Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3) (28 page)

“Mr. Hart. I’m terribly sorry. We did everything we
possibly could.”

I don’t turn around. For no particular reason, I’m drawn
to the process of how they treat my mother. I know it will be with respect, but
I must see it for myself.

“I know. Thank you.” I remain staring inside the room.

“You can go in if you’d like.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

I’m frozen at the window, still watching. The nurses are
very meticulous in everything they do, even the way they remove all the lines
from my mother. It’s all so kind, as if they don’t want to put her through any
more pain. As soon as they’ve taken out the tube from her throat, I go to her.
Funny how peaceful the room seems now. They tell me how sorry they are and I
nod. Bending over, I kiss her forehead and tell her I love her. Then I turn
away. I need to get Kolson. They say Gabby is down the hall, so I go to find
him.

When I do, he’s sleeping with his head on her bed. I
hate to wake him, but I know he’ll want to see Mom.

“Kolson?”

He lifts his head, confused. Then it sinks in and he
focuses.

“Hey. Carter okay?”

“Yeah. Well, she’s in surgery now to remove her bullet.
Kol
, it’s Mom. She didn’t make it.”

A myriad of emotions pass over his features. Then his
eyes fill with tears. I’ve never seen Kolson cry, but I do today.

“Do you want to see her? She’s right down the hall.”

He nods, but doesn’t speak. When we get to her room, he
becomes the stoic Kolson I know so well. He touches her hair and cheek and then
holds her hand. Turning to me, he says, “This has now become a murder, you
know? And I’m going to figure out who did this to us.” Then he walks away.

I haven’t had much time to think of anything other than
life and death … here. But
Kol
is right. This is a
murder. My mother was murdered today. Christmas Day. I go back to Gabby’s room
and tell Kolson if he needs me, I’ll be in the surgery waiting room. Once
there, I call Kade to let him know about Mom and that there’s no point in
coming here. I tell him I’ll call when we have funeral arrangements
established.

What was supposed to be a cut and dry case for Carter
isn’t. Three hours later the surgeon shows up. The look on his face scares the
hell out of me.

“She’s going to be okay. I had to chase the bullet. When
I got in there, it got loose and ended up traveling a bit. She had a little bit
of lung damage, but she’s fine. I called in here, but no one answered,” he
says.

“Yeah, I was with my mom. She didn’t make it.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry.”

“Can I see Carter?”

“Yes, as soon as she’s out of recovery. She’ll remain in
ICU tonight. Why don’t you go and wait with your brother? I’ll let them know
where to find you.”

“Thanks.”

It’s sunrise when I get to see Carter. But she’s okay.
She’s babbling but has a chest tube, which looks downright disgusting, and then
other tubes, but I don’t care as long as she’s okay.

The police
keep wanting
to ask
questions, so I finally give in. I’m going to have to do so eventually, so I
might as well start now.

And it goes something like this:

No, I don’t know who might have done this. No, we were
eating Christmas dinner. No, we haven’t gotten any threats. No, we haven’t had
any break-ins. No, no one has been harassing us.

And then they start again. After an hour, I look at the
detective and say, “Detective, my mother is dead. Do you even care about that?
I don’t know who did this awful thing to us. My sister-in-law almost died and
so did my girlfriend and you’re acting like we’re a part of this!” By the time
I finish, I’m shouting.

“Mr. Hart. You don’t have any security cameras on your
house. Why is that?”

“Because I just moved in, for Christ’s sake. I haven’t
had time. I’ve been busy working my ass off. Is it a crime not to have security
cameras? Do I need a lawyer now because someone shot up my home?”

And then it hits me. I need to call Foster
Haynesworth
. He’ll know what to do. I pull out my phone and
I make the call.

“Foster?”

“Yes.”

“Kestrel Hart here.”

“Why Kestrel, how are you?”

“Not as well as I’d like. There’s been a shooting at the
house.” I explain what’s happened and he says he’s on his way.

I look at the detective and say, “I’m not saying another
word until my attorney arrives.”

