Fated (39 page)

He ignored her, fighting uselessly against the weakness of his body. Cold sweat broke out all over his skin, making the flimsy hospital gown stick to him. Foolishly he fought with all his strength even though he knew it would do him no good. He wasn’t going anywhere. Isaac had gotten shot for nothing, he had been stabbed for nothing, and Toby had died for nothing. By the time Dr. Morris hurried into his room and began pumping more drugs into his system, he’d already given up the fight. It was useless anyway.

I
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WAS
impossible to tell how much time had passed, but when Hart unglued his eyelids, it felt like hours. The bed linens felt crisp, as if they’d been changed, his gown was a different color, and the bandage around his shoulder and waist felt tighter than it had before.

In the chair beside the bed, Freddie startled as soon as he moved. “Hey, you’re awake.” She yawned widely. Her makeup was a mess, as was her hair, and her clothes were uncharacteristically crumpled. She hadn’t even looked this bad after being shoved against a wall when she’d been threatened by the masked guy who must’ve been Conrad all along.

“What happened?” he croaked, mouth dry as dirt.

“You mean after you lost your shit? They had to reattach the drain in your side and redo your bandages.” She nodded at his wrist, and he only noticed now that the burn had been rewrapped too. He’d have more scars than Frankenstein’s monster at this rate.

He averted his eyes, mumbling “Sorry.”

“It’s understandable,” Freddie said after a pause thick with exactly the sort of sympathy he didn’t want to see. “But the doctor was pretty pissed. Apparently he told you you’d only be your old self again as long as you took it easy. That was not taking it easy.”

Hart winced but he was done talking about this. “What happened to Julian and Mauro?”

Freddie eyed him. “That was their cabin, right?”

“Yeah. Were they both okay?”

“We managed to get ahold of Mauro, but Julian’s nowhere to be found.”

“What?” Hart forgot about his determination not to witness her pity and turned to look at her. “What do you mean? He was standing right in front of me when Conrad shot Alex.”

“Hart,” Freddie frowned at him. “There was no one in the cabin besides you, Conrad, and Alex until I came in with backup. And Alex wasn’t shot.”

“Freddie, I’m telling you. He was right there. Conrad wanted to use me as a guinea pig to see what would happen when Julian healed me.”

“Lieutenant, you had a punctured lung, got bonked on the head a few times, and….” She looked away. “And you just went through something very traumatic.”
Toby
, Hart thought. He was her friend first and foremost, and he felt awful all over again. “It’s to be expected you were confused.”

“I’m telling you,” Hart said gently because he didn’t want to upset her more. “All that may be true, but Julian was there, and Alex jumped in front of me when Conrad was going to shoot.” He held her gaze when she lifted her head, and this time she nodded. “Julian must’ve healed Alex and then disappeared. But why heal him? He’s going to spend his life in prison.” Some justice of the Phoenix himself? For killing those he’d saved? Death might be considered too easy a way out, by someone who could so easily give life.

“Okay. If you say you saw Julian, then I believe you. And maybe,” Freddie slowly added, “it’s easier to take a bullet when you know it won’t kill you.”

“You think Alex protected me thinking Julian would heal him.”

“An extra bullet hole would’ve ended you for sure,” Freddie whispered, and they fell silent.

A nurse came in to check Hart’s blood pressure and oxygen saturation, asked about his pain, and left them to it when all seemed well.

“So, what happens next?”

Freddie shifted in her seat. “You concentrate on getting better. Alex will go to jail for a long, long time. For Toby’s murder and the rest. He does claim high and low they had nothing to do with the murder eighteen months ago.” Her eyes grew shiny, and Freddie looked at the ceiling, blinking hard. “Toby will be buried in two days.”

No way he’d be well enough to attend the funeral. “I’m so sorry, Freddie.”

“Me too,” she said. “For you as well. I know things didn’t work out, but you cared about him.”

“I did.”

