Fyre & Revenge (13 page)

“Oh shit.”

Her eyes
widened at the blood. Blood splattered down the front of his shirt,
scarlet on white. She took a deep breath. Everything would be fine,
he wasn’t dead, couldn’t be dead. She’d only been insulting him a
minute or so ago…

Turned away
from her, Logan’s head rested against the back of the seat. Scarlet
trails of blood stood out against his skin, paler than a few
minutes ago. Her heart lurched in her chest. Sure, she didn’t like
the guy, but she wouldn’t have wished this on him. She wouldn’t
wish a car accident on anyone, not even her worst enemy.

Right at this
moment Logan Fyre
was
her worst enemy.

“Mr. Fyre?
Logan?” She kept her voice light, confident. She remembered reading
somewhere that the unconscious could still hear. She hoped so.

“Everything’s
going to be fine. You’re going to be okay,” she told him, as much
to reassure herself as him. Leaning through the window she turned
the key in the ignition, switching the engine off. The strange
clicking noise stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief. A stray
spark setting off an explosion was the last thing she needed. She
shuddered, reminded that the situation could go from bad to worse
in a heartbeat.

He was
breathing. The soft rise and fall of his chest reassured her, so
she turned her attention to the wound on his head. The purple of a
nasty bruise spread its fingers across his forehead and temple, the
skin split and oozing blood in sluggish waves. She winced. That had
to hurt—no wonder he’d been knocked out.

“Everything’s
going to be fine.” She reached in, even though his eyes were
closed, to try and take his hand. Tactile contact was important
wasn’t it? So he knew he wasn’t alone. Where the hell was that
ambulance? She looked around for the guy on the phone. The phone
still at his ear, he talked rapidly, his words lost over the
distance. From his hand gestures he was giving details of the
accident. Good, that should mean some help would be
forthcoming.

A cough sounded
and Logan’s hand tightened around hers. Her head whipped around to
see his head move, turning toward her as he blinked. His blue eyes
were unfocused and dazed, as though he couldn’t reconcile the view
of the hedge in front of him with what he last remembered. As she
watched, his eyes focused, sharpening as he looked at her.

“Don’t do first
aid huh? Just moral support? What happened? Are the people in the
other car okay? Ahh, shit—” A hiss of pain escaped him as he tried
to shift in his seat and sit up. His gaze flicked to hers,
something stirring in the depths. Fear. Fear that made her heart
slam in her chest.

“What is it?
What’s the matter?”

“I’m trapped,
and I can’t feel my legs.” The fear disappeared under the cool
facade even as she watched. “Get someone to call an ambulance.”

Rae gritted her
teeth at the order, snapped in an imperious tone.

“Already done.
We’re not stupid in this neck of the woods, despite what you might
think.” She managed to keep her tone calm. Not responding to his
arrogant manner in any way, shape or form, even if the temptation
to slap him rose again. She needed a medal for this.

“The people in
the other car are okay… Well, apart from possible hearing loss.
Apparently the baby didn’t think much of your reckless driving.”
She was unable to resist the last dig. Bloody men and their
super-cars, no doubt he’d been speeding.

He chuckled,
leaning his head against the seat again, watching her through
half-hooded eyes. “Regular angel of mercy, aren’t you? Wonderful
bedside manner you have, sweetheart.”

Rae frowned
again. “What do you mean?”

“Oh nothing,
just the fact that you assumed the accident was my fault.”

She snatched
her hand out of his, but didn’t relinquish her position against the
side of the car. Sirens wailed in the distance. The ambulance would
be here soon and her job would be over. She couldn’t wait; he was
easier to get on with unconscious.

“Wasn’t it? Car
like this, you sure you weren’t speeding?” Her chin lifted, her
eyes alight with challenge.

He laughed
again, a laugh which turned into a cough. He winced, his hand
coming up to hold his ribcage. Rae watched in concern, her hand on
his shoulder until the spasms subsided. He must be more injured
than she’d realised. Horror stories of people hitting their chests
on the steering wheel in accidents came to mind. People who seemed
fine as they bled to death inside.

