Unsafe Haven (27 page)

He caught her hair in his free hand and yanked viciously. Kendall barely registered the pain. All her focus centered on hurting Roy as much as she could.

She wheezed, “You’ll have to kill me, you bastard.” She kicked at his legs, her body twisting in his hold. Anything to slow him down. More blood dripped from her numbed arm.

He yanked again and her head snapped back. Her fingers lost their grip on his cheek and he jerked away, dislodging them completely. “You bitch, I’ll gut you, right here,” he panted, raising the knife to strike, aiming for her heart.

Kendall’s lips parted on a wordless shriek as she grabbed his wrist, her fingers slippery with blood. Helpless to look away from the knife, she clung in an attempt to deflect the deadly weapon. He struggled to bring the knife closer. She sobbed as the cold steel touched her neck—

A shot rang out from behind them. Then another. Roy staggered, then dropped to the floor, taking her with him, the blade of his knife still pressed against her skin.

“Kendall!” Denn lunged toward the two bodies piled on the floor, his gun still cocked and ready. He spotted her hand, covered in blood. She’d fallen facedown. He grabbed hold of Herington and pulled him away. The bastard groaned.

Still alive, you son of a bitch?
Denn whipped out his handcuffs and snapped them into place, then shoved him away. Carefully, so carefully, he reached for Kendall and turned her. Blood covered the front of the hoodie she wore.

“Oh, baby. No, no.” Gently, he eased the zipper down. The knife’s tip had stuck in the delicate muscle below her collarbone. Denn tore a tee shirt off a nearby table, balled it up, then pressed it against the wound as he slid the knife out. She didn’t even flinch.

He patted her face with his free hand. “Kendall, come on, baby. Wake up for me now.” Her skin had a frightening chill to it. Frantic, he felt for her pulse and sobbed aloud when he located the faint but steady beat.

A commotion from the rear made him jerk his head up. Stevie burst through the racks of clothing, followed closely by Bills Vallo, Pet’s husband. “Bills, hurry. I don’t know how much blood she’s lost.”

Bills set his case on the floor and flipped it open. “She’s gonna be all right, Denn. Keep pressure on it. How deep?” He prepared a syringe and handed it to Stevie. “Hang onto this for me.” Bills held her wrist and counted softly under his breath. “Pulse’s decent.”

He nudged Denn, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Kendall. “Focus, Chief. How deep is the wound?”

“Maybe half an inch deep, an inch long.” Denn brushed the tangled curls from Kendall’s damp forehead. His hands trembled badly.

Stevie held the syringe out and Denn shook his head. “I can’t. I’m too shaky.”

Nodding, Stevie gently administered the syringe. “The shakes will ease off. I gotta check on Wendy.” He crab-walked to her side.

“Denn, Kendall will be all right. But she’ll have stitches, for sure. Hold this.” Bills gave Denn a thick gauze compress and Denn helped tape it in place above her breast. “She might need plasma, but let’s take care of her shoulder first.”

A few feet away, Stevie took Wendy’s pulse. “Damn, it’s thready. Hey, Bills, Wendy’s in rough shape.”

“I’m on it.” Bills finished taping Kendall’s shoulder and reached for his bag. He knelt at Wendy’s side, dug in the bag for his scissors, and cut away the blood-soaked material around her thigh. “Jesus Christ, she’s a mess.” He lifted her shirt and examined her side. “Two stab wounds, both deep. Another in her thigh. She’s lost a hell of a lot of blood. Stevie, I need your help.” Bills pulled out a bag of plasma. “What the hell happened here?”

“I can’t talk about it. If I do, I’ll no doubt kill the bastard with my bare hands.” As he spoke, Denn lashed out with his fist and punched Herington in his side. Ignoring Conroy’s garbled screech, he drew back and struck twice more, grimly satisfied at the bastard’s agonized groan as the blows landed on his chest.

“That’s cold, Nulo.” Stevie nodded approvingly. He held the bag as Bills inserted a needle in Wendy’s arm and started an IV.

“We can stabilize them at the center but they need to go to Providence.” Bills rigged up a fast drip. “Call Bethel,” he instructed Stevie. “They’re coming for Thom, anyway. Tell them we got three more.”

