All or Nothing: A Trust No One Novel (27 page)

“Joe?”

He swung around and hurried to her side. “Hey, Party Girl.” He grasped her hand and smiled.

One glimpse of his haggard features and the circles beneath his eyes and her relief changed to concern. “Why haven’t you slept?”

“I threatened mayhem to get the hospital to allow me in here. I wasn’t about to leave until I knew you were all right. I slept an hour or so in the chair.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Not quite yet. What is this sudden longing you have for the ranch, anyway?”

“It kinda grows on you.”

“I told you it would.” He flashed a boyish grin.

“Where is everybody?”

“Ty’s around here somewhere. Steve and Sanchez too. I’m sure they’ll stop by and see you when you’re feeling more like company. Walker and Rayna will be back in a while. I’m positive they won’t be able to keep Irene from hitching a ride in with them. You’ve caused quite a stir.”

“I ruined Irene’s sweater. I have to get her a new one.”

Joe brushed his fingertips across her lips. “Shhh. We’ll find her one later. Right now, she just wants to know you’re okay.”

The silence stretched while she searched his eyes. He was still worried. “Did you get the notebook?”

“Murphy’s having it analyzed. He’s hopeful… and very sorry. He asked me to give you that message and said he’d be here as soon as you’re ready, with a new itinerary.”

Joe must still think she wanted to go. He’d never ask her to stay now, after she caused him so much trouble. Her gaze slid away from his. “Is the job finished then?”

“Not until we find the contact and put him out of business. Then we’ll be done until the next time Murphy, or someone like him, calls. Until then, there’s always training the next generation.”

“You love it, don’t you?”

He glanced toward the door, a frown darkening his features. “I enjoy what I do.”

“Will I ever see you again, Joe?”

“Every day until you get out of here. After that, it’s up to you.”

It was the future she wondered about, after she assumed her new identity, but she already knew the answer. If she took that step, she’d never see him again. The finality tore at her heart and she had to look away.

The doctor threw the door back and charged into the room. “How are we doing in here?” His voice boomed as he immediately began checking monitors. “Are you in any pain?”

“I don’t feel anything.”

“That’s the injections we gave you for the surgery. Unfortunately, it will wear off. You’ll feel it, but we’ll try to keep you comfortable.”

“When can I go home?”

“The nurse will be in momentarily and get you into a regular room. I want to keep an eye on you for twenty-four hours. If everything is all right this time tomorrow, we’ll kick you out of here.”

She frowned. Twenty-four hours seemed like an eternity at the moment.

Friday, 8:30 pm

R
AYNA AND
I
RENE
only stayed a short time, but Cara nearly cheered when the nurse bustled in and announced visiting hours were over. Her head hurt, her shoulder throbbed and she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Walker came in as the two women left. He broke out in a broad grin, leaned over the bed and kissed her cheek.

“Damn, Cara. Quite a day.”

“Not one I want to repeat right away.”

“Or ever.”

“What happened in the elevator, Walker?”

“Turned out they were only wannabe hoodlums. They weren’t ready for the unexpected, so they both hit the ground before the elevator reached the lower level. I kicked them out down there, punched in the code you so thoughtfully provided, and got my ass back up where the action was.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Shit, I didn’t do anything. It was you and that knife—which still needs some work, by the way. Joe took Sinclair out before he got off another shot. All in all, I’d say it was our lucky day.”

She flinched and looked away, tears stinging her eyes.

“Aw, hell! I’m sorry, Cara.” He took her hand. “You already know I’m an insensitive bastard, but not even I intentionally kick someone when they’re down.”

She squeezed his hand. He had every reason to be pleased with Brian’s death. Walker had been in just as much danger as she—maybe more. Her emotions now firmly under control, she turned toward him again. “What about Kathy? Does Murphy know Brian’s wife is in danger?”

“I filled him in on what I knew. Sinclair never mentioned who was threatening him. Your brother was in a tough spot, but that doesn’t excuse what he did.”

Her eyes burned again, and she cleared her throat. She wasn’t going to shed any more tears for her brother.

“How’s the patient doing?”

Sam. She recognized the voice that came from the doorway and glanced up to see a man dressed in khaki slacks and a dark brown Henley shirt, partially obscured by a huge bouquet of flowers. His unexpected appearance set her already raw nerves on edge.

