She’s dead, motherfucker. She’s gone. Happy fucking wedding day.
Kym heard the shots and screamed, scrabbling at the door to let herself out of the car. She started towards the house, then, as Stu bore down on her, she yelled and cried out for help. Just as Stu brought the butt of his gun down on her head, she heard someone else shout.
Help was coming. Save her, Kym thought as she succumbed to the darkness, save her …
Emily finally looked up and Dash was horrified to see how hard her eyes looked.
“You should go,” she said softly. “Henry’s staying with his mother. You need to go.”
Dash panicked. “No, wait, Em—“
“It’s over, Dash.”
“No.” His body felt as if he were going to collapse. “No. I’m sorry I did that, but it was only meant—God, I guess I thought …” His body slumped. “You’re right. It was a stupid thing to do and I apologize. I panicked. I wanted to give you the world.”
“I don’t want anything in that way, Dash. I just wanted to trust you and I don’t. It’s over. Please go.”
He was desperate now. “I love you, Emily.”
She smiled through her tears. “I love you too. But it isn’t enough. Please, Dash, go …”
Dash Hamilton stared at the woman he loved for a long moment, then silently walked out of the apartment.
He hadn’t realized heartbreak would feel like a death.
Bay woke, a haze of agonizing pain. The room was too quiet. Her ears rang from the concussion of the gunshots. She moaned, gently putting a hand on her ruined belly. Jesus. She groaned as her hand touched the torn skin and felt the blood pumping from the wounds. It felt like an inferno was raging inside her abdomen, the pain searing, making her gasp for breath.
“God …” she whispered. She had to get help—get to a phone. Kym. Stu had Kym. Bay knew that she might not survive this, but Kym could. Kym would, she could help it. And Tom. She moaned. Oh, god, Tom, I love you so much. The thought of his pain made her pull her body across the floor, searching for her cell or anything to attract attention. She wondered how the hell the bullets, fired point blank into her, had missed her spine and how she could still feel her legs. Every movement was agony. Ironically, the pooling blood helped her slide across the wooden floors. She saw her purse overturned across the room and a small glimmer of hope started. She pulled herself along, clutching her wounds and trying to stop the blood, black spots threatening her vision. Her chest felt tight and darkness was coming.
Bay managed to pull her purse toward her, but as she did, she saw her cell beneath it and all hope left her. Stu had smashed it. Bay moaned. No one’s coming to help you. She felt the darkness coming now and the strength in her body leaving her.
Oh, god, Tom, I love you, I love you …
Tomas had probably broken all the speeding laws as he sped through the city, but he hadn’t noticed. All he could think of was seeing her, getting to the city hall, and marrying the hell out of her. Bay … Every time he thought of her, a ribbon of warmth and certainty would curl in his stomach. I’m yours, she had told him, and he kept reliving those words, belief and disbelief mingling in the best way.
Now, as he was pulling up to the sidewalk near the houseboat, his excitement grew. He glanced at his home—he couldn’t quite believe that she was there, waiting for him. He slammed the door of the car in anticipation and halfway ran up the staircase. He walked around the balcony and to the deck doors. It was only as he approached the door that something seemed wrong. He frowned. The door was ajar. Maybe she had opened it in anticipation of his arrival, but with Stu still out there and unstable, he doubted she’d do something so reckless. And the quiet. Too quiet. His pace slowed and he pushed the door slightly.
“Bay? Sweetheart?” No answer. His heart started to beat uncomfortably hard. “Kym? Anyone here?”
He walked into the house and stood, listening for a second. “Bay?” A haze hung around the apartment. Cordite. He’d recognize that smell anywhere. God, no, please …
All he could hear was the pounding of his heart. “Bay, sweetheart, it’s me. You here?”
He took a deep breath in and stepped into the house. The breath was knocked from his body when he saw the blood smeared across the wooden floor. It took his brain a few seconds to tell his eyes to follow the path of the blood across to the living room. He saw her lying prone, facing away from him.
“Bay? Jesus, Bay!” He darted to her side and nearly recoiled at the sight of her bloodstained body, the paleness of her olive skin, and the pain etched across her face even while she was unconscious. He could see straight away that she’d been shot by the three tell-tale wounds in the center of her abdomen and the gunshot residue around the holes in her dress.
“No. No. Nonononono, God, no …” He gathered her into his arms. She was still breathing, barely, and Tomas fumbled for his phone while he stared into her still face. Quickly, he gave the emergency response the details.
“They’re on their way, sir. We already got a call about a disturbance. Hang on in there …”
He dropped the phone and pressed his hand against the wounds, trying to keep her blood from spilling out any further. “God, Bay,” he whispered. “Please don’t leave me now …I just found you. Live. Breathe. Please …” He choked back a sob, pulling her closer and burying his head in her hair, breathing her in. In the silence, he could hear her tiny gasps for air and his heart cracked wide open. “Jesus…who would do this?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to listen for sirens and trying not hear her desperate fight for life. Trying to pretend, even as she lay broken in his arms, that she was merely asleep and not shot and dying. It was only when he opened his eyes that he saw it. In her blood, on the floor. She’d obviously written it before she lost consciousness, even then looking out for someone else—for someone she loved.
Don’t let him hurt Kym
Tomas’s heart cracked. Stu did this. Stu shot Bay. Of course.
Of course.
Emily groaned as she heard a knock at the door and when she pulled it open, she could barely believe it was Dash. Fury rose in her.
“What the hell, Dash? I …”
Dash held up his hands and she noticed how deathly pale he was. “Wait,” he said in a broken voice. “This isn’t about us. It’s Bay. She’s been shot. Stu shot her and now Kym is missing. Jesus …”
Emily, shocked to her core, lunged forward automatically as Dash began to collapse in her doorway. Her mind could not compute the horror.
Her friend. Her client. Bay.
Bay was shot and Kym was missing. Emily felt all of her anger drain away as she and Dash clung to each other. “Is she …?”
“They’ve taken her to the hospital. Tom’s a mess. Emily, I’m so sorry.”
Emily shook her head. “How bad is it? How many …” she couldn’t get the words out.
Dash tightened his arms around her. “She was shot multiple times. That’s all Roman said. Multiple times.”
“They don’t know if she’s going to make it …”
End of Part Two.
Quartet #3
Crazy for You
Shae Groves clamped her hand over the microphone of her cell phone and cursed loudly. Count to ten, slowly, she told herself. It was the same old crap. Jason was holding up the divorce again, out of nothing but spite. Oh, he said it was because he still loved her and that he wanted to work things out—that he wanted to try counseling.
Bullshit. Jason just hated to lose and to look like the bad guy. Then you should have kept your prick in your pants, jerkwad. Shae gritted her teeth and answered her lawyer.
“You still there?”
“I’m here. Look, he has half the money, the house, and the car. If he doesn’t sign this time, take everything off the table and tell him he’ll get nothing from me. Then in two years, I’ll sue for divorce and cite infidelity. In the meantime, I won’t stop talking about his infidelity to our friends, his work colleagues, hell, the press. That will show Mr. Big Time Rock Star exactly how serious I am.”
She ended the call and let out a low roar. She stood on the roof of the hospital and looked out over the beautiful city of Portland, Oregon. When she’d gotten here, two weeks ago, she had been used to the frenetic pace of Cedars Sinai, Los Angeles, with its rotating intake of the rich and famous. That was where she had met Jason Kline, the biggest star in country music. At first she had been utterly professional, but over time he had worn her down with his easy charm and thousand-watt smile.
“I cannot date a patient,” she had said firmly, but Jason grinned at her, a twinkle in his eye. His leg was still in plaster, fractured from when he had fallen off a stage in San Francisco, but he was going home to rehabilitate. The horror of never seeing him again had overridden any last doubts, and when he was released, they had dated, fallen in love, and gotten married in the space of two months.
