Viper's Kiss (6 page)

“Luke, you might want to take a look in here,” Drew called from the bedroom.

Luke pulled himself away from the photos. He would have liked more time to go through the pictures that spanned the life of this woman who fascinated—and frustrated—him. She was supposed to be a ruthless spy, without conscience, but he couldn’t ignore the impression he’d formed of fragile steel. He could only sum it up as antagonistic attraction, and he didn’t normally think of the criminal in that way.

He stepped into the darkened bedroom and paused again. Like a blanketing cloud of despair, the smell of sickness was overwhelming. He recognized the scent, although someone had done their best to disguise it with air fresheners and perfume. It was the same smell that clung to a field hospital. The smell of impending death. A single bed took up the bulk of the narrow space, an empty commode by the side. The bedside table was crammed with packets of painkillers and measuring cups. An empty bucket stood by the bed, alongside an oxygen tank. He picked up a vial on the table and read the label. Liquid morphine.

Drew put down another prescription bottle, his face devoid of its usual humor. He looked at Luke.

“Someone’s dying.”

Maggie used surgical tape to secure the cloth bandage she’d swiped from a tray in the emergency department and wrapped the bandage around her head with trembling fingers. Hiding behind a door, the sounds of the hospital beyond a constant threat of discovery, of capture, she checked her warped reflection in the brushed metal shelf of the supply closet. The bandage covered all of her hair and half of her face. She had purposely left the bruised side of her face exposed. She grimaced. She looked terrible. And she hurt. Despite Luke’s first aid, the area around her left cheekbone was turning a dark purple. She bit her lip. She didn’t have time to think about that man, or the touch of his fingers on her skin, or her reaction to it.

Angling her face for a better look, Maggie hoped the bruise would be enough of a distraction for most people not to look too closely at her features and possibly recognize her. The journey to the hospital had been fraught with the worry of exposure as she’d hailed a taxi and jumped without paying the fare about three blocks from the hospital. She shook her head. Never in a million years would she have thought she was capable of bailing on a cab fare. It was so wrong.
But then, so is high treason and murder.
Still, she’d made a note of the cab’s number so she could make restitution later. She wasn’t a thief. She pushed the image of Rupert and the knitting needle from her mind. A ride and run seemed paltry in comparison to murder.

She thrust her arms into a patient gown she’d grabbed from another shelf and fastened the ties loosely behind her. The supply room had been a lucky find, and she’d ducked inside to avoid a police officer patrolling the halls. Looking for her, no doubt. Her lips tightened. She was Public Enemy Number One, from the look of the news report she’d seen. This was all one massive, horrendous mistake, and normally she’d walk right into a police station and clear it all up, but from what she’d seen so far she didn’t think proving her innocence would be quite that easy. But she had to do it—and fast. She needed to show her mother it was all a mistake.

A muscle tightened in her jaw as she fought to keep her tears in check. Her mother had been undergoing hospice care at home for the cancer. In the last few weeks she’d weakened. Her breathing had worsened. She barely ate, and she’d only allow certain visitors to come by. The reason Maggie had been able to go into work that morning was because Sister Mary Catherine, her mother’s childhood friend, had insisted she get out of the apartment for a while.

Maggie knew the end was coming. She’d researched and read as much as she could. Her mother’s lassitude, her difficulty swallowing the pain medication and her reluctance for social visitors were all signs of approaching death.

In the darkest hours of the night, when the lights were off and no one could see the tears tracking down her cheeks, she had listened to her mother’s rasping breaths and gurgling sounds, and wished for the end. She’d wished for the sweet release of death for her mother, a painless passing, and had cried harder, ashamed of that dark hope. It was her secret guilt, her vision of a life without the heartache of watching her mother waste away, where all the medical bills were paid and where she could afford to actually buy a scarf or a blanket instead of knitting it from donated scraps of wool. Where there was no longer the strict routine of medication to administer, or the need to constantly reassure and comfort her mother when she grew distressed or confused, and where her mother was at peace.

Maggie took a deep, shuddering breath. She’d grabbed at the chance for a little freedom—damn it, didn’t she deserve it? So why did it feel so shameful? The opportunity to escape was a double-edged blessing, bearing a sense of relief as well as a pressing guilt that flattened her.

