Prayers he’d thought he’d forgotten had reverberated through Sax’s mind as he’d floored the Camaro all the way from Bon Temps to Faith Blanchard’s house. Back during those illegal races on the beach, the beast had been clocked at zero-to-sixty in four seconds, and the quarter-mile drag distance at thirteen-point-eight seconds. He wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that he’d beaten that record by the time he pulled up in front of the house with a screech of brakes.
“Are you all right?” They hadn’t strapped her onto the gurney yet, but she was sitting on the floor of the living room.
Sax had thought he couldn’t feel more panicky. He’d thought wrong. His already unsteady heart plummeted to his feet when he saw the front of her torn shirt stained with blood.
He shoved past the medical workers and the cop who didn’t look old enough to drive that cruiser parked in the driveway and crouched down in front of her.
“I’m fine. . . . Well, okay, maybe not exactly fine,” she admitted when he lifted a brow. “But as I keep telling these guys, I don’t need to go to the damn hospital.”
He liked that she had her temper up. It showed that although she looked like hell, her injuries weren’t all that serious. Having watched SEAL team medic Lucas Chaffee triage guys on battlefields, Sax figured she would’ve earned the lesser green tag for “walking wounded.” Though he did notice that she’d flinched when nodding toward the medical crew.
“Where’s Trey?” she asked. Impossibly, she went even whiter beneath the ugly bruises as she glanced out the window toward the car. What, did she actually think he’d bring her kid along with him to something like this?
“Cole took him over to my folks’ house.”
“You didn’t say anything about this, did you?”
“First of all, I wouldn’t have known what to say, since I still don’t know what happened. And of course I wouldn’t. I just told him I had to run an errand.”
Her breath hitched. “Thanks.” Relief flooded into her remarkable amber eyes. She was going to have one hell of a shiner tomorrow.
“How did you know to come?”
“John called me from the hospital. After he called all these guys.”
“My mother must’ve been thrilled about that.”
“It was her idea.”
“Okay,” Kara said. “I’d better run by St. Andrews and drop some bucks in the poor box, because obviously a miracle has just occurred.”
Along with her flash of temper, Sax found the dry humor encouraging.
“There’ll be time for that later.” He wanted to touch her. Not sexually. But to soothe. He had a strong urge to stroke her hair, her face, to take her into his arms. But he didn’t dare for fear of hurting her more. “After we spring you from the hospital.”
“Not you, too?” She folded her arms across the front of her torn khaki shirt. “I thought you were supposed to be my friend.”
“I am. And friends take care of one another. Which is why you have a choice: You can either climb up on that gurney yourself, or I’m going to pick you up and put you on it.”
She managed a glare. The flash of spirit was another good sign. “Bully.”
“Sticks and stones.” He folded his own arms and gave her his best “don’t fuck with the big, bad SEAL” look. “Well?”
She blew out a frustrated breath between unnaturally swollen lips. Looking at her, Sax struggled to stay on mission, which was first to get her proper medical care, then get her to bed. Alone. Then figure out what to do with Trey.
Finally, once everything had settled down, he was going to find the bastard who did this to her and beat the guy slowly, painfully, into a bloody pulp.
“Bully,” she muttered again, as she nevertheless pushed herself to her feet. Sax immediately caught one arm, the EMT the other. She might talk a tough game, but she was definitely swaying like a drunk.
They got her onto the gurney and strapped her in.
“I’m coming with her,” Sax said.
“Sorry, Mr. Douchett,” the paramedic said, sounding as if he really meant it. “But only family’s allowed in the ambulance.”
Sax was tempted to play the hero card, which might get him a seat. But knowing how crowded ambulance space was, and not wanting to get in the way if some so-far undiagnosed problem suddenly arose, he didn’t press the issue.
“I’ll be there before you get out of the CT scan,” he promised.
She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes a bit, revealing that even that small gesture hurt.
Yep
. She was definitely suffering the mother of all headaches.
“The hospital is all of ten minutes away,” she pointed out. “Since I doubt you’re going back to work at Bon Temps, you’re hanging around here to talk to the state cops, aren’t you?”