Jason had cheated on her less than a week later—and he hadn’t been shy about it. She had walked into their bedroom, her shifts having changed at the last minute, and found him being ridden by a girl who couldn’t have been older than twenty and who screamed as she bounced enthusiastically on top of Jason. Shae had stood there, a sense of inevitability settling over her.
Without a word, she had gone to the closet, pulled out her suitcase, and started shoving clothes in it. It had still taken the lovers on the bed another few seconds to realize she was there—in fact, it wasn’t until the flash went off on Shae’s camera phone that they uncoupled with a shock, Jason staring in disbelief.
“Baby, please …”
Shae waved the phone at him. “Caught on camera, dillweed.”
If she knew anything, she knew that Jason’s “good-guy reputation” meant the world to him. Jason reacted by leaping from the bed and making a grab for the phone. Shae whipped it behind her back. “Won’t do you any good,” she smiled. “Already sent it to the cloud.”
“Fucking bitch.” His spittle had misted her face. The groupie in the bed had whimpered.
And just like that, it was over.
Now she was about to start a rotation under the mentorship of Otis Ford, the most renowned and respected orthopedic surgeon in America. She he had been surprised he hadn’t interviewed her, rather letting his assistant, Helen, make the decision. Shae had liked Helen immediately, her warmth and efficiency calling to Shae’s sensibilities.
She went back inside and went to Helen’s office to see if she wanted to go for a coffee. Since she’d been here, Helen had become her confidant—even a mother figure in some ways. She soon discovered Helen was an activist as well as a surgeon, championing African-American women like herself in the medical world. Shae had to ask her the question.
“Is that why you chose me?” She looked into Helen’s warm, dark brown eyes, so like her own, and saw nothing but genuine friendship.
“No,” Helen said firmly, “I chose you because you were by far and away the best candidate. But,” and she grinned, “if you hadn’t been the best candidate, I would have been on your ass until you were the best candidate.”
Shae had wanted to hug her, tears springing into her eyes. She had missed this. Since her mother had died so suddenly—a simple fall turned to pneumonia—in her first year of medical school, she had deliberately squirreled herself away. She knew many of her cohort thought she was aloof and arrogant, but she didn’t care. Jason had been the first person to get through to her for years. And look how that had turned out. No, Shae Groves was all work all of the time, but her friendship with Helen was one she cherished.
Otis Ford—well, she hadn’t met him yet. He was on vacation on his private island—no cell phones and no lap top. He was completely off the grid. Helen told her he did this a couple of times a year, just to clear his head. Shae knew his work, of course. Who didn’t in this field? Otis was a superstar. She had Googled him after the interview. Forty-three, twice divorced, olive skin, and such thick dark eyelashes, he looked like he had eyeliner on. She squinted at his photo. Nope, they were his natural lashes. Jeez, I would kill for those, Shae thought, studying the rest of his devastatingly handsome features. He stared into the camera with confidence and not a little arrogance, his expression showing his impatience with having to stand there, as if he had much more important things to do. Which he did. Shae read down his list of accomplishments and whistled. Badass mofo, she grinned to herself. She was surprised, though, when she read that he was also a quarter partner in Quartet Records, along with his twin brother Roman and two friends. She hadn’t realized he was tied to the music business. Ugh. She’d had her fill of that for a lifetime.
She knocked on Helen’s door. The older woman was staring at the T.V. screen, a look of shock on her face, but she waved Shae in.
“Isn’t this awful?” Helen’s voice was shaking and Shae glanced at the screen. Helen turned the sound up.
Once again, this just in, the lead singer of The 9th & Pine, the hottest band on the iTunes chart, Bay Tambe, is in a critical condition in a Seattle Hospital after being repeatedly shot in a home invasion. The twenty-four-year-old was attacked in the home she shares with her fiancé, Quartet Record’s head honcho, Tomas Meir. A suspect has been identified and police will issue a statement shortly. This is a breaking story. Stay tuned for updates …
Helen groaned and Shae looked at her. Helen’s eyes were filled with tears and Shae got up and went around the desk to hug her. “I’m sorry, Helen. Do you know her?”
Helen shook her head. “I know Tom, but I’ve never met his fiancé. God, this is dreadful.”
“Listen,” Shae held her hand. “The guys in Seattle are great. They’ll take good care of her, I’m sure.”
Helen nodded. “I know, but this would have to happen when Otis is incommunicado. Damn, I had better call Roman.”
Shae left the room to give her some privacy. She felt sorry for Helen. It was an awful thing to happen, especially to a young kid like that. Twenty-four …jeez. At thirty-two, Shae still felt like a kid herself. She hoped the young woman would pull through.
The expression on Tom’s face was one Roman Ford would never forget--utter and complete devastation. His friend’s clothes were stained with red, his face and hands soaked with his lover’s blood. Tom, all six-foot-five of him, was crumpled in a chair in the waiting room, his head down and his eyes closed, waiting for news on Bay. Emily Moore sat beside him, rubbing his back, her own face drawn and gray. Dash was slumped opposite them, staring into the middle distance. Pete, Bay’s friend and band member, was being comforted by his husband, Hank, who was as wide and tall as Pete was. The couple stood at the far end of the waiting room and Roman could see that Pete had been crying. It looked so wrong on the big man that Roman’s heart went out to him.
When Emily had called and told him, he hadn’t been able to process the news at first. Stu Lawson had shot Bay and kidnapped Kym. The police were looking for him. Bay was in a critical condition. Tom had found her. It was that last sentence that had spurred him into action—his desperate need to be there for his best friend.
Now, as they waited to hear from the surgeon, Roman cursed his own brother who was down in the Caribbean, out of reach on that damned private island he’d bought. We need you, I need you, Bay needs you.
He went to Tom’s side and sat beside his friend. Tom seemed to have aged a hundred years in the space of a few hours. His finely-angled face was hollow-cheeked, the fear in his eyes raw. Roman could not imagine what he had gone though in the last few hours—the last few hours when he should have been celebrating his wedding to his beautiful girl. Bay had been shot while she wearing her wedding dress. The thought made Roman want to hurl; the heartlessness of it—the cruelty.
“Tom?”
“His friend looked up and Roman tried not to recoil from the heartbreak in his eyes.
“Hey, buddy. Look, I’m going to fly down to the island and haul Otis’ ass back here. Bay needs him.”
Tom nodded gratefully. “That would be good. Really good.” He looked at his watch. “They’ve been operating for hours,” he said softly and shook his head. “They can’t save her, can they?”
“Don’t think like that,” Roman said fiercely. “Don’t. She’s in the best place, Tom. If they’re taking their time, they’re doing everything they can.”
He hoped he was right.
Now, on the private jet hurtling towards the Caribbean, Roman closed his eyes. Damn it all to hell …Why hadn’t they gone to the police the last time Stu had attacked Bay and beaten Kym? Because Kym wouldn’t let them. Roman wondered if the blonde guitarist, Bay’s best friend, was even still alive. He found himself hoping she was, because when they found her safe and well, he wanted to drag her to Bay’s bedside and say, “Look. Look what you did by not letting the police have Stu.”
He knew it wasn’t fair, that Kym could never have known the lengths Stu would go to, that she was just a scared kid too, but hell …one phone call and Bay might not have three bullets in her belly right now.
Roman hissed in frustration. He hated this—hated feeling helpless, useless. As the plane began its descent onto the tiny island runway, he leaned his head back against the seat. At least this is one thing I can do. I can do this.
Shae woke to find her beeper going. She had only been in bed for an hour after a long forty-eight-hour shift and groaned as she picked it up. 911, call Otis Ford. She picked up her phone and dialed, suddenly wide awake, her heart thumping.
“Groves? Good. Pack a bag, say for a week. A car will be by to pick you up and bring you to the airport. You’re coming to Seattle to assist me. See you in a couple of hours.”
