Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) (57 page)

“And I quote,” Roman said. “
There is an innocence in admiration; it is found in those to whom it has never yet occurred that they, too, might be admired some day.
”

He looked at the man to whom he owed a debt of gratitude so large, it could never be repaid.

“Nietzsche.”

“What’s it mean?” he asked.

Roman quirked a half grin. “It means, look in the mirror.”

“Are they coming to get her? Take her home?” he asked wretchedly.

“Dude,” Roman answered with a snicker. “She won’t go anywhere—except with you. Professor Wilde knows that. But, I took the liberty before speaking to him of arranging a flight into Norfolk. Donna and Smith will pick him up at the airport and bring him here tomorrow afternoon. The wife apparently is out of town at the moment. A conference or something like that. ”

Liam thought long and hard. About everything. His love for Rhiann. The way he’d put her parents on a pedestal. His own mom and how much he missed her. The business he built from dirt. Until that moment, he’d assumed that admiration and how it intersected in his life was a one-way street.

Turning emotional eyes on his friend, he murmured, “I love her so much, Roman. And if she gives me the chance, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure she knows that.”

The smack on his back actually felt good.

“That’s what I told them.
More or less.
Come on, Boss. Let’s go make some noise and see if we can’t wake Princess Snarks-a-Lot up. Time to let the wild rumpus begin anew.”

While Roman snickered at his own jest, Liam breathed a deep sigh.

“We’re going to revisit that Boss thing. And soon,” he told him.

With a mocking eye roll, Roman quipped, “Yeah? I’m thinking a knighthood might be in order.”

“Those are the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen. And who the heck is Alexander McQueen? Isn’t he an actor or something?”

Oh, my Lord! Who is Alexander McQueen? Blasphemy, Rhi’s mind kvetched. His shoe designs might have been a bit too avant-garde for her tastes, but she very much appreciated his unique eye for creating fabulous footwear.

“Just give me a good ol’ pair of boring Oxfords and I’m good.”

Boring Oxfords? There was something familiar about that. What was it?

Rhiann shifted and immediately moaned when her whole body complained and her head thumped painfully.

“Now your mom, she’s got a thing for moccasins all of a sudden. I keep telling her that something so plain and uninteresting would never do for our Rhiann. Nope. You’re going to have to get on her about that, sweetheart.”

“Daddy?” Trying to talk was a chore and her voice sounded hoarse and raspy.

“I’m here, sweetie,” she heard him say. He chuckled softly and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I knew talking about shoes would get a reaction out of you.”

Rhi opened her eyes as best she could and grimaced at the bright lights.
Ugh.
She was still in the hospital. Damn.

“Daughter,” he murmured. “You look like bloody hell.”

She wasn’t normally a crybaby but hearing a slight quaver in her dad’s voice pushed her over the edge. Gently lifting her into his arms, he held her while she sobbed.

Unfortunately, the crying only made the extreme puffiness in her bruised eye worse and made the other one a total mess.

With all the tenderness and care you would use on a newborn, her father wiped away the tears, cleaned up her snotty nose, tucked the flimsy hospital bedding securely around her, and eased Rhiann into an upright position.

“Where’s Mom?” she choked out. “I want to see her.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. You’ll have to do with just me. Mom’s at a school-age conference in New Orleans. If we’d known you were going to get kidnapped and assaulted, she wouldn’t have gone—but there you have it.”

“You’re on your own? Mom left you on your own?” she asked.

“Hey,” he chided with a deep chuckle. “I can order takeout just the same as anyone else! And, besides, your mom loves those out-of-town conferences. After the workshops, it’s all margaritas and
Magic Mike
strippers.”

The bubble of laughter in her chest hurt like hell when it burst free. Cocktails and hot guys—and a bunch of teachers and program directors? Hardly!

“Does she know? About what happened?”

“No. There’s nothing that her knowing would change. She’d only worry herself sick. Brynn and Jax have agreed not to say anything for now.”

