Sam's face went blank.
"We were supposed to shop for a ring that day. No one knew about our engagement. So I watched our wedding date come and go, alone."
"Stop." Sam squeezed my arms. "You didn't do this."
"I'm tired, Sam, tired of lying, of hiding, of not facing what I've done. I stole his life. And I wish to hell I could wake up in my make-believe world again like nothing happened. I want my old life back. I want Luke back. I want to pretend nothing ever happened and that I never met you."
Sam looked aghast. I'd shattered his illusions about me, disappointed him as terribly as he'd betrayed me. He'd fallen for a liar, someone no better than Stone.
The main door downstairs creaked open.
He grabbed my wrist and I almost dropped my shoes. "You didn't cause the explosion, Jules. Come with me and I can prove it. Just trust me."
My mind continued its downward spiral. Sam was playing me again, promising a cover-up to keep me in his web of trust long enough to get a warrant, make a clean arrest. But what hurt most, and what I couldn't explain to him, was that if Luke's death wasn't my fault, then the accident couldn't have been prevented. And if the blame didn't end with me, then someone else had pulled the strings, and nothing had ever been in my control. That was much, much worse.
"Just leave, Sam. If you ever cared about me, you'll let me disappear."
Sam's hand came to my cheek.
"Let me go," I whispered.
"Julie, that you?" Stone's voice rose up the stairs as the building's main door thumped shut.
Max was on all paws, sniffing the air and giving a warning growl.
"Time to go," Sam whispered, tugging me toward the upper stairwell.
I pulled against his grip. "Get off me," I yelled, loud enough for Stone to hear.
Sam's eyes widened. Stone's feet attacked the stairs with thunder.
Moving fast, Sam snagged me by the waist and lugged me as far as the stairwell. I struck, right in Sam's sore ribs, and wrenched free, my arm flying backwards like a whip, my shoe jerking free of my hand.
We both fell backwards, Sam stumbling into the stairwell, while I caught my balance against the fire extinguisher in the alcove. Down the hall my shoe cartwheeled and thudded to a stop against my front door.
Click
. Then a flash of light.
Whoosh
. The air shifted for a millisecond. Then
whoom.
The blast lifted me off my feet, slammed me the short distance into the alcove wall. My front door flew toward me, flattening against the alcove's mouth with me trapped inside, as a thousand tiny knives pierced my skin.
For a split second, the air pressure pinned the door like a coffin lid, and I marveled at the absence of pain or sound. Then the door slid down the wall, thudded onto the floor and fell flat.
I slumped. Then darkness.
***
Coughing made the knives twist deeper into my side, snapping me awake. A high-pitched ringing sounded in my ears. My mouth was so dry and dirty I wanted water.
My eyes blinked open to smoke. My hands felt carpet beneath me and splintered wood, but my body felt like disjointed pieces I couldn't pull together to operate.
Sam? Max?
My voice never came out. Rolling onto my side proved pointless; my body wasn't responding. I rolled my head side to side, but my vision was blurry and the smoke obscured anything above knee level.
Through the ringing I barely heard Max whining. Then he was licking my chin.
A man called my name.
Sam?
Again, my vocal chords failed.
"Julie." A light pierced the smoke, broad shoulders framed behind it. "Julie, thank God. Can you hear me?" The ringing in my ears felt like a corkscrew grinding into my brain, so he sounded miles away, but I could recognize Stone's voice.
Max gave a low growl as Stone stroked my forehead. Lightning dashed across my brow and I screamed, but only air came out. He stared at his fingers. I'd already guessed the result, based on the moisture dripping down my temple.
Max barked.
Stone shoed him away and leaned forward. "You're going to be alright, Ju—" His head jerked to one side, his eyelids drooped, and then he pitched sideways and fell onto the floor.
Sam hunched over him, gripping his weapon backwards. He checked Stone's pulse, then shifted toward me, as I mouthed the air like a guppy.
"Don't talk," he said and got behind me, lifting me by my armpits.
Pain shot up my neck as if he were slicing open my muscles. I screamed and this time my voice sounded.
"Shit." He knelt beside me, and Max licked my cheek. I assumed Sam would lift me into his arms, but the air was thin enough near the floor that I wasn't excited to be in higher altitudes.
