Set Up For Love (27 page)

She was stuck behind a big truck with no way to get around.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Traffic crawled while her energy system raced at high speed. One minute she was mad at Dane for being so stupid, the next she was angry at herself, the Bureau, the whole legal system. A man should be safe in jail. Something was wrong when one prisoner could stab another right under the guard’s noses.

Thread by thread, her belief in the justice system was being stripped away.

Suddenly, everything was crystal clear. She was in this world to do what she could to make things better by getting the killers off the streets, but not at the expense of family and friends. And not at the expense of giving up the love of her life. She’d lost sight of what was important. Love. Not just empathy for victims and their families, but the love of her own family and the family she wanted to have. And she wanted it all with Dane.

Her work was important. But she wanted her own life too. Anything less would eventually burn her out, then she’d be ineffective as a psychologist and as a human being. She was close to that point now, had been for several months, without even realizing it.

If Dane could just live, she would find a way to handle her work and her love for him. But if one had to go, it would be the job. There were other positions, but only one Dane. Only one chance to have the love of her life.
Please, don’t let it be too late.

Chapter Forty

Jill took a deep bolstering breath then entered the intensive care unit. She gasped. Dane lay in the bed nearest the door, pale as his sheets. Beeps and green pulsating lights flashed from the monitor above his head. The glowing peak and valley tracing his heartbeat told her nothing. Her own heart pounded. People died while hooked to those things.

It was the quiet urgency of the trio of green-clad attendants that frightened her most. Were they losing him?
Dear God, please...

One attendant reached above Dane’s head and attached a bag of colorless liquid to his I.V. Another leaned across him, blocking her view. She moved closer.

A green cap covered Dane’s hair; only one dark lock had escaped and curled defiantly on his neck. She swallowed. His stab wound was critical. That knowledge hadn’t prepared her for the flood of emotion at the sight of his ashen face. His thick, dark lashes were as still as death
. “Please,”
she murmured.
“Please...”

“Pulse 110,” someone said. “Blood pressure 75 over 50.”

Frantically, Jill searched Dane’s face for some sign of life. She would do anything. Sacrifice anything. If it wasn’t too late...

“You shouldn’t be in here,” a firm voice snapped at Jill. She whirled to face a nurse who had the impenetrable look of a prison matron. “Are you a relative?”

“FBI.” Jill flashed her badge with shaky hands.

The nurse gave her a once over. “I suppose you need a statement from him. Won’t be talking for a while. Wait outside. I’ll call you when your prisoner rallies.”

Her prisoner. What a joke. She was the prisoner. “He’s a crucial witness. And he’s here because we slipped up. I can’t leave him.”

“All right, you can stay, but wait over there out of the way.” She pointed to a chair.

“Of course,” Jill said. “But please understand, this is a tight security situation. I don’t want anyone near him who doesn’t belong here.”

The nurse frowned. “You’re the only one here who fits that description.” Before Jill could respond, the woman turned away.

No matter what anyone said, she wasn’t leaving. She stepped out of the way and sank into the chair by the curtained off area. She stiffened each time someone unfamiliar entered the room. Were they really on staff? Dane hadn’t been safe in jail and he wasn’t safe here. Before he was downed, he’d moved easily around in the hospital himself, dressed in a lab coat he’d somehow lifted from a supply closet.

When it was time for Dane to be transferred from the ICU, Jill checked on the status of his jail release. It had come through—now he didn’t have to go to the prison ward. She stayed by his side as they moved him to the second floor where she’d arranged to have him listed under an assumed name.

The room, lighted only by a small lamp at the head of the bed, was quiet now that she was alone with him. Jill stood as close to Dane as the bed rail would allow. The green cap was gone now. She smoothed his curly dark brown hair from his forehead. His face looked dead white. She touched it tentatively, feeling the prickly stubble beneath her fingertips.

She listened for his breathing. The I.V. was pumping life-giving fluids into his body.

A doctor came in briefly and told Jill that since no vital organs had been cut, and because Dane was in such good shape, he’d recover from surgery quickly.

Her heart lightened. He was going to be all right.

Her legs felt weak. She dropped onto the bedside chair. Had it been only two mornings since she’d awakened so happy in his arms? When he’d made her forget there was anyone but the two of them in the whole universe?

But what had that night meant to him? He’d walked away, deceived her. She knew he loved her, but he’d let their work come between them, just as she had. She had to find a way for them to be together—she had to.

Jill rubbed her forehead with a trembling hand. The wall that was her life had begun to crumble and soon the floodwaters of stress would break through. And another psycho’s file waited on her desk.

She must have a major character flaw. What kind of person wants to spend her life trying to outwit the world’s maniacs? Had she thought the darker the crime the brighter the satisfaction at solving it?

Jill went to the window and stared out across a low-lying fog. She was tired of running on a treadmill, getting nowhere. She was good with kids. Hoped for children of her own. Someday. Her job wasn’t exactly conducive to family life. But if Dane...

Jill turned from the window, thinking she heard him stir. But it was only the steady hum of the respirator. Gently, she took his cool, limp hand in hers, wanting to infuse him with her strength, her warmth. She yearned to push past the tubes and bags suspended above Dane and lie beside him.

