Love Resolution (Black Cat Records series) (16 page)

His chest burned beneath the weight of the accusations she’d just leveled at him.

“That’s all I ever wanted from you,” she finished, gaze sliding forward. “Marcus!” she suddenly screamed.

His head snapped forward. Too late he saw the stopped car in front of them. He jerked the wheel to the right, the car hydroplaning on the rain slickened pavement, and he lost control. Instinctively, he threw out his right arm to shield her.

The impact was sudden and brutal. Glass shattered and metal twisted and groaned, reshaped by the violent deceleration against a light pole. His airbag deployed. It stung him like being slapped in the bare chest by a giant open palm. The breath whooshed out from his lungs. He tasted coppery blood in his mouth. Heart in his throat, he glanced over at her side of the car.

“Avery!” Her airbag hadn’t deployed. Her face and the dashboard were covered in blood. Her eyes were closed. She wasn’t moving.

The ugly gash over Avery’s right eye was bleeding profusely. Trembling, Marcus touched her face. She didn’t respond. He quickly drew his cotton t-shirt over his head and pressed it against the wound. With his other hand, he slid his cell out of his pocket.

“911. How may I assist you?”

“I’ve been in a car accident!” he choked out, fear gripping his throat. “My fiancée’s hurt. She’s unconscious and she’s bleeding!”

“We’ll send someone right away. What’s your location?”

The fumes of spilled gasoline made his eyes water as he peered out through the shattered rain soaked front windshield and squinted to read the street sign. “Western Avenue and Lenora.”

“Help’s on the way. Stay on the line.”

“I will.” He stared at Avery again. She was so pale. “Please hurry.”

Fear and self-recrimination consumed him. Cradling her face, he breathed a soft prayer. After what seemed like an eternity, a squad car rolled up alongside them. Two officers jumped out of the vehicle, hurrying to either side of the wrecked Jaguar.

One of them opened the driver’s side door. “I’m Officer Garza. You ok, sir?”

“I think so.”

“Can you get out of the car?”

“Yes.” Marcus undid his seatbelt. “But my fiancée’s hurt.”

The patrolman’s dark brows drew together. Lips flattened in a concerned line, he passed a glance to his partner. “Tung. Can you get in on that side?”

“The door’s buckled,” the other officer replied, after a few hard tugs. “I can’t get it open. I’ll get the pry bar.”

“An ambulance is on the way,” Garza told Marcus.

Marcus managed to nod, his stomach rolling as he realized that the t-shirt he held over her forehead was soaked with blood. A wave of panic engulfed him. Finally, the sound of a siren reached his ears.

The metal creaked and groaned as Officer Tung finally broke the jammed door loose. Two EMT’s jogged up with a stretcher.

The EMT’s quickly assessed Avery before placing a cervical collar onto her neck and carefully extracting her from the wreckage.

As soon as they loaded her limp body onto the stretcher, Marcus threw open his door to follow. He swayed unsteadily on his feet, reaching a hand back to the wet car to keep from falling.

By now a small group of onlookers had gathered to gawk.

Suddenly, Officer Garza appeared at his side. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You been drinking tonight?”

Shit.
The blood drained from his face.

Garza didn’t wait for a response. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to step over to the squad car for a breathalyzer test.”

“No.” Marcus shook his head, watching the ambulance doors close, an ominous feeling washing over him. He took a step toward it, but the officer moved to block him.

“Sir, I can’t let you leave the scene.”

“She’s my fiancée. Please let me go with her,” Marcus pleaded, freezing rain soaking his torso and trickling down into the waist band of his jeans.

“Sir, I’m placing you under arrest for suspicion of DUI. Now put both hands on the hood of the car,” he ordered, producing a set of handcuffs.

“The name’s Marcus,” he said with gritted teeth, dragging frozen fingers through his wet hair. Helplessly, he watched as the ambulance drove away. “Marcus Anthony.”

Picking at the dried blood and black fingerprint ink underneath his nails, Marcus waited alone inside the holding cell. He was stone cold sober now, agonizingly so. His mind circled endlessly around images of Avery… unconscious, bleeding, lying so pale and still on the stretcher as those ambulance doors closed and took her away.

He wrinkled his nose, the rank aroma in the cell befitting the shithole his life had become in the last twenty four hours.

“Marcus.”

“Dwight.” His head snapped up at the welcome sound of his brother’s voice. He rose and crossed to him shoes catching on the sticky floor. A uniformed officer with a large ring of keys accompanied Dwight. “How is she?”

“She’s gonna be ok. They’ve been monitoring her overnight at the hospital because of the concussion, and they had to put invisible stitches in to close the laceration on her forehead. The doctor said she’s lucky that it wasn’t a whole lot worse.”

“Thank God.” Marcus closed his eyes and let out a broken breath.

“What the hell were you thinking? You were lucky, too. You could have both been killed,” Dwight hissed in his ear as he exited the cell door the officer had opened.

“I wasn’t.” Self-loathing coated his words.

“Your bail has been posted. Come with me,” the officer instructed, stepping around the brothers and leading them down the long corridor.

