CHAPTER 18
The cell vibrated on the kitchen counter. Missy read the text from Zane and smiled.
On my way. Home soon. Love you.
Perfect timing.
The deep rich chocolate mixture had been whisked to perfection and poured into the muffin tin. Now, it chilled in the fridge where it would remain until tonight when it was time for dessert.
She'd have to shoot the woman who wrote the food blog a note and thank her. It really was perfect a perfect recipe.
Missy had done all the work in advance during the day. So when Zane got home and they'd eaten dinner, she could pop the tin into the oven and they'd enjoy the aroma of lava cakes baking followed by the decadent pleasure of eating hot melting chocolate adorned with fresh cold whipped cream.
The gym wasn’t far, so Missy grabbed a dishtowel and dried the last of the baking paraphernalia she’d just washed.
Once it was all put away in the proper cabinets and drawers she looked around the apartment.
The dining room table was set for dinner. The take-out tins from the restaurant where she'd ordered dinner were staying warm in the oven.
All she needed was Zane to get home.
Ooo. And candles. Everything looked better by candlelight.
Missy reached into the kitchen drawer for the box of matches just as her cell phone rang.
She smiled when she saw Zane's name and photo on the display.
He could be calling to say he’d gotten waylaid and was running late, but she was in such a good mood today, riding the high she got from her baking accomplishment, she chose to look on the bright side and assume the best.
“Hello.” She practically sang the word into the phone. “You almost home?”
“Melissa. This is your father.”
“Dad? Hi.” She laughed at the unexpected sound of her father's voice on Zane's cell phone. “Did you keep Zane late and now he's making you explain it to me so he doesn't get blamed?”
“No. Melissa, please listen to me.”
“Okay.” Her optimism quickly faded. Something wasn't right. “Dad, what's wrong? Tell me.”
Her heart thundered as she waited for him to answer.
“I'm at the hospital.”
“Oh my God. What's happened? Are you all right?” Did her father have some sort of cardiac episode or something? But then he wouldn’t be calling. A new and horrible theory hit her. “Is it Mom?”
“I'm fine. Mom’s fine. It's Zane.”
What could have happened at the gym? Did he hurt himself lifting weights or something?
“What about Zane?” she asked, confused.
“He's in surgery.”
“Surgery? Why? What happened?”
“Melissa, Zane's been shot.”
The news stole her breath. “W-what?” Her single whispered word was barely audible.
She grabbed for the edge of the counter as the chocolate batter she'd licked off the spatula before washing it twisted in her stomach and threatened to come back up.
How could he have been shot? He wasn't on an assignment. He’d gone to the gym. He was with her father.
“One of my interns was at the gym. He asked what he could do to help so I told him to pick you up and bring you here.” Her father’s words took a moment to register.
When they did she said, “No. I can get there on my own.”
It would be quicker. She needed to get there now. She couldn't wait around for some staffer to come get her.
She realized she didn’t know where she was going. “Which hospital?”
“George Washington. But Missy, please, wait for Marcus. You shouldn't be driving right now.”
“Then I'll call an Uber.”
“For the love of God, Melissa, just sit tight. He'll be there in a minute to get you. I promise. I can’t worry about you too. I have enough on my conscience with what happened to Zane.” Her father's voice cracked as he pleaded with her.
The man who'd taken on a field of presidential candidates in heated prime time debate during the last primary and never once lost his cool, was losing it now. That knowledge nearly took her off her feet.
She made her way to the kitchen chair and lowered herself into the seat, swaying and bracing on the table as she did.
“Dad. Please tell me. How bad is it?”
Jesus. What if he didn't make it? What if he died while she was sitting around the apartment waiting for a ride?
She wouldn't survive. She didn't want to live in a world without Zane in it.
“I honestly don't know. I rode in the ambulance with him. There was so much blood . . .” He cleared his throat. “The ER doctors met us at the door and took him directly into surgery. I still need to call his parents. And your mother.”
None of this answered the questions she needed answered. She needed to be there and demand the doctors tell her what was happening.
“Dad. Hang up with me and call the Alexanders.”
“You’re right. I need to. I'll see you here.”
“Okay.” She hit to disconnect and stood, determined to get there on her own even if her father didn't approve.
Gleaning strength from her determination she headed toward the door when a whiff of that night's dinner in the oven assaulted her.
It felt like a lifetime ago she'd picked up the lasagna and garlic bread and put it in the oven, but in reality it was barely an hour.
Just an hour since she was happy and the world was right. Now her whole universe was upside down and it felt as if nothing would ever be all right again.
Tears in her eyes, she flipped the oven from warm to off and almost jogged through the living room.
At the front door, she remembered her purse and keys as she reached for the knob. She moved to the table and scooped up the keys. Then moved to the closet to grab her purse. There she saw her coat hanging on the hook. She needed that too.
Jesus, maybe her father was right. Her head wasn't on straight. She shouldn't be driving and her hands were shaking so badly she could barely unlock her cell phone to order a car.
The helplessness overtook her, as did the tears, just as there was a knock on the door.
She struggled with the lock, finally dumping her keys, phone, purse and coat on the floor so she could use two hands to open all the deadbolts and locks Zane insisted they have.
She’d never armed the alarm after getting home today. Good thing. She'd never have been able to punch in the correct code to disarm it in her current state.
Finally she got the door open and her father's intern Marcus stood there, looking concerned.
She knew him from seeing him around the office. Enough to say hello by name and ask how he was doing.
Missy did not know him nearly well enough to throw herself against him, sobbing, but that was exactly what she did now.
“Miss Greenwood. Oh, boy. Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “Can we go to the hospital?”
“Yes. Of course.” He glanced past her at the discarded pile of her things on the floor just inside the open doorway.
He must have been used to cleaning up other people's messes from his job. Without even blinking he squatted down and scooped up everything. He tossed the keys inside her purse but handed the cell directly to her.
She grabbed onto it like a lifeline. It was her only connection to news about Zane until they got to the hospital. She glanced at the screen and saw no notifications.
No news had to be good news. Right?
He pulled the door closed, checking the lock, and then turned to her. Holding her jacket and purse out toward her, he said, “Ready?”
“Yes.” She clutched the jacket and purse to her chest while holding her phone in a death grip in one hand.
With the other hand she wiped at her eyes, restraining herself from wiping her nose as well, and followed Marcus down the stairs.