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Deke showed his badge to the deputy and squatted beside Alex. “What the hell happened?”
He closed his eyes and eased his grip on control. Pain washed over him. “I was hit with a bat. It’s around here somewhere.”
“I can’t treat him while he’s holding a gun,” the paramedic said.
Alex’s fingers loosened their grip on the gun’s handle and Deke gently took it from Alex. “I got your back, Alex. I’ll find the bat. Let the paramedic do her job.”
His head dropped back against the car. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming.”
Deke’s grin didn’t reach his eyes. “And don’t think I’ll ever let you forget it, my little piñata.”
“You know what Wednesday is?”
“Yes.”
“Our anniversary.” Philip’s hand moved up and down Leah’s lower leg. The gentle touch did not mask the restrained power in his fingertips. Those fingertips, those hands, could wield pleasure as well as pain. How many times had he hurt her with those hands?
“We aren’t married anymore, Philip. You’re dead.”
His hand paused on her knee. “But I’m not dead. I’m right here. I’ve always been close, watching.”
“You are dead. You are part of my past, not my present.”
“Wrong, Leah. Dead wrong.”
Tears welled in her eyes. This close, she could smell the spicy scent of his aftershave and feel the heat of his body. This close, she remembered he stood tall at six foot three and had a muscular frame born of genetics and endless workouts. He liked knowing he could bench press three hundred pounds, and that his fist packed an iron wallop.
This close, she felt small, vulnerable. “No, we’re not married.”
Like a jackal springing on prey, he pounced, covering her body. Those long, strong fingers wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze. “Say we’re married. Say it!”
The breath caught in her throat and quickly grew stale in her lungs. Her heart beat faster. Her skin tingled. Her vision blurred. She shook her head no.
Leah jolted awake and glanced around sightlessly. Seconds ticked by. Her heart pulsed, rapid and hard. And then, finally, she realized she was in her living room, on the couch. Dragging a trembling hand through her hair, she looked at the couch and the remote control in her hand. A sitcom from the eighties was showing on the television. She glanced around the room, jumping to her feet, half-expecting to see Philip.
Charlie glanced up at her, her expression worried. The dog had burrowed under a blanket on the couch and had curled into a tight ball.
As the dregs of the dream faded, she struggled to shake off the fear that gripped and tightened her airway.
She glanced at the clock and realized it was after eleven. She checked her phone, fearing she’d missed a call from Alex. No messages. Whatever he’d said he was going to do, he wasn’t coming by here tonight.
She shut off the television and rose, rolling her head from side to side. She shouldn’t be disappointed. He had other cases. Other priorities.
Charlie raised her head and yawned. Leah smiled, and the dog lazily got up off the couch and allowed Leah to click on the leash and guide her to the door. She shrugged on a coat, and the two went out into the dark.
She should be afraid. It made sense that if Philip was out there, he could attack at any moment. But she knew he was waiting for their anniversary. He was waiting for the day they’d exchanged vows. In his mind, that was the day he’d reclaim what he considered his. She had two days and counting before their anniversary. She could run, but he’d follow, and again they’d replay this deadly wait-and-see game until he was ready to end it. No, her best chance was to stay and fight. She understood the depths of his evil and wouldn’t allow him to hurt her again.
Her thoughts turned to the listening device.
“I’m not going to be a sitting duck this time, Philip,” she whispered. “I’m not helpless.”
Rick got the call from Georgia, minutes after eleven, that Alex was in the hospital. He’d received a similar call two years before from Deke, right after Georgia had been admitted to the hospital. Memories of that long night chased him as he strode through the emergency room doors, ignoring the stiffness in his leg.
Georgia paced in the waiting room, her fingers clenched. Stress had drained her face of color, drawing more attention to the splash of freckles across her nose. The freckles made her look young and vulnerable. However, one look at her expression told him to tread carefully. She wanted to hurt someone.
“Is he alive?” Rick asked.
She nodded quickly. “Yes. He’s going to be okay.”
