Chapter 21
Jules resumed her spot on the couch, and Asher chose one of the armchairs across from her.
He placed the platter of baklava on the coffee table. “You may not have any room left for this,” he joked, motioning toward the remaining ice cream that was quickly turning to soup.
She chuckled lightly as she touched her stomach. “I can probably make a little more room to try one.” It was then that she realized the TV was on. She reached for the remote and clicked it off, suddenly regretting the action. The quiet would only heighten the awkwardness of this situation.
“You look like you’re getting around better than you were the last time I saw you.”
“I’m doing good. Been up and around.”
“How’s the pain?”
She arched a brow. “Going into doctor mode, huh?”
He smiled. “Occupational hazard, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve mostly just been taking ibuprofen. Maybe the occasional Tylenol here and there if I overdo it. I didn’t stay on the stronger meds long.”
“That’s smart. Better safe than sorry.”
He shifted in his seat as if he’d suddenly grown uncomfortable. “So … how are things with Brock?”
“Good. He had to head back to Coronado Island.” Geez, it was awkward having Asher here. She hoped he wouldn’t stay long. He’d been easy to talk to at the cooking class, but that was when they were surrounded by people. This evening, with just the two of them. Well, it was strange.
“Oh. That’s where he lives?”
She nodded.
“It must be hard to have a long-distance relationship.”
“We’re figuring it out,” she said evasively.
Thankfully, he picked up on her reticence to discuss her relationship with Brock any further and changed the subject. “Where’s Nikki?”
“She flew out this morning to cover an assignment in the Maldives. She’s a travel writer.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“Nikki thinks so. I’m more of a homegirl myself.”
“Not a bad thing.”
“I agree.”
More awkward silence.
He folded his hands in his lap. “Are you looking forward to the next cooking class on Wednesday? Round two.”
She moistened her lips. “Actually, I don’t think I’ll go again.”
“Really?” He dipped his head in surprise. “I thought you enjoyed it.”
“I did,” she said quickly.
He flashed her a disarming smile. “Was it because of your inept partner?”
“Not at all. Truthfully, the class was more Nikki’s thing.” Briefly, she wondered if she should confront him about how he’d signed up for the cooking class after learning that she was enrolled. But as she watched him sitting there, polite and composed, she decided to let it go. Some things were better left unsaid.
She’d thought the two of them had reached an understanding the last time they saw each other at the clinic. He apologized for how shocked he’d been to see her with Brock. She got the impression that Asher had accepted the fact that she was with Brock. Was he here as a friend? She certainly hoped so. Asher was the type of guy who had women falling all over him. Surely, this wouldn’t turn into another Dean situation where he kept lurking around.
She tried to figure out what to say. Work was always a good topic. “How are things at the clinic?”
“Much better. Everyone’s relieved now that the whole Steve Randall situation is finally behind us.”
“I’m so glad,” she breathed. No truer words had ever been spoken. She was so grateful that she’d survived the harrowing experience and could now move on with her life.
He leaned forward and peeled back the plastic wrap from the platter. “Here—try one.” He handed her a golden square of baklava, then took one for himself.
She accepted it with a smile, balancing it in one hand while holding her other hand underneath to catch the crumbs. “Do I dare?” she joked.
He laughed. “Eat at your own risk.”
She took a generous bite. The crust was light and flaky, the sweetness of the syrup lingering on her tongue.
“What do you think? Be honest, I can take it.”
She took another bite. On second thought, the syrup tasted off—the slightest hint of bitterness lurking beneath the sweetness of the honey. Of course, she couldn’t say that. She didn’t want to be critical.
“So …” he prompted.
“A little different than what we made in class, but very tasty.”
“I’m glad you like it. I added my own touch,” he said with a pleased grin.
“It’s good. Rich.”
“Eat up,” he encouraged, digging into his square.
Her stomach turned, reminding her that she’d already downed three-quarters of a pint of ice cream. She couldn’t take another bite. She held it for several minutes before placing the uneaten portion into the ice cream container. “Sorry,” she said with a sheepish grin. “I only had room for a couple of bites.”
He motioned at the platter. “You can eat the rest later.”
“I will,” she assured him.
They chatted for another ten or fifteen minutes. Mostly, it was Asher talking about the cooking class and her listening. The conversation drifted to a funny story about Dr. Caldwell and how he once lost his temper on the golf course and then tossed his bag of clubs into a nearby lake.
She wasn’t sure when something shifted, only that something was off.
A few minutes later, dizziness swam before her eyes, and a fog settled over her brain.
“I’m not feeling so great,” she said, blinking. Her limbs felt heavy all of a sudden.
He eyed her in sympathy. “You’ve been through a lot. Maybe you’re just tired.”
“Yeah … probably.” Even as she spoke, her voice sounded distant—like it was coming from the bottom of a swimming pool.
He sat back in his seat, thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking about what Mindy said at your party.”