“And he cared about you too, I know he did.”

Hart nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on his hands. “He told me. Right before he died, he….” His eyes burned, but he had no tears left. He could do with a drink—a stiff one. “Toby saved my life up there, did you know? Without him I’d be dead too.” There might not be any tears left, but his face twisted in a grimace as physical pain tightened like a vise in his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Freddie took his hand and held it as she cried quietly and said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to an ambulance pull away, sirens blaring.

“At least tell me it was you who shot the bastard.”

“Yeah.” Freddie huffed a laugh between her tears. “Yeah, I’m the one who nailed him.”

“Good. I’m glad. Sorry about the paperwork.”

“Worth it.”

Something else occurred to him. “How did you find me in the end?”

“Your call with 911 lasted long enough for them to get the cell tower address and the latitude and longitude of your phone. But I also tracked down the owner of Carly Albright’s house on Sunday. When I ran a search on Conrad Willis, I saw you’d already pulled his plate a few days earlier. I was tracking down his GPS when the 911 call came through.”

“Jesus. You should be sitting in Miller’s chair.”

Freddie lifted a shoulder, but Hart could tell she was pleased. “I don’t know if I’d want his job. Half of the force would resent me for being a woman, and the other half for being black. And I like fieldwork.” She ran a hand over her sides. “Keeps me trim. What will you do next?”

“Get better, I guess. Not much else I can do. I’ll go back to Riverside as soon as I’m allowed to drive. I’ll have to empty the rest of Dad’s place some other time. I meant to put the house on the market while I was here, but I’m not ready to say good-bye permanently yet anyway. My stay here hasn’t exactly offered me the closure I expected.”

“I went there yesterday to let the antique guy in while you were out of it. He put Post-its on all the valuables, and I told the church people you’d reschedule for them to pick stuff up. I hope that’s all right with you.”

“Yeah,” Hart said. “That’s great, Freddie. Thanks.” He scrubbed his face. He felt exhausted down to the marrow in his bones. When Freddie stood he held out a hand again, and she took it. “I’m so sorry about Toby. I really am.”

“I know.” She bit her lip, and another tear snuck past her eyelashes. “Did you get to say good-bye?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t… he wasn’t alone, at the end.”

“I’m glad.” She nodded, her bottom lip trembling. “I’m glad you did, because he was a good—” She clasped a hand in front of her mouth and turned away. After a few seconds, she took a huge breath but didn’t turn around again. “Don’t leave without saying good-bye, okay?”

“Okay,” Hart promised as his eyes fluttered shut. He thought he’d sleep for a while, but he couldn’t. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Isaac’s face the way he’d seen it last: hurt, determined, and resigned. He couldn’t waste another moment of precious time. Nerves fluttering in his stomach, he dialed the familiar number.

“Hello?”

Hart swallowed around the incendiary chunk of anxiety that turned molten in his throat. “Isaac? It’s… uh, me.”

“Hi.” Isaac paused, then softly added, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

Hart laughed under his breath. “You too. You have no idea.”

“Is everything all right?”

For a beat Hart considered telling the truth, but hopefully they’d have time for that later. “I’m fine. I’ll be stuck here for a few more days. I just wanted to… make sure you made it home okay.”

“I’m fine. I’m—Mom took me home on Sunday, and I’m walking around. It still hurts, but it already looks much better.”

“Good. I’m—I’m glad. Isaac.” Hart tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry again. The pump by his side whirred another dose of morphine into his system, and he began to feel the effects. Blinking lazily against the drowsiness and the happiness that warmed the blood in his veins just from hearing Isaac’s voice, he said, “When I… ended things. I think I may have made a mistake.”

“Yeah?” Isaac’s voice lifted with what sounded an awful lot like hope, and Hart’s chest began to feel tight in a way that had nothing to do with the tube sticking out of it.

“Yeah. I know I did. Maybe when I’m home we could… talk.”

