Chapter 13

“No. No. No!” Chrissy slammed her fists against the steering wheel. Déjà vu. Except worse, because this time it was raining.

She was still two hours away from Tarpon Springs. She dragged a jacket from the backseat, draped it over her head to shield her from the rain, and got out of her car. This time there was no flat tire; her car had just died. And she didn’t even have a working cell phone. It was already eleven-thirty at night, and it was dark. She was in the middle of nowhere. The Everglades were to the right of the two-lane highway, a sea of mangroves and sawgrass to the left. She had two options. One: she could start walking in the torrential rain. It would take her hours to find help. There were also alligators lurking by the mangroves. Imagine, getting eaten by an alligator—no one would ever find her body. She hated reptiles. She started envisioning herself being mauled by a creature of the night. Or she could get hit by a car walking at night by the side of the road. Not to mention the crazies who abducted helpless women.

Option two: wait it out. She’d start walking tomorrow at daylight. She didn’t have water or food and she was starved, but there really wasn’t much of a decision to make. First she locked the doors. Then she grabbed her oversized purse and flipped it upside down over the passenger seat, spilling its contents out, to see what goodies she could find in the mess. She was happy to see a chocolate bar and a small bag of peanuts hidden in the mess. See, a messy purse did have its perks! Luckily, she also had Jack Daniel’s. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the flesh-and-bones man she loved and craved, but at least she had the bitter amber liquid to keep her hydrated. Or that’s what she told herself, anyway. Why didn’t she have a bottle of water in her purse? She seemed to have everything else, for goodness sake! So she reclined her seat, cracked a window for ventilation, and took a bite of the dark chocolate and a swig of Jack.

And then bright lights flooded the inside of her car and the smell of tires rubbing against asphalt assaulted her, followed by pain and then darkness …

Jack lost count as to how many times he had called her while he drove. The messages he left her ranged from desperate to angry. He was still cringing over one particular sappy message in which he’d professed his love. He hoped it wasn’t too much too soon, but he had to make sure she knew his feelings. But she didn’t call.

About two hours into the drive his heart stopped. Between flashes of lightning, he saw a car on the other side of the road on the opposite lane of the street. It was hard to see because there were no streetlights and the rain was now coming down hard. But he could tell it was Chrissy’s car. Her car was unmistakable. It was the shittiest car he’d ever seen. Note to self: Buy Chrissy a new car with the money I won from the fight—ASAP!

Since the road was deserted, he made a quick U-turn, but as he got closer he realized that his worst nightmare had come to life. He barely got the car in park before he jumped out. No, no, no—this can’t be happening! The first thing he noticed was another car, a red pickup truck rolled on its side, half of it immersed among the mangroves and the other half sticking out on the slope of the ditch. He hadn’t spotted it from the other side of the road, partly because the rain was beating down so hard and partly because Chrissy’s car and the slight drop into the ditch hid it from view. He then saw that the entire backside of her car was completely smashed in—anyone who had been sitting in the backseat would be dead. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He walked toward the front of the car, forcing his feet to move. First right, then left, right, left … His knees almost gave out when he saw the front windshield of her car completely shattered and blood on the hood of the car, which was now a mess of dented metal. Never had he felt so scared or helpless. He looked around to see if there were signs of a tow truck or a police officer, but it seemed that whatever had happened had occurred hours earlier, because they had cleared the scene and taken the victims away. But where?

With shaky hands he pulled out his phone and called his office. Barely able to get the words out, he asked Officer O’Donald, the officer on duty, to check with all the nearby authorities and hospitals for a Christine Martin and to call him back immediately with any information. He stood next to the mangled car, water pounding down on him, lightning flashing intermittently, and thunder booming loudly around him. But he didn’t feel, see, or hear any of it. His senses had shut down, and he was functioning in some sort of haze. Not quite numbness, because had he been numb, he wouldn’t have felt the pain and fear that tore through his body. He took a deep breath and braced himself: the next call would be the hardest.