The phone clicked in her ear and she hadn’t said anything but, “Yes?” Shae grinned in bemusement. Well, hello, nice to meet you too, doctor. She rolled out of bed and went to the shower. She knew what she was headed for—Otis was flying in to be Bay Tambe’s guardian angel and he was asking her to help him. She was flattered, but at the same time, she’d be around music industry people again. Gross. She drew in a deep breath. All that mattered was that Bay Tambe was okay. The rest she would have to deal with.
Emily Moore rubbed her eyes; they felt gritty and raw. Dash Hamilton draped an arm around her shoulders. “Look, you should get some sleep, baby.”
She moved enough that his arm was left hanging. “I’m fine.” Awkwardness hung in the air between them and she hated it. A few days ago, Bay had been fine, Kym was safe, and she and Dash were happily in love. But that was before Stu decided to kill Bay and before Dash had tried to blackmail Emily’s rock star sister, Paige, into giving up custody of the son she had previously left in Emily’s care. Emily knew Dash had meant well, but he’d risked not only her relationship with her sister—as fragile as it was—but Henry’s happiness. For that alone, she couldn’t forgive him.
Emily got up and moved away from him to grab some water from the fountain. She hated that she still wanted him, that she still yearned, especially now, to curl up into his arms and just sob. This was horrible—just so godawful. She needed him to be the man she thought he was, but if he couldn’t …
She looked up as Tom approached them. “She’s stable,” he said, his voice scratchy and rough. Emily hugged him.
“That’s good news, right?”
Tom seemed to have trouble speaking. “In a way. But she’s in a coma and they have no idea how much damage the bullets …” he choked on the words, “the bullets have done until she can wake up and communicate with the doctors. God, she must be in so much pain.”
Dash was at his side, his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Otis is on his way. Roman called; they’ve just landed at SeaTac.”
Tom nodded. “They’ve got Bay in ICU now. They said I could go in, but they don’t want too many people around. I’m sorry, guys. You’ve been such a comfort to me, but maybe you should go home for now. I’ll call you with any news. thank you. I mean it.”
Dash drove them back to his apartment. “Look, forget everything else and get some sleep. You can have my bed. I’ll take the couch. Grab a bath, shower, whatever you need, Ems. Whatever has happened between us …we’ll put a pin in that. We have work to do.”
Wearily, Emily agreed, and soon they were in his penthouse where she stood under a hot shower, feeling the ache in her bones being soothed. Afterward, wrapped in Dash’s bathrobe, she wandered out to the kitchen. Dash was flipping pancakes onto a plate. “Eat up, Ems. Carbs are the way to go.”
She smiled at him. “I never knew you could cook.”
Dash smiled. “Enjoy. I’m going to grab a shower now. If you’re asleep when I get out, I won’t wake you.”
He started to walk away, but turned when she called him back. “Bay will be okay, won’t she?”
“You bet your …” Dash started, but then sighed. “I don’t know, Ems. I just don’t know. All I can promise you for real is that Otis will do everything he can.” For a brief second, he smiled. “He’ll do it in a way that’ll make you want to punch him, but he is the best.”
Emily nodded. “Thank you,” she said softly, and when he touched her cheek, she leaned into it for a just a second before turning away.
Dash went to the bathroom and Emily picked at the pancakes. She wasn’t hungry even though they were delicious. She waited until she heard the shower running, then tipped the food into the trash can, carefully covering it up with some paper towels. She didn’t want to offend him.
In his bedroom, she curled up on top of the comforter and buried her face in the pillow. It smelled of laundry detergent, fabric softener, and Dash’s cologne, woody and spicy. She breathed it in. Stop it, she told herself, it’s over. She tried to distract herself by going through what they had to do. Press releases, statements, and cancellation of appearances. It couldn’t have happened at a worse time for the momentum the band had built up.
Emily stopped herself. What the hell? Why was she thinking like a marketing automaton when her friend was dying? The thought that Bay might die hit her like a train and she started to cry, then sob as all the pain she had pushed away came down on her. Not just about Bay, but Dash too. Her love for him had been complete, as had her trust, and he had broken it. Fuck it, though, she still loved him—still wanted him. She buried her face in the pillow, her sobs becoming wrenching and exhausting.
She felt the bed dip as he climbed onto it and gathered her into his arms. He did nothing except hold her while she cried and press his lips to her forehead when her sobs died down to shuddering gasps. Her mouth sought his then, unconsciously, and his lips moved gently on hers, kissing, caressing, and comforting.
“You should sleep now,” he whispered. “Just let yourself go.”
“Stay,” she whispered. “Don’t let me go.”
Dash pressed his lips to her forehead again. “Never,” he promised. “Never.”
Shae sat in the gallery overlooking the operating theater, watching her boss operate on Bay Tambe. She had met him only once in the five days they had been in Seattle, a brief, masked meeting in the theater the day before he operated. A bullet had lodged in Bay’s spine and he was trying to remove it before it could do any more damage.
The reason she was in the gallery was that, in that first meeting, she had dared to disagree with the great man. Vehemently.
“I just don’t know why you’re risking it,” she had told him. “The spine is stable. That bullet could stay in there for years without complications.”
“But she will be in constant pain, Dr. Groves.” He had stared at her over the mask, his dark eyes amused. “Bay is a musician at the very start of an exciting career. That bullet moves and she’s paralyzed or dead.”
“The chances are …”
“The chances are, doctor, that my friend will benefit from not being in agonizing pain for the rest of her life. The chances are that I know how to do this better than you. Now, as you are clearly against this procedure, you’re excused. Please update Tomas Meir on his fiancé’s condition.”
Douchebag. Utter douchebag. Shae called him every name she could think of under her breath and went to find Meir. The tall man was waiting in a private room—no doubt arranged by Otis as a favor. Shae ground her teeth. Life’s great when money isn’t a problem, she thought, but when she saw the expression on Tomas Meir’s handsome face, she felt badly. This man was in agony.
“How is she?”
Shae tried to smile at him. “Why don’t we sit?” Tom followed her to a chair and slumped into it, his big frame hunched and broken.
“Dr. Ford is operating now to remove the last bullet from Miss Tambe’s spine.” Shae tried to keep her face neutral, but it was hard in the face of this man’s pain. “He feels that she has a better chance of recovering full function, should there be any nerve damage. We won’t know the full extent of her injuries until she wakes up.”
Tom’s eyes were heavy. “Will she wake up?”
“We haven’t found any reason why she shouldn’t. We monitoring her vitals and we think she’s already beginning to emerge from the coma.” Shae frowned. “Has no one told you that?”
Tom shook his head, but held up his hand. “It’s okay; I’d rather you all concentrate on Bay. But thanks anyway. That gives me hope except …”
“Except?”
“Will she feel more pain when she wakes up?”
“We’ll help her with that, of course, so don’t worry. But long-term, there may be some pain we have to manage. I wish I could tell you that recovery won’t be painful, but I can’t. We just have to wait and see.”
Tom sighed and rubbed his face. “Thanks. Listen, I don’t think Otis has mentioned you yet. Are you new to his program?”
Shae nodded. “Three weeks in. I haven’t even been officially introduced to him yet.” She grinned and Tom gave a small laugh.
“Well, I’ve known him for twenty years and can I give you some advice?”
“Go ahead.”
“Give him a chance. He’s a pain in the ass, but his heart is big. Even if you want to punch him at first.”
Shae relaxed, liking this man and his warmth. His love for his friend was touching. “I’ll remember that.”
Otis was finishing up now, having removed the bullet. Shae glanced at the clock. Two hours. That was insane. She hoped his arrogance didn’t mean a life of pain for Bay Tambe. She had never met the young woman, but if a man like Tomas Meir loved her, then she was inclined to like her. Shae slipped out of the gallery and went back to her office. Five minutes later, Otis came in, smiling and laughing with the anesthesiologist. He met her eye, but said nothing until the other man had left.
“So, Dr. Groves, I got the little bastard and I think we saved her nerves too. A good day.”
His brown eyes were amused and mocking, but she met them steadily. “Would you like me to go update Mr. Meir?”
