He’d found her. Worse, he’d hurt Mac. Now Sully would be in danger, too. If Mac died because she’d led Bryan Jackson to them, she’d never forgive herself.
A horrible thought struck her. “What about Uncle Tad?”
“I already sent a deputy there to watch him. The facility has been notified. We’ll keep him safe, I promise.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and slowly rocked back and forth in her chair. Please be okay…please be okay. She silently chanted it over and over again. Dan and Elise arrived to sit with her and she barely noticed. She focused on Mac’s sweet face in her mind, praying he’d pull through.
When Sully arrived, he dropped his bags by the waiting room door, raced to her, and engulfed her in his arms as she broke down sobbing. He sank to the floor with her, holding her.
“Shh, pet. I’m here. It’s okay.”
Time blurred for them. Despite using Sully as an emotional crutch, Clarisse refused to leave the hospital, didn’t want to leave Mac’s side to go home. No masterly orders or husbandly suggestions would change her mind, either.
Sensing this, Sully didn’t force the issue. He stayed with her, getting a room at a hotel a few blocks away where he would force her to go at shift changes so she could take a shower and lie down to sleep. The few times he knew he had to take a nap or risk collapse, Jason would come in and sit with her in the ICU to ensure she was safe. Because of the circumstances of the situation, and that Mac needed twenty-four hour armed protection until Bryan was in custody, they loosened the rules to allow Clarisse and Sully round-the-clock access to the ICU instead of the normal limited visitation.
By the fifth day after the attack, Mac’s condition hadn’t changed.
They’d listed him as critical, but stable. Until the cranial swelling went down, they wouldn’t begin to reduce his medication and bring him out of his coma.
Sully watched Clarisse’s face grow more gaunt. It was hard to stay strong for her when all he wanted to do was lay his head on Mac’s bed and sob himself to sleep. He didn’t dare cry in front of her.
She needed his strength. If this was a fraction of the agonizing grief Mac felt when their positions were reversed, then he felt guilty as hell for putting Mac through that.
Jason stepped into Mac’s ICU cubicle a little before noon and tipped his head at Sully, wanting to talk privately with him. Jason had told the uniformed deputy on duty to take a few minutes to go eat since he was there.
Sully leaned over and kissed Clarisse on the forehead. “Baby, I need to talk with Jayce for a few minutes, okay?”
She nodded, the deep hollows under her eyes adding to his grief.
There was nothing he could do, no comforting words he could offer.
They had to wait and see.
He tenderly tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “When I come back, we’ll go downstairs and eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” she whispered. Her eyes never strayed from Mac’s face, willing him to wake up, to rise and be healed.
If she’d taken in more than two thousand calories in the past few days, he was Richard Nixon. It was all he could do to get her to drink water. Hating himself, he hardened his voice. “Pet,” he softly said, “you have to eat. Sir wouldn’t want you making yourself sick, you know he wouldn’t.”
After a long moment, she finally nodded. “Yes, Master.”
“Good girl.” He kissed her temple and gently squeezed her shoulder before leaving the cubicle and sliding the door shut behind him.
Bryan watched the ICU corridor. Hospital security was amazingly lax, even the uniformed deputy on watch tended to ignore anyone in hospital garb and bearing an ID badge. Walking around wearing a pair of scrubs and a white lab coat while carrying a small tote full of phlebotomy supplies and a clipboard practically guaranteed access to any area without question, especially the hectic ICU wing.
Harborside, being a regional trauma center, wasn’t exactly a quiet place.
He’d snagged an employee’s ID clipped to an unattended sweater left hanging over an office chair in admissions. It hadn’t taken him long to create a bogus ID on his laptop, make a quick stop by a automated photo printer machine at a drugstore, and then glue the fake to the top of the existing badge. A carefully trimmed sheet of laminating film over the top made it good enough for government work and would stall people long enough.
Long enough for him to get Clarisse.
He’d shaved his head bald. A throw pillow belted around his midsection added at least thirty pounds to his appearance, and a careful slouch enhanced the illusion.
Inside the pillow, he stashed the gun.
He slipped inside the cubicle, relieved to find her alone and knew that he wouldn’t have long before the uniformed deputy and the other two men returned. She never glanced at him, why would she? She was used to seeing medical personnel come and go.
He couldn’t deny the satisfied thrill when he pressed the gun’s muzzle to her temple and she stiffened.
“Hello, Clarisse.”
She didn’t speak. He pressed harder. “Aren’t you going to say hello? Where the hell are your manners?”
“Hello, Bryan.”
“Here’s how this works. You come with me, quietly. Otherwise, I kill you and him and that other guy when he shows up. You’ve totally fucked my life. Well, I’m fucking yours. I want my goddamned money.”
“It was my money.”
He enjoyed her hiss of pain as he grabbed her arm with his other hand and squeezed, his fingers digging in. “Wrong. It’s my money. I worked hard for it, and I want it, you fucking cunt. With lots of interest. I need it to start over. Then after I have a final goodbye with you, I’ll go and you’ll never see me again.”
Clarisse felt numb. She realized for the first time she wasn’t scared of Bryan for herself—she was scared for Mac. And for Sully.
“I’ll go with you. Just…please don’t hurt him.”
“I already got my pound of flesh out of him. Give me your cell phone.”
She handed it over, and he quickly figured out how to turn it off.
He jammed it into his pocket before he roughly dragged her to her feet and propelled her toward the door. Then he pulled an envelope out of the medical supply tote he carried tossed it on the bed. He stuck the gun in his right lab coat pocket, but he didn’t let go of it. He carried the tote in his left hand.
When he stepped close behind her, she had to suppress the urge to scream. “Turn left,” he quietly ordered. “Walk in front of me, to the first hallway on the right and turn there. There’s a stairwell on the left.
That’s where we’re going.”
Feeling more numb than scared, she complied, wanting Bryan as far away from Mac and Sully as she could draw him. She didn’t care if he killed her. Sully had tried to keep the truth from her, but she’d heard the doctors talking with him. There were no guarantees that Mac would ever wake up. Or if he did, he might be little more than bedridden, barely cognizant, for the rest of his life. They couldn’t evaluate the extent of his brain injuries until more healing had taken place from the initial trauma.
But if Bryan tried to kill her, she damn sure would take her pound of flesh in retaliation first, if given half a chance.
Sully and Jason returned to Mac’s bedside ten minutes later. No news. The asshole had taken huge cash withdrawals on his credit cards in Ohio, a payday advance loan for five hundred dollars, and had disappeared off the face of the fucking planet. None of his family had heard from him. The BOLO had produced no leads, and his car hadn’t been spotted.