Slade picked up on the first ring. “You found her?”

“Hey,” Jack said, his voice somber.

“Speak up, man. I can barely hear you.”

“Sorry. It’s pouring real bad here. Slade … I … uh …” The lump in his throat wasn’t allowing for words. And even if he could speak, he wasn’t sure what to say.

“She wouldn’t take your sorry ass back, huh?” Slade teased.

“Slade …” His hands shook so violently he could barely keep a grip on the phone. “Uh, man … I found Chrissy’s car about two hours south by the side of the road.” Jack cleared his throat.

“What do you mean, you found her car? Where’s Chrissy?” Slade asked.

“Her car … it looks really bad, Slade.”

“What are you talking about? Where is she? Where’s my sister?” Slade’s voice grew louder.

“I’m going into the nearest town to try to find the local hospital. I have my office trying to locate her too. You need to head down here, man.”

“Wait, I don’t understand. She was fine. She was just mad. What are you saying, Jack? This isn’t funny, brother.”

“I’m sorry, Slade. I wish I didn’t have to call you to tell you this, but you need to get down here. You need to get down here now.”

“How bad?”

“Bad.” Jack was a wreck, but he didn’t want to tell Slade just how terrible the scene looked. It wouldn’t help anything, and he needed Slade to make the two-hour drive in one piece.

“Tell me, goddammit!”

“The windshield’s gone,” he blurted out.

“Shit! I’m on my way.” And the phone went dead.

Jack stood on the side of the deserted road, soaked, staring at the car. He just couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t wrap his head around it. One minute Chrissy had been safely enveloped in his arms in the ocean, basking in post-sex bliss; the next …

It was too painful to think about the worst-case scenario. As a cop, he’d seen his share of accidents, and he knew how they sometimes ended. This particular scene didn’t look like it had ended well.

He hadn’t had a chance to tell her he loved her. Had she already been in the accident when he’d left the message? Had she heard it?

“Damn it, Chrissy!” He banged his fists on the top of the car. How could this have happened?

Then he noticed something on the floor near the driver’s seat. He stuck his head through the broken window, careful not to cut himself, and pulled it out. When he saw what it was, he had to put his hand on his chest to stop the pain—his heart physically hurt. What he held might as well have been a carefully written love letter. It was a small, half-consumed bottle of Jack Daniel’s. It was like he had been there with her. And the bottle had survived the crash intact. Surely this had to mean something. As fast as he could, he ran to his car, got in, and took off.

As he searched for a gas station or someplace he could get directions to the nearest hospital, his phone rang. It was Officer O’Donald. She had located Chrissy’s whereabouts, and gave him the address of the hospital. She explained that all she had been able to find out was that the accident had occurred about two hours ago and the officers and ambulances had reported that Chrissy was alive on arrival but unconscious. Jack quickly inputted the address into his GPS, thanking God that he was only about fifteen minutes away. He called Slade, gave him the information, said a quick prayer, and hauled ass to find his woman.

Jack ran into the emergency room of St. Richard’s Hospital, soaked and slightly hysterical. “I’m looking for Christine Martin.” His foot tapped restlessly against the white linoleum floor as the young man at the reception area, whose name tag said Jonah Andrews, typed something into the computer while talking on a cell phone that he held between his ear and shoulder. Jack wanted to reach over the counter, break the cell phone in two, and shake the computer and Jonah into hurrying up. Instead he just drummed his fingers on the counter anxiously.

“Christine Martin,” Jack repeated, but slowly this time. Perhaps Jonah hadn’t heard him. “That’s C-H-R-I—”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you,” Jonah said to Jack, all the while continuing to have a conversation with whoever was on the other line.