Otis pulled off his white coat, then, without warning her, he peeled off his t-shirt. Shae looked away but not before taking in the lean physique, the well-muscled stomach, and the dark hair over his pecs. Something quivered between her legs for just a second, then, as he grabbed another shirt, he shook his head, unaware of the storm raging inside her. “No, I’ll do it. Dr. Groves, I’d like to introduce myself properly and learn some more about you. Helen tells me great things. After I’ve talked to Tom, I’ll take you to dinner. We can talk then.”
Nodding at her, he swiftly left the room, Shae staring in disbelief after him.
Tomas Meir smiled at the nurse who was tending to Bay as he slipped into her room. He waited until the nurse had left before pulling his chair to the bed. Sitting, he took one of Bay’s cool hands in his.
“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered, hoping she could hear him. He noticed she had more color in her cheeks now. For so long her skin had been gray and wan. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand, then his breath caught in his chest. Her fingers twitched and pressed against his. He looked up, watching for any movement in her face. “Bay? Sweetheart?”
Bay moaned softly and Tom was up. “Hey, hey, hey, baby? Bay, open your eyes, darling, please …hey, nurse? Nurse!”
As the nurse hurried back into the room, Tom’s heart swelled and burst with joy as the love of his life opened her eyes and smiled at him.
Shae fidgeted as she sat in the high-end restaurant. When Otis Ford said he’d take her to dinner, she thought he meant a quick bite at a fast food place, but no, she was sitting in one of Seattle’s most world-renowned eateries—in her jeans and t-shirt.
Otis Ford, on the other hand, was dressed in an exquisite suit, his lean body made for the expensive cut. His short, almost shaved dark hair was touched with gray at the temples, his face as finely angled as his body. A faint shadow of stubble kept him from looking too well put together, she decided. He looked amused at her scrutiny.
“Made up your mind about me?”
She flushed, but was determined not to let him fluster her. “Not yet, but it’s early days. Luckily, I now have an ‘in.’ Tomas Meir warned me about you.”
To her great surprise, Otis laughed, a genuine sound of warmth and amusement. “Then I concede defeat immediately. Well played, Dr. Groves.”
“Shae.”
“Shae. Beautiful name. Is it short for anything?”
She smiled. “Thanks, and no. Yours?”
Otis grinned. “What could Otis be short for?”
She pretended to consider. “How about, ‘Otis-is-the-way-we-always-do-it-and-don’t-argue?’”
Otis snorted. “That was terrible.” He thought about her joke and laughed again. It was a rich, deep sound that made her insides do a flip-flop. Do not get a crush on your boss. Do not get a crush on your boss. Otis leaned forward and studied her.
“Shae, let me put your mind at rest. I would never risk a patient’s health unless I was one hundred percent certain I was correct. Anyone’s health, but especially not a much-loved friend’s.”
Shae chewed on her lip and Otis half-smiled. “But you did right today. Keep challenging me. I need it to stop me from getting complacent.”
Shae grinned. “As much as I’d like that, I don’t want to spend my entire residency in the gallery.”
Otis smiled. “I do that to every resident the first time, Shae. Not just the ones who disagree with me. It gives you pause, a moment to observe how I work, and to see how our different methodologies can be effectively combined to produce the best possible outcome for our patient.”
The server came with their food and Shae almost moaned at the sight of her steak, cooked perfectly and with garlic butter oozing across it. Otis, she noticed, had ordered the trout, without butter, and a side salad with no dressing. She bit into one of her French fries defiantly.
“So what made you go into ortho?” Otis flaked his fish, checking for bones. Shae hid a smile; as ever the surgeon, she thought.
“I’m a geek,” she said honestly. “I always loved construction bricks when I was a kid. I’m fascinated with the structure of the human body—what everything else hangs on, so to speak. What makes it function and what makes it feel.”
“So why not neuro?”
“It was a toss-up between the two.” Shae cut another piece of steak and chewed it, savoring the explosion of flavor. “What about you?”
“I trained as both a neurosurgeon and an orthopedic surgeon.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
Otis smiled. “Seriously. I wanted to excel in both, so I spent a few more years as a resident than strictly necessary to cover both specialties. One informs the other, at least to me, more so than any other two stands of medicine—although I’m biased. It has helped me immeasurably.”
Shae was impressed. “Do you think Bay Tambe will make a full recovery?”
Otis sighed and suddenly Shae noticed the expression in his eyes: sadness and horror. It hit her then that Bay was Otis’s friend, that he loved her as such, and that it must have been hard to make the decision to operate. How scared he must have been. His arrogance was a mask. Do. Not. Fall. For. Your. Boss.
Otis’s phone buzzed at the same moment as hers. Otis checked his first and looked up at Shae, smiling. “Well, would you look at that? She’s awake.”
Bay swallowed, her throat tinder-dry and raw. The nurse, Kath, took her vitals.
“How are you feeling, honey?”
Bay tried to speak but couldn’t form the words. Tom, gazing at her, spoke for her.
“She’s thirsty; can I get her some water?”
Kath stroked Bay’s forehead. “I can’t let you drink just yet, but I can wet your mouth for you. Is that okay? All right, sweetheart, let me just go fix that right up for you.
She smiled at Tom, who, as soon as she was gone, returned to Bay’s side. He sat carefully on the bed and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “How are you feeling, baby?”
Pain, she mouthed and coughed with the effort. He bent to kiss her.
“Thank you for fighting. Thank you for coming back to me. God, Bay, I’m so sorry …I never thought he could do this.” He dropped his face into his palms for a second.
Bay tapped his shoulder and he looked at her lovely, tired face. Kym?
He shook his head. “We don’t know, darling. We’re doing the best we can. The police are being fantastic. We’ll find her, I promise, and that bas …” He couldn’t get the name out. “I want to tear that scum apart with my bare hands for what he’s done to you.”
Bay touched his face and he leaned into her hand. I love you, she mouthed and he smiled.
“I love you so much, Bay. When I saw you like that, shot …”
She shook her head at him. Don’t think about that. I’m here. I’ll be okay.
Tom nodded and laughed, even as a tear dropped from his eye. “I should be reassuring you. Look, see this button? You press it and it dispenses morphine.”
Bay pressed it repeatedly and Tom frowned. “Oh, sweetheart, does it hurt a lot?”
Before she could answer, Otis came into the room and Bay smiled at him. He was followed by a gorgeous, young African American woman who smiled tentatively at her. Otis leaned over Bay, touching her face.
“Hey, kiddo, you gave us a scare. How are you feeling?”
“She can’t speak very easily,” Tim interjected. “Her throat’s too dry and she’s in a lot of pain.”
Kath returned with a surgical tray. She wet a small sponge. “Open up, sweetie, and I’ll run this around your mouth. Don’t suck the sponge.”
Bay opened her mouth wide and let the nurse help her. Just before Kath finished, Bay clamped her lips shut. Kath laughed. “She sucked the sponge.”
“Totally worth it,” Bay croaked. “Hello, everyone. Hello, baby,” she said to Tom as he bent to kiss her.
“I love you,” he murmured and Bay leaned her face against his.
“Love you,” she whispered back.
Otis grinned at Shae, rolling his eyes. “God, these two are so revoltingly in love, you may want to hurl. Bay, this is Shae Groves, my new resident.”
Bay and Shae smiled at each other. Otis sat on the edge of Bay’s bed. “She’s been reeling me in when I want to do wild and crazy stuff in the theater. So you’ve her to thank for not having bionic legs right now. But, seriously, how are you feeling?”
“Everything hurts,” Bay said honestly. “But I’m breathing. I feel really dirty, though. I could do with a shower.”
Otis sighed. “You may have to wait a few days until you heal some more. There was a lot of damage, Bay. Any GSW into the abdomen causes a lot of soft tissue damage, as you can imagine, let alone three. There’s a huge risk of infection. So, docs orders, take it easy. You,” he pointed at Tom, who grinned. “Leave her alone. I know what you two animals get up to.”
