Shadows (Black Raven Book 1) (15 page)

Cataclysm. Now. Run.

Almost five of her twenty-four hours had disappeared. Instead of traveling to the North, they had headed South. They’d moved in the wrong direction, away from Tennessee. Now they were trapped in a private hospital in Metairie, a congested suburb of New Orleans. Skye had listened to every word Sebastian had said in the car. As soon as they were done at the hospital, assuming they got clearance from the doctor, he’d hand them off to the marshals.

No way that was going to happen.

One way or another, she and Spring were escaping before he made the hand off. Pete didn’t use it, but the hospital had a valet stand. If she needed to persuade the valet attendant to look the other way, she had money. She’d take a car. Lucky for her, Sebastian hadn’t realized that the trendy-looking leather belts that she and Spring wore held hiding places for more currency, gold, and diamonds. He could have what had been her purse. It was a small fraction of what she carried to buy freedom.

Sebastian and Pete ushered them into a patient room that looked more like a hotel room than a hospital room, with hardwood floors and a seating area with a couch and two chairs. A wet bar held snacks and bottles of water. Two queen-size beds, spread with crisp linens and plumped pillows, looked inviting enough for Skye to want to fall on the closest one, face first. A man in a lab coat was talking to a nurse. Their conversation stopped as their eyes fell on their group. Skye felt as pathetic as she knew they looked—disheveled, blood-splattered, and sticky with turquoise, orange, and white icing.

To Sebastian, the doctor said, “You look like hell.” He gave Candy, who was in Sebastian’s arms, a pat on her head, which prompted a slow tail wag. The doctor was middle-aged and slightly balding, with kind brown eyes that rested on Skye and Spring.

Sebastian placed Candy on the bed nearest to the door. He half sat on it, half stood, keeping a reassuring hand on Candy’s back.

If this was the ‘look like hell’
version, Skye wondered about a better one, because Sebastian’s tough-guy-yet-charming handsomeness had been obvious from the moment that he had walked across the yard with Candy in his arms, and it hadn’t faded, even though his white shirt was blood-smeared from carrying Spring, and maybe some of the icing with which Candy had been covered had rubbed onto his black leather jacket. In the well-lit room, Skye saw heaviness in his eyes, but they were still riveting, with thick lashes and clear blue irises. They belonged to a tall, lean, yet muscular man who felt like he was made of steel when he’d knocked her on the floor of her office and laid on top of her. She’d seen him in action on the driveway, and he was fast and agile. He also had steady aim. She’d seen his smile when he talked to Spring and the dimples and full lips were worth studying, but there was also nothing wrong with the hard set of his strong, square jaw, when he wasn’t smiling. Which he usually wasn’t when he looked at her, and he wasn’t now.

Ignoring the doctor’s comment, Sebastian glanced at Skye. “Mary and Jane Smith. This sweet thing,” he gestured with his chin to the dog, “is Candy.”

Spring, thankfully, was wearing her headphones and was quiet, eyes on the floor, as she leaned against Skye. If Spring had heard the off-the-cuff pretend names, there would have been questions.

The dark-haired nurse looked young, pretty, and fresh. After introducing himself to Skye, the doctor introduced the nurse, Rhonda, to Sebastian and to Skye. She wore a white uniform dress with a pearl-buttoned black sweater with lapel pins. One pin was the pink breast cancer swirl, another was a yellow ribbon, and a third was a cross. Rhonda wore her causes, and a woman with causes, someone who had to be introduced to Sebastian, might fall for a sob story.

Spring hadn’t looked up since they entered the room, and the doctor’s gaze was now riveted on her.

“I foiled a kidnapping of them,” Sebastian explained. “Shots were fired at close range. Two innocent bystanders, friends of theirs, were killed. The younger one seemed unconscious after a hit in her face, and after awakening she had one hell of an anxiety attack.”

