Renegade (13 page)

Cash knew too much about head and lung injuries not to worry. He sat beside the bed in ICU, breaking regulations right and left, holding her hand. They'd given her something for the pain and she drifted in and out. She didn't seem to know him at first.

He wasn't leaving her. If he'd listened instead of giving her hell, she wouldn't be here. He knew it. The knowledge hurt him. She could have died. She still might. He didn't share that terror with Rory, who was sleeping peacefully down the hall, thinking that his sister was fine.

Cash didn't sleep at all. It wasn't until dawn that her green eyes opened and became alert. She winced and choked, trying to breathe. It hurt. She put her hand to her bruised rib cage and groaned.

“Easy,” Cash said gently. “Lie still. What do you want?”

She looked up into worried dark eyes. She was dreaming. She smiled faintly, murmured, “So I've died,” and went back to sleep.

He pushed the button for the nurse. She came quickly, listened to Cash's update, and smiled as she went to call the doctor for further orders.

“It's not a dream,” Cash whispered at her forehead, kissing it fervently. “I'm here, and you're alive. Thank God. Thank God!”

She thought she heard Cash's deep voice. He sounded frightened. But he hated her. He wouldn't be here. Someone had hit her, so hard, so many times. She remembered finally just crying for mercy, pleading for her life. She couldn't fight. There was no use in it. She wanted Cash, but he hated her. She'd lost their child. He'd never forgive her. She was only dreaming again.

Tears slid out from under her closed eyelids.

“Hates me,” she choked. “He hates me!”

“No!” he said hoarsely. “He doesn't!”

Her head moved restlessly on the pillow. “Leave me be,” she managed in a wispy, weak tone. “It doesn't matter what happens to me.”

“Yes, it does!”

He sounded desperate. She was certainly dreaming now. He was pleading with her. He wanted her. He was sorry. She had to forgive him. She had to live!

Wait… She must be hallucinating. He'd told her to go to hell. And she had. There was no better description for what had happened to her in that warehouse, in the darkness. She was broken and bruised and cut to pieces, and the future seemed so bleak. Work wasn't enough anymore. Even Rory wasn't enough. She was tired of the struggle. She had nothing but pain to look forward to. She started crying, groaning again when it hurt her lung. Her voice rose just as the nurse came back in quickly.

Cash was shuttled out of the room protesting and cursing for everything he was worth. It sounded like she had lost the will to live. She was trying to give up and die. He couldn't let her go!

“She's going to be all right,” the nurse assured him crisply. “You sit down and let us take care of her. She's not going to die. She's not! You believe that.”

The woman was a veteran of many traumas. She looked into the man's dark, tortured eyes and saw more than he meant her to.

“She's not going to give up,” the nurse told him quietly. “I won't let her. I promise. You'll have time to make it up to her.” She let go of his hand and smiled at him. “You should try to sleep. She's going to be fine. We won't let her slip away. All right?”

He began to relax, just a little. He was so damned tired. He was so scared… “All right,” he said after a minute.

She led him to the waiting room and pushed him down into a chair. “I'll come for you, when she's in a room and settled.”

“You're moving her out of ICU?” he asked, dazed.

“Of course,” she replied with a grin. “We don't keep recovering patients there!”

She turned and left him, just in time to miss the wetness stinging his eyes. She would live. Even if she hated him, she would live. He closed his eyes and leaned back. Seconds later, he was sound asleep.

T
HE NEXT THING
C
ASH KNEW
, Rory was shaking him.

“Come on, Cash, she's awake! She's goofy, because they're giving her stuff for the pain, but she's got her eyes open. Gosh, she looks awful!”

Cash's dark eyes slid open. He blinked as his gaze centered on the smiling boy. “She's awake?” he parroted.

Rory nodded. “I only just woke up. It's almost eleven in the morning. Come on.”

Cash got to his feet slowly, wincing as he stood up. “I'm getting too old for that kind of work.”

