Fatal Exposure - By Gail Barrett Page 0,86
enough was enough. Nothing was going to stop him from reaching her side. He had to see for himself that she’d survived.
A second later, he reached her room. He recognized several police officers, including the one blocking the door. “Martinez,” he said with a nod.
“Hey, McCall. Love the dress,” Martinez quipped. “You here to give us a fashion show?”
His mouth quirking up, Parker flipped him a rude hand signal, and everyone around them laughed.
But then the guard’s expression sobered. “Sorry, man, but she can’t have visitors yet. Nobody’s supposed to go inside.”
“I’m not here. You didn’t see me.”
“Hell, McCall. You know I can’t let you inside.”
Parker leveled him a gaze.
The guards exchanged glances. Martinez heaved out a sigh. “Fine, you’re not here. I didn’t see you come by. But you owe me for this.” He moved aside to let him pass.
Still wheeling the IV pole, Parker opened the door and stepped inside. His gaze arrowed straight to the bed, and his heart made a crazy loop, fear and love tangling up inside. Brynn looked so small, so defenseless, so pale. But she was alive.
Her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze connected with his, and he struggled to breathe. Dark circles underscored her eyes. The bruise stood out on her cheek. Her hair was a messy splash of color against her white pillow. She still had her arm in the sling. But now bandages covered her chest. Cords ran across the bed like wires at an electrical substation, connecting her to a bank of machines. Black stitches marched across her scalp, trailing a smear of brown antiseptic over one temple. She looked like an alley cat who’d barely survived a brawl with a Rottweiler.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Hi,” she whispered.
His throat suddenly thick, emotions somersaulting inside him, he went to her side. For an endless moment he simply gazed into her eyes, too overcome to speak. There was so much he needed to tell her, so much he had to explain.
He managed to clear his throat. “How are you feeling?”
The corner of her mouth slid up. “Like I’ve been shot. But I’m not in any pain. The drugs are doing their job.”
“Good.” He couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering. He wanted to scoop her up and hold her close, to run away with her to someplace safe.
Like he should have done from the start.
His legs unsteady, he pulled up a chair and sat, cursing his weakened state. He could only imagine how she must feel, despite her insistence that she was fine.
Needing a moment to compose himself, he glanced around the room. “Who sent flowers?”
“My agent. She phoned a while ago.”
“So she’s all right?”
Brynn nodded. “She’s at home now. But she still has the bodyguard. She found out who took that photo, by the way, the one that appeared in the newspaper.”
The photo that had started it all. “Who was it?”
“A reporter. He’d been following her for months, watching everything she did. He saw me meet with her a couple of times and figured it out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. At least Hoffman is dead now. And we found out who killed Tommy.”
Unable to resist, Parker reached out and took her hand, the soft, silky warmth of her skin, the fragile feel of her slender wrist reminding him of how perilously close she’d come to death. He gazed into her eyes, struggling for the words to say, his heart kickboxing in his chest. “God, Brynn. I thought for sure I’d lost you.”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded rough. She squeezed his hand, her luminous eyes on his. He battled back a rush of memories, not wanting to relive the terror of hearing that deadly pop, of seeing her fall to the floor.
“I was scared,” she admitted. “When she pulled out that gun...I didn’t see how we were going to survive.”
They nearly hadn’t. She nearly hadn’t. And it was all his fault.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “I should have figured it out sooner.”
She tightened her grip on his hand. “You couldn’t have known she was involved.”
“I knew something was off when you told me Hoffman was dead. It didn’t make any sense.” But he’d been too slow, his mind too foggy to figure it out. And as a result, Brynn had nearly died.
“What happened to her?” she asked.
“You don’t know?”
She shook her head. “No one’s told me anything yet.”
“She’s dead. Suicide by cop. She knew she couldn’t escape, so she decided to die instead. That’s why she shot you.