There was no time for regret. Maggie pulled another gown down from the shelf and shrugged into it to hide the clothes she still wore. The gowns only covered so much area, and the gaping back revealing her jeans and top would be a definite giveaway. Pulling off her shoes, she hid them underneath some blankets, then rolled up the legs of her jeans and pushed up the long sleeves of her T-shirt so neither was visible beneath the gowns. She would not let her mother die thinking she was a thief and a spy.

She opened the door and peered out into the hall. Visitors, patients, nurses and orderlies passed, oblivious to her hiding spot.
Lots of people, but no cops.
She took a breath, hunched her shoulders, and shuffled out into the hall. A number of IV stands were clustered in a group. She grabbed at one with an empty bag and tubing. Wrapping the line about her wrist once and holding the end in her palm, she made her way to the elevators, bowing her head and trying to look like she was in pain. That wasn’t too hard. She
was
in pain.

She entered the elevator without notice, and rested her head against the side in relief.

“Hold on,” a male voice called. A large hand wrapped around the closing doors, forcing them open again. Maggie kept her face against the cool surface of the interior wall, and her one free eye blinked in shock. She knew that voice. She swallowed as Luke Fletcher entered the elevator, followed by two other large men with dark hair. Luke stood in contrast, like a blond warrior amongst his darker companions.

One man with dark hair and green eyes nodded briefly at her before turning to face the doors, as did Luke and the other man. Maggie’s hand tightened around the IV stand, and she tried to control her breathing. She wanted to scream.
No!
She was so close to her mother, damn it. She needed to see her, to reassure her. She couldn’t get so close and get caught. The fates wouldn’t be so cruel, surely.

“So, you’re sure she’s here?” Green Eyes asked Luke.

Luke nodded. “Her mother was rushed to this hospital. I saw Viper’s face when she heard the news. She’ll try to see her.”

The big man with the dark hair and brown eyes snorted. “It’s hard to believe this woman cares about anyone but herself.” He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and put one in his mouth before pulling out a book of matches.

Maggie’s eyes narrowed at the comment. They thought they knew her so well, but they had it totally wrong. They knew Viper, not Maggie Kincaid.

Luke frowned at his companion. “Hey, no smoking. We’re in a hospital, remember?”

The large man made a sound of annoyance, but withdrew his cigarette and placed it back in the packet. “It’s my last one.”

“You can thank us later,” said Green Eyes.

A ding sounded as the elevator reached the sixth floor and the doors slid open. The men exited, hesitating a moment to get their bearings before heading toward the nurses’ station. The large man threw his cigarette packet and box of matches into the trash can next to the elevators as he passed.

There was only a limited amount of time before Luke and his friends found her mother. She needed to be quick. Her fists tightened in frustration. She wouldn’t have enough time. They would catch her. She looked around. She needed a diversion.

She halted as a male nurse walked out of a room and nearly collided with her. The man smiled apologetically before stepping around her and continuing down the hall. Maggie quickly looked into the room as the door was closing. More supplies. Her hand shot out, preventing the door from closing completely. This room held gloves, bandages, cleaning equipment, other first aid supplies—and a newspaper? The nurse must use the room for unofficial breaks. She looked over her shoulder. Nobody paid her the slightest attention. She darted inside, nearly tripping over a bucket, and dragged the stand with her. She closed the door.

Inside, Maggie glanced around the shelves, rifling through some of the contents. What could she use? She looked at the cold packs neatly stacked on a shelf. She looked at the bucket. A small amount of water rested in the bottom. At least, she hoped it was water. An idea started to form. During high school she’d made extra money by tutoring Toby Sprockett. The boy needed all the help he could get, but she vaguely remembered a chemistry assignment she’d helped him with. Wedging the door open, she ran to the garbage can and snatched the cigarettes and matches Luke’s friend had tossed there.

Now she had the makings for a rudimentary smoke bomb.

She knew which room her mother was in. Earlier she’d used a payphone down the road and pretended to be Sister Mary Catherine enquiring after her good friend. She had a short window of time to get to her mother before Luke did.

She started to tear open the cold packs.

Luke nodded to the nurse at the station. “We’re here to see Mrs. Lillian Kincaid.”

The woman eyed him with open curiosity. “Are you family?” she asked gently.

“Yes,” Luke lied immediately. If visitors were restricted to family, then damn it, he was family.

The nurse didn’t blink. “And how are you related?”

“We’re her nephews,” Drew inserted, a charming smile on his face. Noah and Luke nodded.

