Nerves of Steel (35 page)

"No," she admitted, her fingers digging into her calves.  Someone else, Ed Castro, she suspected, had already done it before she could find the courage.  But she wished she had.  Wished she'd been the kind of person strong enough to do the right thing.

"Shit," the word came with an exhalation as if it were forced from him.  His body grew rigid.  Drake turned and looked down on her, his face expressionless, hands knotted into fists at his sides.

"I already told you I was sorry.  What more do you want from me?" she demanded, angry that he seemed to resent her actions so.  Did he think she'd planned it this way?  "I'll go talk to Miller in the morning."  She got to her feet.  "I'll explain everything, tell her it was all my fault."

She ached to have his arms back around her, felt so desolate without his body near hers.  Drake sank into the chair, his back to her, head cradled in his hands.  Disappointed.  In her.  By her.

Cassie could understand why.  She was disappointed in herself--had been ever since that night last year when she had protected Richard.  Rosa and her father had not raised her that way.  All she could claim was a temporary insanity.  Bereft by Rosa's death, dazzled by Richard's attentions, she allowed herself to be lured into a world foreign to her own.

And had paid dearly for the trespass.  But not enough.  It seemed she was still paying.

If Richard King wasn't already lying down the hall in a coma, Drake would have been happy to put him there.  Damn the consequences.  The sound of her voice cut through his fury, and he turned to Hart as she was reaching for the door. 

"Don't go."  He took several deep breaths, forced his anger aside.  "Please."

She looked up, but kept her hand on the doorknob. 

"Neither of us is in any shape to drive tonight," he went on.  "Stay here.  Stay with me."  The words came in an uncontrollable rush.  "There's nothing to be scared of.  And," he took a step toward her, reached for her hand, "the only time I don't have nightmares seems to be when you're near." 

"Me too," she said, her voice low, as if ashamed of her admission.  She held her ground, considering his offer.

When she didn't come into his arms right away, he stepped forward into hers.  He swept her up and carried her the three steps back to the bed.  Tugged her shoes off, his hightops following right behind, and settled back on the noisy mattress with her on his lap.

"It's all right," he told her in a low voice.  "I'm not going anywhere.  Just sleep." 

Hart said nothing as he turned the light off, but he felt her slowly relax in his arms.  She turned onto her side, curled up into his chest as if burrowing into a warm, safe place, her head cradled against his neck.  And, finally, she slept.

Drake wondered at the feelings that simple act of trust brought.  Who would have ever believed that sleeping with a woman--his arms wrapped around her, offering her his strength, his comfort--would be as stirring as making love to her?

He eased one hand free to wedge the skimpy pillow between his head and the wall.  Hart whimpered as if afraid he was leaving her.  He tightened his arms around her, leaned back, allowing all of her weight to fall on him, and closed his eyes.

Drake woke to a loud beeping.  Hart leapt off him and before he could blink twice, she had the light on and the phone in her hand.

"It's mine," he told her when she looked around for her pager.  He yanked the technologic intrusion from his belt.  Kwon.  He yawned and struggled to his feet, looked at the clock.  Nine-forty.  They had slept almost four hours.

He wrapped his arms around Hart, snugging her close and kissed her on the forehead.  Her body trembled with the adrenalin rush of her abrupt awakening and she was still too pale by far.  But her eyes had regained their old light.  "Any bad dreams?"  

She smiled.  "No.  That was the best I've slept in days."

"Me too."  His beeper went off again. 
Damn it, Kwon, take a Ritalin or something
.

Hart eased out of his arms, headed into the tiny bathroom.  He phoned Kwon.

"Something break? You need me to come in?" he asked.

"No."  Kwon paused.  "Actually, I was calling to talk to Hart.  Thought I might find her with you."

"Why?"  He looked up as Hart opened the door and emerged from the bathroom.  "You don't want me to bring her in, do you?"  He couldn't, he wouldn't put Hart through that, not after everything she'd done to try to protect him.  To hell with the job.

"Dimeo says we don't have enough to arrest Hart, not yet, anyway.  But the search warrant came through.  I was calling as a courtesy.  Thought she might want to be there when we serve it."

