Taking Jana (Paradise South #2) (4 page)

When she reached her release, her frenetic bucking rippled through her naked body. Then she folded over and kneeled back, only her face still looking up at Antonio. A glow came over her; a look of deep satisfaction spread across her heavily
made-up
face. It told him, clear as the moonlight reflected in the shining black enamel of the vehicle, that if he wouldn’t indulge her, if he wouldn’t give her what she wanted, then she would give it to herself, and he could damn well clean up her mess afterward.

But he met her look with a string of calm and calculated words. “If you’re done now.” He took another step back and swept his hand out to show her the way.

In a rage, she gave a performance fit for a spoiled princess. She pulled her dress up and over her bosom, snatched up her purse from the seat next to her, and stepped out.

“You have no clue—no fucking idea!—of what you’re saying no to. I’ll see you Saturday night. Ten PM sharp!” Then her harshness turned to
fucked-up
flirty, as she brushed his cheek with her
still-moistened
index finger and grabbed his chauffeur cap with her other hand. Popping it on her head with an air of flippant superiority, she winked at him and walked away.

He sighed over the loss of his cap, but relief filled his chest. “Ms. Carlson, you won’t see me Saturday night. Or any other.” He let silence fill the rest of his meaning. Nothing more was needed. He was done.

But the woman continued into the building, the doorman almost scared to look at the horrid creature. “Ten PM!” she shouted without looking back, giving only a dismissive wave over her shoulder.

Moving to close the car door, he noticed next to her puddle of pleasure another gift she’d left him. Her used black thong panties acting as a rubber band around a large wad of green bills, there just to mock him. She’d usually stuff and hide her discarded lace undergarments in his limo. This was the first he’d seen a more functional purpose for the nasty things.

He took the item in his right hand and tossed it to the doorman who caught it with sharp,
one-handed
reflexes above his shoulder.

“Keep it,” Antonio called. “It’s all yours.”

He didn’t need that woman’s filthy money. He’d find another way. Any other way.

CHAPTER 3

T
he ringing stopped
when a young child answered. “Dad! It’s some lady named Jan or something!” A quick mental flash of Ashley, the child she had left at the ER, came and went, and a dull ache stayed in its stead.

Then a woman’s voice replaced the girl’s on the phone. “Jana?”

“Alexa. Hello.” A heavy silence filled the connection.

“Um…so Dane is in the middle of something b—”

“It’s fine, when is he getting out here?”

Jana’s
sister-in
-law cleared her throat. “He…um…your mom is with your father right now. Have you spoken to her? If you haven’t, she’ll answer the hospital room phone, room 403. She’s had trouble with her cell in the hosp—”

“I already spoke to her, Alexa. When will Dane be here?”

“Um, I’m, uh…not sure his schedule, he’ll have to text or call you.” Thicker silence.

“Thanks, Alexa, have him do that. Just…you have him do that.” Her shaking fingertip pressed ‘end.’

The baby across from Jana stayed asleep during the very short call. She guessed she was glad Alexa had answered and not Dane, for the baby’s sake, at least.

But really, would she have had the balls to tell him what a fucker he was, to put his selfish ass in its place? She’d humped poles and grinded laps for almost a decade, but still she turned into a sheepish mess when it came to her father or brother. It was pathetic. Even without speaking to Dane in years, he had a power over her. She still cared about what he thought. But why?

She’d only been eighteen when he’d disowned her. So much for a big brother’s protective nature. Still in high school, having never kissed a boy, let alone gotten undressed for one. It didn’t matter. When Dane had found out through friends who’d ventured to the Newark clubs that she was dancing, he swore her off.

“A whore. My sister is a whore,” he’d told her. Those words echoed in her head. But so did his
ever-so
-selfless promise to keep her “career” a secret from their parents. “For Mom and Dad’s sake, for their pride, and for the health of their hearts,” her brother had said. That was Dane, noble, honorable. And where was Dane now that their father’s heart was actually sick and failing?

That righteous cocksucker. And how could Alexa be so damn blind?

Whatever. Nobody deserved to feel the
blood-boiling
hate that streamed through Jana’s veins, and the more she thought about it, the higher her blood pressure got. And Dane just wasn’t worth it.

She looked at the tiny baby in the mother’s arms. A smile from the mother calmed Jana, lessening the disdain overtaking her, leaving her with the smallest hint of peace.

And when she looked to the front, the Fort Lee Bus Station was in view.

*

He was as white as the hospital sheets, the sterile walls, and the reflective floor tiles. Jana had seen her father
fire-red
angry. And she’d seen him golden proud, too—of his son or of his restaurant or of his board position on the Business Community’s Charity Club. But Jana had never seen Chang Park so drained of color as he was now.

And the raw, flaming incision running up the middle of his chest made her entire body shiver.

