Judgement By Fire (9 page)

“I see you’re
being as good a patient as ever?” Lauren couldn’t resist teasing, but the
malevolent look Lucy turned on her was redirected immediately on the head of a
poor lab nurse who crept in with the obvious intention of taking blood samples.

“What the hell
do you want? Don’t you know I’ve already given enough to keep the blood bank
stocked for the next decade?” Lucy growled.

The young
technician gave a sickly smile as she snapped on clean gloves and pulled out
the rubber tourniquet to tie about Lucy’s upper arm.

“Touch me and
die!” Lucy warned.

It was evident
that the nurse had already been warned of Lucy’s grizzly-bear-with-a-hangover
disposition and she kept right on going. Even though she obviously longed to
make a quick getaway, her movements were firm, gentle and efficient as she
found a vein, inserted the syringe, and drew blood.

Lauren saw
Lucy about to go into orbit, and rapidly intervened. “What did you think of the
campaign yesterday—er, before you checked out on us?” she asked, baiting Lucy
because she knew that would get her attention.

It did. Lucy
gave her a knowing look. “Well, I really didn’t think you’d be so chipper about
it all, not after what happened, but I really do admire your standing up to
them—even though what happened was an accident, I’m sure.”

Jon Rush’s pale
face flashed before Lauren’s eyes, the trail of red blood contrasting with the
white skin as it flowed from under the silky blond hair at his temple, and her
stomach cramped in a sudden spasm. She was grateful for the intervention of
another nurse, who told her the consultant was on his way to see Mrs. Howard
and she would have to leave the room.

Lauren deposited
the magazines she’d brought onto Lucy’s bedside table, kissed the pale cheek
and told Lucy to be a good girl and play nice to the nursing staff, which
raised a howl of angry denial from the other woman. Grinning, she escaped
outside, accidentally bumping into another nurse as she left

            “Well, it’s Lauren
Stephens, isn’t it? The wildlife artist from West River. I recognized you from
your picture! I must say, it did look bad but I really admire you, standing up
for your rights like that. We’ve lost too much of our forests and open spaces
to the big companies, trample all over ordinary people, they would…” Then the
nurse bustled on, leaving Lauren looking after her in puzzlement.

How could a
nurse she’d never seen before in her life recognize her from her picture? She
didn’t think Lucy carried snapshots of her friends around with her so how…?

            The answer came to her
as she walked past the hospital gift shop in the lobby. Several of the daily
papers were displayed on a shelf outside the store and Lauren gasped as she saw
pictures of herself apparently in various stages of using her protest sign to
brain the handsome blond
unarmed
executive of Rush Co.

In the final
picture, featured on the front page of a tabloid Lauren particularly despised,
Jon Rush appeared to lie helplessly at her feet while she stood over him
victoriously holding her club in the air while another large man grasped her
wrist and appeared to be restraining her from raining more blows down on her
hapless victim’s head.

            Horrified and sure
that everyone must be looking at her, Lauren scooped up several of the papers,
deposited some toonies – two-dollar coins - down on the counter in the store,
and fled to her car.

            Opening the
newspapers, she was shocked to see that not only did all the newspapers feature
the misleading photographs prominently; they all also carried quotes from West
River police Chief Mike Ohmer and the Rush Co. President and Chief Executive
Officer, Jon Rush.

Ohmer’s
comments were like the man, straight and to the point. He had told the press
that his investigations had led him to believe the incident was caused simply
by a misunderstanding, and no charges were to be laid.

“It is an
unfortunate aspect of such occasions when emotions run high that events go
beyond the control of the organizers. However,” he was quoted as saying, “I can
assure both the people of West River and the executives of Rush. Co. that no
such incident will occur in the future.”

            Lauren couldn’t
repress a rueful smile as she’d remembered Mike Ohmer’s disgust that such a
thing should happen in
his
territory, and the grilling he’d subjected
the whole gathering to.
Except, of course, the Rush Co. executives,
she
added peevishly to herself.

            Moving on to Jon
Rush’s comments made her throat and chest go tight and little angry hammers begin
to pound behind her eyes.
How dare he!

