“Me? She’s guilty too,” Reese said, defending himself.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.” The nurse shot JT a grin and started to the door. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, and you,” she pointed at Reese, “keep your hands and those lips to yourself, or you’ll have to sit in the corner.”
“Yes, Nurse Sanchez.”
“Say my name,” she demanded, and made her exit.
He pulled up a chair and, straddling it, spent a few
silent moments just enjoying the sight of Jessi alive and well. The makeup was gone, the face clean and beautiful. He assumed she hadn’t been near a mirror because her hair was a mess and she was going to have a fit when she saw it, but he loved every breathing gorgeous inch of her. “So, how you doing?”
“I’m here, and that’s a good thing.”
His voice softened with the affection he felt inside. “Yes, it is.”
“How are you?” she asked, searching his face as if it would give her the answer.
“I’m good, and glad to look in your eyes, hear your voice. Miss our phone calls.”
The memory of his mahogany voice in her ear while she lay in the bed with the drapes flapping in the midnight breeze made her smile. “Me too.”
“Want me to break you out?”
“I wish. These ribs hurt so bad, we’d have to take the pharmacy with us. Nurses said the pain should even out in a few days. Right now it’s rough.”
The man in him wanted to ease her pain. “Any idea when they’ll release you?”
She shook her head on the pillow. “Another four, five days, I’m hoping? I hate hospitals.”
“The FBI wants you to recuperate somewhere outside the city.”
“Why?” she asked with irritation. “I want to go home, to my own bed, my own shower. No.” She looked over at him, and the patience she saw reflected there made her ask, “What?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t say a word.”
She rolled her eyes. “Spit it out.”
“What if there’s another attempt? You want the bomber to get it right next time?”
Her lips tightened. “No,” she replied grudgingly. “But where am I supposed to go? I’m not holing up in some spa or rehab facility, and I’m definitely not going home to Texas and maybe bring this drama to my mother.” She was glad her mother was out of the country. She didn’t want her anywhere near this madness. “I suppose yon knight has an opinion?”
Humor lit his eyes. “You know I do, my lady.”
“And it is?”
“It’s really Bryce’s idea.”
“Why does that scare me?”
“It might. It might not. My family would like you to come to Michigan.”
She studied him and then asked, “Really?”
He heard the skepticism. “We could get a visiting nurse if we need to, and Pops said he dares anybody to blow you up on his watch. You’ll be safe there, Jessi.”
Hearing her name on his lips made her as loopy as the drugs. “And where will you be?”
“Wherever the commissioner sends me.”
She tried not to sound disappointed. “Is there enough room for me at your dad’s?”
“Plenty. Since I won’t be there, Pops thought we’d move you into my place.”
She paused. “Your place? Is it is a condo? Apartment?”
“No, it’s a house. Four bedrooms.”
Nurse Sanchez returned. Right behind her was the policewoman, who retook up her position in the chair by the door.
Sanchez asked JT, “Has he been behaving himself?”
She looked his way and smiled. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Good. He gets to come back later.”
Reese got the hint and stood. “How late is later?”
Sanchez didn’t look up. “This evening.”
He didn’t like it but there was nothing he could do. Her health took precedence over his desire to be by her side.
“Where are you staying?” JT asked as the nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her right arm. The fragrance of the bouquet of lilies lying across her lap wafted to her nose.
“Hotel,” he said, again not wanting to leave, but resigned to it. “Think about Bryce’s idea, okay?”
She nodded.
Sanchez silently cautioned JT to stay still while she took the readings. The departing Reese threw her a wink. She threw back a mock pout of disappointment and then a smile. A second later he was out the door and gone.
For the next three days, through sheer force of will, JT cut back on the amount of pain medication she needed. The ribs were still sore as hell and she was adjusting to the limitations posed by having a cast on her left arm, but each day she was able to get by with less of the pharmaceuticals. Reese made twice daily visits, and the nurses let him stay a little longer each time because JT was getting stronger and because, she thought, they loved looking at him. He rewarded them by bringing them ice cream, flowers, and on a couple of occasions lunch and dinner, depending on which shift received the benefits of his largesse. He brought up Bryce’s idea to her a couple of times, but she invariably changed the subject, so he decided to leave it alone.