Sam spoke into his phone. "Need extraction. Now... I don't have twenty fucking minutes. Just meet me there on foot. Hurry. We've got trouble."
Grabbing the front of my sweater and jeans, Sam dragged me down the hall like a sack of grain toward the freight elevator. My side prickled with icy needles, but my legs felt nothing, powerless to stop our progress.
When he slid me over the elevator's metal threshold, driving the needles deeper, I cried out, and he slapped his palm over my mouth. "Quiet." Sam punched the button with his fist.
Lights flashed through the haze as bulky shapes shuffled up the stairwell. Firefighters yelled intangible directions through their masks, lights on their helmets bouncing around the hall. I wanted to yell for help, but I could barely breathe through my nose as Sam's hand still held my mouth shut.
The hope of being rescued faded as the elevator doors closed. The unit jolted into motion, sending a raging fire up my right torso. My mouth was fully open, but nothing more came out.
Sam's face contorted with pain as he slid beside me, blood scaling the left side of his face and staining his collar dark. He held his ribs and grappled for my hand. "Almost there, baby."
Max's tags jingled. He'd been in the elevator all along and I'd not noticed because I was so focused on my own pain. Who'd take care of Max when I was in prison? Or dead.
We hit basement level with a thud, and I gripped Sam's fingers so hard I thought they'd break. "Hold on," he said. "Just a few more seconds."
Muscles cramped up my neck and jaw. An invisible knife was cutting into the right side of my skull. Then my arm disappeared and the storm of needles drifted away.
When I opened my eyes, headlights streamed toward me. The cold concrete at my back smelled like gasoline and rain. I couldn't reason why I was lying in the middle of my apartment's back lot, but at least Max sat by my side.
The parking gates cranked open, yet the vehicle kept coming toward me. I tried to wave down the driver. He'd skid at best if he braked on this slick pavement. My arm never moved.
Oh, God, he's going to run over us.
The truck turned at the last moment, screeching to a halt. And looked a lot like my old Land Cruiser. Sam jerked open the hatch, grabbed my legs as someone took my shoulders, and slung me into the back.
Pain exploded through my torso like fireworks. I couldn't breathe, couldn't fight back.
Then Sam was leaning over me, his fist clutching a hand grip above the window. I could feel we were in motion. He hollered to someone and the cabin light flashed on.
"Just stay awake, baby." He ripped open my sweater and stared at my body, his eyes wide. This was no time for ogling me.
The truck turned hard and we jackrabbited onto a street so my body bounced and I shrieked.
"Careful," Sam yelled, holding me still.
Who the hell was driving?
Max 's head hung over the back seat, his ears cocked forward, panting incessantly. I wanted to scratch his beautiful head, tell him I'd be okay. But the lie stuck in my throat.
"I gotta do this, baby. Hold onto me." Sam looked me in the eyes, but he didn't seem to understand I could barely lift my fingers.
He set his hand over my belly, nodded three times, then yanked.
Air stole from my lungs as my abdomen set ablaze. A flash of heat then cold swept over my face and bile rose in my throat. I turned my head till the wave passed.
When I re-opened my eyes, Sam stared at a wood shiv wet with blood, and I recognized the lacquered edge of my front door.
CHAPTER 22
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The tolling of my alarm was loud enough to wake the dead, as hazy bodies danced around me, faces blurring in and out of my focus. They moved too fast for my eyes to adjust. That, and what seemed like a search light blinded me.
I attempted to rise, but my arms felt swollen, leaden with too much sleep.
"Turn off that damn alarm." I was surprised to hear my own voice as craggy as a two-pack smoker's. My neck felt swollen and stiff, my tongue paper-towel dry. "And cut the lights."
"Finally. She's awake." A throbbing baritone attacked my ears. "Now we can get our answers."
Bodies scurried, muttered, argued. A thumb hitched up my eyelid as a penlight flicked back and forth, frying my pupil. The procedure repeated on my other eye before I tried swatting away the intruder, but my right arm felt entangled, a fish in a net. My muscles strained to pull loose as needles danced up my skin, gauging me anew. I yelped with what was left of my air.
"Hold her still," said a woman, but the alarm bleated louder, faster, rushing me, telling me to run despite the pain. I breathed quicker just to keep pace with the bleating.
"Jules, hold still."
"Sam?" My left hand searched the air till fatigue set in. Someone grabbed my fingers.