Rory studied the tall man quietly. “You went in and got her, didn't you?”

Cash nodded. “I called in a marker. One of my bud dies came along, but you don't know that,” he added firmly.

Rory nodded. “Thanks.”

Cash averted his eyes from the gratitude. He still felt
responsible for what had happened to Tippy. He dreaded facing her.

But he walked into the room with Rory, prepared for anything.

 

T
IPPY WAS BARELY CONSCIOUS
. Her face hurt. Her body hurt. She was aware of lacerations that seemed to cover most of her. There was a tube in her arm. She was get ting oxygen through tubes in her nose. Her ribs hurt. But when she saw Cash and Rory standing beside the bed, she wasn't certain she was really seeing them. She'd been having a dream. Cash was kissing her and whispering that she had to hold on. She had to live. She knew it had been a dream, because Cash hated her.

Her mind went back to her last terrible memory, of Sam Stanton standing over her with a bottle, swearing at the top of his lungs that she'd double-crossed him and she wouldn't live to brag about it. She could still feel the impact of the bottle on her back and shoulders, on her rib cage, where it felt bruised. She'd put up her hands to shield her face as he blindly swung it at her. Something had hit her in the head and she started to fall just as Sam threw the bottle and it shattered on the concrete floor. Her face felt swollen and painful and tight, but the cuts didn't feel very deep. Perhaps she'd fallen in the broken glass, and that was how her face got cut. Now she seemed to be alive, but she could hardly get even a shallow breath of air. She knew Rory and Cash were there, but she could barely hear them.

Cash paused by the bed and caught his breath audibly at what he saw. Her poor face had cuts that had been cleaned up and medicated. There were no stitches in them. He knew from his own experience that cuts weren't sutured unless they were dangerous cuts. He thanked God that hers were superficial. They would take months to heal completely, but they were
obviously shallow and unlikely to leave permanent scars. Her lung was the biggest danger. If it hemorrhaged, she could die.

There were cuts on one of her arms, the one the IV wasn't in. That one did have stitches. He knew that she'd had concussion from the way the medics had raised her head instead of lowering it when they arrived on the scene. But she was still breathing, and she could get immediate help if she needed it. Thank God.

Rory walked right to the bed and held his sister's hand without flinching. “You're going to be fine, sis. Just fine.”

“Sure I am,” she said. Her voice was groggy from drugs. “My head hurts so much!” she moaned. “I've been sick twice already. And my side hurts…”

She lifted her eyes and looked past him at Cash. She didn't react at all. She just looked at him.

“Do you need anything?” he asked quietly.

She took a shaky breath and lowered her eyes to her hands. “I need you to take Rory back to the apartment and have him bring my insurance card here, if you don't mind,” she said grimly. “The doctor who admitted me just got through doing rounds. He says I've got badly bruised ribs and mild concussion. I have to stay in the hospital for at least three days, to make sure I don't develop pneumonia from the ribs—they've got me on antibiotics just in case. The concussion was mild, and the CAT scan didn't show any damage—at least not any thing that worried them. The cuts weren't very deep, thank goodness. He thinks they'll heal perfectly with out any plastic surgery—but it will take several months for them to heal completely. After that, they'll see if they think I need it.”

Cash's face was like rock. “Why did Stanton do this to you?” he asked.

She moved and grimaced as the movement hurt her ribs. It
was hard to breathe. Hard to talk, too. “He was angry because he couldn't get in touch with anybody who was willing to pay ransom for me,” she said heavily. “He said he'd make sure I never worked again, but he was too high to realize that he wasn't hitting hard enough to kill. He slammed the bottle down on the warehouse floor just before I fell—I expect he was planning to cut me some more with the bottle neck.”

“He was standing over you with it,” Cash recalled. “But I think falling into broken glass is what gave you those cuts.”

She laughed coldly. “They won't heal overnight, regardless of how I got them. I won't be working for a few months. Joel Harper may have to replace me in the film.”

