Seduced by Sunday (19 page)

She nodded, moved closer to talk to him. “Do you ever leave the island?”

Not often, but he did have people here he could depend on to watch over things in his absence.

“Occasionally.”

Between Val, Jim, Michael, and Ryder, Meg was having a hard time sitting down. Gabi was dancing just as much and from the look in her eyes, having a great time doing it.

The lack of alcohol the night before made the bourbon Meg had been drinking go straight to her head. She excused herself to the ladies’ room between dances. It was when she took a wrong turn and ended up down a service hall that Meg realized she needed to switch to Coke. She rounded two corners before realizing she wasn’t walking toward the music, but away from it.

“Whoa. Steady there.”

Meg wasn’t sure what startled her more. The man stopping her in her path, or his clothing.

“I got turned around.”

It was hard to see his features under the hoodie.

Why was he wearing a hoodie? It wasn’t cold.

He pointed a finger at her. “You’re the one kissing everyone.”

“Excuse me?”

The man, who was taller than she was and had a good fifty pounds on her, moved closer.

Meg backed away.

“You shouldn’t be back here.” His sour breath brushed against her, his tongue licked his lips.

Funny how panic sobered you. The stranger was too close, too shadowed to describe, and much too quiet for Meg’s comfort.

The corridor to the left was empty, so was the one to the right. For the life of her she couldn’t remember which way she’d come from.

She felt her lungs constrict.

The stranger moved a half foot closer. Any more and she’d scream.

He placed a hand on the wall behind her, pinning her in on one side. “Back off, Margaret.”

Isn’t that my line?

“Best you leave before you get hurt.”

The man placed a finger to the shadow of his hoodie and shushed her. Then he was gone.

There were times in your life when you were given a free pass. Like a run through a red light you simply didn’t see and no one smashed into you . . . or a poke into an electronic device that wasn’t unplugged, yet you’re still standing with straight hair to tell about it.

This was one of those moments.

And Meg knew it.

Her lungs, however, didn’t.

And her inhaler was in her purse, sitting on the table.

She took a few steps and found the hall spinning. Instead of fighting it, she slid down the wall and lowered her head.

Slow, deep breaths in, slower breaths out.

“Gabi?” Val motioned his sister to the table. “Margaret’s been gone for some time. Can you check on her?”

Though his sister’s smile was brilliant, he couldn’t remember seeing her eyes so glossed over.

“Meg went to the bathroom without me?”

Val didn’t want to tell his sister that it wouldn’t be hard with all the attention she was drawing to herself on the dance floor. “Some time ago,
tesoro
.”

Gabi waved him off and headed toward the ladies’ room. When his sister returned without Margaret, the itch inside Val’s left eye started to twitch.

Michael and Ryder were talking to some of the hotel guests at a stand-up table.

“Stay here,” he instructed his intoxicated sister.

Val tapped Michael on the shoulder. “Would Margaret return to the villa alone?”

Michael looked over Val’s head. “No. Not without saying something.”

“What’s going on?” Ryder asked.

“Margaret’s missing.”

“Seriously?” Ryder’s smile fell.

Michael nodded toward the outside. “You check outside,” he told Ryder.

“I’ll start in the back.” Val headed toward the ladies’ room, felt Michael close on his heels.

The hall to the restrooms didn’t house a petite blonde . . . or at least not the one he was searching for.

He pushed back out into the fray, looked over the heads of the
people in the club. He and Michael split up and returned back to the bathroom less than five minutes later.

“She’s not in the club,” Michael said.

Val stepped back into the hall with the bathrooms, noticed the service door, and walked through it.

“She wouldn’t have come this way.”

“She’s been drinking.” Val thought of his sister, the gloss in her eyes. “Margaret!” he yelled. He rounded the corner to the back of the restaurant, knew the corridor well, and started to turn back.

Michael stopped him with a firm hand to the chest.

A soft thump hit a wall, repeatedly.

Both of them ran.

Val felt part of him die when he saw Meg slumped over herself, hitting the wall with a weak hand.

“Cara!”

“Jesus, Meg.”

They fell on her in unison.

Val placed a hand on her face, made her focus.

“Purse.”

What?
“What happened?”

“Inhaler. Purse.”

It took Val a moment to process her words. It took Michael half that time. The other man ran from the hall, back the way they came.

Val panicked. Knew he was even when he was doing so. His cell phone was out of his pocket in a nanosecond.

“Good evening, Mr. Masini.”