“You’ve got to get some help,” Dwight insisted, pulling him in for a quick, hard hug. “You can’t do this shit anymore. I can’t take it.”

Marcus nodded mutely. Emotionally exhausted, he had nothing left in him to return the hug or acknowledge the plea.

After completing the paperwork and agreeing to a court hearing in thirty days, they were sent to the release desk to collect Marcus’ personal belongings. Taking the bulging manila envelope from the clerk, Marcus shook the contents out onto the counter. Wallet, keys and watch slid out with a thump before a silver bracelet flecked with dried blood followed, clanging musically against the tile. He stilled, bowed his head, and covered it up with his hand.

“Let’s go,” Dwight said giving him a worried glance.

Outside on the city sidewalk, before Marcus could even take a single breath of fresh air after the most horrible night of his life, he heard them yelling his name.

Shit.

A pack of reporters descended, shoving microphones in his face. He ducked his head and hurried toward a black Suburban that had pulled up and double parked near the curb. Dwight opened the door and Marcus slid into the back seat.

Effing Vultures.

He glanced at the man who was driving. He was a stranger.
Ray must be with Avery at the hospital. Good.
That’s where he ought to be, and that’s how it was going to be from now on.

“Mom and Dad know?”

“Who doesn’t? It’s all over the news. You, Avery, Bryan Jackson. This is a huge cluster.” His usually affable brother looked totally frazzled, reddish blond hair awry and blue eyes bloodshot. “I’ll take you over to see Avery first. Then you’re on your own to face this shit storm. I really don’t know whose madder, Mom or Mary. But you’re gonna have to deal with them both.”

He nodded. He’d expected no less. “I’m not going to the hospital,” Marcus said quietly.

“Why the hell not?” Dwight asked incredulously.

“She wouldn’t want me there.”

“Yes, she does. She’s been pretty out of it but she’s been calling for you.”

“It’s better if I don’t.” Marcus turned away and stared out the window.

“What kinda crap is this?” His eyes narrowed on Marcus’ face “Did you hit your head, too? What the hell is going on with you and Avery?”

Marcus was quiet for a long time. “She could have died, Dwight, and I would have been responsible.” He was sure his expression revealed the turmoil he felt inside. “I totally fucked up. Nothing I say or do can make it right. And I’m not going to go over to the hospital and make this an even bigger ordeal for her than it already is.”

“I don’t get it.” Dwight scratched his head in obvious consternation. He pulled out his cell. “You’ve got to call her at least.”

“No.” Marcus covered up his brother’s hand. “I don’t.”

Dwight studied his face. “She’ll forgive you, you know.”

Marcus wished she wouldn’t. He didn’t deserve it.

Avery woke, ears ringing, forehead throbbing as if someone was whacking a hammer repeatedly against her skull. Opening her eyes had been like lifting a weighted garage door manually without the assistance of the pulley mechanism.

She was in a hospital room, the heart monitor beeping beside her. The first person she saw was Ray, standing alone in the corner, staring down at his phone. He must have noticed her moving because his eyes shifted in her direction.

“You’re awake.” He smiled softly and came closer, stopping on the left side of her bed. He glanced at someone on the other side.

Carefully, she turned her head and saw familiar chestnut curls and grey eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked softly, squeezing her hand.

“Like my head just got split open,” Avery admitted truthfully. “What happened?”

“You were in a car accident.” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You have a concussion, and a pretty nasty cut on your forehead.”

Avery winced, reaching up in exploration.

“You don’t have to go back to the doctor to get the stitches out. They’re the invisible under the skin kind that dissolve on their own,” Sam reassured her. “They also told us they think the scar will fade in time.”

“Where’s Marcus?” She remembered seeing the other car, but not the impact. Her throat tightened with trepidation. “Is he ok?”

Sam and Ray were quiet. She watched them exchange a glance.

It was Sam who answered. “He’s alright, Avery, but he was arrested at the scene. He’s been charged with driving while intoxicated.”

“He’s in jail?” Avery’s mouth dropped open.

“Yeah. Dwight left here a couple hours ago to bail him out.”

Avery stared at Sam in stunned silence.

“It’s been a long night,” Sam continued empathetically. “I’m so glad you’re ok. That it wasn’t worse.” She leaned over and kissed the top of Avery’s head. “I’ll tell the nurse you’re awake and see if you can have some pain medicine.”

As soon as the door clicked closed, Avery turned her head toward Ray. “I’m sorry. I should have listened to you,” she whispered. “But Marcus was so mad and I was afraid… ” She trailed off, tears pricking her eyes as she remembered their conversation. “It doesn’t really matter.” She stared at her hands, and panic suddenly seized her limbs. Where was it? She couldn’t remember taking it off.

“Looking for this?” Ray asked, holding up her engagement ring.

“Yes.” She gulped in a welcome breath.

“They took it off in the ER.” He patted his blazer pocket. “I’ve got your necklace in here, too. If there was anything else, I don’t have it.”

“A bracelet, but it’s just costume jewelry.” She took the ring from him. “This is the only important thing.” She slid it on. “How long was I out?”