Nemesis (Southern Comfort) (36 page)

So he’d waltzed out and promptly disappeared.

Sadie had to admit she was feeling nervous about that.  He’d threatened her at that cabin. Implied all sorts of nasty things that he wanted to do.

Not to mention the fact that she and Declan had killed his brother.

But the cop posted outside Dec’s door gave her a certain sense of security.  Although hearing about what he and Billy – or Wilson Marshall, to be more accurate – had done would likely give her nightmares for a solid year.  Killing her former renter, the locksmith, possibly some day care worker, not to mention what they’d done to the poor old lady here in Beaufort – and all over some stupid piece of jewelry. 

Granted, that piece of jewelry was worth somewhere in the vicinity of three million dollars and had tremendous historical significance for the area. It had been recently discovered buried beneath the old woman’s family mansion after lying hidden since the Union occupation of Beaufort during the War of Northern Aggression.

But still, it was a hunk of gold, diamonds and rubies.  Metal and minerals.

Hardly worth four, maybe five human lives.

Although Billy – Wilson’s worth was questionable.

The thought that the necklace might be squirreled away somewhere in Sadie’s house gave her a case of the willies.  If word of that sort of thing got out before the police had a chance to find it, every Tom, Dick and creep around would be breaking in on a regular basis.  She’d have to get a guard dog and put up a fence.  Hire some live-in security.  

Move in with her next door neighbor.

Because her brain wasn’t quite ready to go down that road, she pulled a little U-ee and took a
mental detour around the room.  Standard, utilitarian hospital décor, although the scruffy palmetto tree outside Dec’s window put a somewhat festive spin on things. Now if she only had a margarita and flip-flops instead of bottled water and fuzzy slippers.

Sadie looked down at the footwear in question.

Two pink bunny heads stared back.

Not exactly the hottest look, even for hospital fashion, but Patrick – bless his heart – had done the best he could with the gift shop’s inventory.  After Sadie’s own wounds had been doctored and she’d treated herself to a hot shower, she’d realized that other than a hospital gown she had nothing clean to wear.

Cue Patrick to the rescue.  The slippers, scrub bottoms, and too-tight T-shirt that proclaimed
I’m The Big Sister
in rhinestones made her look like a demented pre-teen Disney channel escapee. But at least it was an improvement over the deranged blood-covered horror movie extra she’d resembled when she and Dec had driven up to that bait shop on the four-wheeler.  The poor old guy manning the place had probably lost a couple years off his life.

But that was neither here nor there.  Just some mental ramblings to keep herself from totally freaking
out.  Because if she were to be totally honest – and since the entire conversation she was carrying on was taking place in her head, she saw no reason not to be – there was a whole lot of Freaked Out waiting to happen.  It was amazing she hadn’t entirely lost it prior to now.  Breaking off her engagement and uprooting her entire life had been bad enough, but factor in the plot to a B-grade mystery/suspense movie and realizing that her childhood nemesis was in reality – probably – the love of her life, and… good God.

She was in love with Declan Murphy. 

Sadie sat up in her chair as the full reality of that washed over her.  Then surveyed the man in question, all battered and disheveled and – yes, gorgeous – and felt the little ping in her chest and cha-cha in her blood that let her know she wasn’t imagining it.  They were probably serving snow cones in Hell right now, because this was one of those things that just Did Not Happen.  But it had.  As had the whole kidnapping/psycho-criminals-after-them/hiding-in-the-forest nightmare.  If she’d had any idea her life was going to… implode like this she might have taken a little more time on the trip from Denver.  Like say, a couple of years.

Declan’s fingers tightened fractionally against her own.

As Sadie looked down, she thought of him going after that key with the table leg even though his hand was broken.  Thought of him pulling her into that log, protecting her with his own body.  Of him hurting, clearly in pain, but still as quick as ever with a comeback.  Or curling her toes with those smiles that were pure sex.  Then informing her she smelled like deer crap.

She thought of him telling her he loved her.

And of how it had felt to realize that she hadn’t even tried to earn it. 

Because the love that had grown between them wasn’t the type of thing that had to be earned.

And nope, on second thought, she wouldn’t have traded a minute.  They’d been through hell, and it had both sucked and been utterly terrifying, but he was absolutely accurate – a few broken bones were far better than a broken heart. 

And somehow, somehow they seemed to be helping to heal each other’s.

With a satisfied sigh Sadie settled back in her seat, exhaustion falling over her like a blanket.  And felt far, far less freaked out as she finally succumbed to her body’s desperate need for sleep.

The commotion in the hallway woke her up.

Wondering groggily if Patrick had returned from the cafeteria, where he’d gone to grab a bite and check in by phone with his other children – Rogan was on his way back from Atlanta with Kim and Kathleen had already come and gone, her priority now finding Brady Marshall – Sadie blinked and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to clear the cobwebs.  She was so tired all of a sudden.  Maybe she should reconsider the cot she’d been offered earlier, after refusing her own room.  Either that or she’d just throw caution to the wind and climb up in the bed with Declan. 

But something about the tenor of the deep voices outside the door had sleep falling away in a hurry.  Her heart climbed dangerously, clogging her throat.  One of those voices was authoritative, and southern.

The second voice was even more authoritative, and not.

And oh-so-very familiar.

She’d heard it asking her to marry him just a little less than a year ago.

Sadie’s old reality collided with her new one in the puke-green corridor of Beaufort Memorial Hospital.

What was Rick doing here?  Then she recalled the tenor of his email.  The missed calls that her cell phone had logged.  Clearly he was more determined to patch things up than she ever would have imagined.