            “As you would know if
you were present at the event, I wasn’t really in a position to know everything
that went on.” Jon was quoted as saying, sounding like the soul of
reasonableness. “However, it was a very unfortunate incident and I am quite
sure that Ms. Stephens is both embarrassed and regretful that she should be
carried away in such a manner. Certainly, at this juncture, I do not foresee
pressing charges against the young lady.”

            Then, obviously to
the reporter’s delight, and here Lauren saw red again as she noted the
newspaper’s phrase “…with a smile, the handsome debonair company boss, son of
the founder, Jonathon Rush, Senior, intimated that it wasn’t every day a lovely
lady had attempted to get his attention by hitting him over the head…”

           
Grrr
… Lauren
thought, her teeth actually grinding against each other in anger.
Smug,
insufferable animal…chauvinist pig!
Tossing the crumpled up newspapers over
her shoulder to land in a heap in the back seat of the car, Lauren slammed her
fist against the steering wheel, yanked on the ignition key and jerked the
automatic transmission lever as she stabbed her foot down on the accelerator. 

            The little car shot
forward with a squeal of tires, causing heads to turn as she zoomed from the
parking lot.  Lauren didn’t notice. She was much too preoccupied with the
pleasurable consideration of the comeuppance she was about to deliver to a
certain handsome, debonair company president of her acquaintance.

* * *

Meanwhile,
in the cottage on the grounds of Haverford Castle, the telephone in Lauren’s
kitchen shrilled, the answering machine clicked on, and the receiver at the
other end cut off with an angry click.

A short
time later, a big, expensive sedan drove slowly past the laneway where Lauren’s
cottage stood, and the absence of any vehicle or other signs of life, combined
with the unattended telephone, told the car’s driver all he needed to know.

            The woman sitting at
the reception desk on the executive floor was a beauty. Tall, slim, sleek, all
polished nails and designer business suit. Cool with a cooler manner, able to
stare down and demolish the rowdiest intruder into the hallowed halls of power
in Rush Co.. Definitely executive receptionist material.

But no match
for the wildlife artist from West River - with the emphasis on the
wild.

            Long ago, from her
own days of working around Bay Street, Lauren knew that if you wanted to get in
some place where you really had no right to be, the first step was to look as
though you belonged there. So, grasping the briefcase she’d rescued from the trunk
of her car where it had lain forgotten for the last few weeks, Lauren strode
determinedly through the lobby of Rush Co.

Seeing a
security guard at the main reception desk, she engaged a passing young
executive-type in conversation. Looking incredibly serious and officious as she
sashayed past the guard and into the elevator with her new friend, she
discussed the merits of Toronto’s lunchtime rush with the demeanor of one
discussing major company business. It looked as though she belonged right there
with the Rush Co. crowd.

Her bemused
companion, apparently from the engineering department, left her on the 18
^th
floor to go into some office with thickly carpeted floors, and Lauren continued
up to the top floor executive suite. The pleasant smile she’d used for the
young man from engineering was gone, replaced by a grim look of savage
anticipation.
Look out, Rush, here comes retribution!

           
Then she came
to butting heads with the Receptionist from Hell. The woman eyed Lauren up and
down with disdain, telling her, “I’m sorry, Miss…er…Stevenson, Mr. Rush is in a
meeting and likely to be tied up all day.”

            “It’s Stephens,”
Lauren gritted, thinking briefly of the pleasure she’d have tying Jon Rush
up…and dropping him out of the 24
^th
floor window.

            “Well, Ms. Stephens,
I’m sorry,” the lovely blonde said, not sounding sorry in the least. “But Mr.
Rush and the department heads don’t normally see people without an appointment.
I mean, you can’t really just drop in on them…perhaps someone else could help
you?”

            Meaning some minion
in the lower orders could deal with whatever problems someone coming in off the
street might have, some
nobody
like Lauren.