Jack stopped drumming his fingers and flattened his palms on the counter. He leaned in, his face mere inches from Jonah’s. “Kid, I’ve had a fucking terrible night. Unless you want that phone and that computer shoved up your ass, I suggest you stop pissing around and tell me where I can find Christine Martin.”

Immediately Jonah hung up and fumbled nervously on the computer. “Found her. You are …?”

“I’m her …” What the fuck was he? Friend? Boyfriend? Lover?

Fuck that! After tonight, he was going to be her boyfriend. It was a fact. She’d never leave him again; this running-away bullshit stopped today! He closed his eyes and said a brief prayer: Please God, let her be alive so that I can shake her until she understands …

“Sir?” Jonah asked again.

“I’m …” He cleared his throat. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“Sorry, sir. I can’t give you any information. Only immediate family. Is there anyone we can call?” Even though he was probably just doing his job, the kid looked smug. Jonah had just landed a sucker punch, and Jack felt it right in the gut. Perhaps if he had been a little more patient thirty seconds ago, the jerk would have given him some news.

Jack’s shoulders slumped. He felt defeated. “She doesn’t have family. I’m it. Please, is she okay? Is she in a room? Where is she, goddammit?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I really wish I could help you, but I cannot give you any information.”

“Please, just go inside and let her know I’m here. I assure you, she’ll tell you it’s all right.”

Jonah looked at his screen and didn’t respond. “I can’t …”

The thought of Chrissy alone in a hospital room, hurt and scared, sent him over the edge. Jack reached out and pulled the lapel of Jonah’s shirt forward with such force that half of the guy’s body was now over the counter. “If you don’t fucking tell me where she is, so help me—”

Two strong hands grabbed Jack’s shoulders and yanked him back and away from Jonah, but the haze he’d been in for the last forty-five minutes or so prevented him from acknowledging what was truly going on. “Where is she?” Jack yelled.

“Calm down, sir,” a deep voice said from behind him, as the man brought both of Jack’s hands high behind his back. In this position, Jack couldn’t turn around to see who held him, but by the strength of the man, he assumed he was one muscular guard, because Jack was not easy to strong-arm. And as unreasonable and relentless as Jack was, the grip was even harder.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” he spat. His chest moved up and down as he heaved in breath after breath. The man pulled him into a nearby room.

“Calm down, sir,” he repeated sternly.

Jack sucked in ragged breaths. One, two, three …

“I’m going to let go now. If you even so much as think of moving, I’ll call the police and they will arrest you and then you’ll have no chance of seeing whomever it is you’re looking for,” the man said, still gripping Jack from behind.

Jack nodded. The man slowly released his hold. Jack rubbed his wrists and spun around to look at the guard. He was much older than Jack, but still a brick house—what the fighting world referred to as “old man strength.” He stood by the door like a bouncer in his dark blue guard uniform, legs spread and arms crossed. Neither said anything for a few minutes.

“Now that you’re a bit calmer, will you be assaulting anyone else tonight?”

Jack shook his head and said, “No, and I didn’t actually assault him, just got in his face a little.”

“Okay. Well, if you’ve calmed yourself, I’ll go see what I can find out for you, and while I’m doing this you are going to go sit in the waiting area and wait. Quietly, okay?” The man’s voice and demeanor were firm.

Jack followed him out of the room. The guard said something to Jonah, who looked over at Jack warily. Then he led Jack to the empty waiting area. “What Jonah was trying to tell you before you tried to wring his neck was that he couldn’t ask the patient if you were welcome because she’s unconscious.” Jack opened his mouth to speak, but the man held up two fingers and placed his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Before you say anything else, I don’t know anything further. Jonah doesn’t know anything further either. No one is going to give you any more information, son. With all the privacy laws, you need to be a blood relative. Is there anyone you can call?”