"She knows your real name," said Baritone. "Very interesting."
"I'll explain later." Sam's face came closer to me as he squeezed my hand. I kept blinking against the lights to see him. "I'm right here."
"Like you'll explain those strangulation marks around her throat, or her torn clothing, or the dried blood that isn't hers." Baritone harrumphed. "You seem to have a lot of explaining to do, Agent. Like how you were there in the middle of the night."
Sam stroked my hand. "Close your eyes, Jules. Can you hear me okay?"
"I'm not deaf." My face rolled toward his voice. "Where are we?"
"You're in a hospital on a special floor," said Baritone. "A secured floor."
"They need to run tests." Sam spoke more softly than the doctor.
I caught my breath, as if that would subdue the burning in my gut. "Sam, where am I?"
He squeezed my fingers again. "We just told you—"
"She could be hallucinating with those head injuries. Expect the worst, Agent." Baritone frightened me, doctor or not.
"Don't leave me here." My call went unheeded, as Sam had let go of my fingers and his shadow moved toward Baritone's, their whispers snapping at each other like water crackling in hot oil.
I rolled to sit up then halted as razors sliced open my torso. "Get them out." I fell back, writhing under the sheet, gnashing my teeth. "Get them out of me!"
Women's voices approached, voices that scratched at my eardrums with instructions.
"Hold her down," came Doctor Ramsey's voice, as cold hands landed on my legs, locking my knees. "Julie, settle down right this minute."
Another hand pushed at my head.
How many arms did she have?
Baritone got louder. "Ask her the questions, Agent, before she gets put down."
"Sam, get me out of here." But more hands grabbed me, overpowered me.
"Stay still, Jules." Sam sounded pissed. "Stop fighting, damn it."
"Get me out. Don't let them take me away." My voice got breathy, and I wasn't sure I'd finished my sentence.
"Shhh." Sam's blurry face appeared, his thumb stroking my cheek. "Listen to me. You can't leave yet. We're not safe yet. Stay here with me, Jules. We stick together now."
"What kind of hospital?" I squeezed what I thought were his fingers.
"The real kind," said Ramsey. "Nurse, get me my bag."
Sam whispered, "You're in Roosevelt Hospital."
"Which ward?"
His thumb stopped moving. "I don't understand."
"Body or mind?"
"Get out of the way, Agent," called Baritone.
"I'm not crazy, Sam. I'm not crazy."
"Shhh. It's nothing like that." Sam's thumb stroked faster.
"Give her the shot," said Baritone. "Put her down."
"Don't let them drug me." I could feel moisture crossing my temple.
Sam put his lips to my ear. "They've got to get the shrapnel out. But I won't leave you."
Adrenaline helped my eyes focus as a needle hovered above me, sparkling in the lights as fluid sprayed from the tip.
"No drugs," I whispered to him. "I won't wake up, Sam. They won't let me wake up."
"Pulse is rising, Doctor—"
"I can read the goddamn monitor, nurse," snapped Ramsey, her black hair falling into her eyes as she pushed down my shoulder and wrestled for my arm. "The pain shot will settle her down if I can get the damn needle in."
"Shhh." His thumb slid over the back of my hand, back and forth, back and forth, luring me to calm, but his face twisted with anger. "Just let me talk to her first." Sam darted a flurry of words at someone over his shoulder.
"No more talking, Agent," growled Baritone. "This isn't your call."
"We need to wheel her into surgery," said Ramsey, "and I can't stabilize her with you two stirring her up."
"Sam, don't let them take me."
Baritone said, "Understood. She's no good to us like this. Put her down."
"Sam!"
A long black arm drew him back by the shoulders. The nurse held me down as Ramsey inserted the needle into the IV taped to my hand.
"Jules, just relax." Sam's voice seemed across the room. A door clicked shut.
"Sam, don't leave... me alone..."
***
A bright sun winked through drawn curtains, burning my eyelids so I had to wake. Maple trees stood tall, their limbs shaking gold leaves at a crisp blue sky. Fall was gorgeous in New York, and I wished for my camera and a stroll in Central Park.
My eyes scanned the painted cement walls framing the window, the institutional furniture in chalky gray, the metal bed rail, the IV stand. The faint odor of ammonia finished the story. A hospital.