“Okay, Grandpa,” Bay muttered, smiling at Shae. “How’re you finding working with Otis?”
Shae colored. “It’s …interesting.”
Bay laughed and then winced as the torn muscles in her belly objected. Otis shook his head, but he was smiling.
“Come on, enough talking. Get some rest.” He left the room, Shae behind him. Tom sat on the bed and put his arm around Bay. She burrowed into his shoulder, wincing at the pain, but needing to be next to him. He stroked her face and she sighed, relaxing into him. Her whole body screeched with pain, her entire abdomen wrapped in heavy bandaging and her legs and arms tingling with pins and needles. She felt so removed from herself, as if she had been torn out of her own skin. Tom slid a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his, pressing his cool lips against hers. His kiss sent waves of delicious warmth through her, soothing her better than any drug could. She wanted to lay down and be held by him—but the fatigue she felt was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
“Are you okay, sweetheart? Do you want to sleep?”
She nodded. “But I don’t want to be alone.” His arms tightened around her.
“I’ll be here, baby, as long as you need me.”
She touched his face and saw the violet circles under his eyes. “You need to sleep too.”
Tom smiled and nodded to the chair. “That’s my new best friend.”
Bay sighed. “No, you need to go home and get some sleep. Hello, again.” She looked up as Shae Groves came back into the room. She smiled at the couple apologetically.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I forgot this.” She picked up a chart left at the end of Bay’s bed.
“Maybe you can help me persuade this Sasquatch to go home and get some sleep.” Bay grinned up at Tom, who shook his head.
“I’m fine, Bay. I’m not leaving you.”
“If you like, I can stay with Bay for a few hours. I’m supposed to fly back to Portland tomorrow night and we’ve done everything surgically that we can for now. If you don’t mind my company.” She smiled at Bay.
“Not at all. Look, honey, please. Everyone has disrupted their lives enough for me. Go home, grab a shower, and get some sleep. I’ll be fine.”
Between them, they eventually wore Tom down, and after he’d left, Shae sat down in the chair Tom had claimed as his own. Bay grinned at her.
“So, you’re from Portland?”
Shae nodded. “I am. I moved to Tennessee a few years ago. Nashville, then L.A. Now I feel at home again. I love Oregon.”
“West Coast, Best Coast.”
“You bet your ass. You a native?”
“Seattle, born and bred. Are you seeing anyone? Sorry,” Bay smiled ruefully. “I’m being nosy because I’m trying to distract myself from the pain.”
Shae frowned and checked Bay’s drip. “Is it still that bad, even after the morphine?”
Bay nodded. “I feel like I was hit by a truck.”
Shae sighed. “I’m so sorry, Bay. You’re maxed out on meds now, so I can’t give you anything else. The only thing I can do is make sure you have something to help you sleep later.”
“That’s okay.” Bay tried to smile. “Just distract me.” She grinned at the other woman. “What do you really think of Otis?”
Shae glanced at her watch. Two a.m. She looked over at Bay, asleep finally. Even asleep, though, Shae could see the pain etched across her face. Oh, you poor little thing. In the hours that they had spent together, Shae had grown very fond of the petite brunette. How could anyone do this to you? She stroked a hand over Bay’s forehead. It was a little hot; she hoped that didn’t mean Bay had an infection. Shae cursed the person who had shot this lovely young woman.
She stood up and stretched. She was hungry and tired. The hospital was silent, only the beeps of the machinery making any sound. Shae checked that Bay was really asleep, then slipped out of the room. There was both a coffee and snack machine in the residents lounge and she sipped the hot liquid gratefully, scarfing down a power bar with it. She’d gotten used to this lounge in the last week—would even miss it a little. She already felt more at home here in this hospital than in Portland. The thought made her depressed. Where the hell do I belong?
In the last few days, seeing Bay, Tom, Emily, Dash, and Otis, she found herself warming to them all. They were so different from the music industry types she had met when she was with Jason. They were kind, funny, warm, and inclusive. They were a family. She had felt both enchanted and yet incredibly lonely. For the love of god, you’re a grown woman and you still ache to be in with the popular gang? She blew out her cheeks. Well, if I’m honest, yes. She felt slightly awed by that particular gang’s genuine love for each other.
Screwing up the power bar wrapper, she drained the plastic cup of coffee and went back to Bay’s floor. As she approached the young woman’s room, her heart started to beat. A figure was leaning over her …a male who was not nearly tall enough to be Tom or Otis and not nearly elegant enough to be Dash. Her pace quickened. There was no one at the nurses’ station and Shae cursed herself …shit, what if it was the guy who tried to kill Bay? No, no, no …she wanted to scream. Instead, she ran, her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum.
A light flashed and she realized. Paparazzi. Motherfucker. She heard Bay cry out in alarm, fear, and shock. Shae threw herself at the guy, slamming him against the wall. Her five-foot-ten frame, strengthened by running, was enough to scare the guy—a doughy-faced, middle-aged white man with a pock-marked face and bad breath.
“Get the fuck out of here before I call security,” Shae growled, her anger a burning thing. She grabbed the guy’s digital camera.
“Hey!”
But she threw it to the ground and stomped on it, taking all the rage she felt out on his camera rather than his smug little face. He bared his ratty teeth at her in a snarl.
“I’ll sue.”
“And I’ll have you arrested for trespassing, stalking, and assault.”
“I didn’t touch her!”
Shae smiled grimly. “That’s not what the judge will hear from me. Who do think she’ll believe? A doctor or a fetid urinal cake like you? Get the fuck out of here.”
The paparazzo got the fuck out of there. Shae watched him leave, then whirled around to check on Bay. The young singer was huddled up in her bed, trembling, tears swimming in her eyes. Shae sat beside her.
“I’m so sorry, Bay. I shouldn’t have left. I went to get some coffee.”
It took a few moments for Bay to speak, still reeling from the rude awakening. “It’s not your fault.” Her voice was gruff and shaky. “Scumbags like that …god …” Then she groaned.
Shae frowned. “What?”
“His camera …was it a camera phone?”
Shae studied the smashed pieces. “Looks like it.”
Bay sighed and dropped back onto her pillows, her face creasing with pain. “Then those pictures have gone to the cloud. Damn it.”
Shae cursed. “Shit …I should have guessed.” She gave a wry grin. “Huh …I guess what goes around comes around.”
Bay looked confused and Shae smiled. “I caught my husband in bed with another woman. I took his photo and crowed that that photo too was in the cloud. Guess that came back to bite me in the ass. Or, rather, you. Sorry.”
Bay looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry that he was idiot enough to cheat on you. Did the photo help with the divorce? It’ll make me feel better.” She grinned at Shae and Shae felt such a rush of warmth for the other woman. She slipped her hand into hers.
“It did. Or, rather, I still have it in my back pocket. He’s dragging his feet on the divorce, but he’ll change his tune before he’ll risk his reputation.”
Bay looked intrigued. “Is he in the public eye?”
“You could say that. He’s Jason Kline.”
Bay’s astonished face was such a picture that Shae laughed. “Holy smokes.”
“Yup. Anyway, enough about him.” Shae checked her watch. “How’ the pain?”
“Okay,” but Bay’s expression told Shae otherwise.
“I’ll get you some more morphine and a sedative. You need to rest, Bay. You may feel reasonably okay now, but you’ve had a major trauma.” She headed to the door, only turning when Bay called her name. She turned, smiling.
“Yes, honey?”
Bay smiled softly. “Thank you.”
Otis was far less impressed. “Why the fuck were you leaving her alone?”
Shae flushed angrily. “Excuse me, Doctor Ford, but if you were so concerned with Bay’s safety you would have asked security or the police to send a guard. I had been gone for less than ten minutes. I have no idea how the scumbag got in, but I dealt with it.”
Otis held up the newspaper. “This is dealing with it?” The paper, a rag, showed the picture of Bay asleep, her lovely face riddled with pain. Shae winced. Otis noticed. “Oh, it gets worse inside.”
