He gave her what she could interpret only as the are-you-crazy look. “No.”
“Wouldn’t you like to hear why I want to go with you?”
“No.”
“I’m telling you anyway.”
He sat back. “I thought you might.”
“I want to knock on Simone Rayburn’s door, and I’m going to make her admit she sent someone to get rid of me. Then I think I just might do what Jayden suggested.”
It was difficult for Aiden not to smile. Cordie was really getting worked up. “What’s that?” he asked.
“Run her over. I might even take out the whole family.”
“Cordelia, you’re not going to Sydney.”
She stopped arguing. It felt good to rant for a minute or two about Simone and get rid of some of her anger, but she realized in the end she did need to be patient. Liam was investigating, and maybe soon he would get the proof needed to arrest Simone and the man or men she sent to Chicago. There was absolutely no question in her mind that it could be anyone else.
“I’ll be leaving for an appointment in a few minutes,” Aiden announced. He closed his laptop and took it into his bedroom. When he returned, he was putting on his sport coat.
He didn’t tell her where he was going or when he would be back, and she didn’t ask. If he wanted her to know, he would have taken the time to explain—which would have been the polite thing to do. He would rather be rude, however. Should she mention that it was already after ten? No, of course she shouldn’t. Teachers went to bed at ten on school nights—at least she did when she was teaching—but millionaire CEOs could stay out all night partying if they wanted. They didn’t have to do things like control teenage boys with raging hormones the next morning.
Slipping his cell phone into his coat pocket, he said, “There’s a security guard in the hall.”
“I know. I saw him.”
“You’ll be safe. He won’t let anyone in or out.”
Or out? In other words, she wasn’t going anywhere. She decided to mess with him. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I love it here. I may never leave. Have a nice time tonight.” Without another word she walked into her bedroom and quietly shut the door.
She hadn’t lied. She was exhausted and wanted only to sleep. It was a luxury to be pampered, and right now that was what she needed. Forget about being self-reliant. She had to have help to get her strength back. Staying at the hotel just a little longer wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She’d rest one more day, and then she’d go home.
She watched television for a couple of hours and relaxed. She fell asleep around midnight but woke up later screaming. Bolting upright, she frantically looked around the room trying to find the threat. She heard a crash, then a curse, and suddenly Aiden was at her side.
“What the . . . Are you all right?” he panted.
She pushed the hair out of her eyes and squinted up at him. “Did I wake you?”
“I heard a bloodcurdling scream.”
“I heard it, too,” she explained. “I screamed, and that’s what woke me up. I don’t know why I did that.” She sounded bewildered.
“Bad dream?”
“Probably. I don’t remember.”
Wearing nothing but boxers, he stood there staring down at her, and as worn out as she felt, she still noticed how sexy his body was, while hers was . . . colorful. Black-and-blue.
“Do you want me to sleep with you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Okay.” He pulled the sheet back and got in bed with her. “Put your head on my shoulder.”
“You’re even telling me how to sleep now?”
“Good night, Cordelia.”
TWENTY-TWO
Aiden left the suite around seven to work out and didn’t return until after nine. He looked in on Cordelia to make certain she was all right. She was still sleeping soundly. After changing, he left again to get coffee and meet Spencer to discuss what to do about their brother, Walker.
When Cordie awoke, her room was still dark, but a sliver of sun shone through the gap where the draperies met. She rolled out of bed, opened the draperies wide, and looked out on a beautiful sunny day. She convinced herself she was feeling much better. Her aches and pains weren’t nearly as bad, and once she started moving around, the stiffness in her legs eased. Her horribly bruised hip still burned like fire, but it wasn’t unbearable. She could take care of herself now, and to prove it she would get dressed before the nurse showed up to help. She was sure she could manage the plastic sleeve over her cast so it wouldn’t get wet. A new day, a new positive attitude, she told herself.
She was feeling pretty chipper until she saw herself in the mirror. She looked like the kraken. The swelling had gone down, but the bruised skin was more vivid, and her hair—dear God, her hair looked as though it had been styled in front of a jet engine. The expression her hair stood on end didn’t do it justice. Maybe she needed a little help after all.
Patty, the fortysomething nurse who arrived later, was a talker. A little on the plump side, with kind eyes and a maternal disposition, she wasn’t anything at all like the voluptuous nurse who had visited the day before. After she introduced herself, she told Cordie she was happy to have a break from taking care of Walker.
“He’s being difficult?” Cordie asked. She couldn’t hide her surprise. Walker was usually the real charmer in the family.
Because Patty was so soft-spoken, what she said made Cordie laugh. “He’s a pain in the ass.” She removed Cordie’s sling and folded it. “Never a ‘please’ or ‘thank you,’ and he yells whenever we try to help. Moving him from the bed to the wheelchair is a trial.”
“I had planned to go see him today,” Cordie said. “Maybe I should wait until he’s feeling better.”
“Don’t wait. He might sweeten up with a friend there. He sure wasn’t happy to see his physical therapist.”
Cordie hoped Patty was exaggerating. She couldn’t imagine Walker being rude to anyone. Aiden, absolutely. Spencer, maybe sometimes. But Walker? No, never.
Once she was dressed, she headed across the hall to Walker’s suite. The guard looked as though he thought she was trying to pull something, but he let her pass and, like a shadow, followed a foot behind her.
“I’ll be right out here,” he reminded her.
“And I’ll be right in here,” she replied, smiling, as she opened the door and slipped inside.
The suite was dark, and it took a second for her eyes to adjust. All the draperies were closed, and a single lamp on an end table was the only source of light. She took a few steps past the foyer and saw him. Poor Walker. He looked so pale . . . and angry. He was sitting in a wheelchair in the center of the living room next to the coffee table. His leg was straight out in front of him. The cast reached the top of his knee, and Cordie couldn’t tell if he could bend his leg or not.
He managed a smile for her and said, “I hear you got hit by a car.”
“I hear you crashed a car.”
She thought she would give him a kiss on the cheek, but the closer she got to him, the stronger the foul odor became. She abruptly stopped. “You smell rank,” she blurted.
“He won’t let us bathe him,” Patty said. She walked past Cordie with a stack of towels.
Walker’s face became a mask of indifference. He glared at Patty until she disappeared into his bedroom and then said, “I wish everyone would leave me the hell alone.”