Secrets Rising (29 page)

She no longer smelled like summer flowers. Now they both reeked of chlorine and fear and dampness and because it was a part of Rebecca, he drank it all in as greedily as if it were expensive perfume.

She was alive. She was still with him, solid and real and breathing.

She burrowed her head against his chest, and he was amazed at the surge of protectiveness that swept over him. When she'd come to his room earlier, she hadn't seemed vulnerable anymore. She'd been strong, giving and taking in equal proportions, and he'd told himself that was what he wanted.

Now she needed him, and he desperately wanted to take care of her, so desperately it scared him. Just as his terror at the thought of her not emerging from that pool alive scared him.

Of course he didn't want anyone to drown, but his distress had gone beyond that.

He didn't want to lose Rebecca. He cared about her.

He groaned at his own stupidity. How the hell had he let that happen? Over the years he'd known plenty of women, liked them, enjoyed being with them, then one or the other of them had moved on, and he had never given it a second thought.

Tomorrow Rebecca would be moving on, and he had a horrible feeling he was going to be having lots of second thoughts about her. Third, fourth and fifth thoughts, for that matter.

Well, he'd just have to deal with it. It wasn't like he hadn't had plenty of practice in getting over people who came into his life long enough to make him care, then left. But all that had been years ago when he was young and dumb and still believed that love was forever. He knew better than that now.

So how come he'd let himself get emotionally entangled?

A loud knock came from the broken front door. "Police!"

"Coming!" he shouted. "I'll be right back," he assured Rebecca as he slipped out of bed and struggled into his wet jeans.

She looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. Something inside him spilled over, warm and sweet and wonderful...and damned scary.

While the paramedics checked her over, Jake talked to the officers, Johnson and Turner. Both were young, couldn't have been out of the academy more than a year.

"I heard a gunshot, kicked down her door, ran out to the pool and found her. She'll have to tell you the rest."

"Do you know who fired the shot?"

"I have no idea. You might ask some of those people in rooms around the pool if they saw anybody. A bunch of them came out."

"No. She just said,
This is Rebecca. Come to the pool
. I figured she'd tell me why when I got here."

"When had you last talked to her?"

Before Jake could ask the kid why he was asking stupid questions instead of getting to the bottom of things, one of the paramedics left Rebecca's side and came over to where he and the officer stood.

"As far as we can tell, she's all right," he said. "She's got a trauma to the head that we'd like to check for possible concussion, but she refuses to go to the hospital."

Jake turned to see Rebecca propped up in bed, clutching the covers to her breast. Her face was the color of the sheet, her eyes dark by contrast, but she seemed alert. "I'm okay," she croaked.

"It won't hurt you to go to the hospital and at least spend the rest of the night," Jake urged.

"I'm okay," she repeated, her tone weak but firm.

"She's probably fine," the second paramedic said. "But she shouldn't be left alone tonight. If you can't wake her up, if she gets dizzy or disoriented, if her pupils become fixed and dilated, if anything changes, you get her to emergency right away."

Jake nodded. The paramedics left and Johnson pulled the chair over to sit beside the bed. "You feel good enough to tell us what happened?"

She nodded. "I was sitting at the pool. Something—somebody—pushed me in."

"Somebody pushed you?" Jake exclaimed, then let loose a string of swear words, strode across the room and back then sat on the bed beside her, resisting the impulse to pull her into his arms. "Who?"

Johnson glanced at him, unperturbed, then returned his attention to Rebecca. "Who pushed you, Ms. Patterson?"

"I don't know. It happened so fast. I thought it was—I thought I was a kid—I mean, it was like when I was a kid." She paused to cough again.

She lifted a shaky hand to her face. "He had on black. Jake wears black. But then he grabbed my hair and held me under."

"I must have hurt him. He let go for a second. I came up and heard a noise and something hit my head. I thought I'd been shot."

"No, ma'am. You weren't shot."

She touched the place on her forehead that was already beginning to swell then looked at her hand. "No blood. I wasn't shot."

"No, ma'am. Did you hit your head when you fell in the pool?"

Jake clenched his teeth and his fists. The man was an idiot. Wasn't he listening to anything she told him?

"No, the bullet hit me." She shook her head. "No, it didn't, did it? Something hit me. The man. His fist. I don't know."

"You sound like you're a little confused about what actually happened, Ms. Patterson."

"Damn it," Jake said, "of course she's confused! She almost drowned. Somebody tried to kill her. Wouldn't you be a little confused?"

"What, exactly, do you mean?" Jake asked slowly. Something wasn't right. "Where did you get the idea that Ms. Patterson has been under a lot of stress?"