The doctor’s gaze moved to Sebastian, after he provided these details. “Head injuries are serious business,” the doctor said, his eyes on Sebastian, “aren’t they? They should be treated as such, right?”

The doctor’s comment explained Sebastian’s habitual fingers-to-the-temples gesture, which Skye had observed since he’d barged, unannounced, into their lives. He pressed at his temple on the right side of his head whenever he was still, as though soothing a throbbing headache. In the car, when he’d been on the phone, he had mentioned an appointment in the same context as an irritated question about doctor-patient confidentiality.
His affairs were in order.
Those comments, coupled with the doctor’s ‘look-like-hell’ assessment and the pointed comment about head injuries, led to only one conclusion—a head injury that was still a problem.

Maybe her luck would turn, and he’d drop dead.

She felt a momentary pang of remorse. After all, he had rescued them and brought them to a hospital.

Well, maybe not drop dead.

Just something that would be temporarily immobilizing. Something less serious than death. Problem was, he looked way too healthy for any real illness, and his steely-and-irritated glance told her he was too angry to die anytime soon.

Sebastian’s answer to the doctor was a slow nod and a terse, “That’s why we’re here.”

He lifted Candy from the bed, placed her on the rug in the seating area, and removed the room’s cordless phone from the cradle. He gave Skye a pointed look as he kept it in his hand. He walked to the doorway with the phone in his hand.

The doctor glanced at Skye, studying her and Spring. “Tell me what happened.”

Skye recapped, ending with, “I’m not worried about me.”
There is absolutely no time for that.
She drew a deep breath, smoothed Spring’s hair, and said, “My sister has preexisting issues, which may make her answers to your questions seem odd. Developmentally challenged, generalized anxiety disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and, she’s socially awkward.”

Skye fought back the lump in her throat when she thought of all the labels that had been placed upon Spring. She squared her shoulders, dug deep for strength, and continued, “She’s mentally challenged, stemming, doctors believe, from oxygen deprivation at birth.”

“The autism spectrum?”

Skye shook her head. “She was tested. Repeatedly. Nothing conclusive.”

Benjamin was quiet for a moment. “What is she listening to?”

“The encyclopedia,” Skye said, “The reader’s tone soothes her.”

“Does she retain any of it?”

Skye nodded. “Reasoning and logic present problems, but her memory is phenomenal.”

“How so?”

“She can remember words in a dictionary. In order. She has almost perfect recall for dialogue in movies. But at times, her short-term memory of real life events is nonexistent.” Skye hesitated, and braced herself for the hard part. “She was in a bad car accident two years ago.”

My fault.

Her father’s voice came to her, with the message he had provided in the awful days and weeks after the accident.
People have accidents, Skye. Forgive yourself.
She straightened her shoulders and drew a deep breath. “She had a severe concussion, which could make her more susceptible now to a head injury, right?”

The doctor frowned. “It could.”

“Mary,” Sebastian said, from the doorway. She hadn’t realized that he was still there, that he had listened, until he spoke her newest name. Her consultation with the doctor was none of his business, but a quick flare of anger quickly ebbed as empathy in his eyes reminded her of his strong, yet gentle, embrace as he kept her from falling in the driveway. How, as masculine muskiness had enveloped her, his hard chest had become a welcome wall of strength, while her thoughts spun with the residual need to get out of a dead man’s clutches and the impossibly loud sound of gunfire.

Yet even as she found reassurance in his eyes, warning bells clanged. Reassurance wasn’t something she should seek from Sebastian. Her father had taught her,
Trust no one. Especially anyone who knows you’re my daughter.

There was more than just reassurance. He was undeniably the most attractive man she’d ever met, and she’d been around many attractive men.

Unavailable.

If ever there was a man who fit that bill, Sebastian was it. Not in the sense of married, though he could be, or gay, which he didn’t seem to be. No. He was unavailable in the sense of not interested, because no matter what expression graced those clear blue eyes, full lips, and square jaw, underneath it there was impatience. He was looking for her father, and she was a means to that end.