The stalemate broke on the fourth day when Special Agent Tate paid her a visit and said, “Someone torched your car last night.”
“What? Aw, hell.” The car had been chilling in a city parking structure since the day of the explosion. JT sighed loudly.
“Preliminary reports say an accelerant was used. The plates on the burned vehicle came back as being registered to you.”
Reese was in the room and the news tightened his jaw.
JT asked, “Is it related to the bomber, you think?”
Tate shrugged. “No solid proof yet, of course, but it’s a distinct possibility. We found a ski mask and a pair of gloves in a trash receptacle inside the garage. Not sure if they’re related to the fire but we sent them for testing.”
She sighed again and looked over at Reese. “Tell your father I’ll be on my way. I may be stubborn but I’m not stupid. Damn,” she added. “I’ve only made two payments on that Lex.”
He gave her a faint smile. “I’ll hook it up.”
She said to him, “And I’ll call Kyle Miller. Maybe he’ll let me use his plane. I can’t see me flying commercial. I’m not steady enough yet. I’d ask Jason, but he’s busy with the team.”
Reese knew she didn’t want to leave, but he was glad she wanted to be safe.
JT asked Tate, “So has your investigation turned up anything?”
“We’re taking a real close look at your Mr. Garrett. Something’s come to our attention that might be key, but we have to wait and see. All the more reason to get you out of town. Whether he or someone else is tied to the bombing, we want you out of reach.”
JT agreed that made sense, but she wasn’t happy.
Tate wrote down JT’s phone number and numbers where Reese and his dad could be reached and said her good-byes.
JT looked over at him. “Guess I’m going to Michigan,” she said, offering him a small smile.
“Beats having to call in all the king’s horses and all the king’s men to put you back together again.”
“True that.” She thought about all that had happened in the last week, and it gave her a real bad case of the blues. Technically she was out of business. Her building had burned to the ground, taking with it ten years of hard work and a large chunk of her heart. She’d built her business from scratch, and it had been decimated in an instant because of some crazy. “It’s scary knowing somebody wants me dead. And poor Carole…all the operations she’s facing?” She heard her voice wobble and saw him move toward her side, but she quickly put up a hand. “No. If you come near me I’m going to cry, and Blake women don’t do that.”
He stopped and watched her with tenderness, amazement, and what he felt for her in his heart. “And why not?”
“We just don’t.”
“I see.”
She took him in, all six-foot-plus glorious inch of him. “We’re not weak women.”
“Having somebody help you with the weight doesn’t make you weak, Jessi.”
Lord, she knew if he called her by her name again she would bawl. “I’m okay,” and upon seeing his skeptical face, added, “I am.”
Weak was not a word Reese would’ve used to describe the Lady Blake. Hard-headed, yes. Weak, no. The hard head was part of her charm, though, and the urge to offer her the shelter of his arms was still strong. The lack of light in her eyes showed that this nightmare was wearing on her. Add to that her concerns about Carole’s condition and he saw a woman he wanted to whisk away to a place where worries and fears wouldn’t be allowed to follow. “We’ll get you to Pops.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
With the help of her lawyer, Francine Ross, JT prepared to move her life temporarily to the Midwest. Francine packed clothes, replaced all of JT’s personal electronic equipment, like her laptop, BlackBerry, and phone, all of which had been eaten by the fire, and handled miscellaneous chores like canceling her mail and taking over payment of her bills.
By the sixth day the internal bruising and her overall soreness was beginning to subside. Her doctor figured it would be two weeks before she could move around comfortably, but he saw no reason why she couldn’t recuperate at home, which in this case meant Reese’s place in Michigan.
Kyle Miller graciously volunteered his plane and pilot, so that afternoon, after saying good-bye to the slowly recovering Carole and her stoic husband Brad, JT and Reese were winging their way across the country.
Because JT had been lying in bed for the last week, she didn’t have as much strength as she’d hoped. By the time they landed at the Detroit airport, she was hurting and exhausted. A skycap met the private jet with a wheelchair that had been arranged for before they left Oakland, and once she was seated, it took all she had to stay upright and awake. She must have dozed off because next she knew, she was outside the terminal and Reese was helping her out of the wheelchair and into a car. A large older man who had Reese’s eyes and coloring was in the front seat. Seated next to him was Bryce and another man, who she assumed to be Jamal. All three appeared very concerned.
