Rescue Me (Butler Island) (25 page)

Chapter 33

“We need to talk.”

The tip of Mayor Cliffburg’s pen stilled as his eyes
lifted toward the female voice. “What’re you doing here? I thought I was pretty
clear about you lying low for a few days.”

“I needed more details.”

“Then you should’ve called”, he ground out, dropping his
pen. “Anybody see you come in here?”

Jenny gently nudged the door closed behind her. “Relax.
The building is nearly empty this morning.”

“Yes, but the Public Services Department is—”

“The Public Services Department is buzzing with
post-storm clean up coordination. Trust me”, she claimed, stepping further into
the mayor’s office, “No one saw me.”

Michael released an anxious breath, then placed his
elbows against his desk, tenting his hands into a point under his chin. “You
shouldn’t be here. It’s too risky.”

“Then I’ll get right to the point. You promised me a job
in exchange for my performance yesterday. I’m here to collect.”

Michael chuckled under his breath.

Dimwitted bitch
.

Guess this is what he got for involving the redheaded
broad in his crafty scheme. Recruiting an amateur for a role as crucially
important as this one had been wasn’t his usual M.O., but the opportunity had
been too perfect to pass up. Tension had been mounting between Lana and Jenny
for months: a clear-cut motive. That, coupled with the fact that there was no
evidence linking he and Jenny together, made the woman an easy and obvious
choice for the job.

But the permanent stain on Lana’s “good girl image”
didn’t mean a damn thing if suspicious minds stumbled upon a connection. And
every minute Jenny spent in this office with him threatened to do just that.
“Well,
obviously
I need some time to make good on my end of the deal.
Everything has to appear convincing, Jenny. Timing is key.”

“That bit of information might’ve been helpful last week
when you first came to me with your ‘brilliant’ plan”, she emphasized with air
quotes. “I already gave my two-weeks at Leo’s.”

Was she mocking him
?
Mocking his superior
intelligence
?

Placing his palms on the desk he rose from his leather
chair, moving around the mahogany furniture until he stood directly in front of
her. He could tell by the way her breath hitched, by the way her pupils dilated,
that she was afraid of him.

Good. She should be.

He wasn’t a violent man, per se, but he knew people that
were. Having friends in low places was like an insurance fund: you pay them in
a predetermined manner (in this case, turning a blind eye to their criminal
activity) and if a situation should arise, you simply made a claim.

Tempting as it was to reach for the phone, it wasn’t
necessary; he could handle this bitch in his sleep. “A little rash, don’t you
think, Mrs. Carson?”

Jenny swallowed hard, the sound practically echoing off
the plaque-filled walls. “We had a deal. If you can’t uphold your end, then
I’ll—”

Cupping her chin with his hand, he squeezed. Hard. “You
threatening me?”

“No, I just—”

“Because the humiliation Lana suffered yesterday is a
drop in the bucket compared to what I’d do to you if you double-cross me. You
got that?” He seethed, his face inches from hers. He loosened his grip when
Jenny gave a weak nod, then shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Good. Now
get the hell out of my office before someone sees you. I’ll be in touch.”

Jenny didn’t need to be asked twice. She’d turned toward
the door so fast she nearly made herself dizzy.

Damn, and to think she’d voted for the guy four years
ago…

No doubt the man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, which
only served to reiterate that she’d done the right thing. The blazing
mid-morning sun nearly blinded her as she exited city hall, her porcelain skin
branded by the singeing rays. Sinking into the driver’s seat of her Civic, she drew
in a deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms on the front of her denim skirt.

The humiliation Lana suffered yesterday is a drop in the
bucket compared to what I’d do to you if you double-cross me. You got that
?

Yeah. She got it, all right. Maneuvering out of her
parking space Jenny set her sights on her next stop: Mainland Hospital.

“Where is she?” Randall whispered hoarsely. His throat
felt raw, like he’d swallowed a bucketful of rusted nails. That was only the
tip of the iceberg, though. Because there didn’t seem to be a place on his body
that didn’t ache. And although his strong frame appeared battered and broken,
it was his heart that garnered the most pain.