Relief bolted through Rick, and he had to pause a moment to calm a too-fast heartbeat. “Where is he?”
“He’s in X-ray, and those damn nurses won’t tell me anything.” She glanced around him. “Where’s Jenna?”
“Parking the car. She’ll be here in a minute. Where’s Deke?”
Relief drained most of his anger and worry, but good news hadn’t calmed Georgia. “He’s picking up Rachel. She wants to be here.”
He glanced toward two nurses, both grim-faced and annoyed as they traded stares at Georgia. Baby sister had been on the warpath.
“Let me talk to them.”
“They don’t speak,” she said in a loud voice. “They just tell you to wait. I don’t like to wait!”
A couple of the nurses glanced in her direction again, but neither made a comment. They turned back to their charts and monitors.
“No one does. Take a deep breath. I’ll handle this.” Rick walked to the desk and offered a tight grin, his version of friendly. He pulled out his badge. “I’m Detective Rick Morgan with Nashville Homicide. What can you tell me about Agent Alex Morgan’s injuries?”
“Are you family?”
Rick carefully tucked his badge in his back pocket. “Older brother, but consider me here in an official capacity as well.”
The nurse, tall, thin, and in her late twenties, glanced from him to Georgia. “She’s your sister?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze looked both pleading and annoyed. “All I ask is that she be polite.”
“Understood.” Someone should probably apologize for Georgia, but he didn’t. Whatever had happened with Alex had shaken them both.
The nurse opened a chart. “Your brother sustained a bad blow to the ribs, which are going to be real sore for a week or two. We’ll know soon if they’re broken.”
Behind him, he heard Georgia’s loud footsteps as she paced and released a loud sigh.
The nurse leaned in a fraction and lowered her voice. “Your sister isn’t making this easy.”
“The Morgans don’t like hospitals. And she’s the worst.” He and Georgia had done time in the hospital, as had Alex when he’d shattered his arm as a kid. All the Morgan siblings would have preferred the operating room to the waiting room. “Know how much longer it will be?”
A brow arched. “He should be in his room any minute.”
Rick gently tapped the nurses’ station counter, as if closing a chapter. “Thanks.”
Her computer dinged and she glanced at the monitor. “He’s headed to his room now. If you give me a minute or two to get him settled, he’ll be ready to be seen. But you can’t stay long.”
“Soon as we know he’s fine, we’ll clear out.”
He moved back toward Georgia. “Just give it a few more minutes.”
She wrapped her arms around her chest. “I hate the smell of this place.”
The elevator doors opened to reveal Deke, Rachel, and Jenna. The trio of Morgans stepped off the elevator and moved toward them. Deke looked grim-faced, par for the course, whereas Rachel’s expression was cool and controlled. That was her courtroom, don’t-let-the-jury-see-you-sweat face. Jenna’s long hair hung around her shoulders and over a black V-necked sweater and faded jeans. Seeing his bride smoothed the edginess grating Rick’s insides.
He shook Deke’s hand. “Hell of a family reunion.”
Deke rubbed a callused hand over his dark hair, his relief palpable. “We’ve never been good at normal. What’s the deal with Alex?”
“Maybe broken ribs. He should be in his room any minute and we can ask him. Can you tell me now what the hell happened?”
“Don’t know. He called and said he’d been attacked. I didn’t ask questions, just bolted. Uniforms were on the scene first.”
“Did he get a good look at his attacker?” Rick asked.
“I tried to get a description out of him, but he wasn’t able to give me one.”
“Did he see a car? Anything that would help us catch this creep?” Jenna’s hand rested on his shoulder, halting the rising heat of his temper.
“No.”
“This isn’t a case, boys,” Georgia said. “This is Alex.”
“Georgia.” Rachel’s voice hit a steady, even chord. “Alex is going to be fine.”
Georgia glanced at Rachel, her expression sharp. “That’s what Deke said when I stood in this very room after Rick got shot. Hell, that’s what Mom said when they brought Alex here as a kid.”