Jana’s eyes welled. She glanced swiftly from side to side as she wiped them dry to be sure she wasn’t caught.
Be strong, for Christ’s sakes. Jana, be
strong.

Her mother was asleep in the corner, her feet dangling inches above the floor in a chair that looked as comfortable as a bus stop bench.

And her father…how long had he been back from surgery? Jana picked up the chart at the end of the bed. Quadruple bypass, 17:00, only five hours ago. He probably hadn’t been conscious yet. She read on. “My God.” Her words escaped in a hush, the exhale of her prior gasp.

How had he made it all these years? Four coronary arteries had each been hovering at eighty percent blockage. She felt lightheaded and dizzy. She crumbled into the nearest chair which rolled along the smooth tile floor.

It hit the bed lightly.

Her father stirred. She spun the seat and then rolled the rest of the way to be face to face with her dad at the head of the bed. She put her hand on his.

“Dad, I got here as soon as I could, as soon as I found out.”

“Yes,
Ja-Na
. I know,” he whispered, his chapped lips formed a straight line, and with a stoic nod and a weak blink of his eyes he said, “You’re at your job’s mercy. It’s okay…I’m sure you tried.”

Amazing. Fucking unbelievable. No confusion or disorientation after the surgery, no questions concerning his physical state, fresh with transplanted arteries in his damn chest, but so ingrained in him was his dogma.

After flinching from what she should have expected from the old
hard-ass
, whom she couldn’t help but love and try to please even still, Jana looked away from her father to regain her composure. She saw her mother’s eyes were open then. And, as usual, her mother kept silent.

Jana returned her attention to her father, but he had already dozed off again.

Her mother feigned a smile, but her eyes were tired and maybe a bit helpless. She said in Korean, “He’s been in and out like that for the last hour.” Jin slowly stood up from the chair hidden in the corner of the icy hospital room and went to Jana.

Each of Jin’s ashen hands held Jana’s shoulders lightly while she placed a light kiss on her cheek. She whispered, “I tried so hard to reach you. And so did Dae Han, but you are here now, at least.”

Yes, of course. The dutiful son tried. And her mother’s use of her brother’s Korean name almost made her laugh out loud. ‘Greatness and Devotion.’ What a complete crock of shit.

“Dane, Ma. He goes by Dane now. Remember, he tossed his Korean name to the curb like he did his family.” She couldn’t help herself. But she stopped there, her mother’s eyes gauging Jana with an evil glower.

“
Ja-Na
, or
Jana
? Why you so hard on your brother when you do same with your Korean name? Not very nice.”

Not…nice?
Her heart pounded hot anger through her veins. And like she was going to correct everyone she met as to the correct pronunciation of her name?
Jesus
. “
Wrong
syll-A
-ble, buddy.
” No. But she upheld the most important aspects of her Asian culture––as a dutiful daughter always putting family first. And…where the hell was
Dane
?

It didn’t matter. She didn’t want to wake her father by ranting about all the hypocritical family crap slung at her, including how truly
not nice
her brother was to her, to her parents, so she stood up and led her mother out of the room.

The monitors’ incessant noises, albeit familiar and usually even comforting to her, were far too disconcerting anyway being all wired up to her wilted, weakened, ghost of a father. She needed to tell her mother how serious things were with her dad. His diseased heart was the only important matter now, the Parks’ highest priority.

*

In the gleaming white hallway outside the hospital room, her mother smiled like a porcelain doll at each nurse that walked past. God, her mother was clueless.

And it hit her. Jana could spell it all out for her mom, but her mother wouldn’t have a fighting chance in hell of doing anything about her father’s health. Knowing her father, and…well, knowing her mother, for that matter.
Dad doing what mom says? Yeah, right!

God, between the assertive nature of Jana’s maternal Korean grandmother and the Latino fire in Jana’s maternal grandfather, she couldn’t quite understand how Jin Park possessed so little spark of her own, no spark at all, actually. She played only the dutiful woman, the cooking, feeding, abiding woman. Maybe it was just the power of Jana’s father and the countless years of losing the fight. But come to think of it, Jana hadn’t ever heard her mother argue with her father, not even after bedtime as a child when sneaking from her room to watch more TV from the stairwell.

Arguments with Chang Park just didn’t happen.

“Dad’s heart, his health, is really poor, Ma. It’s bad. He not only nearly died today, but seeing the surgery details, he’s still in real danger. He’ll have to drastically change his life—a new diet, no more cigarettes, no more stress, and lots more rest. That means no more restaurant, Mom. He’s gotta be done with it.”

“You so melodramatic,
Ja-Na
,” her mother said.

Melodramatic?
How could the woman be in such denial? God, how would her mother cope, or function at all even, without her father if he died? Because he still could die. The man was in no way out of the danger zone.

