Touch of Madness (25 page)

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Joe growled. He was glaring down at me, daring me to disapprove.

“Who you date is none of my business. Besides, I like her. I’ve always liked her. Even when she does stupid shit.”

“And until the other day she liked you, too.”

Ouch. Well, wasn’t he just being a charmer. Then again, that’s his way. The more nervous he is, the more aggressive he gets. But I’ve lived my entire life with my big brother, and I don’t get intimidated easily. Mike looked from one to the other of us and sighed. I could see him make the decision to interrupt us before things got out of hand. “So what happened?”

I told him the whole story. He shook his head in bemusement. “Do you have any idea who wants to kill you?”

“It’d be easier to make a list of who doesn’t,” Joe muttered under his breath.

“That is it.” Tom stepped between Joe and me. His eyes were dark, and his body language more threatening than I’d ever seen it. You could almost see the power vibrating in the air around him. “You will not talk to Kate that way in front of me. Ever. And I will sure as hell not have you verbally attacking her while she is injured in the emergency room. I don’t give a fuck if you’re her brother, or who you’re dating.”

Joe’s face got red, and he puffed himself up. The cop appeared at the slit in the curtains just as I slid off of the examining table. Mike was there first. Standing between them with a hand on either of their chests.

“Both of you stop. Right now. The last thing Kate needs is to deal with the two of you.” He turned to Joe, giving him a hard look. “You have been baiting him ever since we picked you up at the airport. Hell, I’ve wanted to punch your lights out. And you know I’ll do it if you keep it up.”

Joe blinked and took a step backward. He opened his mouth, but Mike waved him to silence.

“Kate is an adult, Joe. She’s not a child. She makes her own decisions.”

“If he loved her, he’d protect her—see to it she stayed safe,” Joe snarled.

Oh, that pissed me off. It surely did. More so because I saw the words hit Tom like a blow.

“How dare you!” I stepped around the examining bed and started toward my brother. Tom reached over to grab my arm as I stalked past him, but I shrugged him off. The cop was through the curtains now, but I didn’t care. Joe turned to me, his face almost purple with rage. Spit flew from his mouth as he shouted at me. “It’s the truth!

You have no business getting involved in this sort of shit! You pretend to be so damned tough, like you’re some sort of Superwoman. Well, you’re not and somebody needs to get that through your thick Irish skull before you get yourself killed.”

I stared at him for a long, silent moment. I stood in the face of his rage, my mind and emotions gone still and cold. I’d gotten angry. And as frequently happened when my emotions got the better of me my shields had dropped. Without that barrier between us, I’d seen inside Joe’s mind. For the very first time I actually understood. Joe might love me, but he didn’t like me. He sure as hell didn’t respect me. To him, I was just a spoiled little girl who needed to be sent to her room until she learned how to behave around the grownups. Nothing I’d done, nothing I’d ever do, would change his mind. I was a nuisance.

“Get out.” I said it softly, without rage, or any passion at all.

“Kate—” Mike’s expression was almost panicked. He kept his voice very carefully controlled, as though he were afraid that one wrong word would push the situation beyond the point of no return. What he didn’t realize was that it was already there.

Joe’s eyes had hardened until they were cold green agates. He ignored Mike’s warning, ignored everything but me.

“You don’t mean that. You won’t send me away, who’ll come riding to the rescue and clean up your mess?”

“Oh, but I do mean it.” I smiled, and I knew that the expression was cold, cruel. “I surely do.”

Mike flinched. Tom let out a gasp. Even the cop looked nervous.

Joe just stared. In that moment he hated me. I knew it and didn’t care. “Fine. You want me to go. I’ll go. But don’t ever expect anything from me again.” Joe turned on his heel and stormed past the cop. I didn’t try to stop him. I wanted him gone.

Mike closed his eyes. “I’ll talk to him.” He started to walk off.

I spoke bitterly to his retreating back. “Don’t bother. Nothing you say is going to make any difference. Joe’s never been willing to listen to anything that doesn’t agree with his own preconceived notions. You’ll just be wasting your time.”