The nurse studied one of the monitors behind him and then
scribbled the information in his chart. “You mean the cute brunette that’s been
wearing a hole in the linoleum in front of the nurse’s station?”

“That’d be the one.”

Setting his chart on the edge of the bed, she snatched
the stethoscope from her neck and carefully inserted the earpieces. She
listened to his lungs for a stretch, instructing him to breathe deeply, then
normal.

Randall knew to keep quiet while she listened. As a
paramedic, he couldn’t count the number of times he’d arrived at the scene of
an emergency, the kind where every precious second counted, only to be mistaken
for a damn counselor. Staring death in the eyeballs tended to do that to a
person: make them spill their secrets, voice their regrets. He was trained to
tune out the rising chaos, to concentrate solely on the patient’s needs. Didn’t
make his job easier, though.

Plucking the stethoscope from her ears, the nurse hung it
around her neck and reached for his chart once more. “Your stomach may feel a
little queasy for a bit; that’s normal after general anesthesia. I’m going to
get you some crackers and juice. If you do well with that, I’ll let you pick
something from the menu for dinner.”

“And could you—”

“Yes”, she interrupted, “I’ll send her in.”

“Thanks”, he managed hoarsely.

Fingers of sunbeams filtered through the mini-blinds,
casting parallel patterns of light and shadows along the peach-swirled
wallpaper.

Peach…

“What is it with you women: always referring to colors as
food?”
He’d asked.
“Suddenly purple’s eggplant or grape,
green’s lime or avocado, and orange can be anything from salmon to carrot to—”

“Peach”
, she’d interrupted.

“Yeah, peach.”

God, he had it bad.
Peach
…?
Really
…?

His thoughts drifted to that night—the night he’d held
Lana in his arms in the middle of the dance floor at The Saloon. His memory was
sharp, vivid—like he was reliving the moment again: the way the blue lights
settled on her satiny skin, the way she’d felt pressed against him, the wanton
look in her eyes. In fact when he closed his lids, he could practically smell
the subtle scent of vanilla that always seemed to linger on her soft body…

“I think you might’ve outdone Olivia’s infamous Jet Ski
joyride this time”, Kendall remarked as she stepped into the room. “At least
she came back in one piece.”

Randall’s eyes flew open, his gaze landing on the
raven-haired exotic beauty. A stab of disappointment bit into his chest,
vibrating his wounded soul.

Crazy, really. It’d never occurred to him that the nurse
had been referring to Kendall when she’d mentioned the cute brunette.

My, how times have changed
…

He wasn’t necessarily disappointed by Kendall’s presence,
per se. He’d just been expecting someone else.

Wishful thinking, buddy. You walked out on Lana, remember
?

Yeah, unfortunately he did.

Forcing a smile he didn’t quite feel, Randall gestured
toward his body. “I am in one piece.”

“Barely”, she whispered as she dropped into the chair at
his bedside. “Damn it, Rand, of all the crazy, stupid things you’ve done over
the years, this tops the list.”

“Can’t disagree with you there.” Pressing his palms
against the lumpy mattress he carefully sought a position that didn’t aggravate
his tender ribs, wincing slightly as he stirred.

“So how do you feel?”

“Like I rolled my truck in the middle of a tropical
storm”, he revealed wryly. Kendall didn’t seem to find his attempt at sarcasm
very amusing, however. Crossing her arms, her amber eyes narrowed. “All right,
all right—I feel like shit.”

Satisfied with his honesty Kendall reached for his hand
and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You have no idea how worried we’ve been.”

“We?”

“Yes, ‘
we
’… There’s an entire waiting room”—she
gestured with a tilt of her head—“ filled with people that love you, Rand.”

But not Lana. He didn’t blame her for not being here; he
hadn’t exactly given her a reason to believe that loving him mattered. Because
sometimes actions did speak louder than words, and walking out on her yesterday
while she’d begged him not to spoke volumes.

“I’ve known for a while, you know.”

Jolted from the memory of yesterday, Randall regarded her
with uncertainty. “Impossible.”

“Okay, let me rephrase, then: I’ve had my suspicions for
a while. It all started with the scuffle at the station with Tommy. And the
following month my suspicion was confirmed when I saw the two of you dancing at
The Saloon. The way you looked at her… It’s the same way Ty looks at me. That’s
when I knew.”

