A red tainted Silence (29 page)

“Just be patient. Gotta run to the car a sec.” He slammed his hand on the elevator button. It opened right away for him, and he darted inside.

I smiled as he waved to me just before the doors closed. It was really good to be friends with him again. I’d missed Tommy terribly. And Sam. I couldn’t wait to see Lee again, too.

He, out of all the band, had known what was going on between me and Nicholas; he’d just never let on to the others, for which we were grateful.

A few minutes passed, and I stretched out, glad Mutt stood by the window, watching over me. This was the VIP wing -- we didn’t get too much traffic as a result -- but his presence was still comforting to me. Especially after the Barkley incident, as we called what happened with Nick and the box.

I’d closed my eyes and was dozing off when it hit -- an explosion outside the building almost shook me out of my chair.

“What the hell?” I said, bewildered. I grabbed my crutches and stood, heading for the window to look outside.

But Mutt had other ideas. He literally scooped me up like I was a child, leaving my crutches on the floor, and hustled with me in his arms to Nick’s room. I didn’t have time to protest, or wonder what the hell had happened when a second explosion rocked us. Sam had bolted from his chair and now ran past us into the hallway. Mutt didn’t stop him.

Stark terror rocketed through me as the panic in Sam’s eyes registered.

It couldn’t be. No. Oh, fuck, no ...

“Sam, no!” I cried out, but Mutt fought against my struggles and carried me over to Nick’s bed.

“Brandon, what is it?” Nicholas said, reaching for me as Mutt deposited me next to him.

The two cops had drawn their guns. Mutt nodded to Jeff, who followed after Sam.

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Someone had tried to kill Tommy.

What had happened down in the parking lot came to us piecemeal, delivered to me, Nicholas, and an almost inconsolable Sam in Nick’s hospital room. Thank God for Nurse Goodall. She was there for Sam in a way neither Nicholas nor I could be, insisting he stop his mad pacing and making him take something to calm down. He eventually settled in the chair next to Nick’s bed, but the fevered worry didn’t leave his eyes.

Mutt watched over us all, arms crossed over his broad chest, his face rigid with anger. I figured he took what happened to Tommy personally, believed he should’ve gone down to the lot with him. Maybe then he would’ve detected the bomb in time, before Tommy could get hurt. But how could we have really known Tommy had been targeted, too? Especially since he’d been with us only a few hours. Who the fuck was this bastard messing with our lives? This was a game to him, and we his carefully maneuvered pawns. I no longer knew how to fight him, if I ever really had.

I’d fucked up so damn bad.

The first minutes after the explosion were pure hell. Waiting to just hear whether or not Tommy had survived was agony. Watching Sam nearly explode with fear and worry, tears streaming down his face, was torture. The two were close; Tommy was like a little brother to Sam. He always watched out for Tommy, made sure he was okay. They’d been friends longer than Nicholas and I had known each other. Now Tommy would need Sam’s friendship even more -- if he survived. I hated watching Sam in his misery, and I hated waiting. It brought me back to the terror of Nick’s kidnapping, threatened to bring me to my knees as the horrors I’d almost managed to push aside reasserted themselves in my mind.

What happened? How badly was he hurt? Was he dead? Who’d done this to him? Would he survive what had been done to him? Would he want to?

168

Carolyn Gray

I’d had hours, days, weeks of that while Nicholas was missing.

I knew already the agony of not knowing what was happening to someone I loved, and knowing in all likelihood it’d be a while before I did. I was intimately familiar with the relentless merry-go-round of useless questioning, the frantic search for explanation. What did I not do that might’ve changed things? What can I do now? How could this have happened? What does he want with us?

I’d lived in a whirlwind of delusion for so long, believing I was in control just because I’d done what our tormentor demanded. But I’d never been in control. Ever. I knew that now. It’d taken me a long time to accept that. I’d spent hours berating myself for my failure to keep Nicholas safe, but it was really out of my hands. Still, the evil voice inside of me chanted, You failed him.

Simple as that. Despite all my capitulation, our tormentor had ultimately gone ahead with his threatened plans, had likely always meant to, and I’d failed Nicholas. And Tommy, and Sam, too.

