“Right. Wouldn’t miss it.”
Brenda held up the bottle of pills. “Ms. Wainwright should have one of these, with food, as soon as she gets home.”
“I don’t do drugs. I don’t want to be loopy,” Rachel focused on the woman’s name tag. “Nurse Tilden.”
Brenda smiled as if a na?ve child had spoken. “Oh, you sure will want to be loopy when that shoulder starts hurting. Take the meds.”
Deke took the pills and pocketed them. “She’ll take her pills.”
Brenda raised her eyebrow. “And you are her husband, boyfriend?”
“Doing my job.”
“Good enough.” Brenda patted Rachel on her good shoulder. “Take your meds and the night will go better and you’ll heal faster.”
Rachel fingered a button on the shirt. “Right.”
Deke stepped aside. “Lead the way.”
The nurse pushed Rachel through the double doors and out next to the curb as Deke followed. Outside, she moved in front of them. “Hold while I get my car.”
“I can take a cab,” Rachel protested.
“Shut up.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up.” She collapsed back in the chair.
Without a backward glance, he moved through the lot toward his car wondering why he was bothering.
Rachel watched Deke Morgan stride across the parking lot, his shoulders back and his gait purposeful. He reminded her of so many cops she’d met over the years. Self-assured and confident. There might have been a time when she’d have believed or followed that confidence but no more. She knew better than anyone that cops weren’t right all the time and the ego that allowed them to charge into darkened alleys after a criminal was the same ego that blinded them when they were wrong.
A self-assured cop had arrested her brother. No amount of talking or reasoning would sway his mind. He’d been sure.
As Deke pulled up in front of the circle in an SUV, he moved around the side of the car opening the passenger door. Without asking, he reached for her good arm to steady her as she rose. His touch was as gentle as it was unyielding. As much as she wanted to deny his help, she needed it. Rachel had her share of quirks, but above it all she was practical.
She’d allowed him to guide her to the car and hover as she eased into the car. He pulled the seat belt out and leaned over her as he clicked it in place. The faint scent of soap and leather wafted around her as he moved with clinical precision away from her and closed her door. Seconds later, he slid behind the wheel and they were driving away from the hospital.
She released a sigh as they drove off. “I do not like hospitals.”
He relaxed back in his seat, his hands resting easily on the steering wheel. “Can’t say they are a favorite of mine.”
She resisted the urge to tip her head back against the seat and close her eyes. In the cocoon of his car she felt safe, protected, a feeling that came rarely. The effects of the meds had softened her mind, lowered her guard and she heard herself saying, “My mom died three years ago and I was on the cancer ward more often than not. Never got over the smell of the place or the glow of those damn lights.”
He sat in the dark, his face in shadows, his hand resting on the steering wheel.
“She’d said over and over she didn’t mind dying. She minded leaving me.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Where do you want me to take you?”
“Home. There’s no other place.”
He frowned. “What about Colleen’s place?”
“No.”
“Whoever hit you knows where you live.”
She watched as the lights of the city rushed past her. “They didn’t get far. And I have good security. I’ll set my alarm, lock all my doors.”
Irritation darkened his expression. “You should be worried they’ll return.”
Her eyes closed halfway. “You are trying to scare me.”
“Stating the facts.”
A ripple of fear passed through her. If she’d had the choice perhaps she’d have stayed somewhere else tonight. But there was nowhere else. She was on her own. “I’ll be fine,” she said with more emphasis.
He took the exit and wound through the city streets until they’d reached the warehouse district. As he slowed and they grew closer to her place, panic elbowed its way past the calm. She sat a little straighter, grimacing when pain shot through her shoulder.
Deke parked on the street in front of her building. The momentary calm evaporated. When the cops had come, they’d done a complete search and locked the place up. She glanced toward the spot where a stranger had lunged from nowhere and hit with such force her entire body felt as if it would fracture.
“How about I get you inside?” he asked.
“I’d like to play this tough but I’m scared. Stupid. But, there it is.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s smart. Stay put while I come around.” He was out and around the car in seconds. He opened her door and extended his hand to her.
When a family friend had offered her brother a job when they’d first moved to Nashville, he’d refused because he’d been hungover and irritated. But Rachel had doubled back and accepted for him. When her mom had been sick and the church offered to bring meals, she’d pushed pride aside and accepted. She knew when to cut her losses.
She took his hand and gave him a good bit of her weight as he eased her out of the car and helped her to the locked front door where she held up her jogging top. “The officer said he put the key in a pocket.”
He fished through the fabric and dug out the key. Opening the door, the alarm started to beep. “Code?”
“1995. The number of days my brother spent in prison.”
Without comment, he punched in the number and the beep-beep silenced. She flipped on the main light, which flickered on. Her office looked as she left it but the place had a different feel. Before, this had been her haven, her safe place. Now, well it was another place to keep up her guard.
“The nurse said you have to eat,” he said.
She touched the buttons of his shirt. “I’ll grab a bagel in the morning.”
“That’s not what the nurse said.”
She managed a dismissive shake of her head. “She didn’t mean it.”
Laughter rumbled in his chest. “She doesn’t strike me as the type to say what she doesn’t mean. My partner has said so often enough. Where’s your kitchen?”
“Beyond the barrier and through the double doors.”
He glanced around, studying the tall ceilings and the large brick walls. “What’s upstairs?”
“Bedroom.”
He guided her beyond the screen and paused when he saw the collection of porcelain figurines, miniature wheels, gears and wire she fashioned into art.
He picked up a white porcelain elephant. “You are an artist?”
Watching him examine her sculpture felt more personal than stripping off her hospital gown earlier. “In name only for most of the last year. I’ve been too busy to do much more than work.”
“What are these to be?”
“Chess pieces. I used to sell them in college and law school for extra money.”