“Knew what, exactly?”

Kendall smiled for the first time since she’d stepped
into the room. “You love her.”

God, did he ever. He loved her something fierce. Lana
Phillips was his kryptonite, his biggest weakness. Everything about her—from
her contagious smile, to her incredible body, to the way she picked at her
polished nails, to her unyielding faith in him. A wounded man lost in a black
hole of nothingness, Lana was his beacon in the dark, the mesmerizing light
luring him to safety. She was his everything.

“Yeah”, he admitted just above a whisper. Briefly
pinching the bridge of his nose, his gaze settled on Kendall once again. “God,
Ken, I really fucked up this time. She told me she loved me, and what did I
do?—I turned my back on her, left her sitting on the floor, crying, begging me
not to leave.” Sighing in frustration, he tilted his head back against the
nearly flat pillow.  “No wonder she’s not here; can’t say I blame her.”

Kendall shook her head. “Rand—she was here all night. She
left first thing this morning, said she had something she had to take care of.
I called her the moment Dr. Conrad informed us you’d made it out of surgery.”
Kendall’s dark brows drew together. “Come to think of it, she should’ve been
here by now…”

Chapter 34

A blast of cool air rushed over Lana’s skin as she
entered the lobby at Mainland Hospital. The soles of her sandals clapped
against the linoleum floor.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

She’d just made it back to her car at the cemetery when
Kendall had phoned with the news: Randall was in Recovery. His ankle surgery
had been a success. She’d sat behind the wheel of her idling Corolla for
roughly ten minutes before her composure returned. A swell of relief had
flooded her insides, because she knew all too well how close she’d come to
losing him—how close she’d come to burying the man she loved. Again.

She wasn’t going to go there. Simply couldn’t. He was
going to be okay. And although his recovery was going to be long and painful,
it certainly beat the alternative. Death.

Rounding the corner Lana moved toward the elevators, so
deep in gratitude for the second chance she’d been given, she’d failed to
notice the woman leaning against the wall near the elevator entrance. That is
until the woman pushed off the wall and headed toward her.

“Well, it’s about time.”

Lana halted immediately, clapping eyes on the woman
responsible for outing her relationship with Randall in front of the entire
town. Rage boiled inside her depths, red-hot and festering. “Get out of my
way”, she ground out, clenching her fists at her side.

Steering her body around her former friend Lana took a
step, reaching for the call button next to the elevator—only, Jenny took a
step, too, thwarting her hasty getaway.

“Wait, there’s something you need to hear first.”

“There’s nothing you could possibly say to me that I’d
want to hear right now, Jenny.”

“Trust me”, Jenny said as she reached into her purse for
the small voice recorder, “You’ll definitely want to hear this.” Gripping the
small device, she pressed
PLAY
.

“We need to talk.”

“What’re you doing here? I thought I was pretty clear
about you lying low for a few days.”

“I needed more details.”

“Then you should’ve called. Anybody see you come in
here?”

“Relax. The building is nearly empty this morning.”

“Yes, but the Public Services Department is—”

“The Public Services Department is buzzing with
post-storm clean up coordination. Trust me, no one saw me.”

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s too risky.”

“Then I’ll get right to the point. You promised me a job
in exchange for my performance yesterday. I’m here to collect.”

A stretch of silence, and then…

“Well, obviously I need some time to make good on my end
of the deal. Everything has to appear convincing, Jenny. Timing is key.”

Jenny stopped the recording and inhaled a deep breath. “I
know this is probably hard for you to believe, but… I’m sorry—for everything.”
She explained how Mayor Cliffburg had contacted her last week with what seemed
like the perfect solution to all her problems.

“I just… wanted to take the focus off me and all of the
rotten choices I’ve made this year. That was my chief motive, here. Mayor
Cliffburg offering me a job—well, that was just icing on the cake.

“When I stood up in front of everyone yesterday and
publicly humiliated you, I expected to feel some sort of… redemption, I guess.
But I didn’t. The moment you stepped foot off that stage the guilt started
eating at me.” Shifting her weight, she went on. “And then after the auction
ended, when I got a
job-well-done
from the mayor, I suddenly wanted no
part of it. I promise you, Lana”, she pleaded, “if there was any way I could
reverse time and undo all the damage I created yesterday, I would!”