Jana wished she had a damn sibling who gave a shit, to be there to help her burn up the
comfy-cozy
insanity blanket her parents wrapped themselves in.

“Good evening, ladies. I’m Dr. Andrew Brighton.”

Standing in front of Jana and Jin was a
baby-faced
cardiologist, so said the tag on his white coat. He looked not more than
twenty-three
. With his kind, bright
blue-gray
eyes through
thick-rimmed
glasses, he held out his hand in introduction. This one was far too young to have had more than two years, three tops, in the unit, but Jana was as
open-minded
as they came, so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, her father had made it out of surgery okay.

“Jana, and this is my mother, Jin Park.” She gave him a firm shake and made sure to include a warm smile. The man in front of her might very well be her only shot in bringing her parents down to reality.

“Sorry, but…can I take that in with me?” He smiled, gesturing to her father’s medical chart in Jana’s tight grasp.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She looked down at the chart and their awkward handshake lock. “I’m a BRN at MMU Hospital, Head Trauma Team. Just explaining to my mother how serious this all is.”

“Ah, good. Good to have a family member who speaks the language. Your father could really use knowledgeable support by his side.” He smiled at her, almost respectfully.

She didn’t expect it, not of a resident, a young one at that. In her experience, they always had something to prove, and to speak to a nurse without condescension, she almost wondered what was wrong with him. There had to be an agenda. In fact, with people in general, wasn’t there always? And in her experience, men especially always had some ulterior motive.

During her mental analysis of Dr. Brighton, she felt a nudge from her mother, not a subtle one either. She could feel her mother’s vibe, her urgency, that a young doctor with no wedding ring was present. The only communication she ever got from her mother beyond “You hungry?” was “You dating?” But the nudge wouldn’t do. Jin liked to go the extra mile when it had to do with a potential match.

“My daughter is single, all alone in Manhattan if you can believe it!”

For Christ’s sakes, Ma.
Jana could only smile apologetically to the doctor.

He smiled back and went to the door. “Very good. Well, again, it’s nice to officially meet you, single Jana”—he winked—“and Mrs. Park. Shall we check on the patient?”

Her mother followed the doctor close behind and Jana next, trying to get her questions in before her father woke up, or she’d have no shot. “So a quadruple bypass with monitoring. Recovery time is what, five days? Ten?” Jana asked from behind her hovering mother.

“The surgery went well, so probably three days in the ICU, but then yes, five to ten more upstairs once he’s in the clear. And then many weeks of solid bed rest at home. Six at least.”

“And of course, the smoking must stop,” Jana said with a volume unconsciously louder than her hallway whisper.

Chang Park’s eyes opened.

Yes, she sure as hell wanted her parents to be called out in front of the young Dr. B. A male, a doctor, her ticket to getting through to them. The necessary piece.

“Hello, Mr. Park. I’m your cardiologist, Dr. Brighton. You probably feel—”

“Like hell,” he grumbled. “And I need my smokes.” He coughed then scowled.

“You’ll feel soreness and pain, sir, for a—”

“I said I need my cigarettes. Jin? My smokes.”

“Daddy, you came out of surgery. You’ve got to listen to Dr. Brighton.”

Her father respected professional men. A sleazy lawyer, a dirty cop, a crooked stock broker–they’d still stand a better chance than a woman–even his loving daughter, a medical professional–when it came to advice meeting the ears of Chang Park. So, Dr. B., even with his
too-youthful
glow, would do. Well, he’d have to. Although, he’d become a fast enemy by denying her father his cancer sticks for sure. God, none of this would be easy.

Chang squinted at them all, then narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “My cigarettes. Help me up, Jin.”

“Dad. You can’t—” she started, but a light touch to her elbow by Dr. Brighton paused her wasted words.

“Mr. Park, it’s vital that a complete lifestyle change is enforced. No smoking, no stress. A drastic change in diet. Or you won’t live long at all. Not beyond a week or so, sir.”

“And the restaurant has got to go, Dad,” Jana blurted, unable to control herself. “It’s a very large source of stress for my father. For both my parents.”

“It isn’t stressful; it’s relaxing.” Her father got his words out slowly, but they were laced with venom, no doubt.

“Either way, Mr. Park, it will be at least six weeks before you’re relaxing anywhere other than in a bed,” Dr. B. stated warmly.

“Dad, you can’t be at the restaurant anymore. Period. You just can’t,” Jana asserted.

He took a deep, wheezing breath. “You and your mother will cover for a few weeks until I am better.”

A surge shot up her spine. With that same familiar loss of air in her atmosphere as she had every time her father said anything
non-negotiable
. She was
twenty-seven
years old for God’s sake. She had a career, despite Chang Park’s definition. “Dad, of course, Mom and I will help at the restaurant. We’ll find a real manager while a business broker can list it for sale and—”