Slow Burn (33 page)

“Do…. Do what?”

He tried to write the next letter but
couldn’t grip the pencil very well. Either fatigue was pulling him
under or the sedatives were starting to kick in.

“You need a break, Uncle Jerry.”

He blinked twice, but with great deal of
difficulty. Anger gripped her heart at seeing him, such a brilliant
man, reduced to communicating with his eyes, and even that was
proving to be hard. Fighting tears, Ashley placed his fingers
around the pen and steadied his hand as he wrote the next two
letters, Y and L. When his hand suddenly sagged against hers, she
knew she couldn’t allow him to continue anymore. She removed the
pen from his fingers.

“It’s okay, Uncle Jerry. I’m not going
anywhere. I’ll stay here until you’re ready to try again.” When he
closed his eye, Ashley sat back and swiped at her tears with the
heel of her hand. When she was in control of her emotions, she
turned her attention to the scribbled letters.

Most of them were crooked and disjointed, but
going by the order he wrote them…. Could he be trying to write
Doyle? Her glance moved to Kirkland’s face. Should she ask him? She
gnawed on her lower lip as she debated with herself.

Feeling terribly guilty at what she was about
to do, Ashley tentatively leaned closer to him. “Uncle Jerry?” she
whispered. “Can you hear me?” There was no response. Her gaze glued
on his face, she took his hand in hers and squeezed gently. “Uncle
Jerry?”

His fingers moved, then his eye opened. She
leaned closer. “Uncle Jerry, were you trying to write the name
Doyle?”

He blinked once.

“Ryan Doyle?”

His body started to twitch and the peeping
sounds of the machines filled the room. Panic washing over her, she
reached for the nurse’s button and pushed.

“Somebody help me,” she yelled, repeatedly
pumping the call button until two nurses rushed into the room with
Matt on their heels.

“What happened?” one of the nurses asked
Ashley as she and her colleague worked on Uncle Jerry. Matt’s angry
gaze was on his father, too.

Ashley stepped out of their way and leaned
against the wall for support, her knees rubbery. “I don’t know. One
minute, his eye was open, the next it closed and he started to
convulse.” Too late, she recalled the partially written name on the
pad. A fresh bout of panic pitched through her. She moved her hands
behind her and scrunched up the page, ripped it from the book and
slipped it in the back pocket of her pants.

Taking a shaky breath, Ashley leaned forward
to check on Uncle Jerry. He was still and the machines had stopped
peeping. “Is he going to be okay?”

One of the nurses looked at her. “He’s fallen
back into a coma.”

Her throat closed, trapping air in her lungs.
It was her fault. She shouldn’t have pushed him for an answer. When
she turned her horrified gaze on Matt, he jerked his head toward
the door and left the room. Ashley hurried after him.

“I swear, Matt. I didn’t do anything.” Her
hand went to her chest. “I just needed to—”

“Come with me.” He gripped her arm and led
her away from the doorway. When they were a fair distance away, he
said, “Of course you didn’t cause him to go into a coma. You were
here because he wanted to tell you something.” He searched her
face. “What was it?”

Ashley sighed, relieved that he didn’t blame
her. “Matt—”

“Don’t blow me off, Ashley. I know he wrote
something down because the paper and pen weren’t where I left them
earlier. If he gave you a clue to what Dunn was after, then I need
to know what it is.”

Ashley shook her head. The last thing she
wanted was for Matt to get involved in this mess. One injured
member of his family was enough. “He didn’t write anything, Matt.
He tried, but the pen kept slipping from his fingers.”

Matt took a step toward her, and from a man
of his girth, the movement could be downright scary. But she knew
he would never harm her.

He scowled at her. “The same thing happened
when he wrote your name, but it didn’t stop him. He was determined
to see you for a reason, Ashley. Why?” When Ashley just shook her
head, Matt pressed his hands against the wall on either side of
her, neatly blocking her exit. “Are you forgetting who I am? I’m
his son, damn it. I have a right to know what’s going on.”

Ashley released a shaky breath. This could
get ugly. To make matters worse, the nurses chose that moment to
leave Uncle Jerry’s room. One went to the nurses’ station, while
the other walked toward them.