On the other end of the line, Isaac laughed under his breath. “Yeah. I’d like that. I mean, if it’s a good talk.”

Hart could hear the smile in Isaac’s voice just like he couldn’t suppress his. While his mouth felt thick with the urge to say more, he held it all back. It could keep. “I’ll see you very soon, then. I miss you. I love… I love you.”

“Oh my God. I… me too,” Isaac said breathlessly. “So much. Jesus.” He hiccuped like a little sob had escaped him. “I gotta go. See you soon.”

Hart laughed softly under his breath, warmth relaxing his aching muscles like no drug ever could. “Bye, angel.”

Fragmented

Shadow Mountain: Book Two

By Indra Vaughn

The capture of the Tattoo Murderer has demanded a heavy price. Doctor Tobias Darwin is dead, Lieutenant Hart is back in Riverside licking his substantial wounds, and he needs to gather his courage and tell Isaac he made a mistake. Isaac will forgive him—he knows that—but he can't promise Isaac an easy life. Being a cop comes with its own risks, after all.

When they finally reach the same wavelength, their idyllic reprieve is cut tragically short. Hart doesn't know yet that Isaac is terminally ill, that he will take off to find the Phoenix to heal him as a last resort. This time, it will be Hart who pays the price.

In the meantime, a new killer roams the streets of Riverside. He kidnaps, tortures, and kills gay men in horrific ways, and he has the newly healed Isaac in his sights. Hart’s time is running out on every level.

Coming soon at

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

F
ROM
THE
outside, the house that used to belong to Hart’s father stood the same as always. A large old brick of a thing that managed to be elegant despite its size. Hart gazed up at his old childhood home as he leaned heavily on the open door of Isaac’s car. Inside, the place was almost empty, all the intellectual and physical luxuries removed. Only the bare essentials he’d needed to lick his wounds over the past two weeks remained.

A light September breeze stirred the air, bringing with it the scent of dense forests and moss from Brightly’s side of the looming Shadow Mountain. Hart shivered despite the heat, casting a glance toward the beast at his back. The Mountain held countless secrets, but none as unbelievable as the Phoenix—an immortal man who could heal the dying.

It sucked to be Hart, since his concussion and stab wound, which resulted in a collapsed lung, hadn’t been fatal enough, apparently. He’d had to heal the old-fashioned way. He shifted his weight and breathed carefully, still not 100 percent convinced his lung would hold. The front porch creaked, and Hart turned around again. He didn’t know if he’d be back, if he’d see this place again, the house where he’d loved and lost so much. Despite knowing the entire place was as hermetically sealed as it could be, he thought he saw his mother’s old voile curtains stir, billowing gently like the house had inhaled and exhaled sadly. A silent good-bye. Maybe his father haunted the place now. He’d heard of more outrageous things than ghosts over the past month.

I
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end, the two-and-a-half-hour drive back from Brightly to Riverside in Isaac’s car wasn’t the kind of torture he’d feared it would be. Intense sunlight had stopped hurting his eyeballs within the first few days after his release from the hospital, the headaches had lifted soon after, and his right hand was as good as new. Still, even walking down the stairs of his own home at a snail’s pace left him as breathless as a black-lunged chain-smoker. At least those awful drains were gone from his chest.

All in all, it was good to be home. Hart braced himself over the brand-new kitchen sink he’d installed with Isaac what seemed like an eternity ago, and carefully caught his breath. The sharp pangs in his side were nothing to worry about, Dr. Morris had told him right before he’d left Brightly, unless they became abnormally painful. He wondered if he’d recognize what “abnormally painful” meant and if it would be in time to call someone, or if he’d figure it out with a final, gurgling breath.

“Man up, lieutenant,” he muttered, lifting his eyes. His gaze landed on Isaac’s car, which he’d parked in the Lasko driveway across the street a few hours ago. No way he didn’t know Hart was back by now. Postponing seeing him again would only make things more awkward. Man up, indeed.