A thin hand touched Denn’s shoulder. Luna knelt at his side. “Is Kennie all right?” She stared at Kendall and tears filled her eyes, then slid in a steady stream down her pale cheeks.

He held an arm out and Luna wriggled under it, close to his side. He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “She’ll be fine.” Belatedly, he remembered Luna’s insulin deficiency. “How do you feel?”

“The candy helped, but I’m kinda woozy.” Luna pressed her forehead against his shoulder as Bills looked on, concerned.

“She miss a shot?”

“Yeah.” Denn kissed his sister’s damp forehead and she clung to him.

“We’ll take care of it.” Bills opened a side compartment in his bag and came up with another syringe and a vial of insulin. “Come here, honey. Let’s get some meds in you.”

She scooted next to him and offered a hip. Bills administered the shot quickly, rubbing the sting away with his thumb. “Go curl up with your bro, sweetheart. You’ll feel better in no time.” He turned his attention back to Wendy.

With Luna cuddled against his side, Denn held his little sister and Kendall in his arms, and prayed.

Providence Medical Center, Anchorage

Denn nodded briefly to the uniformed rookie who stood guard in front of Conroy Herington’s hospital room. The young cop eyed Denn’s lapel rank. “Go ahead in, Chief.”

“Do me a favor, don’t let anyone in here. I want five minutes, all right?” Denn stared unblinkingly at the rookie.

“I don’t know, Chief—”

“Listen”—Denn verified the kid’s name on his badge—“Warner. He almost killed my woman and two of my best friends. One of them is in critical condition. I need five minutes with the suspect. I’m not going to murder him, I promise.”

Warner hesitated, but gave in. “Five minutes. And, Chief?” Denn swung toward him. “I hope your friends and your lady recover quickly.”

“Thanks.” Denn eased the door open and slipped inside.

He stood next to the bed, his hands clenched into fists at the fitful rise and fall of Herington’s chest, swathed in bandages. Denn took plenty of pleasure in the purpling bruises visible around the edges of the gauze. He’d been responsible for all of them, plus the two bullet wounds festering beneath.

Roy’s eyelids, sunken and ringed with dark circles, flickered restlessly as he slept. Four gouges, made by Kendall’s nails, had turned an angry, puffy red on his left cheek. Denn silently cheered each ugly furrow. One of Roy’s wrists had been restrained to the locking side rail with a padded cuff and the fingers of his free hand clenched around a morphine distributor.
Bastard must be feeling some heavy pain twinges.

Denn couldn’t rouse a single morsel of sympathy.

He rolled the morphine drip out of sight, opened a short cubby next to the bed, and gave a soft grunt of approval when he found a roll of wide surgical tape. Lifting it from the cubby, Denn tore off a strip, slapped it over Roy’s mouth, oxygen tubes and all, and swept the call button out of reach. He crushed Roy’s wrist until his fingers released the distributor, and knocked the unit aside.

Roy came awake with wide, frightened eyes and a muffled squeal of pain.

Denn leaned in close. “Can you hear me, you bastard?” He propped an elbow on Roy’s chest and smiled when he choked and wheezed behind the tape over his mouth. “Since you’re all nice and awake, listen to me carefully.” For good measure, Denn rotated his elbow, and Roy’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“I’ll bet that hurts like a mother, huh?” Denn kept the pressure on Roy’s chest and slapped lightly at his face until he focused again. “You’re going to prison for a long, long time, you son of a bitch. But just in case you’ve got a few fancy lawyers on your payroll, and you ever find a way to buy yourself some freedom, I want you to remember the pain you’re feeling right now. It’s nothing compared to what I can inflict when I’m in a pissy mood.” Denn put the rest of his weight behind the elbow.

“Gluuhh,” Roy moaned. His legs tried to thrash around, but they were too weak to do more than flop gracelessly on the bed.

“Yeah, I’d say you’re fucked seven ways to Sunday,” Denn observed. He grasped the edge of the tape covering Roy’s mouth and flashed a cheerful grin. “This’ll hurt a lot. Probably take off some skin, too, if I’m lucky.” His grin faded into a dark menace. “I’ve got friends on the force all over Alaska. I’ll make sure to gain a few in and around Oregon, too. And don’t even get me started on how many prison guards I know. Your life ends, now. Better get used to it.”