He could foresee the argument now. If he said no, she’d accuse him of lying. If he told the truth, she’d remind him that she was the law around these parts and he didn’t have any authority to go sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong.
“Yeah.”
“You have no official role here, Sax.”
“Maybe it’s not official,” he conceded. “But someone beat the hell out of you, Kara. On purpose. Now, you can get up on your feminist high horse and call me a Neanderthal if you want, but that pisses me off. So, yeah, I’m going to indulge my inner caveman long enough to find out what clues those hotshot big-city detectives making a mess in your mother’s kitchen might have found. Then, if they don’t find the guy, I will.”
“You’re talking vigilantism.”
“And your point is?”
She briefly closed her eyes—from pain or an attempt to garner calm, he couldn’t tell. “I have many points. Which we’ll discuss later.”
She opened those pain-filled eyes again and looked straight up into his.
“Right now I just want to get this circus over with so I can reassure my mother, figure out what to tell my son, get back to work, and apprehend the guy myself. And if you so much as interfere in any way in this case, Douchett, I will personally lock you up for obstruction of justice and throw away the key.”
She didn’t mean it. And they both knew it. Kara Blanchard Conway had gotten a lot tougher during these intervening years, which made sense, given all she’d been through. Like the old saying went, the only thing tougher than a soldier—or in her case, a Marine—was a Marine’s wife.
But the thing was, bruises and scrapes aside, the new self-confidence she wore like a second skin looked damn good on her.
36
Kara hated hospitals. The last time she’d been in one had been to give birth to Trey. Although Jared hadn’t been there, being deployed overseas, it had still been a happy occasion.
This was not. After having her clothing taken away from her, she was poked and prodded, then moved from cubicle to cubicle, where she was left alone to stare up at the ceiling, try to figure out who had attacked her and why, and worry about her son as she waited for what seemed an interminable time for a wearying series of tests.
Meanwhile, borrowing a cell phone from a nurse, since OSP had kept hers, she called her mother in Portland and reassured her that she was all right.
“I know,” Faith said, her voice sounding atypically shaken. “Sax called as soon as the ambulance left the house to give me an update.”
“Did he mention the state police guys are making one hell of a mess?”
“That’s not important.” Okay, that statement alone showed how upset her mother—aka Ms. Clean—was. “Houses can always be tidied up. The only thing that’s important is that you’re safe. And that Trey wasn’t with you when you were attacked.”
“I’ve been trying not to consider that possibility,” Kara admitted.
“It’s a blessing he was with Sax,” Faith agreed. Yet another uncharacteristic statement. “Sax also told me that his brother had taken Trey over to his parents’ house. I just talked with Maureen Douchett, and she says he can stay as long as necessary.”
“That’s kind of her. But he’s a smart kid and I’m afraid he’ll start to worry. Especially after having to spend last night at Sax’s house because of Danny being shot. I was planning to sit down and talk with him about that tonight, in case he was having any flashbacks to Jared being shot.”
“Sax said you’re not exactly looking your best.”
“I’ve got some bruises. And my nose may or may not be broken, but I can explain that away by saying I was in an accident.”
Kara hated the idea of lying to her son. But until she could capture her assailant, and assure Trey that she’d be safe, she didn’t want him worrying about her being at risk. Especially after what Sax had told her about his having overheard her talking with her mother about that prior attack in California. Which was something else she’d intended to discuss.
“That’s probably wise,” Faith said again. “But you can’t take him home with police tape all around the house.”
“Good point.” And something that should have occurred to her. And undoubtedly would have if it hadn’t been for the maniacs pounding away with jackhammers inside her skull.
“Obviously a hotel’s out of the question, since he’d only ask more questions.” Faith paused. “I think the only solution is for the two of you to spend the night at Sax’s house.”
O-kay.
Kara was seriously tempted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t suddenly having a hallucination. Maybe she really had suffered a head injury.
“You can’t be serious.”
“It’s the only logical solution. Sax suggested it.”
