If Tomorrow Never Comes (23 page)

No
one at the scene was aware of the new dawn the sky aglow with streaks of pink’s
and gold, the sharp edge of night disappearing behind the peaks of the
city.
 

CHAPTER 22

The
entire hospital knew the instant Jake ultimately penetrated a drugged state the
residue inadequately repressing a detestable mood.
 
His repeated ripping of the paraphernalia
from his arms required undivided attention from concerned doctors,
confrontations ending with Jake’s boisterous demands for a phone and
newspapers.
 
Unbelievably, one patient
out of an entire floor had succeeded in creating complete chaos.
 

No
one knew that at the core of Jake's anger was an insatiable desire to see
Jordan to be reassured she was safe.
  
Even more oppressive was the compulsion to find out if she heard him say
he loved her.

The
hand holding the newspaper revealing the headlines angrily slapped it onto the
hospital tray.
  

MORGAN BARELY ESCAPES DEATH IN SHOOT OUT

CHICAGO'S HERO STRIKES AGAIN

SIX DEAD, TWO DEA OFFICERS WOUNDED

MORGAN
SAVES LIFE OF
MYSTERY WOMAN

Jake’s
worst nightmares charged in the form of colored
photos' of Jordan and
himself as paramedics carried them on stretchers to the ambulance, one
 
in particular depicting a close up of
Jordan’s face wiped clean.
 

Thanks
to the media, Scorpios' suspicions would be aroused.
 
He’d wonder why Morgan risked his life to
save a courier.
 
A brilliant man, it
wouldn’t be long before he’d place Jordan at two locales during a raid.
 
Her innocence wouldn’t matter he’d believe
her to be an undercover agent.
 
Scorpio
would order a hit on her life and offer the money to insure its success.

For
the fifth time Jake jerked the needle from a vein.
 
Though he pressed the buzzer to summon a
nurse, he had already made the decision not to wait.
 
Bare feet smacked the floor. Determined
strides brought him to the closet.
 
Before assistance arrived, he was dressed and across the threshold.

“Sir,
you can't do this.
 
You can't leave.
 
You're not well enough.”
   

“The
hell I'm not.
 
Watch me,” Jake spat, a
swish of his arm shoving the petite nurse aside.

“You
must sign a release form before being discharged, Mr. Morgan,” she said
shakily, watching helplessly as he disappeared in the elevator.

Outside
the hospital entrance, Jake boldly entered a taxi summoned by another
customer.
 
Everyone in Chicago knew
Morgan, the taxi driver no exception.
 
Feeling honored to be of service to Chicago’s very own hero he asked no
questions when Jake snarled an address.

____________

           
Margaret was thankful that Jordan’s
attempt at suicide had failed, the bullet lodging instead in the wall behind
her.
 
For the third day in a row tugging
Jordan out of bed, as though a limp rag doll, washing and dressing her she
positioned her in a chair in the living room in the mellow sunlight.
 
Again, she refused to eat or drink.
 
What little nourishment Margaret managed to
force down, she regurgitated minutes later.

For
seventy-two hours, Jordan’s emotionless features remained unchanged.
 
The lack of sleep, the reason her eyes
resembled glass marbles fixed straight forward.
 
The doctor's prognosis was far from encouraging, there was nothing more
he could do, they should place her in a sanitarium.

In
the recovery room, as soon as Jake opened his eyes he pleaded with Margaret to
look after Jordan.
 
She was to take her
to his apartment.
 
Keep her safe.
 
Margaret never questioned why Jake thought he
had to ask, and never told him Billy had already done so.

Not
knowing exactly how to explain Jordan’s presence to Billy, Margaret called upon
the first lie reluctantly coming to mind.
  
Jordan was Jake's cousin from Michigan visiting for the summer.
 
He was training her for undercover work.
 
A novice at deception, it was there in
Billy's features she had not been convincing.
 

Now,
troubling Margaret most was what shown in Billy’s eyes whenever he looked at
Jordan.
 
He was smitten, all right.
 
Despairingly, her plans had backfired.
  
She couldn’t blame Billy, framing Jordan’s
sweet face was multicolor hues of, shiny, pale gold.
  
Her clothing fit perfectly now, faded jeans
defining shapely legs with a pink tank top exposing creamy skin and other
enticing attributes.
 
Barring her
sorrowful visage, Jordan resembled a porcelain doll whose creator had perfected
a masterpiece.
 

For
three days, the only encouraging factor of Jordan’s condition was something
seemed to click each time Billy touched her hand.
  
Inevitably, she withdrew it quickly, her
reaction stunning him.
 
It was evident he
was blaming himself for the catastrophe.
 
Despite Billy sitting for hours explaining over again that Jake had
survived, Jordan never batted an eyelash.
 
The bullets entering Jake’s back miraculously missed vital organs.
 
He’d recover completely, Billy patiently
repeated.
  
Ballistic tests proved the
bullet was not from Jake's weapon, futile explanations that went ignored as
though Jordan were deaf and blind.
 

The
unexpected metallic sound of a key in the door snatched Margaret from worrisome
pondering.
 
Watching the hinged wood
slowly creak open steadily escalated her heartbeat.
 
Instinctively, her hand sought Jake’s
gun.
 
Drawing his, Billy positioned
himself between Margaret and the intruder.

Shock
brought Margaret to her feet. “Oh, Jake, you shouldn't have.
 
Dear Lord.”
 