Detective Brunson is pissed. I don’t give a rat’s ass.
He was treating me like I was the criminal. I thrum my fingers on the arm of
the chair.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

I shoot him a look of incredulity. “You’re joking,
right? You ask me why I haven’t put up security cameras yet. Of course I had to
do that. My mother was murdered, goddammit, and you’re making me out to be the
one at fault.
Because I didn’t put fucking cameras up.
That’s bullshit and you know it. Now I don’t want to make enemies here, but
seems to me, you’ve already crossed that line.”

The eyes tell it all. They always do. I would see it in
Langston’s right before he would strike. I see it in my business opponents,
before they think they have scored the deal. And now, Mr. Detective is
revealing to me that he knows I have him. He fucked up. He backed me against a
wall and didn’t think I had the balls to fight back. Well, he was wrong. But
something here doesn’t ring right. Why would he do that? There’s something else
going on and I aim to find out. I stand and he asks, “Where are you going?”

“That is none of your business, detective.” And I leave
him alone, watching me.

When I get to Gabby’s room, she’s awake. I don’t want to
discuss this in front of her, so I wait and then pull Kolson out of the room. I
convey what transpired and he only says, “I’ll call Drexel Wolfe. He’ll handle
everything.”

“I’m going to Carter’s room. Oh, and
Kol
,
we need to make arrangements for Mom.”

He shakes his head. “I know. Can we do this in a few
hours? My head is swimming.”

“Mine too.”

 
I’m drained.
And I feel like a rubber ball that has bounced back and forth around this
hospital all night long. I’m ready for the highs and lows my emotions have been
on to end. Only sheer adrenaline has kept me going but it’s running out, and I
weave as I go back to Carter’s room. When I get there, she’s asleep. There’s a
recliner in the corner, so I practically fall back on it and crash.

A clattering noise awakens me, and it’s an aide setting
a tray of something down for Carter to eat. The room is bright, so I check the
clock on the wall and it’s five-thirty. A nurse enters and checks Carter, then
turns to me.

“Mr. Hart. Has someone examined you?”

It’s the same nurse that was on duty last night. I’m
sure I look like hell. I rub my face and say no.

“Come with me.”

“No, I have things to do.”

“You won’t be able to do any of those if that wound of
yours gets infected. Now come with me.”

When we walk out of the room, Foster is coming down the
hall.

“Kestrel. You’re awake.”

“Yeah. You were here earlier?”

“I’ve been here all day. That arrogant detective won’t
be bothering you anymore. I’ve also called in some workers to board up your
house. The police are finishing up in there, collecting evidence. There were
quite a large number of bullets in your dining room and living room.”

It all barrels into me. “Jesus. I still can’t believe
all this happened.”

“I’m so terribly sorry about your mother. I was coming
here to see if you needed me to handle anything for you on that.”

“Kolson and I haven’t even talked about it. Carter was
in surgery and Kolson’s wife is still critical.”

“I see.”

The nurse pipes in, saying, “Excuse me gentlemen, but
Mr. Hart still needs to have his arm attended to.”

Foster looks at me and asks, “You too?”

“Yeah, but with all the mess yesterday, I haven’t been
seen yet.”

“Go. I’ll sit with Carter.”

“Thank you.”

We make a brief stop at the nurse’s station and she lets
the supervisor know she’s escorting me to the Emergency Department. Once there,
they put me in a room and it’s not long before a physician pops in. She
chastises me for waiting so long. The wound is deep and she makes all kinds of
growling noises as she assesses me. Then she orders an X-ray.

“Mr. Hart, I think you have a bullet in your deltoid.”

Great. Exactly what I need.

The aide comes in with a wheelchair.

“I can walk.”

“It’s hospital policy, sir.”

I plop my ass in the chair and she wheels me to
radiology. They X-ray my arm and sure enough, there’s a fucking bullet in
there.

“The good news is it will be easy to retrieve.”

Shaking my head, I say, “Good. Then take it out.”

“Mr. Hart. We don’t do that here. You have to have to
surgery for that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s deep in the muscle. We can’t anesthetize
you for that here.”