He flipped the paper open and gave it to her. Shae blanched. “Oh my god …”
Somehow, the photographer had managed to get shots of the heavy bandaging on Bay’s stomach—lifting her gown without her waking to get the shots. Shae guessed it must have been when she had awoken and screamed.
“Oh, god, poor Bay …” What a violation. What an intrusion. As if Bay hadn’t been through enough. Shae felt sick, and Otis, studying her, relented a little.
“I know it’s not your fault that this is the kind of world we live in, but did either of you think to call Emily or Dash to try and get this stopped?”
Shae rubbed her face. “No is the simple answer to that. I don’t know how this stuff works, and Bay …Otis, I think she’s hiding how much pain she’s in. She tries to deflect you by being, well, as lovely as she is, but I can tell.”
Otis’ shoulders slumped and he sat down heavily in his chair. “I know. I’ve thought that too.”
They sat in silence for a moment. She studied her boss. He looked drawn and tired. “Otis, what’s your plan for her? I mean, eventually, you’ll have to go back to Portland …”
Otis gave her a wry smile. “Not ’eventually’—today. I have another patient I have to check in with. I think when Bay’s a little better, when the shock and trauma of the shooting are alleviated to a certain extent, I’ll have her come to Portland to rehab. She’ll need physiotherapy—help with her movement. I think we’ll need to work together to come up with a regime that suits us and her. She’s young, so that’s one big thing in her favor. It’s the psychological factor that worries me.”
Shae nodded. “I agree. She puts on a brave face, but I cannot even imagine what it must have been like.”
“Me either. I cringe whenever the words shot, bullets, or attempted murder come up.”
Shae studied him. “Maybe it’s not only Bay who may need some therapy.”
Otis smiled. “If I only had the time …”
Shae didn’t know why his admission and openness surprised her. There’s another story there, she thought. “Are we flying back to Portland today?”
Otis nodded. “I realize you’ve had a strange induction into my rotation.”
“Hey, at least it hasn’t been boring.” Shae wanted to scream at herself as soon as the words came out. How freaking insensitive do you want to be, you idiot?
Otis looked away from her and she knew she’d hurt him. “God, Otis, I …”
“Forget it. I’ll see you at four, downstairs. A town car will take you to the airport.”
And just like that, she was dismissed. As she left the room, she had the terrible feeling that the brief moment of crassness on her part would come back to bite her. What comes around goes around, she said to herself, sighing. Damn. Damn.
Damn.
Emily Moore moaned as she read through the article. “Fucking piece of shit rag!” She crunched it up and hurled it across Dash Hamilton’s kitchen. He watched it sail past his head and land in his fruit bowl.
“Okay, then,” he said evenly. “I haven’t seen the Moore Rage Monster for a while.”
Emily’s mouth jerked up in a reluctant smile. “Don’t try and make me laugh, Dashiell. I need to be mad.”
“I can’t help it. It’s my natural charm.”
She did laugh then and sighed. “God, what a fucking nightmare.” She rubbed her eyes. “Poor Bay. What a shitty thing to happen. Someday soon we’re going to have some good news, yes?”
Roman Ford, who had been sitting silently on the couch watching the two of them grumble and growl over the newspaper article, got up. “The police have nothing on Lawson or Kym. If Kym’s even still alive.”
Emily noticed how Roman almost spat the woman’s name. She got up and went to sit next to him. “Roman …please try not to see Kym as a villain in this. Do you really think, given what’s happened, that if she could go back in time, she would report Stu to the police the first time? In a million years, she could never have imagined Stu would have done what he did.”
Roman’s expression was blank. “Has Bay mentioned Kym?”
“Of course.” Dash came over to sit with them. “She’s worried sick, which has gotten Tom worried sick about Bay, because stress is not good for her recovery.”
“Jesus.” Roman rubbed his brows with his thumbs. “I feel so useless—everyone else is doing something to help. In the meantime, I’m …”
“Our rock, Roman.” Dash’s voice was soft but fervent. “Every single one of us would crumble without you.”
“This isn’t about me, though.”
“It’s about all of us. We are family,” Emily stressed then, glancing at Dash. “Even if we piss each other off occasionally.” Dash looked up and held her gaze.
“Okay,” Roman stood, rolling his shoulders, “I’ll be at the office. Let me know if you guys need anything else. I’m going to get some more detectives sent out. I’ll find them if it kills me.”
After he’d gone, Emily slumped back on the couch. “Okay, so …the picture’s out and we can’t change that. Even if we get them to withdraw, it’ll be on the internet forever. So what do we do now?”
Dash shrugged. “I don’t know if there is anything we can do. Just put out a very brief statement—this was a disgraceful invasion of privacy which could have had serious implications for Bay Tambe’s recovery. We are seeking legal advice at this time.”
“Sounds so cold.”
“Not cold, graceful. What we don’t want to do is paint Bay as a victim. The shooting did that. We don’t want to foster that image of her. Bay would hate that.”
“Got it. Okay, we release that statement, but then—“
“I’m sorry.”
Emily blinked. “What?”
Dash looked at her, his eyes showing endless sorrow. “I said I’m sorry. I can’t sit here with you and not tell you that I’m in love with you, that whatever I’ve done before, however stupid I have been, I love you. That I was only trying to make things better and I screwed up big time. To ask you to give me another chance.”
Emily stared at him, this beautiful, young, reckless man, and felt her heart thud with sadness. She reasoned with herself. He had only been trying to help when he tried to bribe Paige with a record contract, and if she was being fair …Paige had turned him down in favor of caring for Henry. It had proved that her sister had been serious about putting Henry first.
But Emily couldn’t stop thinking what would have happened if Paige had taken the bait. But she didn’t, a small voice inside her said. And Henry is happy. And god, Emily loved Dash Hamilton so, so much. Be happy, the voice told her. Time is too precious to be wasted. An image of Tom finding Bay dying flashed in her head. She could not fathom what that had felt like for the big man.
“Em?”
She got up and went to him. Dash, surprised, tentatively put his arms around her waist. Emily looked up at him. “Don’t do it again …”
The way Dash’s eyes filled with joy was something she’d never forget. “Oh, god, Ems, I promise. I promise …”
When their lips met and their arms tightened around each other, for the first time in days, Emily thought everything might be okay.
Shae was exhausted. A week after coming back to Portland, she had worked sixteen hour days under Otis’ tutelage and she had loved every minute of it. Otis had been polite, but distant, their sense of camaraderie dissolved into the ether, but he was an excellent teacher, a hard task master, and at every moment he had encouraged her to think beyond her training and to use her instincts. Shae had thrived, eager to learn more and stretch herself. Yes, he was still an arrogant jackass, but her admiration for him had grown as she witnessed his expertise.
His relationships with his patients surprised her too. If she thought his warm bedside manner had been reserved for Bay, his friend, then she was wrong. He talked to his patients clearly, told the truth, and listened to their opinions. Never did he do this more so than when Otis was dealing with Pat and Sue-Lin Morita, a couple in their eighties. Otis had diagnosed Sue-Lin with a malignant spinal cord tumor and was going to operate to remove it. Shae took diligent notes during his consultation, and after their rounds had finished, Otis would ask her to come back to the office and go through the cases with him. Shae loved these sessions; she had learned so much from him already.
Then there were the moments when their hands would brush, their eyes would lock., and Shae would feel her heart banging against her ribs. In a flash, the moment would be over, but it left her body singing.
Shit. You’re crazy about him.
Shae distracted herself with work, and when, a month after the shooting, Tom brought Bay to Portland; she was delighted to see her friend. Bay was looking a lot better. Her lovely honey skin was—if not glowing—at least no longer that horrific gray color. Shae watched her and Tom together as they settled her into her room, saw how in love they were, and felt that sharp pang of loneliness again.
