The Shooting (8 page)

“How come she’s not awake?” Joe asked, his expression solemn.

Tom’s heart broke a little at the shadow of fear in his son’s eyes. Releasing Cassie, he greeted Joe with a hard hug and then stepped back.

“She’s been given some pretty strong medication to help with the pain, buddy. She’s sleeping right now, but she’s okay. She came through the operation and the doctors are keeping an eye on her for the next little while. Don’t worry, she’s in good hands.”

Tom heard the words that fell from his mouth and knew they were said as much to convince himself as they were to reassure his children. He was glad Alex had brought them by, but all he really wanted was to ignore everyone and everything and head straight back to Lily’s bedside. He wanted to hold tightly to his wife’s warm hand and never let go.

Joe pulled away and returned to his seat. Brandon stepped forward and shook Tom’s hand.

“How is she?” he asked quietly, keeping his back to his niece and nephew.

“No change, so I guess that’s a good thing. At least, that’s what the nurses keep telling me. I just want her to wake up and speak.”

“I’m sure they’re right, mate. They do this for a living, remember? You have to trust that they know what they’re doing.”

“Yeah, but watching her lying there with all those tubes and machines and a heap of other junk keeping her alive—it’s killing me, Bran.”

Brandon held Tom’s gaze. “She’s made of stronger stuff, mate. Remember how she was when Cassie was taken? And even before that. The crap she went through when Alex and I split up—she’s as tough and resilient as anyone I know. It all worked out in the end. She’s going to pull through, Tom. I’m sure of it.”

Tom stared at Brandon and his chest grew tight. He was grateful for Brandon’s reassurances, even though his brother knew no more about Lily’s chances than he did.

“Thanks for bringing Cass and Joe by, Bran.” His gaze encompassed Alex who stood and moved over to where they were. “I really appreciate it,” he added.

“That’s okay,” Alex replied. They’ve been bugging me all evening to be allowed over here. It was wearing on them. I don’t know how many times I explained to them that their mom’s visitors were restricted in the ICU, but they wanted to be here.”

She smiled softly and Tom’s lips lifted in response. The simple action felt good. It had been awhile since he’d smiled.

“I can understand how they feel. I want to be here every minute of every hour, despite the fact she doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“It’s natural to feel like that, Tom,” Brandon said quietly, “but you’ve been here most of the day and it’s now going on for ten. You need to take a break.” He looked at Tom’s kids who’d returned to their seats, looking without interest toward the TV.

“It’s late. Why don’t you take your kids home and get a good night’s rest? You won’t do Lily any good if you crash in a heap. When Mom and Dad arrive, I’ll send them over to your place. That way, they can take over and you can come back here first thing in the morning.”

Tom grimaced. A moment later, he did his best to hide a yawn. “You’re right, Bran, but I can’t leave her on her own. I just can’t.”

“I’ve arranged to have a few days’ leave. I’m happy to stay tonight.”

Tom looked at Brandon in surprise. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Will you go home if I don’t?”

Tom shook his head. “Nope.”

“That’s why I’ve offered to stay. I rested up this afternoon especially, in preparation for the night shift.”

Tom choked up and hugged his brother hard. When he spoke, his voice was gruff with emotion.

“Thanks, Bran. I really appreciate it.” He sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Chanel called me earlier. She also urged me to get some rest. She said it’s unlikely Lily will regain consciousness tonight. She also explained a bit about comas. I’d heard some of it before, of course, when Dad was sick, but with her medical background, it was nice to have someone to explain it in plain English.”

“I know what you mean. Now, how about you take these kids to visit their mom and then go home? I have everything under control.”

“Call me if anything changes?”

“I will. I promise.”

“I don’t care what time of night it is. If something happens, if Lily wakes up…or deteriorates…I want to know.”

Brandon nodded, his expression solemn. “Of course. I’ll call if anything happens. I swear.”

Tom felt a rush of affection for his brother. With a hug good-bye and another one for Alex, he put his arms around his children and with measured footsteps, led them in the direction of the ICU.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Seventeen years earlier

It took Tom over a week to find the courage to phone Lily Strickland. After calling Charlie the day after the party to apologize for his unseemly behavior, he’d casually enquired about the blond angel who went by the name of Lily. Charlie ribbed him about his interest and told him she was way out of his league.

Lily Strickland was the stepdaughter of Tony Gibbons, a very successful, prestigious car dealer on Sydney’s lower north shore. She’d been educated in the city’s most exclusive girls’ school and was now attending Sydney University, not far from the city. Tony, it seemed, had done very well in the car business and his stepdaughter wanted for nothing.

It explained the posh accent and cultured ways that had immediately drawn him. Tom might not have come from a privileged background, but his father’s job as a criminal defense lawyer and later, a District Court judge, had given him a comfortable life. He’d attended public school, lacked nothing and there had always been an abundance of love—that for him, was far more important than money.

He didn’t know how his angel felt about the material advantages she enjoyed, but he was intrigued enough to find out. While Charlie didn’t have her phone number, he did know how to contact her roommate. Tom was relieved to discover the man she’d arrived with at the party was no more than a friend and immediately his heart leaped with hope.

Could it be that she was between relationships?
Could he really be that lucky?

It took Charlie more than a week to come back to him and having found the courage to call her, Tom chafed at the enforced delay. They were the longest days of his life. Finally, he received the news he’d been waiting for: Charlie had spoken to David who’d talked to Lily and yes, she was willing to give Tom her number.

He’d punched the air with excitement and then immediately felt sick to his gut.
What if she only wanted to speak to him in order to chew him out?
He was mortified over his behavior at the party. He could only assume she’d heard him being sick. Charlie had been more than happy to tell him he’d made so much noise, there hadn’t been a single soul at the party who hadn’t heard Tom Munro emptying his guts.