“I’m okay,” she told them. “Thanks for the invite.” She gingerly settled herself in against the backseat, then closed her eyes in an attempt to keep body and soul together. The pain meds she’d taken right before landing hadn’t kicked in yet and she prayed they’d hurry. Her ribs were yelling like they were on fire. Reese got in on other side and closed the door. A worried-looking Pops drove them home.
She awakened in a bed. Not her own, though, that she knew. This one was bigger, and the room’s decor was very Afrocentric, with beautiful carved masks hanging on walls painted in rich warm hues of brown and tan. She sat up slowly and noted that she felt a world better, but where was she? she wondered. Was this Reese’s house? And how long had she been asleep? He walked in then, carrying a bed tray. He’d traded in his corporate clothes for jeans and a T-shirt. He looked like the Reese she’d first met back on the 5, and as always, her heart skipped when she saw him.
“Evening, Jessi,” he said in that low sweet voice. “How ya feeling?”
“Much better.” And she was. She felt human again. “How long have I been asleep?”
He shrugged. “Almost four hours, but who’s counting? You obviously needed the rest.” He placed the tray across her lap. “Pops sent you some eats.”
She eyed the small spread with glee. She was glad she’d broken her left arm and not her right so she could eat without any problems.
“There’s roasted chicken, sweet potatoes, broccoli with cheese sauce, and his homemade French bread.”
“Your father makes bread?” She bit into a small piece and groaned her pleasure. It was still warm. “Oh, this is good.”
He chuckled. “I’ll let him know.”
She looked up. “And tell Bryce thank you. Coming here was a good idea.”
“I think so too, but I’ll tell him.”
“Did you eat?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Will you stay with me while I eat?”
The words filled his heart. “Yeah baby, I will.”
So she ate and they talked, about nothing really. The feelings blooming between them had gotten off track, what with all the drama thrown her way, and they both needed to reconnect.
After dinner she felt even better. “I like this room,” she said, looking around while he took the tray and set it aside. “The sitting area is real nice. It’s like being in a hotel suite only homier.”
The sitting area was on the far side of the big room where a chocolate leather couch faced a big fireplace surrounded by beautiful black marble tiles. Comfortable-looking leather chairs anchored the couch. There were a couple of lamps with dark gold shades placed atop Moroccan-inspired end tables, and more African-influenced framed art and masks adorned the walls. Above the fireplace there was the big dark rectangle of a flat screen TV. “I’m liking your flat screen too. This is NBA playoff time. Isn’t Detroit playing tonight?”
He grinned. “You are so the woman after my heart.”
She grinned back. “Just doing my job.”
They moved to the couch and he hooked up the game. Setting down the remote, he saw her shiver. “Cold?”
“Little bit. It’s chilly here for a California girl.”
He opened a wooden chest and withdrew a flannel blanket. She wrapped herself up and cuddled close. He draped an arm around her and she used his warm body as support, then settled in to watch some ball.
Detroit was playing Chicago. Both teams were noted for their defense, so the scoring during the first quarter was low, but it didn’t make the game any less exciting. Reese noted to himself how perfect it was being with her and that he could easily sit with her this way until the end of time when his brothers walked in and messed up the fantasy. “What do you two want?”
“Good evening to you too, big brother,” Bryce responded cheerily. “We come bearing ice cream and cake.”
Jamal, shorter but thicker than his siblings, was pushing a serving cart that bore a huge chocolate cake and big green bowls of ice cream. He stopped and pointed at the desserts. “Ta da.”
JT turned and her face lit up at the delicious sight.
Seeing her interest, Reese said, “Don’t encourage them.”
But Jamal had already placed a slice of cake on a paper plate and brought it to her along with a bowl of ice cream. “Butter pecan, right?”
A bit stunned that he would know that, she looked from him to his older brother and back again, but took the offerings. Bryce magically produced a TV tray and placed it in front her, and she set it all down. More than a little overwhelmed, she shook her head. “Thank you.”
“We aim to please,” Jamal told her, then asked Reese, “You want dessert, Your Excellency?”
Reese muttered something unintelligible, and JT grinned around the best tasting ice cream she’d had in a long time. “Your Excellency?”