She didn't add that she was going to be destitute if that happened.

“All you need to worry about is getting through this,” Cash told her quietly. “I'll take care of everything else, including Rory.”

“Thanks,” she said tautly.

“I know you hate having to depend on anyone,” Cash replied. “So would I, in your place. But you'll have enough to do, just letting the damage heal.”

“Now I know what they mean by ‘cut and paste,'” she murmured.

“What else do you need from the apartment?” Cash asked.

“Besides my insurance card? My gowns and a robe, some underclothes and my bedroom shoes,” she said. “Rory will know which ones. Some loose change for the snack machine, and something to read.”

She still wasn't looking at him. He moved closer to the bed, noticing how she tensed at his approach.

“Rory, could you give us a minute?” he asked the boy.

But before Rory could answer him, Tippy's eyes went to
Cash's face. There was no emotion in them. “There's no need for him to leave,” she said. “You and I have nothing to say to each other, Cash. Nothing at all.”

He let out a harsh breath.

“If you'll just bring my things, I'll be grateful,” she said. “Rory, the policeman who was in here said that one of the men got away. You can't possibly stay here in the hospital with me. And you can't stay at the apartment, or with Don,” she added when he started to argue, “with out putting his family in jeopardy. I'm sorry you'll miss the rest of spring break, but you really need to go back to school, so the commandant can keep you safe. Cash, would you talk to the commandant and explain what's going on?”

“Of course,” he said. He turned to Rory. “She's right. You're safe in Maryland. You won't be here.”

Rory grimaced. “I don't want to go,” he said.

She caught his hand and held it tight. “I know. All we have is each other,” she managed, and she smiled. “But I'm going to be all right. I promise, I won't give up. Okay?”

He swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“Summer isn't so far away,” she reminded him with a weak smile. Her face, once so beautiful, was a mass of cuts. “We'll do something special for vacation this year.”

“We could go to the Bahamas,” he suggested.

She nodded. “We'll see. Go with Cash and get my stuff. You can pack yours at the same time. You'll need to phone the airport and get a ticket. My credit card was maxed out but I'll write a check to Cash to reimburse you.”

“I'll take care of all that,” Cash told her. “You don't need to pay me back.”

She wanted to argue, but she couldn't. She was momentarily helpless. She grimaced as she moved.

“What's wrong?” Cash asked perceptively.

“Bruised ribs,” she said huskily. “It still hurts when I move.”

Cash's eyes were blazing. He was sorry he hadn't aimed to kill the man instead of just shooting him in the leg.

“Go on,” Tippy said, closing her eyes. “I'm going to try to sleep for a little while. Thanks, Cash,” she added quietly.

He felt two inches high. It hurt him to look at her. If he hadn't hung up on her…

“Come on,” Rory said, tugging Cash's hand.

He gave in to the boy's persuasion and followed him out of the room. He didn't look back. It hurt too much.

 

T
IPPY'S APARTMENT WAS A MESS
. The federal agents had obviously looked around for any hint of an intruder's presence. Cash and Rory spent quite a while replacing and repacking her things. While they were about it, they packed Rory.

“I know you don't want to go,” Cash said quietly. “But I can't take care of you and Tippy at the same time.”

Rory was quiet. “She won't let you take care of her,” he commented as he put a shirt in his suitcase.

“She's going to have to. There isn't anyone else,” he said matter-of-factly. “I'll get her through the next few days. Then I'm taking her home to Texas with me.”

Rory glanced at him. “She won't go.”

He sighed. “Yes, she will. I know she hates me. I don't blame her. But she's got nowhere else to go. She can't stay by herself.”

“You're a chief of police,” Rory reminded him. “If she stays with you…”

“I've already thought about that,” Cash interrupted. “I'm going to have a nurse stay with her day and night while she's there, so there won't be any gossip.”

Rory slowly packed another shirt.

“Look, as soon as school's out, you can come out, too,” he said. “You can stay with me, too.”