“He did?” Without so much as discussing it with her?
“Yes. And we both agreed it’s the best thing to do under the circumstances.”
“I now know how Alice felt when she fell down that rabbit hole.” Next thing she knew, the Mad Hatter would be inviting her to a tea party.
“Sarcasm is good,” Faith said. “It shows your mind’s still alert. And I believe it was you who told me that Sax may not be the incorrigible young man I remember him having been. People are, after all, capable of change, and his time in the military seems to have matured him.”
That amazing statement had Kara thinking that the next call she made should be to the
Shelter Bay Bugle
, to tell them to stop the presses, because Dr. Faith Blanchard had just said a positive thing about former bad boy turned Navy SEAL Sax Douchett.
“It would have been nice if someone had thought to ask me,” Kara said a bit crankily.
“Decisions had to be made and you weren’t available. Besides, it’s not as if you’re not an independent woman. You’re perfectly capable of refusing Sax’s offer. If you have a better solution.”
Which, dammit, Kara didn’t. And her mother well knew it.
“How’s Danny?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
“He’s regained consciousness, which is a good sign. John’s going to stay here with him while I come home to take care of you.”
“I’m fine,” Kara said. “Well, not exactly fine,” she allowed when she sensed her mother, who’d undoubtedly already spoken with the ER doctor, preparing to argue. “But they’re not even going to keep me here overnight for observation.”
“And why do I suspect that has something to do with your refusing to stay?”
“I’m fine,” she repeated. “Even coming here was a waste of everyone’s time, and I’d feel guilty about your leaving Portland with Danny still unstable.”
“I’m certainly not the only neurosurgeon in Oregon.”
“True. But you’re the best. And I’d never forgive myself if Danny crashed while you were here putting ice packs on my stupid bruises.”
Kara was accustomed to her mother having missed a great many events in her life—spelling bees, debate tournaments, and the sixth-grade science fair, even though Faith had been the one to help Kara make that papier-mâché model of a brain.
She’d also missed Kara’s wedding—which, in truth, hadn’t been her fault, since Kara and Jared had eloped to Mexico—and the birth of her grandson.
She and Kara’s father
had
dropped everything to rush to California during that roadside attack. But since mothering skills weren’t her strong suit, and Kara admittedly made a lousy patient, the situation between them had felt even more strained than ever. Meanwhile, her usually easygoing father had practically lived down at the police station, determined to make sure Kara’s colleagues and the DA didn’t botch the prosecution of his daughter’s attacker.
Unsurprisingly, both parents had also pushed for her to return home to Oregon so they could “take care” of her and Trey.
Which, with Kara still determined to stand on her own two feet, and uneasy about uprooting her son after all he’d been through, had not been something she’d been prepared to do. Yet.
“This isn’t like California,” she assured her mother. “I’m really fine. More embarrassed that I let some cretin jump me in my own house than physically hurt. All I need are some ice packs, aspirin, and a good night’s sleep.
“So there’s really nothing you could do for me. Besides, even if you could hand Danny off to another doctor, John needs you. After all he went through with Gloria, being back at a hospital has to be hard on him.”
“He’s like your father in that he doesn’t share his feelings easily. But I suspect you’re right.”
“Well, then. It’s settled.”
“If you’re sure,” Faith said, continuing to sound uncharacteristically uncertain.
“Positive. Would you do me one favor?”
“Of course. You’re my daughter.”
“Would you call the Douchetts and tell Trey that I’m going to be delayed, but we’re going to be spending the night with Sax?”
“Certainly. I was going to call Trey to tell him good night, anyway. As I did last night. From how excited he sounded about Sax’s dog and plans to go to the lumberyard, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled at the idea of a sleepover.”
Her mother had called Trey at Sax’s? Yet another surprise.
“Thanks.”
“It’s no problem. And, Kara?”
“Yes?”
“You’ve no idea how terrified I was to hear you in danger. If I’d lost you . . .” Her mother’s voice dropped off, but not before Kara had heard the sob in her tone. “I wouldn’t want to live.”