I heard the hesitation in Mike’s retreating footsteps, but he didn’t stop, didn’t turn around. The cop followed them out, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

“Kate?” I turned to face Tom. His expression was stricken. “I didn’t mean to—”

“This wasn’t your fault, Tom. Don’t blame yourself.” I climbed back onto the examining table. I was tired; so damned tired. Part of it was physical exhaustion. Most of it was emotional. I kept trying so hard to do the right thing, and every time it seemed to end in disaster.

“But—” he struggled to find the right words. “He’s your brother?”

“That doesn’t make him any less of an idiot.” I spoke calmly, which was odd. I knew I should be upset, should be crying. But the tears just weren’t there. I felt…empty.

“He loves you and he worries about you.”

I sighed “Joe loves me, Tom, but he doesn’t like me. He doesn’t respect me, or even believe that I’m capable of taking care of myself. I didn’t mean to look, but I saw inside his head. He not only doesn’t understand, he doesn’t want to.”

Tom stepped forward until he stood barely an inch in front of me. I could feel the warmth of his skin. I could smell the indefinable scent that would identify him to me even if I were deaf and blind. “He does love you. He just doesn’t realize how strong you are. And honestly, I don’t blame him for worrying. Hell, I worry.”

“Yes, but it’s not because you think I’m a stupid child who’s not capable of taking care of herself.”

He stopped at that, probably wondering what I really had seen in Joe’s mind. He shook his head. “No. You’re not stupid, and you are not a child. But I have to say, you do have this talent for making the worst enemies.”

“It is a gift,” I admitted ruefully. I was trying to make a joke of it. It was a feeble attempt, but I was trying. Because if we joked, I just might get through this without falling to pieces.

Tom knew me well enough to play along. “Is it too late to exchange it?”

It was a bad joke, but it made me laugh. Yes, the laughter was a little hysterical, but it still helped. That’s one of the best things about Tom. He always knows exactly how to bring me back from the edge. Whether I’m angry, depressed, or worried. Whatever the problem is. He’s always there, ready to help me if I need it, without trying to make me less than I am.

“I love you, Tom Bishop.” I reached over to touch my hand to his chest, just above his heart.

“I love you, too. Let’s go home.”

“Are you sure? Mary’s not going to like it.”

Tom’s eyes flashed, “If the Acca doesn’t like it, she can—” I raised an eyebrow, and he stopped in mid-sentence. “I’m serious, Kate. I love you. I’m not giving you up. If that means I can’t be part of the pack anymore, then so be it.”

“Tom!” I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice. He’s a wolf. Pack meant everything to him. At least I’d thought it had.

“I could’ve lost you. I know you’re Not Prey. I know you’re strong. But you can’t fight an idiot with a rifle, and I can’t protect you from it.” His eyes shone with unshed tears, and his voice had taken on a rough edge from the emotions he was fighting to control. “I don’t want to lose you. I refuse to lose you—whatever the price!”

I put my hand against his cheek as I whispered my answer. “I’m going to do my damnedest to see to it you don’t.”

He drew a ragged breath and gave a shaky laugh. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I expect you to.” I kissed him then, a soft brushing of my lips against his. “Now, while I check to see if the doc or the cops need anything else you can call us a cab.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He leaned forward and kissed me. He was very careful of my injuries, and even then it hurt. The pain reminded me that someone out there wanted me dead. Then again, as my brother had so gracefully pointed out, who didn’t?

It took a good half hour before I was able to escape from the hospital. I worked really hard to make sure the cops I’d talked to didn’t come in contact with Tom. That would be a bad thing, on a number of levels. Fortunately, the cab was waiting when the release papers were signed, and Tom didn’t notice the annoyed, sad shake of the officer’s head as I walked out.

I hustled across the sidewalk, my eyes scanning the area for any sign of the pickup. My shoulders were tight with tension. I couldn’t help myself. I was afraid and I hated it. I didn’t know who had been in the truck, although I was sure it hadn’t been Amanda. The fact that we made it back to the apartment without incident only made me feel stupid on top of frightened.

Tom came up with me to my place. Before I’d finished locking the doors he strode over to the windows and hit the switch that controls the window blinds. He closed them fully, so that the apartment was cast into an artificial gloom.

“You want something to eat?” Tom suggested.

I sighed. “I still haven’t gone to the grocery store. There’s nothing edible in the house.” I flung myself onto the couch, shifting the throw pillows around until I had them where it would be comfortable to lie down. Tom had folded Mom’s afghan and draped it over the back of the couch. I pulled it over me and snuggled into the soft purple yarn. The adrenaline that had kept me going through the crisis, and the fight with Joe, had drained away completely. I was weary, and in pain both physically and emotionally.