“Sure you can. Just go on ahead and give me a shot and
do it.”

“Mr. Hart, it’s a very minor procedure.”

“Doctor, if it’s that minor, do it here. Now.”

“I’m not going to gouge up your arm, digging out a
bullet. A surgeon needs to go in and do that. He or she will have to make an
incision and hunt for the damn thing.”

“Why can’t you do that?”

“I just can’t.” And she walks out. Damn her.

Now what? This just keeps getting worse and worse. How
will I help Carter with one arm? Christ. What a fiasco.

I get up and leave. That damn doctor is standing right
there. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have things to do.”

“Yes, you do. Namely have a bullet removed from your
arm. Do you want to get gangrene and have your arm amputated?”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly, Mr. Hart. Now get back in there. I’m seeing
who’s available to do this procedure right away. You’ve already waited too long
as it is.”

About an hour later, a surgeon comes to see me. Her name
is Jane Garrison. She is a no nonsense kind of woman. She explains what needs
to be done and says it should only take an hour. I will have a block in my
shoulder and twilight anesthesia. Soon, I’m undressed and being wheeled to
pre-op. Kolson is already there waiting.

Anesthesia is a funny thing. Time has no meaning. Hours
pass as seconds and I’m in recovery. The doctor stands next to me and tells me
she got the bullet. My arm will be very sore but I will heal nicely.

“You’re lucky, Mr. Hart.” Then she leaves.

Kolson comes in and says he’s glad it all went well. I
think he’s standing there as I fall back asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Carter

Uncle Foster is in my room when I wake up.

“Hey sweetie.”

“Hey. Where’s Kestrel?”

“Apparently he had a bullet in his arm and they took it
out, but he’s perfectly okay.”

“Jeez. What a freaking mess.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“How is everyone? Gabby and Sylvia?” I know they were
pretty bad.

Uncle Foster squirms.

“Tell me.”
 

He walks to my bed and takes my hand. “Honey, Sylvia
didn’t make it.”

“Oh, God! When?”

“While you were in surgery, I think.”

I sit up and push the covers off.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m going to Kestrel.”

“You can’t go to him like this.”

“Why not? He needs me.”

“Look at you. You’re connected to all kinds of lines and
things.”

“So? I’ll drag everything with me.”

“Carter, be reasonable. You can’t go.”

I pin him with one look. “Yes, I can. And I will.” I
feel a tug on my chest and it’s that tube. It’s connected to something hanging
on my bed.

Uncle Foster pushes the button for the nurse. The voice
comes over the intercom and he tattles on me. Soon a nurse rushes into my room.
They try to rationally explain to me why I can’t go to Kestrel and I tell them
all to stuff it.

“You can either help me or I’ll do this on my own.” My obstinacy
eventually wears them out.

A little while later, I’m sitting in a wheel chair with
all sorts of crap hanging off it as they take me to see Kestrel. When we get to
his room, the first thing I notice is his color. He looks gray. I don’t know if
it’s because he’s in pain or because he just had surgery. Maybe it’s because of
all the shit he’s just been through. They wheel my chair right next to his bed
and I reach for his face. When I touch him, he jerks awake.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” I look at the
nurse and Uncle Foster and tell them to leave us alone. Then I turn back to
Kestrel. “I just found out about Sylvia. I’m so sorry.”

“Angel, what are you doing out of bed?”

He tries to sit up, but grimaces.

“Don’t. Just be still. I wanted to see you, Kestrel. I
had to see you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be with you during it all. And you had
to handle it all on your own.”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to see it.”

His eyes shutter closed. He takes my hand and kisses it.

“I want to crawl into your bed with you, but I can’t
because I have enough machinery in this chair to fill a damn factory.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad because it’s going to get you
well.”

“How’s Gabby?’

“She’s doing well.”

“How long will you be here?”

“Just today. The bullet was in my muscle.”

I kiss his hand. “Thank you for pulling me off the
chair. You saved my life, you know.”

“I may have almost gotten you killed.”

His statement puzzles me. “What do you mean?”

“Those people who shot up the house. They may have been
after me.”