Otis called her to his office. “Shae, I’m going to assign you to Bay’s rehabilitation. I want you to discuss with me your treatment plans, of course, but I trust you. Don’t push her too hard. Keep it in your head that she is still only a month into this. Her abdominal muscles need gentle exercise and she’ll probably find it painful.”
So now, as Shae rolled Bay in a wheelchair down to the rehab rooms, she felt a certain gratitude to Otis. He placed enough trust in her to help his friend. She wheeled Bay into the physio room.
“We’re not going to do a lot today—just see what your range of motion is so I can gauge what we have to do. How’s your pain?”
Bay tried to smile. “It’s a little bad today, I have to admit. I didn’t sleep so well.”
Shae sat down opposite her and studied her. “Was it the pain keeping you up?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Bay sighed. “I keep …reliving it. The shooting. I close my eyes and I can see Stu with that gun.” Her hands were trembling. “He was so cold. He came there with the intention of not just taking Kym, but of killing me. I just don’t know how to deal with that.” Bay dashed away a tear impatiently. “I hate feeling like this.”
Shae took her hands. “Anyone would feel like that. Have they set up some time with the psychiatric service?”
Bay nodded, looking exhausted. Shae frowned. “We can wait for a couple of days if you’d prefer?”
Bay shook her head. “No, please, let’s get it started. Something positive will help.”
Shae nodded, pleased. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s talk about your pain.”
Otis pulled Pat Morita away from his sleeping wife’s side. “I’m glad you’ve decided to go ahead with the operation. I really feel it’ll give Sue-Lin back some real quality of life.”
Pat Morita nodded slowly. “I hope so, Doctor Ford. I really do. She’s a trooper, but she gets real frustrated when she can’t do simple tasks. It breaks my heart, doc.”
Otis patted his shoulder. “I’m going to try and fix that, Pat.”
Morita nodded, but then held Otis’s gaze. “I know there’re risks to any surgery, but …she’s eighty-six, doc.”
“Sue’s got the body of a sixty-year-old, Pat. We’re monitoring the tumor and we don’t think it’s grown since diagnosis. Better we get it all out now.”
Otis made his way back to his office, satisfied. Sue’s surgery was scheduled for the following week; his other patients were all post-surgical cases. He was gathering Sue’s case notes when Shae came in. He noticed a stress line between her eyes as she sat down opposite him.
“You okay? How’s Bay doing?”
Shae shook her head. “Not so good, at least, emotionally. I think it would help if we were more aggressive with her rehab; it would distract her from—“
“No. She’s not ready; her abdominal wounds were too severe.”
“But she says she’s ready to get better.”
“No, Shae. Listen to me. Bay is going into the anger part of her emotional recovery. She’s furious that someone else could dictate what happens to her body, so she’ll try and push herself too hard—and possibly do irreparable damage.”
“But if Bay feels …”
“Shae …” He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m tired.”
Shae swallowed her protest. “Of course. Look, I’ll finish your clinical notes for you. Why don’t you get some sleep in the on-call room?”
Otis looked at her with a strange smile on his face. “You are one of a kind, Shae Groves. Come on, leave the notes. Let’s go grab some dinner.”
“What did you mean by that? That I’m ‘one of a kind?’”
This time they had found the nearest fast food joint and Shae was gratified to see Otis scarf down a Mushroom Swiss burger with the same enjoyment as he did a cordon bleu dish.
He chewed for a second, his eyes amused. “I mean that most residents don’t talk to their bosses like you do. Don’t get me wrong. I like it. There’s nothing more frustrating than a resident who won’t speak up. No one benefits.”
“There’s a ‘but’ coming …”
Otis grinned. “But …don’t mistake collaboration for permission. If I disagree with you—like I do on Bay’s treatment—then my say is final. That’s not me being arrogant. Okay, it is a little, but that’s my experience speaking. It’s what I’ve worked hard for my whole professional life.”
Shae nodded slowly, listening to him. “Does medicine run in your family?”
Otis shook his head. “No. My mother was a college professor at Harvard.”
“That had to help with the application.”
Otis grinned and nodded. “It did.”
“And your dad?”
A cloud passed over his face. “He was a lawyer, like Roman. A good one. A brilliant litigator.”
Shae watched his expression. “He passed?”
Otis pushed the rest of his burger away, uneaten. “He was shot and killed in a bodega robbery when I was eight. Roman and I were with him. He died because the gunmen were going after us.”
Shae was shocked into silence. “Oh, god, Otis. I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine.”
Suddenly she realized how much pain Bay’s shooting must have caused him, bringing back terrible memories. God.
She slid her hand over his, seeing the bleak look on his face. It was odd to see him like this. All bluster and confidence were gone and he was just a man in pain. For a moment he froze, then slowly and very deliberately, laced his fingers between hers and looked up, gazing into her eyes.
A deep burn started in her stomach as they gazed at each other, then Otis leaned over and gently kissed her. It was a brush of his lips, quick but sweet, but it sent a flood of desire racing through her and she couldn’t help the little moan that escaped her lips.
“Otis …”
Then he was up, pulling her along with him as he headed for the door. His car was parked down the street and soon they were racing to his apartment. It all happened so quickly that Shae’s head spun, but all she knew, all her body knew, was that she wanted this man and she wanted him now.
He kissed her the entire ride up in the elevator and this time it was a deep, sensual embrace that left her breathless. His hands cupped her face, his lips moved against hers, and his tongue massaging hers gently. Shae’s arms snaked around Otis’ lean body, her hands splaying across the hard muscles of his back. She dug her nails into him and he groaned, pressing his body hard against hers. She could feel his cock hard against her belly.
“God, I want you,” she gasped as the elevator doors opened up into his apartment. Otis said nothing, but swept her up into his arms—impressive when considering her tall frame—and bypassing the rest of his apartment, strode to his bedroom. He lay her down on the bed and covered her body with his, kissing her deeply as his fingers moved to unbutton her shirt. He buried his face in her neck as she hooked a leg around his waist.
This is crazy. You have to stop. But she didn’t want to stop or to feel the bereavement when his hands stopped touching her. Otis pulled her shirt open, kissing from her throat, between her breasts, then down her stomach where his tongue circled her navel, her belly quivering with desire. When his mouth found her sex, Shae gasped his name and heard him chuckle just before his tongue found her clit.
“Oh …god …” Her head fell back onto the pillow as he tasted, tongued and teased her. She felt the excitement build inside of her. “I want to taste you,” she managed to gasp out and was gratified when he guided her hand down to his cock.
“Feel how much I want you, my lovely Shae,” he whispered. “You can have any part of me you want. All of me …”
She found his zipper, slid her hands into his underwear, and took his rigid, pulsing cock in her hand. She stroked him as they kissed. “I want you inside me,” she urged him and they undressed each other quickly.
His cock stood upright against his belly as he took his pants off, and for a second she drank the sight of him in as he smiled and obviously enjoyed her admiration. When he climbed back onto the bed, his hands were rougher, pulling her legs around his waist. Slipping a condom over the length of his cock, he stroked her damp bush, then with one sharp thrust, he took her, burying his cock deep inside her.
Shae thought she might go insane from the pleasure. Otis was a masterful lover, knowing when to hold back. He took her nipples into his mouth, biting down and sucking until Shae thought she might die from excitement. Otis Ford nailed her to the bed, each thrust timed perfectly to maximize her pleasure, and when she came, she was utterly lost in the moment. Otis found his own climax a moment later and together they collapsed on the bed, chests heaving with their efforts to catch their breath. Finally, they looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“When I said we should go for a quick bite …”
Shae laughed, rolling onto her side. Otis ran a leisurely hand down her body.
“Christ, Shae, if you knew how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
She smiled, flushing. “How long?”
“Since we met. Since you stood in my operating theater and argued with me. If you knew what was going through my head.”