The four-hour
drive to Toronto had done nothing to diminish Lauren’s anger. In fact, fighting
the traffic coming off the Gardiner Expressway and through the choked city
streets and then finding parking space at an exorbitant hourly rate had, if anything,
increased the rage that was bottled inside her. Rage that just might explode on
this woman’s beautifully groomed head if she didn’t tell Lauren immediately
where the handsome top dog of Rush Co. was lurking.

Debonair,
my rear end
…muttered Lauren’s little voice, for once on her side.

            “Just tell
Mister
Rush that Lauren Stephens needs to see him on a matter of urgency,” Lauren told
the receptionist, attempting to maintain a tone of sweet reasonableness when
she really wanted to grab the woman’s designer lapels and shriek at her.

Then she knew
she’d won. The woman’s eyes momentarily fluttered over to a wall that was
partially glass, one of the new style see-through meeting rooms currently in
vogue in all the top offices. Lauren caught a glimpse of the top of a blond
head and then there was no stopping her.

            In a few strides, she
was across the thickly carpeted expanse and swinging open the paneled mahogany
door. A dozen pairs of eyes swiveled to stare at her in surprise, but she was
aware only of the man who stood at the head of the polished oval table, his
long fingers splayed on a pile of typewritten sheets in front of him.

            “
I’m sorry to
interrupt,” she said, looking straight at Jon and imitating the receptionist’s
not-sorry-in-the-slightest tone. “But I really need to see you, right now.”

            “I’m in the middle of
a meeting. Could you leave a number at the reception desk where you can be
reached?” The richness in his voice was now laced with firmness. Top executive
firmness.

            “Now!” The word
exploded into the room and its impact was complete silence. Jon Rush gave no
sign of his feelings except for an angry whiteness around his compressed lips,
but the look he directed at her was palpable in its disapproval.

            Lauren suddenly
became aware of the expressions on the faces of the other people in the room,
seated around the table. Their looks varied from disdain, to outrage at the intrusion,
to the white-haired older man at Jon’s elbow who was positively smirking at the
exchange between his boss and the pretty intruder.

Jon swiped
back the stray lock of blond hair from his brow, his fingers raking back over
his scalp as he shrugged.

Looking calmly
at the rest of the people in the room, he told them, “Please excuse us. This
won’t take long. Perhaps Jim could just outline those figures again to be sure
we’re all clear on this,” and then strode from the room.

Passing
Lauren, he gripped her elbow tightly, although to a passer-by it would have
looked like a polite act, and guided her past the astonished receptionist into
a large corner office. Once they were inside, he closed the door quietly and
pleasantly on the receptionist’s apologetic attempts at explanation, but the
look he turned on Lauren was anything but pleasant.

            “What the hell do you
think you’re doing?” he demanded, letting go her arm and crossing the room to
lean one expensively clad hip against the huge mahogany desk.

Lauren noted
inconsequentially that the desk was every bit as cluttered as her own work
surfaces tended to be, then almost threw the offending tabloid newspapers at
Rush.

            “I think I’d like to
ask you the same question,” she ground out at him, her fury undiminished even
in the face of his obvious irritation at her intrusion into his world.

            Jon looked at her
appraisingly for a moment, and then took the newspapers she was thrusting at
him. He began to read with a puzzled frown, but soon a look of real amusement appeared
on his face, and when he got to the final paragraph, the one about the handsome
debonair company executive and the lovely lady that had so inflamed Lauren, he
actually laughed out loud.

            “What exactly do you
think is so funny?” she snarled at him, snatching the papers back and slamming
them down on his desk, forcing him to look at her. In doing so, she
inadvertently brought herself close to him, so close she thought she could feel
the tantalizing heat from his hard, muscular body and that now-familiar
electrical charge of awareness surged through her at his proximity.

Swallowing
from a suddenly dry mouth, she took two steps backwards in the hopes that
distance would return her sense of equilibrium. A quick glance showed that Jon,
too, looked slightly dazed, and she knew he had felt the same momentary shock
of feeling. She almost laughed as, looking uncomfortable, he slid from his
perch at the desk and moved to sit behind the protective cover of the big
expanse of wood.