“Do the police know anything yet?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Foster is helping out.”

“I know.”

“Kolson is going to call a private investigator we know,
too. We need to figure this out.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean really okay?” I ask.

“No. I’m not.”

He lifts his head and it’s then I see the agony on his
face, the dark pain in his beautiful eyes and the dampness on his cheeks.

“It’s my fault she’s dead. If she hadn’t come here for
Christmas … and for the first time in her life she was happy.”

“Oh, Kestrel, this was not your fault.”

“Yeah, it was. I should have been more cautious. Had
more security.”

“Like what? Armored walls? Bulletproof windows? How
could you or anyone have known? This was a terrible crime and no one could’ve
have done a thing.”

His hand covers his face as he cries. It’s a terrible
thing to see a man torn apart by grief. And it’s even worse when you feel
helpless and unable to do a thing for him.

I glance at the bed and then at everything it would take
for me to crawl into it and make a decision. I can do this. So I hang the
container that my chest tube is attached to on his bed, and I wheel all my
poles as close to his bed as I can. And I climb in. When he feels the bed
depress, he opens his eyes.

“Scoot over.”

I lift the sheet and blanket and shimmy underneath. It’s
not easy, because I’m very sore, but I don’t care. I lie on my side and hold
him. Luckily, his bad arm is on the other side.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks.

“More comfortable than I am alone.”

“I love you, angel. You bring heaven to me.”

“Hmm. Well, I don’t know about that. After yesterday, I
would think you’d revise that opinion.”

“Never.”

And we fall asleep together. Just like that.

But not for long, because my nurse comes back and boy am
I in trouble. She scolds me for getting out of that chair, and then again for
missing my medication round. Kestrel promises to come to my room as soon as
he’s released. This is the craziest thing I’ve seen, with all of us scattered
around the hospital.

“You could at least put us together,” I complain to the
nurse on the way back to my room.

“We put you on floors according to your procedures.
Of all things.
You getting in bed with him,” she huffed.

“Look. His mother just died and I wanted to comfort
him.”

“Oh, I am sorry about that. I didn’t know.”

Sadness wraps around my heart like a vise. I keep seeing
Kestrel’s face every time I close my eyes. He must’ve been alone with his mom
when she passed. Kolson was most likely with Gabby. Dear God, to face that
alone. Will the shit ever end?

***

Kestrel is released the next morning and comes to my
room. He tells me he’s going to the house to check things out and to shower. He
wears the clothes he had on Christmas Day and they have blood everywhere.

“Alone? Is Kolson going with you?”

“Yes. Gabby’s stable so he feels comfortable leaving
her.”

“Good. I don’t want you going there alone.”

He kisses me good-bye and he seems so sad. They have
funeral arrangements to make and I wonder when that will be.

My doctor checks on me and says I’m progressing well.
Maybe I’ll be released in a few days.

My day is filled with lots of naps, but one highlight is
John. His visit perks me up temporarily and pulls me out of my dark mood.

Flowers arrive from work. StrongMeds sends a massive
arrangement that takes two women to carry it into my room. I don’t know what
they were thinking, but I can’t imagine how I’ll get that thing home. I think
I’ll send it over to the children’s wing so they can have it.

Harper flies in like a damn fighter jet. She throws herself
at me and somehow I manage to escape injury.

“Fuck it all, Carter. What in the world is happening to
you?”

“I’d like to know the same.”

“Damn. I almost fainted when I saw it on the news. Can
you imagine?”

Why is she asking me that?

“Um, Harper, I almost got killed. Of course I can
imagine.”

“Oh yeah. How silly of me.”

“Yeah. Silly.”

“Jeez. I’m sorry. I’ve just never known anyone that had
their house shot up before.”

“Uh huh. Well, you do now.”

“So, what was it like?”

Is she kidding?

“Harper, Kestrel’s mother died. What do you think it was
like?”

“Oh. That was sort of insensitive, wasn’t it?”

“Are you high or something?”

“You don’t have to get angry. I didn’t mean anything by
it.” She pouts.

