Guilty as Sin (41 page)

“We need to get her out of here as quickly as possible.”

“Her leg is badly infected,” Dr. Schmidt said, his face grim. “But the good news is that it doesn’t look like we’re dealing with antibiotic-resistant bacteria,” he said to the group waiting anxiously in the waiting room for an update. “In addition, it appears she’s been sedated with something that’s still working through her system. She also has mild heatstroke.”

“What about her head injury?” Jackson asked tightly.

“She has a slight skull fracture, but there doesn’t appear to be any subdural bleeding. I think once we get her fluids up, her fever comes down, and whatever she was sedated with wears off, we should see a lot of improvement.”

Kate, Tommy, and the rest of the group echoed Jackson’s sigh, and Kate heard Brooke’s muffled sob of relief as she buried her head against Ben’s chest. The tension eased from her muscles so abruptly Kate felt like she was going to melt like a puddle onto the floor.

“When will we be able to question her?” CJ asked. His hair was rumpled as though he’d run his hands through it, and his uniform was smudged with dirt and ripped in several places.

“She needs to regain consciousness first,” the doctor said, the edge in his voice belying his kind eyes. “Then we can determine what she’s up for.”

CJ nodded grimly. “I’m glad we got her back safe, but I’ll be damned if I let whoever did this to her get away with it,” he told Jackson. “I’m going to head back to the trailer and make sure the guys don’t miss anything while they’re processing the scene.”

“Can I see her?” Jackson asked.

The doctor nodded and motioned for Jackson to follow.

Kate’s stomach knotted as she saw the way Brooke shifted uncertainly in her chair, half rising as though to follow, then sitting back down, unsure of her welcome.

As though he heard her thoughts, Jackson hesitated before he pushed through the double doors leading to the exam room. “Brooke, honey, aren’t you coming?”

Brooke nodded eagerly and hurried to her father’s side. Kate felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest when Jackson caught his daughter in a quick, fierce hug and bent his head to whisper something Kate couldn’t hear.

Whatever it was, it made Brooke clutch her father harder before they went back to see Tricia.

“They’re going to be okay,” Tommy said, and covered her hand with his. Kate looked down at their joined hands, warmth coursing all the way up her arm, down to her belly and lower where it pulsed in anticipation.

And just like that, the mood shifted between them from overwhelming relief in the wake of Tricia’s rescue to electric, crackling awareness.

Tommy’s fingers tightened around hers. “How are you feeling?”

If she really focused on it, somewhere in the background Kate could pick up the dull pain of her injuries. “I hardly feel
a thing.” It was true. They were easily ignored in favor of the way Tommy’s dark eyes glittered hungrily as they raked over her, creating a sharp ache that easily eclipsed any caused by the blow she’d taken to the head.

“Good,” Tommy said, his lips pulling in a smile as he raised their clasped hands and placed a firm kiss on the back of hers. “I just need to say goodbye to Jackson.”

He was back in under a minute, and in a moment of déjà vu, they were skirting through the exam rooms and sneaking out the back entrance of the hospital. But this time, instead of trying not to throw up from the pain in her head, Kate was giggling like a teenager as they ducked through the hallway in an effort not to be seen.

A nurse passed them, a quizzical look on her face. Kate struggled to keep her composure, straightening her spine and dropping back a little bit to allow more space between herself and Tommy. Still, she worried that anyone passing them could feel the electricity between them and would know exactly what they planned to do as soon as they were alone.

They turned the corner to the back door. “Wait here while I get the truck,” Tommy said. Kate nodded. Tommy reached for the door, but a split second before he opened it he reached for Kate instead.

“What are you—” was all Kate could get out before her back was pressed to the wall, Tommy’s mouth covering hers in a kiss that threatened to consume her. A tiny voice in the back of her head warned her that this wasn’t a good idea, that someone could walk by and see them at any moment.

The voice dissolved in a burst of light and heat at the hot slide of Tommy’s tongue against hers, the heat of his big hands wrapping around the curve of her hip, molding her to him. As always, the second he touched her, the rest of
the world faded to the background, until all she knew was him.

He pulled away with a groan and reality came crashing back. “Oh my God, we can’t do this here,” she said shakily, though her arms were still looped around him. Her view was mostly blocked by his broad chest, but she looked around frantically to see if anyone was coming. “Why did you do that? Anyone could have seen us.”

“Because I felt like if I didn’t get to kiss you my head was going to explode. And no one is around to see.” He stepped back, letting her see the empty corridor for herself.

Kate blew out a sigh of relief and pushed him toward the door. “Go get the truck before I let you make me forget we’re in a public place again.”