With a final, hard grind to Roy’s chest, Denn ripped off the tape, clapped his hand over the flailing man’s mouth to smother his scream, and shoved the morphine distributor into his grasping hand. Roy clung to it the way a baby suctions itself to its mama’s breast. His thumb pumped the button frenziedly. Gradually, his body stilled, and tears seeped from his black-rimmed eyes as Denn straightened the oxygen prong he’d yanked out along with the tape. For the fun of it, he shoved it up Roy’s nose hard enough to make his sinuses bleed. Roy uttered a weak squawk.

“Rot in hell once you get there, Mr. Herington.” Denn flipped him the finger with both hands, then strode from the room.

Kendall came awake slowly, blinking in the diffused sunlight streaming in through the window. She yawned and grimaced at the tightness high on her breast. Twelve stitches didn’t sound like much, but they definitely hurt. Seventeen more tracked across her shoulder, which was not as sore, but still very tender.

At her insistence, the night nurse had reluctantly disconnected Kendall’s morphine drip. “I don’t think you should go off it yet, honey,” she’d cautioned. “It’s only been a few days.”

“I’d rather have the pain,” Kendall had replied, and meant it. The morphine made her head feel like an inflated, cotton-stuffed balloon, even if it did bring relief.

Now she lay flat on her back in bed with her stiff muscles protesting every movement and fire in her wounds.
You’re a stubborn dumb ass, Martin.

She turned her head and stared at the vases of flowers perched on the windowsill next to her bed. They’d arrived yesterday, one after another, and the nurses had teased her as they delivered them to her room. Four arrangements—from a sweet little straw basket holding arctic daisies Luna had proudly carried in, to a gorgeous mass of red roses and creamy carnations from Denn—scented her room in a heavenly fragrance.

Sudden tears filled her eyes, and she wiped them away with the corner of her blanket. She didn’t have a thing in the world to cry about. Her injuries would heal. Roy would never get a chance to hurt anyone again. He’d go to prison and many years would pass before parole was even an option.

But he’d hurt others, too. And that was her fault.

Thom and Wendy had gone into surgery as soon as they all arrived at Providence. Kendall had a vague recollection of being rolled into Emergency, of someone cutting the gauze away from her wounds while Denn held her hand and in a shaky voice told her everything would be all right. She’d drifted in and out, enough to know Denn and Luna took turns sitting with her through the night and all the next day. She remembered asking about Thom and Wendy, but must have been too out of it to register anything else.

Now she lay in bed and cried while her stitches pulled at her tender skin. Yet she refused to give in and ask for the drip.
I deserve to be in hurting status, don’t I?

She tried to curl on her side and moaned at the stabbing pain.

“Kennie, what’s wrong?” Luna rushed through the door and straight to her side. “Does it hurt? You need the nurse? I’ll go get one. I’ll get Denn.”

“No.” Kendall caught her hand and held her still. “Tell me about Thom. And Wendy. Are they all right?”

At the mention of Thom, Luna sank on the bed and rested her head against Kendall’s uninjured shoulder. “I don’t know. Thom’s still not awake.” She started to cry. “Denn says he’s critical.”

“Oh, no.” Kendall snuggled Luna as close as she could without endangering her stitches. “Honey, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She laid her cheek on Luna’s hair.

“None of this is your fault, sweetheart.” Denn spoke from the doorway.

Kendall’s eyes blurred with more tears as she took in his appearance. He looked beat, as exhausted as she felt. He crossed the room to stand by her bed, and cupped her damp cheek with one hand as he stroked Luna’s hair with the other. “Thom’s holding his own. His condition was changed from critical to serious. It’s a step up.”

“Thank God.” Kendall pressed a kiss on Denn’s palm. She formed a smile when his thumb flicked her nose gently and held his gaze for several seconds before asking, “What about Wendy?”

He settled next to Luna on the bed and released a heavy sigh. “Touch and go. She’s lost so much blood, and her heartbeat was almost gone. She flat lined once, on the airlift, but they brought her back fast. Right now she’s got a staph infection from her wounds, and she’s on penicillin. I talked to one of the nurses and she said Wendy woke up and stayed awake for a few minutes before she crashed again. Sleep’s probably the best thing for her.”

