“Because it amuses me to hurt him. And what amuses me, amuses the man holding your arms. That’s real love, darlin’.”
She punches me, sending pain splintering through my head. I gasp and another blow comes. Then everything goes black.
Twenty-four
Mark . . .
I’m climbing the walls, losing my mind with worry over Crystal. I pace the small office a mile from Riptide that’s being used for emergency personnel and authorities. My staff has thankfully been evacuated, as are all nearby businesses, while the bomb squad does their job. But I’m going insane, and the fact that we were fighting shreds me all the more.
Royce is on the phone with the feds, trying to get an update on the ping for Crystal’s phone, and I listen, hoping for good news. He ends the call and shakes his head. I turn away, my hand in my hair, my eyes burning. An hour and a half has passed, and not one ping. Damn it, I had a plan. I was going to end this.
“Crystal’s father and brothers are trying to get past the blockades,” Blake says, from a cluster of people in one corner.
I’d talked to Hank an hour ago. He’d barely spoken, but I’d felt his anguish, his absolute torment. He’d trusted me to protect his daughter. I’d failed her and him.
Kara bursts through the front door of the office. “They found her,” she says, sounding winded. “She was in a bathroom a few blocks away. She’s on her way to the hospital.”
Relief and terror grip me. “What does that mean? What’s happened to her?”
“Beaten badly,” she says tightly, “and I don’t know the extent of her injuries. They couldn’t tell me. Jacob’s pulling up to the door to take you to her.”
Terror defeats relief as I head for the door, Blake on my heels. I can’t breathe with the thought of losing Crystal. I can’t lose her.
“I’ll get her family to her when they arrive,” Royce calls behind me.
I nod but don’t look back. I just need to get to Crystal. Outside, sirens are flashing everywhere, and Jacob pops the front passenger door for me. I climb inside.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I am as far from okay as I could possibly be.”
He pulls onto the street, navigating through the blockades. “I have your back, man, and I’ll rip out Wright’s throat if I get the chance. I’ll even hold him and let you do it, and tell everyone with a problem to fuck off.”
I nod but say nothing else for the eternal fifteen-minute ride. We pull up to the emergency room door and park, both of us exiting in a rush. Another vehicle pulls in behind us and Blake appears.
With Jacob and Blake by my side, I tell the receptionist, “My wife was brought in. Crystal Smith.”
The woman looks at the computer screen. “I’ll have someone come out and talk to you.”
I step to the side of the desk where she motions for me to stand.
Blake and Jacob follow me and Blake says, “We’re using satellite and camera footage to try to track Wright and Ava. We also have men questioning Ricco back in California about the tip you got about him and Wright working together in the past, but we could use any proof you have to pressure him.”
I reach into my pocket and hand him my disposable phone, no longer worried about anything but making this end. “That’s my hunter. He was supposed to have the proof delivered to me today. If he gives you any trouble, find me.”
Blake gives me a nod. “I’m going to talk to security, and get Crystal set up in a protected area with Jacob by her door.”
“Mr. Smith.”
Forgetting Blake and Jacob, I turn to find a man in scrubs and rush over to him, my chest unbearably tight. “How is she, Doctor?”
“Are you the husband?”
“Yes, but it’s Compton. Mark Compton. She kept her maiden name.”
“Well, Mr. Compton, your wife was badly beaten. We’re doing a CT scan and diagnostics, but I already know she has a serious concussion. She’s unconscious but her vitals are stabilized for now.”
“But she’s going to be okay?” I ask.
“She’s in critical condition, but we’re going to take good care of her.”
It’s not the definitive answer I want, but it’s the only one he offers before he leaves. Turning, I find that Hank, Anna, Scottie, and Daniel have arrived. I inhale and walk forward, giving them the news I’ve just heard.
“I knew we shouldn’t have let her take this job,” Daniel growls.