Unconscious? Is that what he just said? Jack was thankful there was a chair behind him, because otherwise he would have fallen when he plopped down without bothering to look first. She had been unconscious when the ambulance had brought her in; he didn’t know what it meant for her to be out for more than two hours, but he was scared. The news shook him. But he needed to keep it together, not just for himself but for Chrissy. His elbows rested on his lap and his hands covered his face. “Yes. Her brother is on his way, but that’ll take about two hours.”

The guard nodded in understanding. “These privacy laws are hell.”

Jack looked up. “They sure are.”

The man gave him an understanding look and squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “I’m going to let you be. I trust you will control that temper of yours.”

“Yes. Please, apologize to Jonah on my behalf. I’ll wait in here for Christine’s brother.”

The man nodded before walking out.

Jack sat in silence for a few minutes, but the room was closing in on him and the small hospital chair was like a vise. He stood up and paced around. The thought of Chrissy waking up alone in that room unnerved him. He should be there, holding her hand, privacy laws be damned! But when another thought made its way to the front of his mind, bile started creeping up his throat and the room started spinning. He’d have her scared and alone a hundred times over than unconscious or even worse …

He couldn’t even begin to think of the “even worse.” He’d known Chrissy for over twenty-five years. Granted, there’d been an eleven-year hiatus, but that was irrelevant, because from the moment their eyes had locked that night on the road, something had changed. The axis of his world had shifted.

And what if she woke up and still didn’t want to see him? He had no real claim to her. The what-ifs were starting to consume him. He continued to pace.

Calmly, or at least, with whatever calm he could muster, Jack walked down the hall to the reception area and saw that Jonah was still there. When Jack approached, Jonah flinched.

“I’m sorry about earlier, man.”

Jonah nodded.

“I just … is she awake yet? Can you give me any news? Any news at all?” Jack couldn’t remember ever having cried in front of strangers before. Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried at all. But tears pricked the back of his eyes and he choked out the words. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I’m dying, man. Please. Anything. Is she awake?”

Johan nodded and picked up the phone. He said something to someone and hung up. “I called the nurses’ station. She’s still unconscious but her vitals are okay. They will let me know as soon as there’s any news.”

Jack cleared his throat again and extended a shaky hand to Jonah, who reluctantly took it. “Thanks, man.”

Jack went back to his prison cell and waited. He paced and prayed and pleaded, paced some more, and then prayed some more. He then heard a commotion from somewhere down the hall, and the guard from two hours earlier burst into the room escorting Slade inside much the same way he’d escorted Jack—just with a little more difficulty.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Slade hissed.

“I’m about to call the police and have you arrested. Poor Jonah’s had a hell of a night.” He looked over at Jack. “This one’s with you?”

Jack nodded and pointed with his thumb. “The blood relative.”

“Figures.” He released Slade, who then turned around to take a look at the man who had secured him. Much like Jack, Slade rubbed his wrists together, feeling the effects of the older man’s iron grip. “Jonah already told you that they’d send out a nurse to speak with you shortly. Stay here until then.” Slade took a step forward, but Jack reached for his forearm and pulled him back. “Control him,” the man said, not intimidated at all by the sheer size of Jack and Slade. Jack nodded, and the guard disappeared.

“Get your hands off me.” Slade swung his arm away from Jack’s grip and moved toward the door.

“If you get arrested, you’ll never see her. I’ll never see her. We won’t know what’s going on. You are the only one they’ll give information to. So don’t fuck this up with your temper.”

“You mean you haven’t been able to see her?”

“No. They won’t let me see her, and they won’t give me any information.”

“So all we know is that she was in an accident and she’s unconscious?”

Jack nodded.

“Fuck! She left because she was pissed off at me. What if …” Slade slumped back into a chair.

“No, she left because she was mad at me,” Jack said.

“We really screwed up, man.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Royally.”

A nurse walked in. Both men sprang up. “Slade Martin?”

Slade took a step forward.

“I’m Marlene Muller. The attending nurse on duty. Can we have a word?”

“Yes, of course.”