God. What a mess everything turned into. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “You have nothing to be sorry for, daughter. Understand?”

On a reflex, Rhi’s gaze searched the room.

“He’s not here, Rhiann.”

Anxiety cut through the pain medication, and if she could have sat her aching body up straighter, she would have. “Where is he? Did you send him away? This isn’t his fault.” Her heart was pounding in her chest. “I need him,” she cried out.

There was a tap at her door. Her and her dad glanced that way just as the door swung open and Roman walked in.

“Roman,” she croaked, her lip trembling. “Where is he?” Rhiann grabbed at the sheets on the bed and held on tight. Her whole world felt like it was wobbling.

She heard Roman mutter, “Oh shit,” and then he was at her side.

“It’s okay, Princess. Calm yourself.”

“No,” she growled. “I have to go to him.”

Kicking her feet to dislodge the sheets, she went to yank the I.V. from her hand, but Roman stopped her and her dad yelped.

“Rhiann! My god. Stay still, sweetie. I didn’t send him away. Why would you think that? Mr. Bishop,” he implored in an alarmed voice. “Tell her.”

Roman reacted quickly and leaned over her, an arm on each side of her so she couldn’t move.

“Rhiann,” he barked gently. “Look at me.”

She’d love to but with one eye battered, bruised, and swollen shut and the other in not much better shape, she was at a bit of a disadvantage.

“I can’t,” she whined. Hot tears spilled and she sniffed or rather snort-sniffed as her emotions went haywire.

“Okay. Then just listen. And please, Princess. Calm the fuck down.”

She heard her dad make a sound followed by Roman muttering, “Sorry, Professor.”

“My girls all swear like a trio of badass Marines, Mr. Bishop. I’m used to all manner of profanity, although I wouldn’t object any if her head injury resulted in a little less fuck and bother.”

Roman’s snort of amusement and her father’s clever turn of a phrase was enough to help Rhi back off. Just a bit. But she still needed Liam. And she needed him now.

“Roman?”

“He’s here, Miss Wilde. Here in the hospital. I just left him in the coffee shop to come and talk with you and your dad. Give you both an update.”

“Well, I’m not talking to you. Either of you,” she grumped, “until I know he’s all right.”

“Has she always been so bossy?” she heard Roman ask.

Her father chuckled. “See these grey hairs? One-third, Rhiann. One third, Brynn and one-third, Charlize. Being the only man in a house full of girls will make a man re-think who exactly is in charge.”

Roman jostled her leg with his arm to get her attention. “I’ll text him in a minute, Princess, and believe me—he’ll be here in a heartbeat if he knows you’re asking for him. But he really wanted me to have a couple of minutes with just you and the professor. There are things you should know. And things your parents need to hear.”

Rhiann knew damn well Roman was going to win this round so she grunted a snarky sounding, “Hmmph,” but otherwise stayed silent, figuring that was the fastest and easiest way to get Liam to her side.

“I think that sound was your cue to talk—but I’d hurry if I were you,” her dad joked. “This isn’t a capitulation. She’s just lulling us into a false sense of compliance.”

“Well then,” Roman chuckled. “Here’s the four-one-one. Kim Walsh? Never going to bother any of us ever again. Her goose, as they say, is quite thoroughly cooked. Assault with intent. Kidnapping. Illegal possession of a firearm. Resisting arrest. Falsifying records. Breaking and entering. The list is long, and she basically has no defense.”

“Can she get Botox in jail?” she bit out. Apparently, the drugs didn’t diminish any of her waspishness toward that fucking bitch who almost ruined all their lives.

“Hell to the no!” Roman drawled. “In a couple of months, she’s gonna look like a crack whore on a bender.”

“Will my daughter have to face her again? In court?”

“Probably not, Professor. Her lawyer isn’t stupid. They’ll plea bargain and she’ll most likely get a full psych eval but regardless of that—she’s going to be wearing an orange jumpsuit for a long, long time. My contact at the FBI tells me that the gun she got popped with was used in a shooting. That alone is going to tie up her legal guy in knots.”