At least he’d made it to the toilet in time. He couldn’t imagine the humiliation of having to ask for a mop and bucket…

Pushing the revolting thought aside, he concentrated on the positive. Lily had given him her number. It was better progress than he’d made the night they’d met. She wanted him to call.
Surely, that was a good sign?
He was determined to believe that it was.

* * *

Lily pulled her long hair back into a ponytail and secured it with a band. Choosing a pale pink lipstick, she applied it to her lips. Moving back from the bathroom mirror, she stared at her reflection and sighed. Her heart was racing at the thought of seeing Tom Munro again, but was she being fair? To either of them?

When David told her that Tom had asked about her and wanted to give her a call, she’d been both excited and nervous. She recalled how she felt when she spied him from across the room; how everyone and everything had simply faded away. The moment was surreal. It was the most romantic moment of her life. But then, she’d gotten closer to him and had realized he was drunk.

His Hollywood looks had immediately lost a lot of their appeal. She remembered feeling disappointed. After the nightmare of her childhood, she’d vowed never to get involved with a drinker. It was the reason she’d refused to give him her number at the party. Now, she had to admit he’d been almost constantly on her mind.

She was nineteen and had nearly finished the first year of her teaching degree. She’d dated a string of men, though none of them had made a lasting impression. One thing her dates had in common was that none of them, not a single one, drank.

Most of the time, she vetted them before they went out. She simply asked them straight up if they drank. Those that said yes never made it to the first date. There were still plenty of men who refrained from alcohol. Okay, maybe she had to search a little harder, especially on a college campus, but it was possible to find them and she’d enjoyed their company.

It was just that none of them had reached into her soul and touched her like Tom Munro had. It depressed her and saddened her and maddened her all at once. Finally, she’d found a man who touched her so deeply, she was sure she wouldn’t find it with anyone else. There was just one problem: He was a drinker. And that fact was insurmountable.

Not only did he drink, but he drank until he fell down. The thought of having any kind of relationship with him went against every promise she’d ever made to herself. And yet, here she was, primping and preening in preparation for his arrival and doing her best to contain her excitement.

Perhaps he wasn’t much of a drinker at all? Perhaps it was his first time? Maybe that was the reason he hadn’t handled his liquor? Or perhaps someone had spiked his drink?

She shook her head at the list of excuses and smiled ruefully at her reflection in the mirror. She was being ridiculous. She barely knew the guy. Besides, he’d been holding a bottle of rum. It was only because he’d managed, without even a word, to touch something deep inside her and despite her reservations, she was intrigued enough to want to spend a little more time with him.

The doorbell to her apartment chimed and her nerves kicked up a gear. With a hand that wasn’t quite steady, she applied another coat of lipstick and then dropped it into her evening bag. She could hear the murmur of voices and was pleased David was home to break the ice. He’d made her promise to tell him all about her date when she got home later that night.

With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and then eased the air out on a gentle sigh. For better or worse, she was ready—ready to give him a chance.

* * *

Tom stared at the woman who came toward him, a vision in a short crimson dress. It was made from some kind of flimsy material that floated around her slim thighs. The top of it was secured around her neck and left her shoulders bare. Her skin glowed golden in the soft light of the living room.

She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek and his nose was filled with her scent—something sweet and feminine and floral. Her nearness sent blood surging straight to his groin. He swallowed a groan and wondered how the hell he was going to get through the next few hours. He’d arranged for them to go to dinner at one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants and was thinking they’d hit a nightclub afterwards, but right at that moment, he wasn’t sure he could withstand the pressure of being so close to her and not being allowed to touch.

He wished they were over that awkward first-or-second-date stage when neither of them knew the rules. Did she want him to kiss her or just hold her hand? Maybe she didn’t want either. It was a minefield of possible hits and misses and it made him nervous just thinking about it. He wished he could go back to being drunk, when he hadn’t felt quite so inhibited—not drunk enough to fall asleep and then disgrace himself in the bathroom—just a slight buzz to take the edge off.

His throat was suddenly parched and he longed for an ice cold beer: Just a glass or two to settle his nerves. The polite chitchat he’d engaged in with Lily’s roommate wasn’t nearly enough. Suddenly, he couldn’t get to the restaurant and its promise of alcoholic relief quick enough.

He glanced around the living room and noted the tidy, but mismatched furniture. Colorful cushions added interest to a brown sofa that had seen better days. A small kitchen that was also neat and tidy, stood off to the left. Behind him, a corridor led to what he assumed were the bathroom and bedrooms. At least, he hoped there were two bedrooms.

“You look beautiful, Lily. Are you ready to go?”

She blinked and he realized he’d spoken a little fast. Wiping his sweaty palms against his dark dress pants, he tried again.

“It’s lovely to meet you again and thank you for accepting my invitation. We didn’t really get a chance to talk at Charlie’s party.”

“Well, if you hadn’t been getting up close and personal with the porcelain, you might have,” David quipped with a cheeky grin.

Tom’s cheeks exploded with heat and he cursed David silently beneath his breath, but there was nothing he could do but accept the jibe with as much grace as he could manage. After all, the man was only speaking the truth. Tom offered a wry grin and nodded.

“Yep, you’re right about that. It’ll teach me to drink half a bottle of rum on an empty stomach. My dad would be appalled. I can hear him even now telling me I’m old enough to know better.”

David laughed, but Lily’s smile was strained and Tom wondered briefly about its cause. He could only imagine she found the topic a little distasteful. He could hardly blame her. Most people found the thought of someone vomiting a little distasteful, let alone resurrecting memories of the sound. Keen to get their date back on a proper footing, he turned back to her.