After what
seemed like an age to Rae he opened his eyes, their blue clouding
again as he spoke. “They hit me in the side, Ms. Borne… Not me…
That was speeding.” His voice trailed off at the end of the
sentence, his eyes closing as his head dropped back again.

Guilt slammed
into Rae as she remembered her view of the car as she’d approached.
He was right. The other car had hit
him
. His door was all
smashed in, traces of red paint scarring the side. They must have
hit him at high speed to cause this amount of damage.

“Hey no! Stay
awake, stay with me!” She reached in to grab his hand again but it
was limp. He’d slipped back into unconsciousness. “Crap, don’t you
dare die on me, you awkward bastard!”

“Miss, we’re
going to need you to move out the way for us please. What’s his
name?” A firm voice broke across her worry. Rae turned, sighing
with relief when she saw the paramedics. The ambulance had
arrived.

She stepped
back, clearing the way for them to check Logan in the car.

“His name’s
Logan, Logan Fyre. He was awake and talking up until a moment ago
but then he…” She broke off, pressing the back of her hand to her
mouth. Tears threatened, obscuring her vision. What if he died?
What if she’d been the last person he’d spoken to in this life and
she’d been nasty to him? She couldn’t cope with that, couldn’t live
with herself if that happened.

The paramedic,
an older man with kind, faded brown eyes, smiled and reached out to
squeeze her arm in reassurance as his partner moved in to check
Logan.

“We’ll look
after him love, do you want to sit in the ambulance until we have
him out?”

* * *

Doctor Marissa
Davies sighed as she left the trauma room. She rubbed the back of
her neck as she headed to the nurses’ station in the middle of the
Emergency department. It had been a long day, but thank the lord it
was almost over. Her last patient had turned out to be a fairly
simple one, which she had been grateful for. Head injuries had a
habit of turning nasty in the blink of an eye. Marissa shuddered,
she’d seen too many of those to want to see any more. But she
would; it was the nature of the job.

This one had
been kept talking though, only slipping into unconsciousness just
before the paramedics had arrived. It always helped when they knew
how long a patient had been unconscious. A frown settled between
her brows as she rifled amongst the clipboards on the desk for her
patient’s file.

In a swift
scrawl she noted the patient’s memory loss. Not unknown for a head
trauma, like the brain resetting itself after a shock, so the
doctor wasn’t too worried about it. With any luck, after a good
night’s sleep things would start coming back to Mr. Fyre.

“All sorted,
Doc?” A voice sounded behind her as Marissa bent over to add her
notes to the file, her hand moving in a quick scrawl. Like most
doctors, her handwriting could be nigh on illegible, especially
after a long day like today. She smiled up at the senior nurse.

“Oh hey Jo, I
didn’t realise you were on tonight. Coming in or going out?”
Marissa nodded towards the other woman’s coat.

“In, more’s the
pity. Been here a while but got collared, haven’t had a chance to
take this off until now. I understand we have a head injury?” Jo
shrugged out of her coat as she walked past Marissa, disappearing
into the small staff room behind the station to hang it up.

“Yeah, he’s
been cleaned up and checked out. No fracture, but some bad bruising
and concussion. Memory loss too, but I’m hoping it clears up with
sleep. I’m just going to inform his wife now, any idea where they
put her?”

“She’s in room
two, although I’m surprised you haven’t seen her yet. The girls
said she’s been out here every five minutes asking for news, near
panic because they couldn’t tell her anything. They went with the
usual prescription…”

Marissa
grinned, unable to resist the twinkle of amusement in Jo’s
eyes.

“Weak tea and
soggy biscuits? Okay, I’ll go have a chat with her then I’ll get
gone. See you in the morning if you’re not around when I get out,”
she said by way of farewell, folding the clipboard against her
chest and heading towards room two to tell Mrs. Fyre her husband
appeared to have forgotten everything.

Including the
fact he had a wife.

* * *

He was going to
die, Rae just knew it. She’d been nasty to him and he was going to
die. She mangled the thick fabric of Logan’s coat in nervous
fingers. The paramedic had given it to her whilst they were waiting
for Logan to be unloaded at the intake doors, along with his
wallet.