“Actually,” Tom said as he came over to the couch. He lifted my legs and sat down under them. Sliding off my shoes and socks, he began rubbing my feet. It felt like heaven. I found my eyes drifting closed as my head sank deeper into the pillows. “After you left this morning I called the grocery store and had them deliver a bunch of stuff.”

“They charge a hefty fee for that.” I didn’t open my eyes. It was just too much bother.

“Don’t care.” He used his thumb to caress the arch of my left foot, until I sighed with pleasure. “I even,” he paused for dramatic effect, “had them bring ice cream. Rum raisin.”

I cracked open my eyes and smiled. “You do realize that you are very nearly the perfect man.”

“Only nearly?”

“You’re not filthy, disgustingly rich.” I gave an exaggerated sigh, but snuggled deeper into the couch. “But I’ll try not to hold it against you.”

He laughed and switched to massaging my right foot. “I’ll try to work on that.” He stopped rubbing my feet. “I think I’ll fix us something to eat.”

“You don’t cook.” I managed to mumble the words. It wasn’t easy. My eyes had closed and I was nearly asleep.

“Thank God for the microwave.”

“Mmmm.”

The last thing I felt before I sank into slumber was the pressure of his lips brushing my forehead.

“Kate, dinner’s ready.” Tom shook my shoulder gently.

I blinked, trying to focus both my eyes and my mind. Neither wanted to work properly. Dinner. What had happened to lunch? How long had I been out?

I glanced over at the clock. I’d slept for nearly four hours. It really was time for dinner. My stomach rumbled in agreement. Food. Right. Good plan.

“Are you all right?” Tom set the dinner plates onto the kitchen island next to the silverware and the folded paper towels we sometime use as napkins. He retrieved clean glasses from the dishwasher, then poured us each a glass of milk to go with dinner. For someone who claims not to be domestic, he’s certainly got his moments. I swung myself upright and tossed off the afghan. I stood up and stretched, arms reaching for the ceiling. Awake. I was awake. Yeah, right. I stumbled to the downstairs bathroom to wash up for dinner. While I was there, I splashed some cold water onto my face, drying off with one of the fluffy, sunshine yellow towels I usually only put out when expecting guests. That reminded me that I needed to do laundry. Which reminded me of Mary’s trousers. That, in turn, led me to think of my brother Joe.

Funny how, now that I’d slept my anger wasn’t cold at all. I wasn’t happy, but was thoroughly awake, when I returned to the kitchen. Tom guessed it from my expression.

“You’re thinking about Joe, aren’t you?” Tom asked. He had a forkful of green beans halfway to his mouth, but he set it back down onto the plate.

“How’d you guess?” I pulled the stool out and sat down. I automatically said a silent prayer of thanks for the food before I took a knife to the meat, cutting it with a little more vigor than was strictly necessary.

“Other people can make you angry, but only Joe truly gets you pissed.”

I opened my mouth to explain, but he waved it off.

“It’s all right, Kate. Family can drive you nuts.” He gave a rueful laugh. “If he were my brother, I probably would’ve strangled him years ago.” He shook his head sadly and picked his fork back up. “But he’s not my brother. He’s yours. And you’re not going to be happy until the two of you fix it.”

I shook my head no. I was still too upset to be able to deal with the situation. Hell, every time I even started to think about it my blood boiled. I took a vicious bite of the meat.

“But not tonight.” Tom took a long drink of milk. “If we don’t get a night away from everything we’re both going to go nuts. So after dinner we’re watching Casablanca on DVD and pigging out on popcorn and ice cream.” Brilliant, considerate, gorgeous. No wonder I love him.

We watched Casablanca, The African Queen, and a couple of episodes of Fawlty Towers for good measure. In between, I ran downstairs and did a few loads of laundry. Connie, my other tenant, had evidently been doing laundry because Mary’s trousers had been left, neatly folded, on the shelf I’d put up above the pole for hanging clothes. It wasn’t the most exciting of Saturday nights, but I wouldn’t have traded it. A night like this with my honey was better than any night I’d ever spent out in the singles scene.