Rory looked up at him. “I could?” he asked huskily.

Cash smiled. “You'll have to do your share of the housework, though,” he added. “Tippy won't be able to do anything strenuous for at least six weeks, which means I'll be doing all of it until you show up. I hate vacuum cleaners. I'm on my third one this month.”

Rory's eyes widened. “Why?”

Cash looked uncomfortable. “The hoses get tangled. The cords get caught under the hose. They're like elephants. You have to drag them around by the trunk.”

Rory laughed. It was the first time since the ordeal with the kidnappers had begun.

“You can laugh now,” Cash said. “Wait until you're tangled up in ten feet of hose and the cord wraps around your ankles and trips you. That's why the last one got retired suddenly.” His eyes narrowed. “I should have shot the damned thing, instead of just stomping on it.”

“I like vacuum cleaners,” Rory said. “I don't mind vacuuming.”

“Great. Consider that your part of the housework.”

“I can cook, too,” Rory said surprisingly. “I'm really good at barbecue. I make my own sauce.”

Cash smiled at the boy. “I'll let you try it out on me.”

Rory smiled back. “Thanks, Cash. For everything.”

Cash sat down on the bed and folded his hands between his knees. “You're no kid, Rory,” he said sol emnly. “You're mature for your age, so I can tell you this. I made a terrible mistake with Tippy. I wasn't ready for a long-term relationship, but I gave in to temptation without thinking things through. I guess you know al ready that it was my child she lost.”

Rory nodded. “She really wanted it.”

Cash swallowed hard. He couldn't meet the boy's eyes. “I would have wanted it, too, if I'd known.”

“She said you'd told her there was no future for both of you,” Rory said. “She said she'd keep the baby and raise it, just the same. She was buying baby clothes and stuff when she fell on the job.” He winced. “She just went all quiet and started drinking really hard after ward. It was in all the papers, too. That just made it worse.” He looked up. “You can't let her drink. Our doctor said both of us have a tendency to become alcoholics on account of our mother. She doesn't need to be drinking.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Cash said. “I know about the dangers of alcohol. I won't let her get on that path.”

Rory drew in a long breath. “Thanks. It was worrying me.”

“She's going to be all right. I promise.”

Rory nodded. “Okay. You'll call me once in a while and tell me how she's doing?”

“I'll phone you every day. And she'll call you, too.”

“The recuperation's going to be bad, isn't it?” the boy asked.

“Yes,” Cash replied. “But she's got grit. She'll get over this and bounce back.”

“Somebody needs to try to call Joel Harper,” Rory said.

“I'll track him down,” Cash promised. “Everything's going to be all right.”

Rory turned away as tears stung his eyes. “It's been a hard couple of days,” he said gruffly.

Cash stood up and put both hands on the boy's shoulders. “Life is like an obstacle course,” he said. “You get through the challenges and you get a reward, every time.”

Rory turned around, surprised. “That's what Tippy al ways says.”

Cash smiled. “We're both right. You'll see.” He thought about hugging the boy, to comfort him. But he wasn't used to touching people. He had the impression that Rory wasn't used to it, either. Clearing his throat abruptly, he turned back to the suitcase. “Now let's get packing.”

Rory was grateful that the older man hadn't offered him comfort. He was able to control the tears. He forced a grin. “You bet!”

 

T
IPPY WAS STILL GROGGY
that evening, but her mind had started to work again. The drugs were keeping the pain down, and they'd given her something for nausea. She wasn't thinking clearly, but she was better than she'd been earlier in the day.

It was torture to see Cash in her room. She remembered too well his harsh words, his refusal to listen to her. She remembered her terror when she knew that Rory was missing. She could still hear Sam's voice on the phone as he made his final ransom demand, and Tippy offered to trade herself for the boy. Once the kidnappers let Rory go and they realized they weren't going to get any ransom, she recalled the pain and terror when Sam turned to her menacingly and said she'd pay now…