Lana watched as tears trickled down Jenny’s cheek. She
didn’t want to feel compassion for her former friend—lord knows the woman’s
selfishness was part of the reason they were standing here. Jenny had made some
poor choices since the new year began.

And according to many, so had Lana.

Quick to judge and slow to forgive, the residents of
Butler Island had unknowingly initiated yesterday’s outcome. Months of contempt
and humiliation had sucked the liveliness from Jenny, leaving behind a bitter
and spiteful shell. The woman wasn’t an innocent bystander by any means, but
Lana understood—probably better than anyone—that sometimes life’s toughest
choices weren’t presented in black and white. More often than not options were
murky and gray.

Lana wanted to believe that Jenny’s remorse was sincere.
The woman was a lot of things, yes—but she wasn’t a liar. She’d made her
feelings for Lana blatantly clear the last several months.

Crystal clear.

“I just don’t get it, Jenny. Your misery-loves-company
motive is twisted and sick, but straightforward. What has me completely baffled
is Mayor Cliffburg’s motive. Why?—why would
he
do this?”

“Honey, isn’t it obvious? The man’s completely captivated
by you. Needless to say, when he found out that you’d been secretly seeing
Randall, he didn’t take the news well.”

With quivering hands, Jenny ran her fingertips over the
tender skin near her mouth where the mayor had grabbed her face earlier. “He’s
not the caring, charismatic man he leads the public to believe, Lana. He’s
cold. Conniving. Downright scary. He’s waiting for public outrage to peak. He
wants you to feel like the only thing you have left is your position at city
hall. And when that happens, he plans to take that away from you, too.”

“And you’re my replacement”, Lana stated just above a
whisper.

Jenny nodded. “But… things change, Lana. I have a new
plan, and if you’re willing, I think we can attempt to make this right. What do
you say?”

A high-pitched
DING
announced the elevator’s arrival a moment before the heavy metallic doors slid
open. Part of her wanted to turn her back on Jenny, the part that felt mauled
and betrayed. But something kept her feet planted firmly in place.

“You ladies going up?” asked the kind, middle-aged
gentleman that’d just stepped aboard.

Mayor Cliffburg had everyone fooled, claiming to be
honorable and good, when truthfully he was anything but. He’d mastered his
craft, disguising his poisonous and corrupt insides with flashy suits and phony
smiles.

He could ruin her reputation, deliver her walking papers,
but his evil scheme couldn’t take what mattered to her most. Family.

She wasn’t afraid of Michael Cliffburg.

But Michael Cliffburg should be afraid of
her
.

The people in this town deserved better. They deserved to
know their beloved leader was crooked to the core.

“No”, Lana finally said, “we’re not. Thank you for
asking.” Nodding firmly once, the chivalrous man removed his hand from the
impatient door, disappearing a moment later behind a sheet of sliding heavy
metal.

Crossing her arms, Lana’s eye’s returned to Jenny.
“So”—she shrugged—“what now?”

Feeding her starved lungs with a liter of
antiseptic-scented air, Jenny’s rigid shoulders relaxed. “Two things”, she
gestured with her fingers, “a computer and some of your time.”

“Having any gas pains?” Chief Handler’s wife, Debbie,
asked. “When I had my gallbladder removed a few years ago, the surgeon pumped
my body full of air—I was tootin’ like a New York City cab driver in rush hour
traffic for the next three days!”

Randall’s dark brows lifted briefly in surprise. “Nope,
no gas pains.” But suddenly he
was
sensing a sharp pain in his ass.
Chatty Debbie meant well, he knew, but damn… Where did she come up with this
shit?

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have zero
control over your body?”

Probably no more embarrassing than hearing you talk about
it
.

“Seemed to happen every time someone came into my room.
Kind of reminded me of those movies set in medieval times—you know, the ones
where horns announce the arrival of royalty? Anyhow, I…”

Chief Handler scrubbed a chubby hand down his face before
mouthing the words
I’m sorry
to Randall. How the man had survived thirty
years of peculiar conversation, he’d never know.