“Hear that, sweetie? The bad woman is toast.”

“Oh, and here’s some good news, Princess. The missing memory stick? The one with your private pictures? It’s in the safe at BPG. Marjorie had got it from that Martin woman before she threw her ass to the wolves. Kim had given it to her so more embarrassing pictures could leak out. “

Gasping, Rhi muttered, “Are you serious?”

“Yep. And the Model T kit you were going to give the Boss for Christmas? Well, you-know-who tried to pass it off as a present from her. It’s sitting in his office. He knew there was something odd about it and once her confession started pouring out, she admitted to stealing it from your apartment.”

“A Model T, huh?” her dad murmured. “Well, that certainly explains why your boyfriend asked about the Thunderbird. Said he’d love to see it. I told him we’d take it out for a spin when you two come home for a visit.”

Wow, whatever narcotics they were pumping into her system must be really good because she swore her dad just referred to Liam as her boyfriend. And did he also say they were going to hang out in the garage and ooh and ahh over that damn classic car?

“You have a Thunderbird?” Roman asked. “Holy shit, Professor. My brother and I restored a 1970 Bird with a four-twenty-nine engine. That baby was sick as shit when we were finished.”

Her dad laughed. “1957—fully restored. Almost ended in a divorce, too.”

Rhi couldn’t believe they were talking cars while she lay there in a hospital bed. Men.
Sheesh.

“Hello!” she grumbled. “I’m right here, you know.”

“Oh. Sorry, daughter. Guy talk. I must say, though, that you have some mighty fine men in your corner these days. Nothing could make me and your mom happier, you know.”

“Daddy—about Liam. And me. Well, you should know that . . .”

“Hush now, Rhiann,” he told her gently. “There’s nothing for you to explain. Liam filled me in on everything. I believe he imagined he was falling on the sword or something, but there was really no need for anything like that. In fact, he surprised the holy hell out of me.”

“Oh god,” she moaned. “What did he do?”

Roman squeezed her hand and moved to the other side of the bed chuckling, “Wait till you hear this. Priceless, really. Wished I’d gotten it on my phone.”

Robert Baron-Wilde let out a hearty laugh and kissed her on the cheek. The one that wasn’t bruised and five times its normal size.

“I believe your fella has asked me, for want of a better expression, for my permission to court you.”

These drugs were amazing! That had to be why she suddenly felt like she was floating on cloud nine.

“And by court you, he quite specifically included the caveat that this courting would take place with an eye to asking for your hand.”

The only thing that could possibly make this moment any better would be if . . .

“Hi. You done talking? Can I come in?” she heard Liam hesitantly ask.

Rhiann turned her head and found him standing in the doorway to her room, dressed in the jeans she picked out for him and a plain button-down shirt. His hair was a mess and the stubble she loved was now a fully formed beard.

“I love you,” she murmured as a huge lump of emotion gathered in her throat.

“
Milaya moya.
I love you, too,” he immediately answered.

Her father cleared his throat. “Well, I think that’s our cue to leave, Mr. Bishop. What say you and I grab a coffee and compare car notes? Leave these two to the mushy stuff.”

“My thought exactly, Professor.”

“Liam,” her dad said with a stern fatherly voice. “I’m leaving her to your care. Her mother and I trust that you’ll look after our precious daughter.”

She watched through her one good eye as her complicated, fucked-up, conflicted, socially awkward man, the one who gave wings to her heart, shook hands with her amazing father.

“You have my word, Professor. She’s, well . . . Rhiann means everything to me, sir. I’d give up my life to protect her.”

“Yes, well—that’s all well and good, son. But I think what this situation calls for is a little more hugging and kissing and a little less of the serious stuff.”

“I love you, Daddy,” she murmured with a tearful sniff.

He looked back and forth at them as Liam moved to her side and lifted the hand not stuck full of needles to his mouth for a soft kiss.

“No babies before a wedding. Got it?” he drawled with a crooked smile. “One pregnant bride in the family is enough.”