I still don’t know how I’d made it through those endless days. The photos helped, even as they terrorized me. Each new disk that came in had proved Nicholas was still alive. But each new disk had also proved he was slowly dying. And now Tommy might be. Could already be. Yeah, I knew waiting. And I fucking hated it. The helplessness of it. I thought I’d never have to go through this again. But now here I was, again. Waiting. The only difference was, now I wasn’t waiting alone.

“He’ll be okay, Brandon,” Nicholas said, his soft voice interrupting my thoughts. I flushed guiltily, wondering what he’d seen on my face to prompt his need to reassure me.

“Don’t worry yourself sick, all right?”

I nodded, trying to push back the memories from my eyes. I didn’t want Nicholas to see, to ever know what I’d gone through while he’d been missing. But of course he knew me better than I knew myself. “I know you’re right, Nicholas, but I can’t stop thinking --” I stopped and closed my eyes, my breath catching in my throat at the thought of Tommy and how quickly his life had been changed. Maybe even snuffed out. On another’s whim, just like that. And I was responsible.

I felt Nick’s fingers touch my cheek. Dazed, I looked down at him. He looked back at me, his expression stern. “Stop it. I can see what you’re thinking. I can see all those little brain cells in your head, arguing with each other, trying to figure out what you did to cause this. It’s not your fault! It’s that bastard’s fault.” His voice softened and he smiled gently at me. “Tommy will be okay. We’ll be here to help him, you hear? He’s a pretty darn tough guy.”

I slowly nodded. Just like you were. So much stronger than me. “I hope we hear something soon,” I said, glad to hear my voice sound almost normal.

“I hope so, too. It can’t be much longer.”

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He curled his fingers in mine and squeezed. I smiled wanly at him and squeezed back, careful not to hurt him. The strength of his grip wasn’t nearly what it had once been. That only added to my worries. Jeff did finally come back to tell us Tommy had somehow survived the explosion. Only then did I really allow myself to hope. But he was hurt. Badly.

Had gone straight into surgery. Jeff had no more information for us beyond that, and left again to meet with the cops downstairs.

We waited some more. Nick’s doctor came by to see him, make sure he was okay, and to make sure, I thought, that he didn’t need sedation. He insisted he didn’t, though his face had taken on that ghostly paleness again, and bruises marred the skin beneath his eyes. I drew him closer to me once she was done examining him, as if by sheer will I could ward off the fingers of illness that insisted on keeping their talons hooked into him. I wondered if he’d ever get better again. If I’d ever see that crazy joyful bounce of his, watch him twirl as he loved to do with the sheer happiness of life. I had to believe I would, or it would drive me to madness.

The doctor told us what she knew, that Tommy was still in surgery, had sustained severe burns to his back and neck and had shrapnel in his backside, hip, and right calf. A broken kneecap where he’d hit the car with such force it had shattered. Likely some ribs busted. His shoulder had been dislocated as well, and he had a deep cheek laceration requiring stitches.

“But what about his hands?” Sam asked. “Are his hands okay?” She’d understood. “They’re a little scraped up, but they’ll be fine.” Sam closed his eyes, exhaling a huge breath. “Thank you.” Break a guitarist’s foot -- hell, both feet, take him out at the knees, whatever -- just don’t injure his hands. I thanked God for sparing him that, at least. The doctor left us again, only somewhat satisfied Nicholas was okay, but promising to check back later. I knew we wouldn’t be left alone long. I knew she was concerned about Nicholas. I was. She gave me a speculative look, too. I looked hurriedly away before she could see the disjointed fear in my eyes.

A little time passed, but soon enough we had our next visitor, and this one was Detective Anderson himself. He was not a happy man, and the next half-hour was spent listening to him tell us all about it. I was about getting sick of it, though I understood -- it could take days to piece together what had happened to Tommy. And they had to find out, as soon as possible. Other lives were at stake now, not just mine and Nick’s.

The bastard had purposely hurt Tommy. Sweet, passionate, crazy, caring Tommy, who wouldn’t knowingly hurt anybody. Who was engaged. Whose fiancée I’d had put on the first available plane to Colorado, not knowing if she’d get here and find the man she loved dead or alive, or horribly disfigured.

I watched Detective Anderson pace the length of the hospital room -- not a very large space in which to express his anger. Nicholas squeezed my hand tight, but raised his chin.

170

Carolyn Gray

Put on a brave front, my Nicholas, though I knew he was terrified of what could happen next. I was terrified, too.