The nurse glanced at Jack and gave him an apologetic smile. “In private.” Slade looked back at Jack and then followed the nurse out the door.

Jack waited what seemed to be an eternity. Finally he could stand it no longer and walked out of the small room. He was surprised to not find Slade there. He thought he’d been speaking with the nurse outside. Again Jack waited, paced, prayed, and paced some more until Slade finally returned, white as a ghost.

“What happened? Where were you?”

“The nurse took me up to see her.” Slade slumped down into the chair. “God, she looks bad.”

Jack clutched the sides of the chair, his eyes watering, but he let Slade continue. “The doctor said that the next twenty-four hours are critical. She hit her head real bad. Her face is all scratched up and bruised.”

Slade turned to Jack. “Say something.”

“I think I’m having a heart attack.” Jack clutched his chest; he was drenched in a cold sweat, and his vision tunneled. The pain he felt was unbearable; he felt suffocated by the force of it. Slade crouched down in front of Jack and grabbed his shoulders.

“Breathe, man. In and out. Slowly. Breathe. I need you, man. Chrissy needs you. You need to get your shit together because I can’t do this on my own. What would she need me to do? You know her better than I do. You always have. Please, Jack, pull yourself together.”

Slade was right. He did know her best. He took some calming breaths, his eyes closed, and silently said another prayer.

Slade stood and left the room; Jack assumed it was Slade’s way of giving him some space to compose himself. A few minutes later, Slade came back with a duffel bag. “Go change. You’re soaked. I had my gym bag with clean clothes in my car.” He handed the bag over to Jack, who went to the nearest bathroom and changed into the dry clothes.

“She’s strong, Slade. She’ll make it. She will. I have too many things to say to her and she can’t … She’ll make it,” Jack said as soon as he reentered the room.

Slade nodded and started for the door, but then he turned around and hugged Jack. Not a half hug or a pat on the shoulder, like men usually do, but a real hug. One that said everything they couldn’t verbalize. When Slade finally walked out, both men’s eyes were moist.

Jack braced himself for a long, torturous wait, but Slade was back fifteen minutes later. “Come on. I explained that you’re family and you need to see her.”

Jack stood and squeezed Slade’s forearm before following him out.

Chrissy lay in a room partitioned with a flimsy curtain. If it hadn’t been for the tubes and the beeps from the equipment—which made him nervous—he’d have thought she was asleep. Her black hair fell around her shoulders, and even bruised, she was beautiful. His Sleeping Beauty. He leaned forward and ran his knuckles along her cheeks. A tear slipped from his eye. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. What I wouldn’t give to be the one here instead of you. I need you to be strong and wake up, okay? I need to tell you that I love you, face-to-face. I need to hear you giggle. I need you to fight with me about something silly. I need you to get Drogo to stop growling at me. I just … need you. Please,” he whispered, tears falling. He didn’t care who heard him or who saw him.

Slade sat on the side of the bed. He wanted to hold her hand, but because of her IV he couldn’t. The doctor walked in and spoke with them about her condition. Chrissy was breathing on her own, though weakly. Ironically, her worst injury was the concussion she’d sustained from hitting the windshield. He told them that they had done all they could; it was up to her to wake up on her own. He and his team didn’t think she was in a coma, but he said that it could take hours, days, or even weeks for Chrissy to wake up.

Both men sat quietly by her bed just watching her breathe. An hour later, the doctor was back, explaining that she needed to be monitored around the clock for the next twenty-four hours. He also added that according to the police, the driver of the pickup truck had lost control due to the rain and hit her car, which was sitting by the side of the road without any lights. The other man was fine and had already been discharged. Jack expected to feel bitterness toward the other driver, but he realized it wasn’t the guy’s fault. It was never safe to be on the side of the road without lights, especially in the rain. And right now Jack just couldn’t feel anger. There wasn’t room in his heart for it. He simply wanted Chrissy to wake up, so he sat by her side and waited … and waited …