Dread and resolve tangled in her gut, and for a moment Sadie almost chickened out.  Let the cop handle him.  But then she glanced at Declan.  Obviously, she needed to wipe the old slate clean once and for all before even attempting to write a new one. So she swiped the sleep-induced drool from her chin, disentangled her fingers from the still unconscious Declan’s, and ordered her bunny slippers to hop across the floor.  Well, she ordered her feet, and they actually sort of minced, given their bandaged state, as opposed to hopping, and…

Okay.  These mental joy rides had to stop.

Mustering some much needed moxie – that damn gumption Doug/Brady kept touting – Sadie ran a hand through her disordered hair before extending that hand toward the door.  When she calmly pulled it open, it was to an irritated cop and an irate Rick.  Both of them froze, looking at her with surprise, which on Rick’s part quickly morphed to concern. 

“What have they done to you?”  He reached out a hand to touch her cheek.  She’d forgotten about getting hit in the face, and brought her own fingers up toward the bruise.  “My God,” he continued, studying her from head to foot, “look what happens when you leave me.”  Then he gathered her gently in arms clad by Burberry, pressed her possessively against his chest.  His aftershave was subtle, tasteful, familiar.

A
nd suddenly so cloying she found herself choking.

Rick
looked alarmed and the cop looked confused and pissed off.

Sadie withdrew as far as his arms would allow and turned her head toward the young patrolman.  “It’s okay,” she told him.  “He’s a… friend.”

With that she felt Rick stiffen all around her, a wooden sculpture of outraged male.  But in deference to her injured state and to the current precariousness of his place in her affections, he kept his tone exceedingly gentle.

“I apologize,” he offered in atonement to the cop.  “But when a man’s fiancée has been abducted and abused it’s a little difficult to keep your head.”

“Sure,” the cop drawled, sounding like he wasn’t convinced of anything.

Sadie’s eyes widened, but she let the fiancée comment slide, because she wasn’t about to go into it with an audience.

Rick apparently felt the same way because he stepped back, though he didn’t release her.  “You look like you’re dead on your feet,” he told her.  “Why not let me escort you back to your room?  And honestly, I’m not sure what these nurses are thinking, letting you wander about in your current state.”

He eyed the T-shirt and the bunny slippers.  But to his credit, kept his thoughts to himself.

Sadie sighed, because she
was
exhausted.  And because this promised to further wear her out.

“I don’t have a room,” she informed him.  “Officially, I’ve been released.”

He looked at her bruises, her bandages and grew so incensed that she had to stop him before he exploded.  “It’s cuts and bruises,” she told him.  “And they look a lot worse than they feel.  Pain meds are the eighth wonder.”

He opened his mouth but she shook her head, glanced awkwardly at the attentive cop.  Who wasn’t even pretending a lack of fascination.  He’d been outside the door through the earlier visit from Patrick and no doubt wondered what sort of game she was playing. 

But before she could skewer him with a quelling look, the door opened again behind her.

The damn cop actually grinned.

Then coughed, finally having the decency to attempt chagrin and moved a prudent yard or two away.

Sadie turned, taking in Declan.  Who looked like the Angel of Death in a
hospital gown.

His dark, faintly malevolent features were contorted in a lethal glare.

In contrast, Rick – all spotless and golden – looked like Saint Peter decked out in tweed.

Saint Peter, who was about to be cremated.  The Angel of Death didn’t mess around. 

Oblivious to the certain lack of credibility the gown garnered, Declan planted his bare feet and growled.

“Take your hands off her.”

The cop inched back closer, just in case.

Rick went even starchier, probably from the body-stiffening powers of testosterone, and drew Sadie toward him.  Then switched gears, and poured on the charm.

“Declan, is it?”  He actually extended a hand.  Which he used to pat Dec’s shoulder when it became clear that no handshake was forthcoming.

Sadie winced when he then proceeded to wipe it on his tailored pants.
  Declan hadn’t yet been able to take a shower.

“You’ve been through a hell of an ordeal, I understand.  I was just speaking with your father in the cafeteria.  And… anyway, I’d like to thank you personally for looking out for Sadie during this crisis.  It’s a comfort to know my future wife has such loyal friends.”

It was perhaps a fishing expedition, a taunt or outright psychological denial, because Sadie knew Rick wasn’t that stupid.  Territorial challenge was pumping out from Dec in waves.  “Like hell,” he said, and let it go without clarification.

Obviously confused, Rick raised his brows while the cop chuckled quietly.

All three of them turned toward him in unified disapproval.

He studied the shine on his shoes.

“As I was saying,” Rick cleared his throat and shifted on his tasseled loafers, “Sadie’s been lucky to have you and –”

“Rick, don’t.”  Sadie couldn’t stand this a minute longer.  It was painful, awkward and embarrassing.

But sensing that she was about to move away, Rick lunged to recapture her hand.

“Touch her again, and you’ll be wearing your balls as earrings.”

With that Rick shed his civility like a bad Men’s Warehouse suit.  “I don’t know who you think you are –”

“I’m the man who loves her, asshole.”

“Well then it appears you’ve a funny way of showing it, as you almost allowed her to be killed.”

Declan’s entire body vibrated with an intent that was purely maleficent.  “Why don’t you step into my office, Dick, and we’ll discuss all the ways you don’t know your ass from a stick repository.”

“Pretty impressive talk, coming from a man who’s wearing a gown.”

The cop, whose sense of duty finally overrode his prurient enjoyment, moved close and offered up a severely intoned “Gentleman.”

Rick and Declan ignored him completely.

Sadie got between them, one hand on each puffed-up male chest.

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe,” Rick continued, in a rare but total loss of decorum, “that Sadie would allow a knuckle-dragger like you to usurp my position.”

“Hell, no.  I showed her all kinds of new positions, so I guess she plumb forgot about yours.”