In years past, his restless, brooding seriousness would have been a challenge, but
not now. Skye had spent serious time and effort overcoming her attraction to unavailable men. That self-destructive phase in her life was over. And she had to get the hell away from here and him. She had to get to Tennessee.

Run. Now.

“Pete will be here. I won’t be far. You’re safe,” Sebastian said as he turned from the doorway and disappeared down the hallway.

Safe?
No.
Trapped.

Dear God. Precious minutes slipped away as they went from one examining room to the next, in the unnaturally quiet hospital. Technicians ran a CT scan, an MRI, and x-rays, while testing Spring’s ability to pay attention, her balance, and her memory. Skye stayed with Spring, and they were never alone with Rhonda, her only hope for an escape. Pete shadowed them. Sebastian was nowhere to be seen.

After an hour and a half of tests, they returned to the hospital room to wait for the results. Two matching suitcases stood side by side at the foot of each bed. A small table was set with silverware and dome-covered dishes.

“Those suitcases are full of clothes and essentials for the two of you. Go ahead and eat. Grab a shower. Let me know if you need anything else,” Pete said. “I’ll be right outside.”

Skye and Spring showered. After wrapping themselves in large towels, they bathed Candy. Someone had not only shopped, they had carefully folded the clothes and packed toiletries. There were slim black jeans, blue jeans, fresh and crisp white-cotton button down shirts, and wool cardigans. Panties and bras, in various sizes, flannel nightgowns, cotton turtlenecks, soft cardigans, leggings, and jean jackets. Thin socks and black leather ankle-boots, with solid one-inch, wood-stacked heels, were also tucked into one of the suitcases. The volume of clothes–a supply for more than just a day-made her heart beat faster.

Spring said, “These aren’t our clothes.”

“They’re a present from Sebastian,” Skye said. “They’re nice, aren’t they? And the boots are fabulous. Right?”

“I really like him,” Spring said.

Don’t get too attached.
They both put on blue jeans. Skye wiped the off-white leather belts with a damp cloth, and they used those instead of the belts that had been purchased for them. It wasn’t exactly a fashion statement she was proud of, but today wasn’t the day to care about appearances. Spring chose a pastel yellow cardigan, Skye took a charcoal gray. The slip-on boots were snug, but the soft leather made them comfortable.

Skye went to the table, where assorted finger sandwiches, fruit, and chips sat on platters. The table was set for two. “Are you hungry? There are ham and turkey sandwiches.”

Spring shook her head, “We need to get the cake to the bank.”

Skye paused. She drew a deep breath. Memory loss was a symptom of a concussion.
Oh, God. Don’t let her have a concussion. Please.
“Sarah took care of that for us. We can’t leave yet. We need your test results.”

A worry line bisected Spring’s brow. She touched her nose, and winced. “Who were they?”

Skye hesitated. “What do you remember?” Obviously, not everything, and Skye didn’t know whether to be grateful or worried.

“A man hit me. Everything turned dark. The next thing I remember is Sebastian was carrying me. You and Sebastian yelled at each other.” She paused, and more worry filtered into her clear blue eyes as she shook her head. “We were in the car. I gave Sebastian jellybeans. I don’t remember anything else.”

“Don’t worry about what you don’t remember.”

“Who was the man?”

Skye shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“What did he want?”

“I don’t know,” Skye said, careful to keep her voice calm, her mood upbeat, as she wondered how in the hell they were going to get away.

Fear filtered into Spring’s eyes. “Was it about Dad?”

Of course it was
. “I don’t know.”

“How did he find us? Did I make a mistake?” Spring’s eyes welled with tears.

Spring had never understood why they were hiding. She just understood that they were hiding. “Oh, honey. Don’t cry. You didn’t make a mistake. I don’t know how the man who hit you found us, but I’m going to figure that out, and no one will ever find us again.”

“You know that I’ll never tell anyone anything about Dad,” Spring paused, “I really, really won’t.”