“Shut the fuck up, Daniel,” Scottie snaps while Hank cuts Daniel a hard look. “He loves her. He’s blaming himself plenty without you doing it for him. Believe me, I know.”
Hank places his hand on my shoulder and gives his sons our backs. “You didn’t do this, son. Don’t do that to yourself. I’ve been there.”
My eyes burn, and I don’t give a shit who knows. Hank might have lost a wife, and he knows the natural guilt most people feel, but not nearly as well as I do. “I should have sent her to Paris.”
“I would have convinced you and her that she needed to leave. Neither of us got the damn chance.”
“Where is he?” my mother demands.
I twirl around to find her and my father entering the ER. “My family,” I tell Hank. Grabbing Crystal’s note from my jacket pocket, I hand it to Hank and leave to greet my parents.
My mother throws her tiny body against mine, hugging me, and her frailness reminds me how close I am to losing not one, but two women I love. She leans back to study me. “Tell me she’s okay.”
“They’re not saying anything certain yet.”
Her eyes widen in fear, but then she grabs my arms. “This is not a repeat of history. You are not going to lose her.”
My eyes burn again. “I’ve never needed you to be right as much as I do now.”
“I’m always right,” she assures me. “You know I am.”
My father gives me a hard hug and I catch a glimpse of Hank over his shoulder, staring down at the note Crystal had left. I know what’s he’s doing—the same thing I did for the past two hours. He’s reading it over and over, clinging to anything that is a piece of Crystal.
I break away from my father as Blake and Jacob join us. “They’re going to move her to a secure wing of the ICU as soon as she’s able,” Jacob says. “The doctor will update you there.”
Then my family and Crystal’s pile into a waiting room, hoping for good news.
It’s ten years ago, all over again. The only difference is that my parents and Crystal’s get along well, while Tabitha’s family had always hated me. I never knew why they didn’t want Tabitha with me, when she was the one always diving into trouble, but in the end, I proved them right. I was trouble.
I start to pace, the time feeling like hours, though only minutes have passed. At some point Blake shows up and pulls me to the corner of the waiting room. “No bomb.”
I inhale this bitterly hard-to-swallow news. Crystal had selflessly left the building to save everyone inside, for nothing. “Tell me you have something on Ava and Wright.”
“We’ve got some tips we’re working on. I’ll let you know soon.”
“I don’t know how I can let the staff go back to work. Hell, some of them may quit—and who would blame them?”
Blake sets his hands on his hips. “Bomb threats happen.”
“They’re smart enough to know this is related to everything else I’ve had going on.”
“I agree. Today was an obvious, direct attack on you personally. They didn’t just go after your woman, but also created a disruption to your business, which hurts your family. But there was no bomb.”
“There could have been.”
“No. We have the place too well locked down. But if it’ll make you feel better, we can add dogs. I suggest that you close tomorrow, and when you reopen, we have the dogs in place, and we don’t allow outside visitors until we’ve assessed this situation more. We can even take care of notifying employees for you.”
“Do it. And I’m going to cancel Saturday’s auct
ion if you don’t have good news about Ava and Wright by Thursday. It’s too high profile, and too many people could be hurt.”
“Isn’t that a huge income day for Riptide?”
“I don’t give a damn about the income.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what this is about: cutting you financially. Canceling this auction Saturday will do that. And Ricco already tried to bring down Riptide with the counterfeit artwork. More and more, this lead you have on him makes sense.”
“Except I can’t dot the i’s on him working with Ava. The entire reason he hates me is his belief that I hurt Rebecca. Yet he knows that Ava killed her. It makes more sense for Ava and Wright to be working alone—even if they started out under Ricco’s control.”
“What if Ricco is keeping Ava around just long enough to keep attention off himself?”
I inhale and let it out. “Maybe.”
“Mr. Compton?”
At the sound of my name, I turn and rush to greet another man in scrubs. I assume he’s Crystal’s new doctor. Both families crowd in behind me.