“All of you?” the nurse asked, returning his smile.

He flashed his teeth at her. “Yes, ma’am. We’re real anxious to see Aunt Lillian.”

The nurse sobered. “Well, she’s really not fit for visitors.” She looked up and down the hall, and then leaned toward them. “You’re going to have to prepare yourselves for the worst, I’m afraid,” she said, her expression sympathetic. “Mrs. Kincaid is in a bad way. We don’t think she’ll make it through the night.” She spent the next few minutes updating them on her condition.

Luke looked at his colleagues. They hid their surprise well, as did he.

“Thanks for the warning. What room is she in?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, she’s in Room 621. Go down the hall, take the first turn to your left, and she’s at the end. You can’t miss it. There’s a police officer at her door.”

Luke nodded his thanks and turned to leave. He hesitated before shifting back to the desk. “Has anyone else been here to see her?”

The nurse shook her head. “No, the poor soul.” Her expression brightened as she remembered something. “But a nun from her local church called for her.”

Luke nodded again. “Thanks.” He followed his colleagues. He’d bet another tour of duty that the nun was Maggie checking on her mom.

Maggie inhaled on the cigarette and then coughed.
Ugh, that’s disgusting. How do people do this?
She grimaced, but drew the cigarette to her lips and inhaled again. The glowing end brightened.

She placed the butt of the cigarette over the match box. She’d soaked the newspaper, in the ammonium nitrate solution, and had then wrung it and flapped it as dry as she could. It wasn’t totally dry, but she didn’t have all day. It would have to do.

She stepped back and eyed her handiwork dubiously. The cigarette smoke curled through the air like a lazy phantom snake as it slowly burned down. When the flame reached the butt, it would ignite the remaining matches, which would hopefully ignite the almost dry newspaper with enough heat to get the desired chemical reaction going. There would be lots of smoke, but no flame.
In theory
. She didn’t want to actually cause damage, or worse, injury. She just needed to buy some time.

She went to the door. All things going well, she’d be in and out of her mother’s hospital room without anyone being the wiser. She looked back at the newspaper. If not, well, she’d be back in custody within the hour. Either way, she had no clue what to do after that.

She snagged the IV stand and dragged it with her as she exited the room, making sure the door closed behind her. She trundled along the hallway, taking her time.

She tried to steady her breathing. Her heart beat like a kettle drum.

Head low, just keep dawdling
. She repeated the mantra in an effort to calm herself. She came to an intersection in the hallways and looked up at the signs. Room 621 was to the left. At the end of the hall a uniformed police officer sat on a chair, reading a newspaper. She glanced over her shoulder.

Wispy white smoke was beginning to seep underneath the crack in the door of the supply room she’d just left. She would have punched the air in triumph if it wouldn’t blow her cover. And if Luke and his friends weren’t just leaving the nurses’ station. As she turned the corner, a small red box on the wall caught her eye. She limped toward it casually, head lowered. Her hand rose, lifted the flap and she pulled the alarm lever.

Immediately she was rewarded with the strident clang of the fire alarm. People started running. Voices rose in confusion. Someone screamed. The smoke had been noticed.

Maggie kept hobbling along the hallway, stepping aside to allow the police officer to pass her as he ran down the hall. Once he was beyond her, she let go of the IV stand and broke into a run to the room at the end of the hall.

Luke, Drew and Noah stopped in their tracks at the sound of the alarm. A white cloud of smoke filled the hallway. Luke eyed his friends.

“It’s her,” he muttered. They nodded in agreement.

A police officer ran through the smoke, coughing as he shielded his mouth and nose.

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to evacuate the building,” he rasped at them, his eyes watering.

Luke shook his head. “No, we have to find someone,” he said.

The cop shook his head and gestured to someone behind them. “Security!” He looked back at Luke. “Don’t worry, the staff will ensure the safety of the patients. Right now, though, you need to leave.”

Two security officers approached them. The cop nodded. “Get these folks outta here. We have a fire.”

“No, wait,” Luke ground out in frustration as the men tried to haul them back toward the stairs. Staff and able-bodied patients were being ushered toward the exit. He didn’t want to hurt these men, but neither did he want Viper to get away.

He neatly twisted the wrist of the hand holding his arm. A hiss of pain, and the grip loosened. He let go and ran down the hallway, ignoring the shouts of the security guards and the police officer.