Kwon's voice was cold, unemotional.  Drake knew she was going above and beyond to warn him, trusting him not to make things worse.  Trusting him not to screw up again.

His mind spun with the ramifications.  Hart wasn't guilty--that was the one thing he was certain of, even if he had no proof. 

"DJ, can I talk to Hart?" Kwon's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Yeah."  His voice was heavy with fatigue and regret.  He handed the phone to Hart.  "It's for you."

Cassie took the phone, wondering what the bad news could be.  "This is Detective Kwon," she heard.  "We've a warrant to search your premises and are about to execute it.  Customarily, if the homeowner isn't present we have the right to enter by any means necessary.  But in these circumstances," her tone made it clear that Kwon in no way approved of the circumstances, "I'm willing to wait a few minutes until you get here to let us in."

She had to force the words past her lips.  "I'll be right there."

"Hart?" Kwon's voice lowered as if she didn't want the people with her to hear what she said next.  "Don't let DJ come with you.  He's on shaky ground as it is, if he's seen with you--"

"I understand."  So Kwon did have an ounce of compassion beneath that flint-like exterior, at least when it came to protecting her own.  "Thank you, Detective."  Cassie carefully hung up the phone.  It was either that or rip it from the wall and hurl it across the room.

Drake stood there in his stocking feet, arms out at his sides, hands wide open.  "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, batted away his apologies.  She stepped into her boots, bent over to lace them.  "I've got to go."

When she straightened, she saw that he was reaching for his shoes, fumbling with a knot in one of the laces.  "What do you think you're doing?"

"Going with you."  He sat on the bed, tugging at the recalcitrant lace.

"No.  You're not."  His head snapped up, mouth open to protest.  Cassie stepped between his legs and took his face in her hands, kissed him.  A deep, shuddering kiss, filled with the heat of her anger and frustration.

He dropped the hightop to the floor with a thud and pulled her hard up against him.  Finally they separated. 

"What was that for?" he asked.

"To thank you.  For offering to come with me even though we both know it's about the stupidest thing you could do--for either of us," she added when he began to interject.  She kissed him again, this one pure passion and warmth, a promise of things to come.  "That one was so you don't forget me or Plan A."

"To hell with Plan A," he grumbled, drawing her tighter against his chest.  His lips pressed hers with an urgency she shared.  It took all of her strength to pull away.

"If I don't leave now, they'll break down the door," she said, ducking away from his lips.  His arms held her in an unbreakable grip.

"Let 'em bust it into kindling."  He planted his lips against hers once more.

"Drake, no.  I couldn't let them do that--what would Rosa say?"  Or the neighbors for that matter.  She was certain there'd be a crowd watching the festivities.  Police were not commonly seen on Gettysburg Street.

Drake sighed his surrender, and she stepped free of his embrace.  He kept hold of one hand and gave it a tug.

"Hart, I'm tired of being bossed around by your grandmother."

She smiled, leaned forward to plant one more quick kiss against his lips and danced back out of his reach.

"Rosa would like you," she said and was gone.

The door swung shut behind her, raising a whirling dervish of dust bunnies that sped through the room.  Drake sank back on the bed, uncertain whether to be more afraid of her use of present tense when she spoke of a woman dead three years--or his own.

He shook his head, finished untying the knot in his shoe.  He could head back home, get some more sleep.  Or maybe crash at the House so he'd be there if something broke. 

Drake jerked upright.  Judas H!  He was an idiot.  He shoved his feet into his shoes.  Hart had jumbled his mind so that he forgot about being a cop when he was around her, forgot everything.

Like the fact that someone in this hospital was trying to kill her.  And he had let her waltz out the door.  Alone.

He grabbed his coat and ran.

CHAPTER 58

Distracted by thoughts of the police rampaging through her house, Cassie didn't notice the footsteps echoing behind her in the stairwell until she passed the third floor landing.  She stopped.  The steps above her stopped.  She looked up into the dimly lit space but could see no one.

She wasn't the only one who found elevators distasteful.  Of course, not everyone had their coffee spiked with poison today, either.  She galloped down the stairs, anxious to get to the next floor.  The clamor of her own footsteps camouflaged any other sounds.  The second floor landing beckoned to her.  Only a few steps to go.