“Look. I’m tired. I’m sore. I was shot and I have this
damn tube in my chest. My boyfriend was shot, his sister-in-law was shot, and
his mother was killed. His house looks like a war zone. Yes, I do have to get
angry. Maybe you need some sensitivity training.”

“Okay, you’re right. But have a little sympathy.”

“Wait. You want
me
to have sympathy for
you
?”
Maybe I’m being a bitch here, but Kestrel and his family are the one’s
suffering. Not Harper.

“Well, yeah. I was upset when I saw what happened.”

I can only shake my head. There’s only so much you can
do with selfishness. “Okay, Harper, I feel sorry for you.”

That seems to brighten her day. Why am I just now seeing
this side of her? Have I been blind to this egocentricity all these years? Or
maybe I just didn’t want to see it. All I know is I don’t have time for this
crap right now.

“Thanks for stopping by. I appreciate your worries and
concerns. I’m so tired, though. You know—getting shot in the chest will
do that.”

“Oh, I guess it will.”

“I think I need to sleep for a while.”

“Okay. Well, if you need anything, let me know. I’m
around.”

“Thanks Harper.” And I watch her bop out of the room. I
wonder if my parents saw through her. I really need to get some new friends.

***

Two days later, Kestrel and a nurse wheel me out of the
hospital. A limo awaits me and we drive away. When the car doesn’t take the
route to the house, I get curious.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“This isn’t the way.”

“Yes, it is. I’ve a surprise.”

We pull up to a house. It’s a beautiful cream colored
Charleston single styled home on
Legare
Street.

Kestrel turns to me and says, “Welcome home.”

Confusion clouds my mind. “I don’t understand.”

“You can’t live at the other house. It isn’t safe. I
won’t take a chance in having you shot at again.”

“Oh, so we’ll stay here temporarily.” That makes sense.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gets out and assists me
out. I’m moving rather slowly. Mario leads the way and opens the door. When I
walk inside, it’s fully furnished and lovely. It’s hard not to smile.

“It’s beautiful, Kestrel.”

“I thought you’d approve.”

He helps me to the bedroom and I see my things are
already here. But his aren’t.

“Where are your things?”

Mario leaves and Kestrel helps me sit. “Angel, we need
to talk.”

Oh, boy. This isn’t good. I stop him with my hand.

“Is this the part where you tell me that it’s you and
not me?” I ask.

His eye squeeze shut. “No. That’s not it at all.” Then
he opens his eyes and pain radiates from them. Whatever he’s going to tell me
hurts him. Bad.

“Say it then.”

“You’re not safe with me. That shooting. We don’t know
who did it. It could be connected to the mob and if it is it could happen
again. I can’t take that chance. Mom died. I won’t let that happen to you.”

My head spins and I can’t get a breath in. An invisible
fist has grabbed my guts and is ripping them out of me. I know my lips are
moving, but no words are coming out.

“This is your house. I’ve set up the rental, and if you
like it, it’s yours. I’ll buy it for you. I only want you safe. I’ve assigned a
team of bodyguards to watch you. Security cameras are being installed today and
you will never be alone here.”

I hear him but I’m not sure how much I’m processing.

“I have to leave today for Manhattan.
For
Mom’s funeral.
It’s private. She didn’t want anything other than that.
It’ll only be
Kol
, Kade, and me.”

He doesn’t even want me to go with him. My ears buzz and
I feel as though I’m going to faint. I won’t let myself. He can’t see how weak
I am. I bite my lips to help, but they’re numb. Everything is numb.
Except the excruciating pain in my heart.

“You understand, right? You see why I have to do this?”

No! I want to yell and scream at him. But I can’t even
open my mouth.

“It’s because I love you more than anything in the world
and your safety is the most important thing. When we find out who did this
terrible thing …
who
killed my mother … I’ll come back
for you. I promise, angel. I love you.”

He kisses the top of my head and walks away. I still
can’t speak. The tears come after I hear the door close. Violent, wracking
sobs. And then I remember. He doesn’t know. I wouldn’t let them tell him.
About the baby.