“I can’t, Matt. Your father would not want
you to—”

“
You
don’t know what
my
father
would want from me,” he snapped.

“Is there a problem here?” the nurse asked
when she reached them.

Matt glared at Ashley then dropped his arms.
“No, ma’am. My cousin and I are having a little chat.”

“Then keep it low or take it outside. This is
the ICU, you know.”

As soon as the nurse disappeared, Matt glared
at Ashley. She winced at the anger burning in his eyes. She felt
like a traitor. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be. I cannot believe you’d hide
something from me, Ashley. You’re like a sister to me, a member of
my family.” He jabbed the air in front of her face with his
forefinger and ground through his teeth, “Whatever information he
gave you, you’d better put it to good use or as God is my witness,
I’ll hold you accountable for this mess. All of it.”

Silence followed. Ashley’s heart threatened
to leap from her throat. She sighed with relief when Ron appeared
around a corner. Matt saw him too and dropped his arm.

“Are you guys done already?” Ron asked.

Ashley nodded.

Matt stepped away from her. He ignored Ron
and snarled between his teeth, “Remember what I said.”

“What’s going on?” Ron’s gaze bounced between
Ashley and Matt.

She didn’t answer him. Her eyes stayed on
Matt, who threw Ron a mean smile.

“Ashley and I were merely discussing her
options. From now on, she’s not to come anywhere near my father.
And she shouldn’t call the hospital anymore either. I’ll tell the
nurses she’s not a member of my family and therefore shouldn’t be
given an update on my father’s condition.”

Ashley couldn’t believe her ears. How could
Matt be so cruel? As he lumbered away, regret coursed through
her.

“Sweetheart? What’s going on?”

The urgency in Ron’s voice reached her as
though from afar and reason returned. It wasn’t Matt’s fault. He
was acting out his frustrations because he couldn’t punish the
person who’d hurt his father. And there was no way she would give
him the name on the piece of paper.

Ron gripped her arms. “What just
happened?”

Ashley blinked at him. She took a deep breath
and tried a nonchalant smile. From the scowl on Ron’s face, she
knew she hadn’t pulled it off. She started to explain, but her
breath hitched.

He pulled her in his arms and held her tight.
“Shh. It’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”

She closed her eyes and squeezed him hard.
The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart gave her
the support she craved.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered when she had
her emotions under control. “We need to discuss Ryan Doyle.”

***

“What happened with Hogan?” Doyle asked in a
neutral tone. The only indicator of his anger was the twitch in his
right hand.

Frankie shifted his body. “Ironside got
careless.”

“No,” Doyle’s voice whipped out like
lightning. “
You
got careless, Frankie. How could you use an
amateur? No one was supposed to get hurt.”

“That’s where you are wrong,” Frankie
retorted. “In our line of business, people do get hurt. Just
because
you
choose not to deal with some of our business
associates doesn’t make them choir boys.”

Doyle glowered, hating to admit that Frankie
was right. After his stint in prison, he vowed to never to deal
directly with criminals. The deaths at Carlyle House ten years ago
should never have happened, but he’d accepted the incident for what
it was, an accident, and moved on.

“Hogan’s death was a mistake,” Frankie
continued. “He swerved too sharply and went over the embankment. As
for Kirkland, things got a bit out of hand.”

Doyle studied the man. A master at reading
body language, he knew that a person’s true feelings could be
determined from subtle gestures. Was Frankie being deliberately
careless? Could he be behind the letters Ron Noble received or was
Doyle becoming paranoid?

“Did Ironside get anything from Kirkland?”
Doyle asked.

Frankie shook his had. “Like Hogan, he had
nothing to do with the letters. That leaves Nina and the Fitzgerald
girl.”

Doyle tried to contain his annoyance. Frankie
had never liked Nina Noble because of the way the actress had
treated Doyle over the years. If it were left to him, he would have
gotten rid of her years ago. Despite their shared history, Doyle
would destroy Frankie if he ever hurt Nina. No one touched what
belonged to him.

“Why would the girl send Ron Nobles letters
and put her name on it?” he asked.

“Because women do crazy things.” Frankie’s
eyes flashed with hatred. “With the bugs removed from her loft, I
can’t monitor the girl. The problem is Nina’s son. He keeps getting
in the way and making my job difficult.”

