’ll be just outside.” Jake brushed his lips over his wife’s. “Take your time, Chiquita.”

Sugar winced as she pushed up against the pillow. Maybe if she sat up she could stay awake. Mike walked in, and she held in her questions while he filled a cup half-full of water.

“If you’re not barfing by now, you’re good to go,” he said with a cute grin that revealed a dimple on the left side of his cheek. He handed her the cup.

“Barfing, Mike? Is that what they taught ya to say in nursing school? You do have a charming bedside manner though.” Where was this flirting coming from? Yeah, he was cute, but she’d only ever love one man, and he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her. It must be the drugs.

“Sometimes, Sugar,” he leaned over her. “I improvise.”

There went that dimpled grin again. She grinned back. “I bet you were a handful for your mama.”

Mike gave a burst of laughter. “You don’t know the half of it, Sugar, my sweet.” He turned to Maria. “She’ll probably fall asleep on you. Buzz me if she needs anything.”

“Now there’s some serious eye candy,” Maria said, her gaze following Mike’s retreating back.

“Don’t let Jake hear ya say that.”

Her friend’s eyes went soft at the mention of her husband. “He knows he’s my man, but it doesn’t hurt to keep him on his toes. Why don’t you slide down and get some rest? I’ll send Jake back to the office and sit here with you.”

“Don’t wanna be a pest.” A question hovered at the edge of her mind, but the fuzz in her head made thinking impossible. She snuggled down under the covers as her eyes insisted on closing.
Jamie. I want Jamie.
Forcing her eyes open, she glanced at the door. “Jamie. He’s gone. He hates me.”

“Oh, Sugar, wherever did you get that idea? The man loves—”

She tried to stay awake to hear what Maria said, but sleep took her.

Long strides took Jamie to Sugar’s room. He wouldn’t go in, just needed to make sure Kincaid had stationed a guard like he’d promised. Her husband—every time he thought the word
husband
connected to her, he wanted to put his fist through something—was nowhere to be found. If, as he suspected, the bastard had fled back to the town he believed would protect him, Jamie had news for the man who had shot Sugar. As soon as he ascertained for himself that Sugar was protected, he planned to go after Vanders. He hadn’t kept her from being shot, but he’d make sure it didn’t happen again.

I’m coming for you, you sorry excuse for a man.

Ryan O’Connor glanced up from the game he played on his cell phone, gave Jamie a curt nod, then pushed the door to Sugar’s room open. “Maria,” he said quietly, “he’s here.”

“Not staying.” How could he face her after letting her get shot?

“Not my problem,” O’Connor responded from his chair posted outside Sugar’s door.

“I meant I didn’t want you to tell them I’m here.”

“Again, not my problem. Maria said to tell her when you were, so I did.” He gave Jamie a smirk, accompanied by a lift of one eyebrow. “She can fire me. You can’t.”

“Go to hell.” The mood Jamie was in, Doc was lucky he didn’t get a fist in his face.

Both of Ryan’s brows lifted, and his damn mouth curved in amusement. “Saint’s still cussing? The apocalypse has arrived.”

Before Jamie could knock Doc senseless, Maria poked her head out, grabbed Jamie’s wrist, and pulled him inside. He could’ve pulled away. Should have. But he wanted to see Sugar . . . needed to see her. Then he’d go.

“She’s asleep right now, but she’s been asking for you.”

“I’m not staying, just wanted to check on her, make sure someone was guarding her door.” He’d avoided looking at her when entering the room, but his gaze finally strayed to the woman lying in the hospital bed. She was so pale. Guilt surged through him that he hadn’t been with her when she’d awakened.

Her beautiful eyes blinked open and instantly locked on him. A smile curved her lips, sending his heart into a tailspin. He fisted his hands to keep from going to her.

“I thought I heard your voice.” When he didn’t respond, her smile faltered. “Jamie?”

“I have to go,” he said, and walked out.

Coward.
That he was, and it was for Sugar’s own good. During the long hours he’d sat outside her hospital room hoping a certain chief of police had the nerve to show his face, Jamie had reached an unwanted conclusion. He loved Sugar Darling, or Hannah Conley, or whatever her name was.

Nevertheless, he was bad news to those he loved.

Once he’d seen to it that Vanders would never bother her again, he’d leave Sugar alone. If he was lucky, she would move away so he’d not have to see her every day, or stand on the sidelines and watch her fall in love with one of his buddies.

He walked out of the hospital to find a thunderstorm had moved in while he was inside. “That’s Florida for you,” he muttered as he ran to his car. Returning home, he planned to take a quick shower, then go to work. Check in and see if the boss had found out anything. If he learned Vanders had returned to South Carolina, then Jamie planned to take a few personal days and make a little trip to discuss matters with the bastard.

“Meep,” Junior said when Jamie walked into his house.

The furball’s word for
feed me
, he remembered Sugar saying. “You can’t be hungry again.” The cat almost tripped him making his figure eights as Jamie headed to the kitchen. Before he fell flat on his face, Jamie picked up Junior.

“A few treats, that’s all you’re getting.” After they’d taken Sugar away and the cops had finally left, he’d spied the cat peeking out from under the couch. Unable to leave him alone, he had brought Junior home with him.

Leaving him to his treats, Jamie wandered into his living room. Standing in the middle of the room, he made a slow circle, seeing it as Sugar must have. He hadn’t missed the speculation in her eyes when she’d taken in the décor.

The furniture that once belonged to his parents and had brought him such comfort suddenly seemed old and tired. The books on the shelves belonged to his dad; the knickknacks his mom had collected.

Where was anything of Jamie’s? He made another circle, and the only thing he could find belonging to him was the wide-screen TV. A
thought bolted its way through his brain like lightning, staggering him.

He was frozen in time.

Sitting heavily on the blue-and-white-print couch, he finally admitted to himself that he’d stopped living the day his parents had died. Yes, he was driving the car. Yes, he was going fast, and the worst part, he’d smoked a couple of joints, along with downing a few beers, prior to getting behind the wheel.

If he had known his father was going to have a heart attack, he’d never have smoked or drank, but how was a kid supposed to predict something like that? He’d been going fast because his father was dying. The black ice he’d hit had been the reason he lost control of the car. If he would have done anything different if he hadn’t been half-stoned, there was no way to know.

A memory came to him of the day he learned he had lost his scholarships. He’d hung a tire from a tree in the backyard and was trying to throw a football through the middle, something he’d been able to do to perfection before hurting his shoulder.

Frustrated when he kept missing, he spiked the ball. “Stupid fucking shoulder.”

“Don’t let your mother hear you say that word. She’ll blame herself for raising you wrong.”

“It wasn’t like I knew you were spying on me,” he’d snarled to cover his embarrassment at learning his dad had been watching him. His parents had been so proud of him when he’d received two scholarship offers, one from Ohio State, and one from Stanford. He knew it had been a blessing to them as it would have been a hardship on their part to pay his way through college. Then he had gone and screwed everything up.

“And I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful, son. Also, I happen to own this backyard and can come and go as I please.” He put his arm around Jamie’s shoulder. “I’m a firm believer that things happen for a reason. Maybe God has a different plan in mind for you than playing football and baseball. You still have the rest of the summer for your shoulder to heal, but if it doesn’t, then it doesn’t. The question then becomes, what will you do with your life?”