There was no misinterpreting the pain contorting Jake’s face, nor the
red patch of blood on his shirt.
 
Slumping into Billy’s arms, he barely made it to the couch before
passing out.

An
hour later, Jake awoke to Margaret's soothing words and cool fingers on his
forehead.
 
Through a blur, he recognized
Billy frantically pacing in the background.
 
Struck with a stabbing pain, Jake’s hand explored the clean, dry bandage
before moving to caress Margaret's in unspoken thanks.
 

It
wasn't until he tilted his head, that Jordan came into view.
 
Relief dousing him somewhat drained the
tension responsible for crunched features.
 
A short respite before terror registered.
 
Jordan’s obvious misery scared the hell out
of him, more so than what he had yet to face.
 
Completely oblivious to everyone around him, his own suffering, he could
no longer fight the oppressive urge to hold Jordan in his arms.

The
instant Jake attempted to stand, Billy rushed to his assistance.
 
Feeling weak and dizzy, forcing himself
upright, he slowly approached Jordan.
 
Coming to his knees, his forearm supporting his weight on the chair arm,
he placed his hand close to Jordan's yet, not touching.
 
The word’s spilling from Jake’s mouth brought
joyful tears to Margaret's eyes, and shattered what little remained of Billy’s
wits.

“Jordan,
it's me, Jake.
 
I’m alive.
 
You should know by now I wouldn't leave you.
 
I couldn't leave you, not when I promised to
protect you, and keep you safe?
 
I’ll
always be here for you.
 
Thanks to you, I
know I have it in me to keep all my promises.
 
I'm standing on solid ground now.
 
Jordan, look at me.
 
Don't block
me out like everyone else.
 
I won’t let
you crawl inside that hole.
 
It's over,
Jordan.
 
I'm no longer going after
Scorpio.”
  
There was no need; Jake knew
the identity of Scorpios' spy.
 
Waiting
for the investigators report wasn’t necessary, a reality that brutally stabbed
him between the shoulder blades.
 

He'd
grown to like Billy, no, it was more than that.
 
He loved Billy as he would a brother, as he did John.
 
Disregarding his vows, he allowed Billy to
burrow into his life.
 
Now, not only
would he pay the price for his error, but also, Jordan.

He
couldn’t think of that now.
 
He had to
snatch Jordan before she entered that place that rarely gives up its trophy’s.
“I've done all I can do,” Jake, continued.
 
“It’s someone else's turn.
 
I'm
tired.
 
I'm quitting the force.

Someday
there will be a time for us, somewhere, somehow.
 
Besides, you can't leave without taking me
with you.
  
I can’t go on without you,
Jordan.
  
Please, just trust me one last
time.
 
Take my hand and we'll go together
to find that day, that time, that place.”

Jakes
head finding his hands rocked back and forth.
 
Though it came as a whisper, everyone heard every word.
 
“I need you Jordan.
 
I love you.”

As
her mind tried desperately to return to the real world, Jordan gasped for
breath.
 
For so long she'd been running
through a maze of darkness frantically searching for someone to save her.
 
Jake was the only light on the other side of
the door.
 
She had to find him. She could
hear his voice.
 
Smell him.
 
She was so weak and tired each door was more
difficult to open.
 
There was one more,
just one more.
 
God, forgive her, she had
to.
 

Lost
in the world trying to claim her, in a dark narrow hallway lined with doors she
opened one after another only to run once more.
 
Behind each a different monster, her father, other men, her dead mother,
dead friend’s, Jake's blood drenched body lying on a stretcher.
 
Then, a man with no face at all whose
unmistakable cologne made her head throb and, a woman, laughing. Brenda.
 
Slamming each door, Jordan ran and ran as the
hands reaching through tiny crevices clawed at her tearing her hair, her
clothing.
 
Lapping at her heels, the
echoing laughter bludgeoned her ears.
 
          
She was so tired, very, very
tired.
 
Her body ached.
 
Her mind banging against her skull was screaming
for rest.
 
Lying at her feet spurting
blood she could see her heart cut into a trillion pieces.
 
She wanted to stop, wanted to sleep forever,
and, had it not been for one last door, she would have.

Eyes
closed, she stretched her fingers toward the knob convinced she could withstand
another disappointment.
 
Sluggish senses
told her the knob was not cold, or hard, but soft, and warm.
 
There were fingers then a thumb.
 
Beseeching her eyes not to look at the final
atrocity that would surely immerse her into the deepest sleep, they spurned
her.
 
Once more, she was deluded, the
revelation wasn't real, it couldn't be.
 
She could hear words pealing in her ears, promises of a better day, a
new life, of love.
 
Was Jake alive?
 
Did he say he’d quit and forget Scorpio?

Catapulted
on a journey of everlasting obscurity, a force elevated her hand; trembling
fingers traced an eyebrow, a nose, and eyelashes.
 
She felt a, cheek, chin. Lips were planting
kisses on each of her fingertips.
 
A
finger erasing the single tear escaping from the corner of her eye tore away
the steel bars to eternity's fortress.
   

Jake’s
arms sliding around Jordan’s narrow waist tugged her gently toward him.
 
Hers flew around his neck.
 
Faces buried in each other’s neck the dam
holding back Jordan’s tears broke shattering the past into particles, sweeping
up the pieces of her heart now surfing on a wave of joy.
 
In Jake's arms, the only place she felt safe,
Jordan sobbed wretchedly, broken little wails that stabbed him like a knife
digging at clay.