Johnson gave Rebecca a look of pity then turned back to Jake. "The Edgewater police department called to tell us you two were headed our way."

Jake shot up, looming over the officer. The man flinched and eased one hand toward his gun. "Why?" Jake demanded. "What do you care if we come to town? We haven't broken any laws. What did the police in Edgewater tell you about us?"

"As a professional courtesy, they thought we ought to know that the motel owner down there had to evict Ms. Patterson after her suicide attempt."

"Suicide?" Rebecca squeaked.

Jake clenched his fists. If he could get hold of Charles Morton or Farley Gates right now, he'd smash their lying heads together until they cracked like Humpty Dumpty. "There was no suicide attempt in Edgewater, and there hasn't been one here. Is that what you think happened? That Rebecca hit herself on the head then held herself under water? And let's not forget the shot. How did she manage to fire a gun at the same time?"

"In Dallas. I don't normally bring along a weapon when I'm investigating a civil matter." Though he was beginning to think he should have this time.

"Everything all right in here?"

Jake turned to see that Officer Turner had come back in through the patio door. "Yeah, it's fine." He sank onto the bed. No point in losing his temper with these guys. Of course they'd believe another police officer rather than him. The Brotherhood of Blue.

"Someone tried to kill me," Rebecca insisted, her voice sounding more normal though still pretty hoarse. She was starting to regain a little color.

Turner shrugged. "I didn't find any evidence of a shot. Nobody hurt. Nothing broken. Several of them saw Thornton run out of this room, haul Rebecca out of the pool and resuscitate her. That's all they know."

The officers stayed for a few minutes longer, asking more inane questions, but Jake could tell they thought Rebecca had tried to kill herself. There'd be no investigation.

Finally they left.

Jake stood for a moment leaning against the door, wanting to kick it, to smash his fist through the wall, do something to vent his anger...and knowing all that would be pointless.

Rebecca could see the anger in Jake's posture, in the bunched muscles of his shirtless back, of his forearms, in the way the cords in his neck stood out. She could feel it in the vibrations that came from him.

He was angry on her behalf, and that aroused odd feelings in her. In fact, this entire experience had her completely confused about Jake Thornton, just when she'd thought she had her feelings for him all straight and nonthreatening.

He'd saved her life. Though she didn't remember him pulling her from the pool, his recitation of events to the police officers had painted such a clear picture of his breaking down her door, diving into the pool and rescuing her that she almost thought she'd seen it. She did remember him carrying her into the room, tucking her in bed, drying her hair, then crawling in with her and sharing his own body heat. This was not the cynical Jake Thornton who'd warned her not to expect too much from people.

Ironic that she'd see that side of him just when she'd accepted that he was right, at least about most people...Jake definitely included on that list.

Ironic that he was angrier than she about this latest incident. Maybe tomorrow she'd be more upset. Maybe her lack of reaction came from the fact that she was completely exhausted, drained from her physical ordeal as well as the reality that somebody wanted her dead. Unlike the brake line incident which could have been an accident, this time there could be no doubt that someone had tried to kill her.

Or maybe she wouldn't be angry tomorrow. Maybe she had become numb from so much rejection that even the ultimate rejection...attempted murder...had no effect on her.

But one part of Jake's story bothered her.

"Why did you tell him I called you and asked you to come to the pool?" she asked. Had he found her missing from his bed and come after her then lied to preserve her reputation or was there something else going on?

He turned to look at her, a frown creasing his forehead. "Because you did."

"No, I didn't."

He came back to sit in the chair beside her bed. "Sure you did. Don't be concerned. Lots of times people forget things that happen just before an accident. You called me and you said,
This is Rebecca. Come to the pool
. Something like that. I don't remember exactly. I was asleep when the phone rang, and I expected to find you in bed beside me, not on the other end of the phone."

"I did not call you."

He smiled and took her hand. "Relax. You've been through a lot and you're a little confused."

She pulled her hand away from him. "Don't patronize me. I remember distinctly what I was doing before somebody pushed me into that pool, and I wasn't calling you or even thinking about calling you."

"Or shot at the man trying to drown me. There must have been at least two people. The one who called you and the one trying to drown me. My attacker couldn't have made that call or fired a gun. He had both hands in my hair."

"You're right. Guess that means we're back to the two person conspiracy theory." He grinned without humor.

"One trying to kill me and one trying to scare off my attacker or maybe scare me with a shot? Then it must have been dear old dad doing the drowning and mom or grandmother with the gun. Gee, I can't wait for the family reunion."

Jake blew out a long breath and plowed his fingers through his hair, looked at her then looked away.