“Your wife has a concussion, but it’s not as severe as we first thought. She remains unconscious but we’ve medicated her heavily for pain. We’re going to keep her in the ICU for now.”
“So she’s going to be okay?” I ask, trying to get the answer I didn’t get from the previous doctor.
“I’d be surprised if we don’t move her to a regular room in the morning.”
I let out a breath. The room erupts in sighs. “Can I see her?”
“I’ll have the nurse take you back in just a couple of minutes.” He disappears back down the hallway, and I turn to face the crowd of family.
Hank steps close to me. “Husband?” he asks softly.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “I plan to be, if she’ll have me.”
My mother hugs me. “I told you. Everything is going to be okay.”
“Mr. Compton?”
I turn at the sound of my name again to find that the nurse has already arrived. “You can come back now,” she says as I identify myself.
Hank steps forward. “I’m her father. Can I come, too?”
“Yes, but only two at a time. Everyone else needs to wait.”
Hank and I fall into step, not speaking as we walk the long corridor. When we turn left I spot Jacob hovering outside a door that has to be Crystal’s, and I am reminded that Wright is alive and well while Crystal is in a hospital and suffering.
It’s not over. Not until he and Ava are captured.
At the doorway, the nurse motions us forward. Jacob gives me a look that says I’m not going to like what I see. Dreading what is to come, but anxious to see Crystal, I step forward—and stop at the sight of her swollen, black-and-blue face. Hank sucks in air beside me, as shocked as I am.
I don’t think I breathe for a full minute, and I barely remember moving, but suddenly I’m sitting on the side of her bed, touching her, kissing her cold hand, trying to warm it. Across from me Hank is doing the same, and the sight only serves to choke me up more.
Hank starts talking to her, telling her how brave she is, how amazingly strong she is. I force myself to stand up and give him space, when all I want to do is hold her. One by one, her family and mine come into the room, until they all seem to understand I need some time with her alone. My father brings me food, but I can’t eat. I sit in a chair beside Crystal, holding her hand, not planning to let go. Not now or ever.
I whisper, “You’re going to Paris when you wake up if I have to kidnap you to make it happen.” I say this at least ten times. I think it a thousand. Every second of the many hours that pass, I pray for her to wake up, drilling the nurses frequently about why she remains unresponsive. They assure me that she’s fine, but I’m not convinced. She doesn’t move at all. She’s like stone.
Long before evening comes and visiting hours end, my mother’s forced to go home to rest, my father with her. Crystal’s father and brothers remain until I convince them I’m not going anywhere. I remain in that chair by her bed, where I will stay as long as she’s here.
“Mark.”
I glance at the door, surprised to see Hank. I thought he’d left ten minutes ago. He walks around the bed and gives me back the note, pressing it into my palm and holding my hand a moment. “It’s clear that you love her, and that she loves you.” Then he turns and leaves. I close my hand around the note and hold on to it, and Crystal.
* * *
It’s the middle of the night when something tickles my head, and my eyes jerk open with the sensation of fingers on my hair.
“Crystal!” I sit up with a jolt to find her eyes open.
“Bomb,” she whispers. “Is . . . everyone . . . okay?”
I hit the intercom buzzer for the nurse. “She’s awake,” I announce, then answer Crystal’s question. “Everyone is safe. You’re safe. You’re beat up, but you’re going to be okay.”
She swallows hard and nods, and I’m hit hard again by her selflessness. Beaten up, in ICU, she’s worried about everyone else.
She tries to lift her hand. “My throat. Need . . . water.”
“We’ll ask the nurse if you can have some. You scared me. I thought I was going to lose you.”
The night nurse, Bella, a grandmotherly type, rushes into the room and scoots me out of the way. She talks to Crystal and checks her vitals, asking where she hurts.
“My head.”
“That’s normal. You have a concussion and lots of bruising, but nothing that won’t heal.”
“Water,” Crystal says again. “I’m . . . so thirsty.”