A man's weight crashed into her, shoved her into the cinder block wall.

"I told you I wasn't finished, Cassandra," Alan King's voice came from behind her.  He kept her pinned to the wall for a long moment, then lifted his weight off her.  Cassie spun around to face him.

"Alan!  What do you want?"

He leaned forward, one arm on either side of her.  Cassie knew he thought he was being intimidating, violating her space, but his posture left several vulnerable targets open for her attack, if need be. 

"You thought I wouldn't recognize your boyfriend, didn't you?" Alan continued.    "But I did.  He's the co-star of a certain video Richard left with me last night.  And a medical student saw him assault Richard earlier today."  He grinned at her.  "I'm going to ruin his career, take away everything he has."

She frowned.  Alan clearly thought Drake was responsible for Richard's injuries.  "Alan, Drake didn't give Richard that black eye, I did.  He attacked me at my house this morning.  Leave Drake alone."

Alan considered this, his gaze roaming down her body.  "Give me a reason.  What's in it for me?"

"For one thing, I won't have to arrest you for assault."  Drake's voice came from above.

Cassie looked up in relief.  Drake joined them on the landing.  Alan ignored him for a long second, then straightened, dropping his arms to his sides.

"Thought I'd escort you to your car, Dr. Hart," Drake said.  "You never know what kind of predator might be roaming the hospital."

Alan chuckled.  He pointed at Cassie.  "You stay away from my brother.  And you," he glared at Drake, "I wouldn't make any long term career plans, Detective Drake." 

She watched him return up the steps to the ICU.  "One of my favorite things about you," she said, intertwining her arm with Drake's, "is your impeccable sense of timing."

They continued together down the steps.  Drake looked back over his shoulder in the direction Alan had taken.  "Think he might be using the same stuff Richard was?  That guy's a walking time bomb."

"No, that's just Alan.  I used to think he was bipolar, but he's all mania, no depression."

They approached her car.  He put his hands on her shoulders.  "No matter what happens," he said, "don't forget that I believe in you.  I'll be here for you." 

He kissed her forehead, then released her.

"And for God's sake, Hart, be careful."

Drake's simple declaration of faith helped to quiet her fears as she drove home.  The streets were slick with snow, several inches on the ground already and no signs of letting up.  She pulled her car into the alley behind her house after seeing that the front spaces were occupied by various law enforcement vehicles. 

What a circus.  She opened the door for Kwon and her team.  They even had a drug sniffing dog to help them.  Kwon left her on the front porch with a patrolman.  Cassie sat on the porch swing, trying not to grimace as she looked through the front windows and watched.  They weren't destructive by any means, just very thorough.  Apparently searching did not include replacing anything they moved, so within a few minutes the living room was strewn with displaced cushions, pillows and stacks and stacks of books.

And Rosa's floors!  Bootprints, footprints, and dogprints marred the once shiny hardwood, melted snow puddles certain to leave stains.  She sighed, pretended to read the thick wad of papers outlining the parameters of the search and tried to ignore the neighbors who wandered out from the comfort of their homes to see what was going on.

When they finished with the first floor, they allowed Cassie inside.  She looked around the disruption surrounding her, and the weight of her exhaustion crashed down on her.  Nothing was where it should be, where it had been for as long as she could remember.  Her house was the one constant in her life.  She'd never realized what an important touchstone it had become for her.

A dog's bark and a shout from above broke through her reverie.  "Got something!" someone yelled from her bedroom.

No one stopped her, so Cassie climbed the steps to see what all the commotion was about.  Had Richard brought drugs into her house this morning?  Kwon, Spanos, and another officer with a dog crowded into her bedroom.

Kwon was holding her bloody T-shirt.  "What happened here?" she asked Cassie.

"I had a bloody nose this morning."  Cassie was glad she didn't have any swelling or black eyes like Richard did after their encounter.  What would she say then--that she had run into a door?

Kwon didn't look convinced, gestured to the broken glass, shattered remnants of the lamp and statue Richard had swept to the floor.