But she could only press her cheek against the back of his hand. She closed her eyes.

Chapter Forty-One

As the nurse’s footsteps faded away, Jill focused on Dane’s face. He blinked several times, as though he didn’t want to wake up. Finally his eyes remained open and he gave her a dazed smile.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly, taking his hand again.

“The angel...it was you.” His voice cracked. Jill squeezed his fingers.

Suddenly, an awareness brightened his green eyes—she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “I really messed up, didn’t I?”

Jill forced a smile. “It’s okay,” she said huskily. “You’re going to be fine. Nothing vital got cut.”

He tried to sit up. “Did they print my story this morning? I called it in just before...just before?”

Unbelievable
. He didn’t even remember what had happened. And the first words out of his mouth were about his blasted story. But what did she expect? His work was so important he’d risked jail and almost got himself killed. How could she expect a knife in his chest to change him?

“My story,” he persisted in a voice husky with pain, “did you see it?”

“I haven’t seen the newspaper. But I’ll get one for you.”

“Am I dead?” A fleeting twinkle brightened his eyes. “The Jill I know wouldn’t offer to get a newspaper for me. She’d be more apt to stuff it down my throat. Level with me, you are an angel, right?”

Jill felt a laugh bubbling up. “I’ll even read it to you.”

“Now I know I’m in heaven,” he said in a wan voice. His droopy eyelids lowered and threatened to close.

Jill had questions, but they could wait. She kissed his forehead, then smiled at his stunned look. If he wasn’t in such bad shape, she might have enjoyed keeping him off balance. “The nurse said you should rest,” she said softly.

He clutched her hand. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

A contented look smoothed Dane’s face. When the nurse came to chase her away, she flipped open her Fed I.D. The nurse shook her head and left the room. Jill stayed while he floated in and out of consciousness.

The clang of metal carts in the hallway announced breakfast. She persuaded Dane to eat some oatmeal and half a slice toast while she nibbled on the other. After Dane had eaten, Jill began to read his news story aloud. “Gordy Angelo, alleged video serial killer, admitted he derived sadistic thrills from his acts and thrived on the excitement of looking for his victims...”

****

Dane watched Jill’s mouth. He was fascinated by the way her lips formed his written words, loved the velvety sound of her voice. He remembered the way she’d fit in his arms when they’d made love, the wonder of waking to find her with him in bed the next morning, and himself curved around her warm, silken nudity.

She was the only medicine he needed.

Earlier, he’d felt her presence before he was fully conscious.

A familiar fragrance had drawn him upward from the murky depths.
He fought leaving the safety of the warm darkness, knowing he’d blown something big. The same smooth, soft hand that had brushed hair off his forehead now held his hand. That unforgettable fragrance beckoned, lured him, drawing him toward the dim light. Suddenly he was eager to see the angel who waited there for him.

Then, he opened his eyes and she was there. Just like he’d known she’d be.

Jill stopped reading and glanced up.

Dane grinned. If she continued looking at him with such concern in her wide, blue eyes, he’d forget his stab wound and pull her into bed with him. She hadn’t said anything about the way he’d messed up. Would she let loose at any moment, or hold her anger until he was better?

How could they get around the problems created by their jobs? And his risky behavior?

****

Jill shifted under Dane’s scrutiny. She lowered her eyes and continued reading the newspaper. “Angelo’s claimed he’d never have been captured if he hadn’t felt something for his last victim. It had never happened before and it tripped him up.”

She shuddered, realizing how different things might have been for Tess if he hadn’t had that single human moment.

Dane touched her hand, and she felt moved by his obvious empathy.

She squeezed his fingers, then read on. “Angelo grew up in one of Los Angeles’s decaying commercial districts and lived in a flat over a sleazy strip theater, alone and neglected most of the time.” Jill swallowed. “At age thirteen Angelo murdered his mother, a beautiful model-stripper. She had allowed her parade of lovers to abuse the boy until he fought back. Young Angelo beat one of the boyfriends to death with a hammer, then stabbed his mother more than a dozen times.”

Jill sat silently a moment before speaking. “Your article pulls all the emotional strings—the writing is direct and hard-hitting. It’s great reporting. I just hope the stuff about Angelo’s childhood doesn’t work against us at the trial.”

“I have to write the truth.”

“I know,” she said softly. That was why she’d fought her feelings and part of why she loved him. “Why do you think Angelo ordered a hit on you?”

“Maybe he changed his mind and didn’t want the world to hear about his abuse.”

Jill shivered. “Or perhaps he told you something else you’re unaware of.”

“It’s possible. After you came in the room, things happened rather quickly. I was whisked off to jail—stabbed—rushed to emergency.”

Jill looked up as a guard came through the door. “I have to leave for a while,” she told Dane. “This is Agent Jenkins. He’ll keep you company until I get back.”

Dane exchanged nods with the slender, crag-faced man with a dark mustache and the bulge of a gun under his coat.

“Take good care of our witness,” Jill said.

Agent Jenkins raised a dark eyebrow. “Aren’t you the idiot reporter who took a gun away from our SWAT leader, the one who broke into the serial killer’s hospital room?”