He leaned in and kissed her lips gently, then slipped a careful arm around both her and Luna. “I don’t want you to worry about anything except getting better. Thom and Wendy are in the best of care. Providence is one of the top medical centers in the country.”

“I want to see them. I need to apologize—”

“No, Kennie. Denn’s right.” Luna raised her head and regarded Kendall earnestly. “That Roy guy is evil. He hurt so many people.” Her bottom lip quivered. “But he wouldn’t have found you if Wendy never called him and told him where you were.” She flung her arms around Kendall in a hug that made her wince in pain. “We almost lost you. I hope I never have to see her again.” The words were muffled against Kendall’s neck.

She rubbed a comforting hand over Luna’s back as she gazed helplessly at Denn. His jaw clenched and his eyes took on a sheen of emotion.

He parted his lips to speak, shook his head, and instead gently took Luna out of Kendall’s arms. “Come on, Luney-Boo. You’re overtired.” He walked her over to the narrow cot one of the nurses brought in the first night when Luna refused to leave Kendall’s side. “Hunker down there and see if you can get some sleep, okay? I’ll watch over Kennie.” Luna curled into a tight ball and clutched the blanket he pulled over her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her hair and returned to Kendall’s bed.

“Want some company?” He indicated the empty spot next to her.

“God, yes.” Weariness dragged at Kendall and she ached from head to toe, but she’d never give up a second of his arms around her. She didn’t care how much it hurt.

Denn relaxed against the pillow and snuggled her close. She took a few seconds to shift around until she found a position that didn’t pull on either wound.

“How bad does it hurt?” He smoothed his palm over her tangled curls.

“Just a little. No, don’t go anywhere.” Kendall held him down. “It feels better when you’re close.” She toyed with the buttons on his shirt. “You didn’t say much about Thom.”

“He was a mess. Crushed larynx, punctured lung. One of his kidneys had been damaged badly and had to come out. He may not get his voice back.”

“Oh, no. His family, Denn, they must be frantic—”

“Yeah.” Denn trailed his lips across her forehead in a gesture of comfort meant to soothe them both. For a few quiet minutes they held each other on the narrow hospital bed.

Finally, Kendall broke the silence, nestling closer to Denn as she asked, “What’s Wendy going to do once she gets out of the hospital?”

He gave a weary shrug. “I called Mei—Wendy’s mother—and told her what happened. She’s flying in, and she says she’s going to get Wendy to come back with her to Beijing.”

“Will Wendy do it?”

“I think so. Mei’s pretty shaken up. She’ll talk Wendy into it. Right now, she needs Mei a lot more than she needs her independence. Mei’ll help her work out her issues with Nulty, too.”

“He won’t come to see her. Will he?”

“Nope. He probably doesn’t know. I didn’t get in touch with him and I doubt Mei did, either.” He expelled a rough breath. “The more I think on it, the surer I am Mike left for Fairbanks because Wendy got too damned close to him. He moved from town to The Post to avoid her. Wendy smothered him and it made him miserable.” He tucked the blanket around Kendall’s shoulders. “She needs to move on, and I think she needs to be away from Alaska to do it.”

“Away from you, too.” Kendall gave him a knowing look.

Denn’s cheeks flushed pink, but he readily agreed. “I suppose so.” He pressed her head to his shoulder. “Now, sleep. I’m wiped out, and you’re in more pain than you’re letting on. Time to crash.”

His hand stroked her gently, and she could have purred in contentment. “I love you, Denn. I can’t find the words to say how much.”

“Ditto.” He settled himself more comfortably in bed.

Kendall sputtered at his brief, unromantic rejoinder. “Ditto? That’s all you’ve got?” She popped him one upside the head, which in her weakened condition barely did any damage to his thick skull.

He rumbled out a low chuckle, curled her closer, then took her lips in a deep, endless kiss. Her heart pounded against his in perfect sync, and her hands twisted in the soft material of his shirt.

Finally, he released her, his breathing as unsteady as hers, and whispered, “I ditto you. Ditto, ditto, double-ditto. And you owe me an answer.”

“To what?” She had to give him some grief, it was only fair.

“I think you know.” He caught her bottom lip in a playful bite. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk about it. Maybe the day after. Now, sleep.”

Kendall sank into the haven of his arms and closed her eyes, content and safe. “Okay.”