“Best not leave
them in the car ma’am, too many light-fingered people about.
Besides, you’ll probably be sitting around a bit, that’s a good
thick coat, that is. You might be glad of it later.”

The instant
he’d thrown it around her shoulders, she’d been enveloped in a
masculine scent. The scent of Logan’s aftershave, familiar from
that kiss in her corridor. She bit her lip, nerves and guilt
hitting her anew as she sat alone in the little waiting room. The
tea and biscuits they’d brought sat on a plate on the low table
next to her. Untouched. She couldn’t have stomached anything if she
tried.

A sense of
foreboding crept over her. She’d sat in a room like this when her
dad had had his accident. Even years later the place looked the
same. Didn’t they say that about all hospitals? The same the world
over, as though the dramas played out in them needed the familiar
bland settings to operate in.

The door opened
and she started, looking up into the kindly eyes of a doctor. At
least Rae assumed the woman was a doctor. She had the requisite
white coat and manner. In a heartbeat Rae was on her feet, Logan’s
coat still in her hands.

“How is he? Is
he okay?”

The other woman
smiled, an honest smile which did a lot to ease the ache in Rae’s
chest. “He’s going to be fine, Mrs. Fyre, but I do need to talk to
you. I’m Marissa Davies, the doctor dealing with your husband’s
case, shall we sit down?”

Rae nodded,
sinking back onto the plastic covered chair as the doctor took one
kitty-corner.

“Okay, first
off, I need you to confirm Mr. Fyre’s name, date of birth and home
address please.” The doctor flashed her a quick smile. “Just
procedure to make sure I have the right file.”

“Logan James
Fyre, born on the sixth of December…” Rae rattled his details off.
Information she’d been asked for three times already. The sort of
thing a wife would know without checking. It wasn’t the sort of
thing a stranger like Rae should know. She’d only met him this
afternoon. But Rae had been blessed with a photographic memory, a
bit of a boon in college. A quick glance at his driver’s license
earlier and she reeled the information off like they’d been
together for years.

“Thank you.”
She smiled again, obviously happy with the reply, and folded her
hands on top of the clipboard.

“Okay,
physically your husband has some nasty bruising and needed a couple
of stitches to a cut in his hairline. It’s small so it shouldn’t
scar too badly. Given the location, it should be barely noticeable.
However…” she paused and sighed a little.

Rae’s heart
lurched. However? It wasn’t good when a doctor said however, was
it?

“I’m not quite
sure how to tell you this but… Well, your husband has sustained
some memory loss. He doesn’t remember you.”

A wave of
relief that her deception hadn’t been revealed crashed over Rae,
followed by another wave of guilt as the doctor’s words sank
in.

“He doesn’t
remember anything?”

“Well, you have
to understand that although his physical injuries weren’t too bad
we still don’t understand all the functions of the human brain. He
remembers his name at this point but is a little confused.” The
doctor explained. “Now, it could just be the brain’s way of coping
with the trauma of the accident. He struck the steering wheel with
some force to sustain the concussion. A good night’s sleep may
reset everything and he’ll be fine when he wakes up, or he could
take a little longer to recover his memory. Fortunately in cases
like this it’s unlikely to be permanent.”

Rae breathed a
sigh of relief. She couldn’t imagine losing her memory. It would be
so confusing to wake up and not know who you were, where you were
or how you got there.

“So he just
remembers his name at the moment? That’s a blessing at least,
waking up and not knowing who you are must be terrifying.”

The doctor
nodded. “Indeed, I’m glad you understand that Mrs. Fyre, it’s so
much easier when a patient’s relatives can approach this with the
right attitude.” Her eyes flicked down over Rae’s white tunic.
“You’re a therapist yourself?”

“Massage and
aromatherapy, yes,” Rae replied with a wan smile. “I keep getting
mistaken for a nurse here, even though I’m wearing a different
colour. When can I see Logan?”

The doctor’s
lips quirked a little. “Yeah, sorry about that. They tend to see
the uniform and don’t look beyond it. I can take you through now
but he’ll be asleep. We gave him a mild sedative so he’ll be out
for a couple of hours, I’m afraid. You’re quite welcome to wait or
come back in the morning…?”

* * *