A witness had said she saw Tommy running away from the car right before it exploded, a guitar in his hand -- a guitar he’d brought for me. Even though he was still pissed at me, he’d brought me one of my damn guitars. A peace offering, I guessed, though it was me who was ultimately responsible for the necessity of it. The guitar had been taken, of course, by the cops. It was now evidence. Tommy had run hard, yelling at the witness to take cover, which she had. He’d undoubtedly saved her life. But the explosion had come quick, hurling Tommy off his feet, covering him with hot flames and flying bits of the car. If he’d had on his jacket, it would’ve been much better for him, but he’d only intended to dash outside into the cold and snow for a minute or two. When the first explosion hit, he’d slammed into the back of another car and rolled over it into a pile of snow, which probably saved his life when the second, far worse, explosion hit.

The witness had seen no one else around but Tommy. No lurking shadows, no gleeful evil being cackling over the success of his mission. But I knew he was there. Somewhere.

Watching, proud of what he’d done ... Contemplating his next move.

Tommy had been in surgery for over two hours, and they wouldn’t let us wait anywhere but in Nick’s room, away from the crime scene, away from the surgical waiting suite -- where an eye could be kept on us all. I’d talked to Jenny on the phone, and she was fine but as worried as we were. A cop had been assigned to her and her husband. They would meet Sylvie at the airport when she arrived and bring her to Tommy. Marisa had gone after lunch to meet with the local lawyer we’d hired to take care of our affairs while we were here. I wasn’t too fond of the idea of her having any control of my life again, but knew she would take good care of Nicholas. And, because he insisted, me. A cop was sent to keep an eye on her, too.

“Why, once again, Mr. Kilmain, did you feel compelled to share classified information with your friends?”

“I made a mistake. I didn’t realize.”

“You mean, you didn’t think.”

Nicholas blanched. “N-no, I guess I didn’t. I’m sorry.” My temper rose. “Stop it, Detective. You’re upsetting him. What’s done is done.

Nicholas told them, and now Tommy is seriously injured, may even die. Yelling at him isn’t doing anybody any good.” Nick’s grip crushed me -- I felt his strength now. His face had faded to an otherworldly pale which emphasized the incredible blueness of his eyes.

“We’ve told you all we know. Surely it’s enough.”

“No, it’s not enough. I hope you realize, Mr. Ashwood, you’re all in even more danger than you were before,” the detective said, his disgust with me evident. Guess he wasn’t used to being talked back to.

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“But you’re acting like it’s Nick’s fault, and it isn’t,” I insisted. “It’s not anybody’s.” But mine, I mentally added. “And I do understand we’re in more danger than before. Believe me, I do. As soon as his doctor says he can travel, Nicholas and I are leaving, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

The detective shook his head. “No. I can’t let you leave.”

“What?” I said, incredulous. “Why?”

“You can’t keep us here!” Nicholas said, panic edging his voice. He grabbed my hands.

“Brandon, don’t let him make me. He knows where I am --”

“Nicholas!” I snapped, surprise at his outburst making me grab his face and force him to look at me. His eyes, unfocused, proved just how haunted he remained by his ordeal. I didn’t know yet exactly what had happened those long weeks he’d been held captive. He hadn’t talked to me about it yet, though I’d of course seen where he’d been imprisoned. And, as I mentioned, I’d seen the pictures. It’d been bad. Very, very bad. I stroked the side of his face, kissing him gently in reassurance. “It’s okay, Nick, I promise. Calm down, okay?” His eyes focused on me at last, and he nodded. Damn. He’d scared me. I wanted to know where his doctor was -- I hadn’t seen him lose it like that before. But he seemed to be getting a grip on himself, taking deep, practiced, calming breaths.

“I’m sorry. I’m okay.” He smiled sheepishly. “I-I guess I lost it there. I’m sorry.” I shushed him. God, what a pair we made. What if we both freaked out at the same time? Who would take care of the both of us? How he’d kept himself mentally together through everything, I couldn’t fathom. I know my own sanity had hung by a bare thread most of the time, and didn’t feel much stronger now.

“It’s understandable. Just gotta hang on, okay?” I pulled him to my shoulder and he gave in to me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I cradled his head with my hand and looked at the detective. “I want him out of here. It’s not safe now, and what if someone else gets hurt?”