“…They don’t tell you these things beforehand, you know.
I mean, what woman in her right mind would agree to have an elective surgery,
knowin’ her rear end would come down with a case of Tourette’s syndrome?”

Probably the same kind of woman that openly talked about
it
.

Randall eyed the clock: almost noon.
Damn it, Lana,
where are you
…

“Uh, honey”, Chief Handler interjected before she started
again. “Would you mind gettin’ me a cup of coffee from the cafeteria? After the
night we all had, I could use another jolt of caffeine.”

“I reckon”, she said, planting a kiss on the top of his
nearly bald head. “But you’ll have to drink it black this time; you’ve already
had three candy bars this morning.”

“Yes, Dear.” Chief Handler waited for the door to close
before he released a frustrated breath. “The woman has too much time on her
hands. Drives me damn nuts, sometimes”, he uttered wryly.

You’re not the only one
.

Randall studied him for a beat. Chatty Debbie may occasionally
drive the man berserk, but there was no mistaking how much Chief adored his
wife. “Yeah, but you still love her anyway.”

“Sure do.” Shifting his large derriere in the narrow
seat, his eyes settled on Randall. “You gave us all quite a scare last night,
you know—
especially
Lana. For the second time, I had to stand on her
front porch and deliver bad news. I don’t
ever
want to have to do that
again.”

“Then we both want the same thing.”

“Good.” Chief jutted his chin in the direction of
Randall’s ankle. “Doc say how long before you’re back on your feet?”

“If he did, I was too doped up to remem—”

“I’m sorry”, Lana announced as she stepped into the room.
“I didn’t realize you had a visitor. I can come back lat—”

“No!” Randall blurted. His sudden outburst rattled his
cracked ribs; palming his left side he winced, sucking air through his mouth
through clenched teeth. He’d waited all morning for Lana to arrive, and if
experiencing a little pain’s what it’d take for her to stay, he’d gladly do it
again.

“But you’re—”

“It’s okay, Darlin’ ”, Chief uttered, rocking in his
chair until he gained enough momentum to stand. “I was gettin’ ready to head
down to the cafeteria, anyhow.” Shuffling to the door, he gave Lana a friendly
pat on the shoulder and murmured something that sounded an awful lot like
go
easy on him
before vanishing into the hall.

Lana stood several paces in front of the door, her arms
wrapped around her middle for comfort. Feet fixed to the linoleum floor, her
eyes swept over his body, carefully surveying the damage.

“I’m okay”, he reassured her when her blue eyes began to
fill with tears. A quivering hand briefly covered her mouth before her composure
returned. The piercing sharp pain exploding behind his breastbone had nothing
to do with his injuries, this time. The fact that he’d done this to her—
again
—didn’t
sit right with him. “C’ mere”, he uttered quietly, patting the mattress.

In roughly two strides Lana rushed forward, carefully
shrouding him with her soft body. The sensation felt good, natural, leaving no
doubt that this—this life,
this woman
—was what he wanted.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, nuzzling her neck with the tip
of his nose. Subtle hints of vanilla drifted into his awareness, immediately
putting his weary mind at ease.

Lana raised her upper body a bit, aiming her glassy blue
eyes at his. “When I opened the door last night and saw Grant and Chief
Handler, I-I thought—”

“I know”, he murmured, tucking a strand of light brown
hair behind her ear. “I’m so sorry. Guess I just thought if I left town for a
day or two it’d make things easier on you.”

“I can handle the looks and the crude comments, Randall.
Because at the end of the day what people think of me and the choices I’ve
made, don’t matter.
But
you do
. You matter to Connor… to me.”

“I never meant to hurt you. God”, he sighed, letting the
back of his head rest against the pillow again, “That’s all I seem to be good
at these days.”

For the first time in days he saw the corners of Lana’s
mouth lift into a radiant smile. “Well, that’s not
all
you’re good at; I
can think of quite a few things, actually.”

Randall smiled too. “A few, eh?”

Laughter fled her pink lips, filling him with a sense of
purpose. God, he loved hearing it, loved how her full lips spanned across her
slender face, how her deep-blue gaze danced buoyantly, as though she didn’t
have a care in the world.