Walker frowned, sensing her apprehension.

Sam walked farther into the room and set the vase of roses down on a window ledge, then turned to Walker and stuck out his hand. “Sam Garrett.”

Walker shook Sam’s hand after a slight hesitation, and his tension clearly emphasized his distrust.

“This is Walker.” She finished the introduction, not bothering to hide her irritation, half-expecting one or both of them to start thumping their chests any moment.

“Gunshot, Cara? I didn’t take you for the crazy, reckless kind.” Sam eyed her accusingly, until she squirmed under his inspection.

“It was an accident. Nothing reckless about it.” She caught Walker’s eye.

He stepped between her and Sam. “Cara said you two met at the fair in Bozeman?”

“Oh right, that reminds me.” Sam pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “I wanted to give you this.”

She took the paper he held out and smoothed it open. It was a pencil sketch of her face, smiling wistfully, with a Ferris wheel in the background.

“Sam, this is great!” She regarded him in surprise.

“Don’t look so shocked. I told you I was an artist.”

She wasn’t sure she really believed it until now. Relief brought a fleeting smile.

“You were a moment of true inspiration.” He smiled warmly. “Listen, I won’t keep you. You need your rest. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Maybe I’ll stop by in the morning.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

“My pleasure. Sleep well.” He turned toward Walker, and the smile left his face. “Nice meeting you.”

Seconds after he left the room, Joe walked in, hesitating briefly when both Cara and Walker stared at him. Then he took in the flowers and the sketch in her hand.

“Garrett?”

“You just missed him. Boss, that guy makes my skin crawl.” Walker dropped into a chair near her bed.

“He’s an artist. He’s harmless.” She glanced at Joe.

“It’s interesting he knew right where to find you only hours after we arrived.” He walked to the bed and reached for her hand. “I don’t want you alone in this room for a second.”

“You got that right.” Walker still stared at the door.

So much for Joe’s trusting nature. They were talking around her as though she wasn’t even in the room. Obviously, her opinion meant nothing to them, but that wasn’t going to keep her from having one. Sam was a nice, lonely man, still grieving for the loved ones he’d lost. He meant no harm. She wasn’t going to be suspicious of him just because these two mercenaries saw bad guys under every rock.

“Do you think I could get something for the pain?” she asked quietly. Joe immediately stopped conspiring with Walker and went to find a nurse.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Saturday, 8:37 am

J
OE SPENT THE
night in a chair beside her bed, wishing there was something—anything—he could do. Cara slept restlessly, unable to move freely with her shoulder heavily bandaged and her arm in a sling. She awoke anxious, uncomfortable, and bristling for a fight.

“How are we this morning?” The young, inexperienced nurse first on the scene practically bubbled over with good cheer. Joe’s gaze flew to Cara, afraid to even guess what her reaction would be. He didn’t have to wait long.

“How are we?” Cara pressed her lips together and pulled herself off the pillows until she was less than a foot from the grinning nurse. “Well, honey, we feel like shit, and we’re about a heartbeat away from kicking someone’s ass.”

He hid a grin as the nurse’s smile vanished and she backed away, casting helpless glances his way. He jumped up, stepped between Cara and the fleeing nurse, and raised his hand, hoping the poor woman would understand and stay until he could calm Cara down.

“Do you need anything?” He picked up her hand and held it in both of his. “How’s the pain?”

“How do you think it is? It hurts like hell.”

He motioned to the nurse standing just inside the door, and she hustled away, returning with a syringe full of cloudy liquid.

“I hate needles.” Cara tossed and fidgeted on the bed. Her wary expression stopped the nurse in her tracks. “Can’t you give me something that doesn’t require a syringe?”

The nurse turned to Joe. “Maybe I should call the doctor and see if he wants to sedate her.”

“I suppose that comes with a needle too!” Cara snapped.

“Sedation won’t be necessary.” He frowned at the nurse. Carefully he sat on the bed still holding Cara’s hand, then moved his hand up until he gripped the elbow of her good arm. She tried to shake him off, and her eyes widened in suspicion when she couldn’t.

“Let go of me.”