“Let’s do ice chips for now; we need to make sure you tolerate it. Throwing up would not be fun now.” She pats Crystal’s leg. “I’ll be right back.”
I go to the side of the bed again. “It’s good to see you awake. It’s the middle of the night, but your family and mine were here for hours and hours.”
“Dana . . . was here?”
“Of course she was here. You’re the daughter she never had.”
She tries to smile and grimaces. “Ouch. I feel swollen.”
“Ice chips have arrived,” Bella announces, returning. “You are swollen, honey, but like I said, it’s nothing that won’t heal.” She sits on the bed and helps Crystal suck on a couple of broken-up ice cubes. When those are gone she says, “Okay, I’ll leave you to your doting husband now. We’ll try some water in an hour or so if you want it.”
The nurse leaves and Crystal’s lashes flutter. “Husband?” she whispers.
I settle back into the chair and take her hand. “Yes. Husband.”
Her lips curve a tiny bit and her eyes shut as she slips into deep breathing.
I sit down and hold her hand. “Rest,” I say, unsure if she can hear me. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
I watch her sleep for several minutes and eventually lower my head again, exhaustion taking hold with the first bit of peace I’ve had since her attack. Listening to her breathe, I’m so thankful she’s alive.
“Not . . . your fault,” she whispers, and I lift my head to find her eyes shut, not sure if she really said it or not.
* * *
Crystal wakes at three in the morning with a nightmare, screaming and bringing hospital staff running. They sedate her and she rests, but I’m certain she is haunted not just by Wright and Ava, but the past they had to have stirred. That I let them stir. By six o’clock her blood pressure is high, so she’s kept in ICU, and I worry that she’s still having nightmares, her reactions suppressed by the drugs.
By midmorning Wednesday we’ve moved to a regular room, but she’s still struggling to eat and sit up due to the throbbing in her head. Our families come for frequent visits, but she wants sleep more than she does talk. Still, by midafternoon she agrees to meet with Royce and the FBI agent working the case.
Listening to her recount the details of her attack guts me.
When we’re done, I step into the hallway with Royce and the fed, Joe,
who leaves Royce and me to talk. Royce updates me. “Ricco isn’t talking, but we don’t need him. A lead turned up Wright in a Queens hotel, but Ava isn’t present. We’re watching him, hoping she shows up before we arrest him. We don’t want to spook her into running.”
My relief is a complete physical rush like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
“It’s not over yet,” he cautions. “Ava’s still a problem, and still a psycho bitch from what Crystal just said.”
“Could Wright have killed her?”
“If Blake’s theory is correct, that she was being used to divert attention from Ricco, it’s possible Wright was done with her. But if that’s the case, why is he still here? He’s smart. He doesn’t get caught, because he doesn’t overstay his welcome—and he has this time.”
This is a cold slap of reality I don’t need right now. “Make sure you’re watching my family and Crystal’s.”
“We’re all over them, and Wright. And we’re only giving Ava twenty-four hours to show up or we’re arresting Wright. I’ll keep you posted as things change.”
He departs and I enter Crystal’s room, finding her missing. I walk to the open bathroom door to find her staring at herself in the mirror.
“I look like a monster,” she whispers.
More of the past comes back to me, pounding at my temples, bleeding into my sanity. I step behind her, my eyes meeting hers in the mirror. “You look like the woman I love.”
She turns and faces me, her hands coming down on my arms, and I feel her touch like a punch in my chest. Too easily, she could have been gone—and I’d have never had this moment with her. “You do love me, don’t you?” she asks.
I draw her hand in mine and kiss it. “With all that I am. I should have forced you to go to Paris.”
Her fingers trail through the stubble on my jaw. “I would have been furious.”
“But safe.”
“And maybe it would have been your parents, then. I can’t regret it being me. And I’m ready to put it behind me. It’s over and I’m fine, and one of us has to get back to work. And while I’d be the bigger attention grabber for the auction Saturday, I think it might have to be you.”