Doyle stroked his chin, his gaze not shifting
from Frankie’s face. “Are you sure the ex-firefighters are
innocent?”

Frankie sighed. “I questioned them
myself.”

“Where are they now?”

“On a fishing trip, but they won’t be talking
to anyone when they come back. I made sure of that.”

Doyle’s eyes narrowed. “How?”

“I explained to them how they will lose
everything if they didn’t cooperate with me. If we want to finish
this now, we must get rid of the Fitzgerald girl and Nina’s boy,”
Frankie insisted, leaning forward. “They’re sleeping together, so
if we get rid of one, the other might continue with the
investigation. The only solution is to get rid of them both.”

Doyle hated the thought of hurting Nina’s
boy, but he believed in self-preservation. Someone was using the
boy to destroy him. If one of them had to go, he’d rather it wasn’t
him. Besides, Ron was already messing with his plans by financing
Nina’s play, and killing him might just push Nina into his
arms.

Doyle cleared his throat. “Okay. Take care of
them.” His gaze went to the four panels on one of the security
computer screens on his walls. His chest swelled with pride as
Vaughn stepped out of the limo, a briefcase in his hand, and
started for the house. “My son is home,” he added.

“Did you ask him about the incident with the
Fitzgerald girl outside the hospital?” Frankie asked, his gaze also
on the screen.

“It was a chance meeting, Frankie. Nothing
else.” The first time Doyle heard about Vaughn talking to the girl
outside his home, he’d become suspicious and asked Frankie to take
over as his son’s driver. But after questioning the previous
driver, Doyle realized there was no reason to suspect his son was
involved with the Fitzgerald girl. He didn’t understand why Frankie
mistrusted Vaughn. Perhaps it was jealousy. Frankie used to be his
confidant, but not anymore. Soon, Nina would have that
privilege.

Doyle got up and walked to the window. He
ignored the secluded mansions and street lights dotting the road
between his home and Nina’s. The clear view of her place from his
den was why he’d bought this home. She often stood on her balcony,
not knowing he was watching. At times, like tonight, light blazed
inside her bedroom, giving him an occasional glimpse of her
silhouette as she prepared for bed. He must start courting her
again.

“I’d better be going,” Frankie said from
behind him.

Doyle turned. “Of course. How are things in
Mexico?”

Frankie shifted. “Under control.”

Something in his expression had Doyle
narrowing his eyes. “But?”

“There was an episode, but she’s stable
now.”

“An episode?”

“A heart attack. They resuscitated her.”

He pinned Frankie down with a hard gaze,
watching for any telltale signs of deceit. When Frankie’s gaze
didn’t waver, relief surged through him. Even that made him angry.
He was becoming paranoid. Frankie would never betray him.

As for the bitch, let her rot in the hell of
her own creation. After two failed marriages and two daughters,
Doyle had been thrilled to learn he had a son, a strapping young
man whose brilliance was only matched by his good looks. The
mother’s excuse for keeping them apart, that Doyle was a crime boss
and unfit to raise his son, landed her in that sanitarium in
Mexico. She got what she deserved. No one denied him what was
rightfully his. She never even tried to get money from him for
child support, yet he knew she wasn’t making much as an accountant.
Pride had made her keep his only son from him. He hoped the same
pride had kept her company these past five years while they pumped
her full of drugs.

Doyle tightened the sash of his robe and
walked away from the window. “When you get back, make sure she
signs a DNR form, so if she gets another heart attack, I want them
to let her die. It’s time to wipe the slate clean.”

“What about Nina and Carlyle House?”

“I have one last card to play.” Doyle smiled
with anticipation.

CHAPTER 17

Ryan Doyle.
The name kept repeating in
Ashley’s head as she tossed in bed. Why was Uncle Jerry trying to
write Doyle’s name? It only made sense if Dunn had mentioned the
name while he was attacking Uncle Jerry. Unfortunately, there was
no way to verify that. Matt was stubborn, and once he’d said she
wasn’t to go anywhere near his father, there was no changing his
mind. But at least they now knew the Doyles were involved in this
mess. But which one?