“Calm down. Just a quick shot so the pain will go away. That’s what we want, right?”

Her gaze flew to the nurse standing ten feet away with her needle and then darted back to him. Suspicion turned to anger in her blue eyes, already ablaze with pain.

“Come on, roll toward me a little so she can get to your hip. You won’t feel a thing.” He glanced at the name tag of the nurse standing halfway between the bed and the door. “She won’t feel a thing, right… Emily?”

“No, sir.” Emily hastened forward and administered the shot as soon as she saw her target.

“Ouch—I felt that,” Cara grumbled.

Joe chuckled as Nurse Emily retreated quickly.

“What’s so damn funny?” Cara asked.

“Are you always this grumpy in the morning? Maybe I should reconsider my invitation to stay.”

“You do that.” She turned her face toward the wall, and he glimpsed the tears she was determined to hide.

Shit! Those tears tore him apart. He barely stopped himself from leaning close to kiss her forehead and comfort her. Telling her everything would be all right was the wrong move right now. She had a fight on her hands. It wouldn’t help for someone to coddle her and make false promises. Her recovery time depended on her attitude and determination.

He’d already made the decision she wasn’t leaving until she was well on the road to recovery. That was sure to piss her off once she found out. Sinclair’s death weighed heavily on her, and the loneliness he’d caught in her eyes the few times she let her guard down hit him hard. Did she hate him for killing her brother?

“You’ve got every right to be angry with me. Your brother… it was my job to keep you safe, and I screwed up.” He stood and stepped away from the bed. “You’ve got a long road ahead of you, and it will be twice as hard if you’re going to feel sorry for yourself the whole damn way.”

Her head turned toward him and her eyes flashed with hurt and anger. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

“The hell you’re not, and I’m tired of it. I can only help you so much. Then you have to stand up and help yourself.”

Betrayal and frustration clouded her face, followed swiftly by anger. She would either come off that bed swinging, or she’d never speak to him again.

“The man’s right, Cara.” A stranger’s voice came from the doorway, but Joe knew instantly who it was. Sam Garrett.

Cara’s gaze swept past Joe. He turned slowly and stared. He’d have recognized Sam from her description, but there was more to him than just physical attributes. He was lean and rock-solid, confident and focused. He wore an aura of power, and damned if Joe’s skin didn’t crawl, just as Walker said. Joe had seen men like this before and few, if any, spent any time in an art gallery. Warning bells were going off like crazy. Sam Garrett was no artist.

The man walked to Cara’s bedside and smiled at her. “An injury like that—it takes time to bounce back, and a whole lot of work. You’ll need to toughen up if you’re going to get it done.”

The anger and argument faded from her eyes, faced with both of them bullying her. She blinked and turned her face away.

“I’d be happy to help,” Sam said. “I did a short stint as a physical therapist right out of school, before I decided I was better at painting than I was at helping the masses. I think we could speed things up if we got started right away.”

She met Joe’s gaze for a moment, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

Then she smiled at Sam. “That’s sweet of you. I don’t know if I’ll be staying around here yet, but if I do, maybe we can work something out.”

Sam turned to Joe as though just noticing he was in the room. “I’m sorry. I jumped in where I wasn’t invited. I hope you’ll forgive my poor manners. Sam Garrett.” He offered his hand.

“Joe Reynolds.” Joe shook his hand, studying him thoughtfully. This guy was smooth. In thirty seconds he’d done what Joe failed to do all morning. At least Garrett weighed in on Joe’s side, apparently diffusing Cara’s anger for the moment. Maybe he was harmless like she suspected. If not, there was definitely some logic to keeping your enemies close.

“I’m sure, once she gets out of here and focused on her recovery, she’ll take you up on your offer. We’ll talk later.” He grinned at Cara, whose eyes flashed daggers again, and started for the door. “As long as you’ve got company, I think I’ll return a few phone calls. I’ll be right outside.”

He propped the door open, stepped into the hallway, and turned so he could keep an eye on them. Sam glanced his way every few seconds, impatience in his slight frown. Apparently, he hoped to be alone with her. Joe had to applaud him. Sam pulled up a chair, sat down by her bed, and started a conversation that soon had her laughing and relaxed. Joe dialed Murphy’s number and waited for him to pick up.