“I need the nurse in the corridor between the lounge and the restaurant . . . now.”

“Right away, Mr. Masini.”

“Call an air ambulance.”

Margaret shook her head.

He didn’t listen.

“Right away, Mr. Masini.”

He dropped the phone to her side, heard how little air was moving inside her lungs.

Michael burst through the door, her purse in his hand. Ryder, Gabi, and several employees trailed behind.

Michael fished out her medicine, shook it, and placed it to her lips. “Deep breath.”

She sucked in a pathetic breath and Michael repeated the process.

“What happened?” Gabi cried behind them.

“Someone call an ambulance.”

Val focused on Margaret. Her eyes found his as she sucked in another shot of the inhaler.

He didn’t realize he was squeezing her hand until she squeezed it back.

“I’m here,
cara
. You’re going to be OK.”

“You were lucky, Miss Rosenthal.”

She was still wheezing, her lungs not completely right but so much better than when they’d landed at Miami General.

When the second hit of the inhaler didn’t do squat, she knew she was in trouble.

Val kept talking. Helped her take slow breaths and control the panic that threatened.

She couldn’t remember it ever being this bad.

“When was the last time you saw a pulmonologist?” Doctor Stick Up His Ass asked.

“My general sees me every year.”

“You need a lung doctor. You should know that.”

She did, but had ignored the need every year she visited her general. The meds she was on controlled her asthma well enough. At least until today.

“Know anyone in LA?”

The ER doctor shook his head. “I have a friend, Dr. Eddy. I’ll call him and ask if he knows of anyone close by.”

“Thanks.”

“In the meantime, there are much better drugs out there.” He told her what he was prescribing before she left his hospital. There was a daily pill, a daily inhaler, and a different rescue inhaler she’d not used before. Seemed the meds she’d taken from early high school were obsolete.

Who knew?

The doctor started to leave the room. “Doctor?”

“Yes?”

She sighed, adjusted the tube of oxygen that sat inside her nose. “Thanks.”

He pointed directly at her. “Thank me by not coming back. Do you know how many young women like you die every year from an asthma attack by ignoring their symptoms?”

She shook her head.

“Don’t be one of them.” He glanced at the monitor above her. “You’re going to be here for a while, Miss Rosenthal. Might as well try and get some sleep.”

She closed her eyes and felt her pulse beating too fast, even her breaths were too short. But at least they worked. Good God, she knew what a fish out of water felt like.

“Miss Rosenthal?” The nurse woke her. How was it possible she’d fallen asleep?

“Yes?”

“There are some very anxious people outside who want to know you’re all right.”

Meg pushed herself up on the gurney. “Bring them in.”

“All of them?”

“Better all together than one at a time.”

The nurse smiled and opened the door.

Michael entered the room first, his smile forced. “I knew you liked attention, Meg . . . but this is extreme.”

Ryder smacked him, kissed her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

Val stood behind his sister and Mrs. Masini. The older woman’s painful expression stuck somewhere inside of her.

“You gave us quite a scare,” Gabi said from the foot of the bed.

“Sorry.”

“What happened? How did you get back there?”

“Took a wrong turn.” Her gaze met Val’s, his eyes narrowed as if he was searching her words for the truth.

Michael sat on the edge of the bed. “Was the dancing too much?”

That and she had the shit scared out of her. The anxious faces, Mrs. Masini’s in particular, kept her from blurting out the encounter with the hooded man. “M-must have been. I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Meg,” Mrs. Masini said.

Meg glanced at the hospital clock with a frown. “It’s after two in the morning. You should go back, get some sleep.”

Michael started to shake his head.

“Take Mrs. Masini and Gabi back with you. Make sure they get home OK.”

“We can wait for you,” Gabi said.

“They want me to have another treatment, make sure I don’t have a relapse. It might be a while.”

“You can’t rest with all of us here, can you?” Mrs. Masini offered the best reason for them to leave. The older woman walked forward and patted Meg’s hand.

The jittery reaction to the medication made Meg’s hand shake terribly.

“Valentino will stay with you, bring you back when you’re ready,” Mrs. Masini told her.

Val pushed away from the wall. “I’d have it no other way, Mama.”

Michael kissed the back of her hand. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll be back by breakfast.” She took another look at the clock. “Maybe lunch.”

She accepted hugs and kisses before they all fled the small room.

Val pulled a chair alongside the gurney and took her hand. “What upset you,
cara
?”

His soft, pleading gaze turned hard with her first words. “There was a man . . .”

Chapter Sixteen