As worried as she was about getting caught, that didn’t suppress the thrill sizzling through her. The same thrill she’d gotten the first time she snuck out to be with Tommy so many years ago.

As she waited for him, she felt a pinch of doubt. The last time she let her crazy desire for Tommy drive her to break the rules it had ended in disaster. What if…

She pushed the thought firmly aside. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on past tragedies. What had happened was awful and she’d never get over it, but she couldn’t let that stand in the way of a second chance at happiness.

With Tommy.

Which was exactly what she wanted, she admitted to herself, equally thrilled and terrified at the realization. But what if he didn’t want the same thing?

Tommy’s truck pulled up. He got out of the cab, and all of Kate’s what-ifs died as she drank in that long-legged, lean-hipped stride, that brick wall of a chest, and most of all at that wide, knowing smile that transformed his harsh features
and made her feel like she was the most amazing woman who had ever set foot on planet earth.

He led her around the other side of the truck and opened the door for her, his eyes narrowing appreciatively on Kate’s legs as her borrowed skirt rode up her thighs as she climbed in.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, Kate didn’t even bother asking where they were going. As far as she was concerned, Tommy could take her anywhere.

Maura Walsh blew out a frustrated breath and shifted on her heels, trying to ease the pressure on the balls of her feet. Damn shoes had cost half a month’s salary, and while they did amazing things for her legs, if she tried to stand in them for more than ten minutes, she felt like spikes were being driven into the soles of her feet.

She’d been standing on the concrete steps for hours waiting for an update on Tricia Fuller, and now her feet hurt so much she was afraid she was going to end up with nerve damage.

The sheriff—whose rumpled clothes and disheveled hair didn’t detract a bit from his overall hotness—had given a brief statement eons ago, and no one else had come out to speak to the press since.

“Let’s take a break. I’m starving,” grumbled Marshall, her cameraman.

“Not like you couldn’t afford to miss a few meals,” she shot back with a glare, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the way the buttons of his plaid shirt strained to contain his belly. “I’m not leaving until we get something good.” Like maybe a sound bite from Tricia’s sister, Brooke. Or even better, some real evidence to prove her hunch that the relationship
between Kate Beckett and Fuller’s friend Ibarra wasn’t just professional. The prospect made her toes curl in her too-tight shoes. After the fallout from Kate’s relationship with Graham Miller, the discovery that she was fooling around on yet another case would create the kind of frenzy that would kick Maura out of a backwater market like northern Idaho and straight into the big leagues.

“Hey, where are you going?” she said, snapping out of her reverie as Marshall set his camera down on the steps next to her.

“Gotta take a piss.”

Maura gave a shudder of revulsion as he tromped up the stairs. Maybe he was right. They should break. The rest of the press had left already. She’d sent in her reel to air on the six o’clock broadcast. The likelihood of getting something in for the eleven o’clock broadcast was nil.

She slipped out of her shoes and started to limp back to the van when her phone rang. She froze, anticipation swelling in her chest when she saw the caller ID with the hospital’s name. “Maura Walsh,” she answered.

“Hi, uh, Ms. Walsh? My name is Nancy, I work here at the hospital. I got your card?”

After Kate Beckett’s run-in with her intruder, Maura and Marshall had discreetly passed out her business card to several staff members, promising cash rewards for any information they could pass on. “Do you have something you want to share with me, Nancy?”

Nancy hesitated on the other end, and Maura fought back the urge to tell her to spit it out. “N-no one can find out I talked to you,” Nancy stammered. “I’ll get fired if anyone finds out.”

“I always keep my sources confidential,” Maura assured her. “Do you have information about Tricia Fuller?”

“Not exactly…”

“Can’t we stay a little longer?” Brooke asked, her fingers laced tightly with Tricia’s. Though Tricia’s fingers were limp, they were warm. Warm and alive. The words echoed like a mantra through her head. Tricia was warm and alive and with them.

And—by some miracle—whoever the sicko was who had taken her hadn’t raped her. Despite Brooke’s tortured imaginings, somehow her baby sister had been spared that. The knowledge took the edge off her guilt, though Brooke knew it would never go away. It didn’t matter what everyone said.

Even her father’s assurances and tight hug—the first he’d given her in days—couldn’t take the weight of the blame from her shoulders.

“She needs undisturbed rest,” the doctor said kindly but firmly. “You can come visit again in the morning.”

She bent and gave Tricia a kiss on the cheek, her throat tight as she got a close-up view of the mottled bruise on her sister’s cheekbone. “I love you, Tricia. I love you so much and I promise to take care of you from now on,” she said softly.