Shae wiggled her body forward until her nipples touched his chest. “Tell me …”
Otis pretended to consider. “Well, first, I would have sent everyone else away and taken the patient back to her room. Then I would have closed the gallery. I’m not a voyeur,” he grinned, “and neither do I wish to be observed. I don’t want to share you.”
“So everyone is out of the room …” Shae tangled her fingers into his chest hair and he smiled at her, brushed his nose against hers.
“Then, slowly, we would take each other’s scrubs off until both of us were naked …”
“Like now,” she whispered, hooking a leg around his waist. Otis kissed her again, his hand snaking down between her legs.
“I would touch you …like this …” He began to caress her and she drew in a sharp breath. He slipped a finger inside her and she moaned. “That’s it,” he whispered. “Let me love you, Shae.”
“Don’t stop,” she moaned, and the pressure of his hand increased as he slid another finger inside her and rubbed.
“I would kiss from your delicate throat down to your soft belly, tasting your gorgeous salty skin, then my tongue would find you again, delving deep inside you …”
“Wait,” Shae gasped and came again, her body vibrating. Otis smiled and gathered her to him, kissing her gently.
“Beautiful Shae …”
The shriek of his beeper ripped through their love haze and they groaned in unison. “Go away…” But he rolled over and checked it. He sat up.
“Oh, damn it …”
“What?” Shae’s heart began to thump. Otis sighed.
“Sue-Lin. She’s been fitting and won’t respond. Oh damn, damn, damn.”
In less than two minutes, they were dressed and in the elevator on the way down. Otis rubbed his face. “God, I knew I should have gone in sooner …”
Shae said nothing, just slipped her hand into his. He squeezed it tightly. “Come on, let’s get there.”
At the hospital, Otis went into surgeon mode and as Sue-Lin was wheeled into the theater, Shae scrubbed in beside him, Otis directing her as to what he would need. Shae, her heart pounding, listened carefully as she scrubbed and cleaned her hands. A nurse helped her with her gloves and then she was in the theater with Otis for the first time.
Otis made the incision, and for the first time, Shae got to see his skill close up. He was gentle, yet precise, his manner with the surgical team professional, but never rude.
Otis felt around in the incision and groaned. “Ah, damn it. Cancer’s metastasized.”
He looked at Shae for a long moment. “Doctor? What are my options from here?”
He was teaching her. Testing her. Behind her mask, Shae grinned. A few hours ago, they were making love and now … “You can close, run more tests, see how far the cancer has spread, then operate. You can close, test, and not operate if the cancer is stage IV, and make the patient comfortable with palliative care. Alternatively, you can try to cut out as much as you can right now, but then risk post-surgical infection and the possibility of more surgeries and increased pain for the patient.”
“Good.” Otis’s eyes were tired, but they sparkled at her. “In this case, what do you think is the best option …Dr. Groves?”
Shae was glad of her mask, because the way he said her name, low and sensual, sent a jolt of arousal through her, making her cheeks flame red. “I would go with the first option. That way, you can discuss the results with the patient and let them make an informed decision.”
Otis’s eyes crinkled and he turned back to the team. “You heard the doctor. Let’s close and get set up to run tests.” He bent over Sue-Lin’s head. “And you hang on in there, Susie. I promised your Pat I’d make you well.”
That was the moment Shae fell in love with Otis Ford.
Bay grabbed the bars either side of her and used her upper body strength to hoist herself up into a standing position. Agonizing pain ripped through her and she bent double, wheezing. Shae watched her with concerned eyes. She hooked her arm around the smaller woman’s waist.
“Lean into me, Bay.” She felt Bay’s weight on her—the younger woman had lost a considerable amount of weight since the shooting and Shae’s toned body hardly felt the extra weight. Bay sighed, looking drawn and fatigued. They’d been practicing walking for a week and Shae could tell Bay was frustrated with her lack of progress. She steered Bay back into the chair and the woman didn’t resist. Shae pulled up a chair next to her.
“That’ll do for today, honey. What’s your pain level? One to ten.”
“Eight.”
“Bay.”
Bay sighed and dropped her face into her palms. “Ten. I don’t get it. Shae, why is it still so painful? My wounds are nearly healed; I’ve been trying to exercise.”
Shae grabbed a pad. “Let me explain how gunshot trauma affects your body. You were shot in your belly, which is nearly all soft tissue. When a bullet is fired from a gun, it’s not just the projectile, but the air displacement which causes the damage. Yes, we repaired the affected tissue and organs, but you will have nerve pain for a time yet.” She took Bay’s hand in hers, feeling the bones of her hand. “We know you can walk. It’s just overcoming the nerve pain and the abdominal muscles that were damaged. It will get better, Bay.”
Bay’s whole demeanor was troubling to Shae. “Bay, have you talked to the psychiatrist?”
Bay scratched at her head absently. “I want to. It’s just every time he asks me to remember what happened, I get panicky. Then I get angry with myself because I know I’m safe now and that Stu isn’t coming back, but I’m still so scared for Kym. God, why didn’t I just insist on going to the police when he attacked me the first time?”
Shae was silent. She had gotten the whole story from Otis when Bay was still critical. Roman had told him that they were still looking for the couple; she hoped Kym Clayton was still alive and okay. Stu Lawson was a monster.
Bay shook her head. “Look, I want to do this, however much it hurts. I’m not going to be bed-bound forever. I have a commitment to Pete, to Kym, to Tom, for Christ sakes.” She seemed to choke up then. “We were going to get married. Did you know that?”
Shae nodded. “I did, and I promise you, we will get you walking and back to your life so you can walk down that aisle and marry your lovely Tom. Is he coming down this weekend?”
Bay shook her head. “No, he has to work. Pete and Hank are coming, though.” She smiled then. “Two giant teddy bears of happiness.”
“Every girl should have that in her life.”
Bay laughed with Shae, and then looked at her. “How about you? Got rid of the pesky ex yet?”
Shae rolled her eyes. “If only. But he seems to have stopped with the sugar-coated promises.”
“Faux-mises.”
“That’s not a word, but I like it. Wanna go back to your room?”
Back in Bay’s room, Shae opened the window for some air while Bay settled back onto the bed, grabbing her iPad.
“Let’s see what crap people are printing about me today.”
Shae shook her head. “You shouldn’t look.”
Bay smiled. “You know what, some of it is so ridiculous that it actually cheers me up. Oh, okay, this is very weird.”
Despite herself, Shae was curious. “What?” Bay flipped her tablet around and Shae nearly recoiled. Jason.
“What the hell?”
Bay read the article, grinning and shaking her head. “‘I’m so proud that my beloved wife, Dr. Shae Groves Kline, has been working to save one of our own,’ the thirty-seven-year-old country superstar, Jason Kline, said, before launching into a cover of The 9th & Pine’s biggest—and so far only—hit. The singer paid tribute to the band and its singer Bayansii Tambe—wow, great research there—who was shot in a home invasion last month. The twenty-five-year-old singer—I’m twenty-four actually—is still in critical condition in the hospital. Again, awesome research skills.” Bay laughed out loud. “Seriously, where do I start? And how the hell do they know you’re my doctor?”
Shae held up her hands. “I swear, it wasn’t me.”
“Oh, I know that, silly. Really, this is exquisitely funny.”
Shae was glad Bay seemed to be taken the trashy article for what it was. “Look, Jason is a jerk. Plus, he is almost my ex-husband. Plus, I never, ever took his name.”
“Glad to hear it.” Otis was standing, leaning against the door frame. He was dressed in a blue shirt and trousers, the shirt unbuttoned a little. Shae felt her cheeks pink with pleasure at the sight of him.
Otis smiled at Bay. “You’d never take Tomas’s name, would you?”
Bay laughed. “I’m trying to persuade him to take mine when we get married. Then he’d be Tom Tambe and that’s too good an opportunity to waste.”
Shae was glad that Bay was more cheerful now. “Right, before we sign off for the evening, have you got everything you need? Books, pain meds, T.V. remote? Good. And would you please finish your supper tonight? We need to get your weight up.”