“What was that?” She took in a long breath, trying to clear away the fog from her brain. The oxygen helped her to feel a little better. Relief swept over her. Maybe Asher was right. She was tired—emotionally and physically—from everything that she’d been through. And it had been grueling to see Brock go. She needed to get some rest. That would help tremendously.
“Alyssa’s death hit me hard.” His voice was low and ponderous. “Particularly hard.”
Jules tried to sit up straighter, but her arms felt like they were filled with sand. “I didn’t realize that the two of you were close.” She tried to stave off the quiet panic seeping through her.
“Oh, yes. Very close.” He paused. “In fact, she was carrying my child.”
Jules gasped as alarm bells screamed in her mind. Asher’s impromptu visit, the baklava, the dizziness, her foggy brain. It was all connected.
His face morphed into something hard. “You took her and the baby from me.”
The walls started closing in. “You were the boyfriend,” she uttered hoarsely. She looked at the baklava, the horror of the situation overtaking her. “You drugged me.”
“Midazolam,” he answered smoothly. “I wasn’t sure if two bites would be enough to have an effect. But since you haven’t been taking any sedatives or narcotics recently, you don’t have as much tolerance. And the sugar from the baklava and ice cream helped amplify the drug.”
Groaning, she reached for her phone, but he leaned forward and slid it out of her reach.
The dizziness worsened, followed by nausea. This was an eerie repeat of what happened with Steve Randall. Except this time, Brock and Luke weren’t waiting outside to save her.
She was alone.
She tried to rise, but her body refused. “Why?” she croaked. Her throat closed. She coughed and gulped in a scoop of air, hoping it would help to clear her head. “Why are you doing this?” It was getting harder to breathe. A suffocating panic covered her as a prayer went through her mind. Please. Help me.
Resentment darkened his handsome face. “I loved her.” His voice broke. “I would’ve given Alyssa everything. But she left … because of you.”
Tears pricked at Jules’s eyes as she fought against the weariness pressing around her. “Alyssa said she met someone through a dating app.”
He grunted. “It was Alyssa’s idea to keep our relationship on the down low. Not mine. She was afraid that everyone at the clinic would think less of her if they knew we were together.”
“You broke off your engagement with Claire for Alyssa. That’s why Claire was so devastated.”
Her phone buzzed. If only she could get to it.
In a quick movement, he pressed the side button to silence it. Then he rushed on with his accusation as if the phone hadn’t even rung. “And then you ripped her away.” His voice took on a ragged edge. “Alyssa and I had an argument the night before. I called her early the next morning as I was getting ready for work, but she said it was over and that she was leaving.” A smug smile tilted his lips. “I put a tracking device on her phone so I could tell where she was going.”
Jules looked at Asher through the haziness of her brain. Behind his good looks and polished demeanor lurked a monster. Brock was right. There was something off about Asher Winslow. Why had she not listened?
“I followed Alyssa … tried to flag her down.” He choked out a sob. “She went off the ravine trying to get away from me.”
Jules’s heart twisted. “You killed her.”
“It was an accident,” he shouted as the veins in his neck writhed. “Enough of this.” He stood and came towards her. She noticed his gait and the slight drag of his left foot, the familiarity of his brown, soft-leather shoes. Everything snapped into place. The night of the cooking class, Asher had told her about damaging his ankle. She’d known there was something she was supposed to glean from the nightmares, but she could never pinpoint what it was. Why couldn’t she have connected the dots sooner? Before it was too late.
“Steve Randall didn’t ram his car into mine. It was you.”
He smirked. “I knew everyone would think it was Randall because of the timing. Worked out nicely.” He frowned. “It was just too bad that the ambulance showed up when it did. Otherwise, this would’ve already been over. No worries,” he said practically. “I’m about to even the score.” He loomed over her.
What was he going to do? Strangle her with his bare hands?
He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a syringe. It contained a milky-white liquid.
“Propofol,” she squeaked. He was a doctor. He’d drugged her. Of course he would go this route.
“You certainly know your meds,” he said with a dry chuckle. He uncapped the syringe slowly as if savoring the moment. “You might remember that I waited until dark to get here so your neighbors would be none the wiser. I spotted the cameras on the front porch. After you drift off to Neverland, I’ll take a look at your security system and will remove any trace of my visit. No one will ever know that I was here. Everyone will think you died of an overdose. A nurse recovering from surgery.” He shrugged. “It happens.”
Tears blurred Jules’s vision. “Please don’t.” She knew she should try to fight, but she was trapped in a body that was too sluggish to cooperate.
“I like you, Jules. I really do. You’re smart, beautiful, and fun to talk to. For a moment there, I thought I might actually fall for you. That we could put the past behind us and move forward.” Anger masked his face. “But you chose someone else. Pity.”
He sat down beside her and pointed the needle at her skin.
“Don’t,” she moaned.
“Time to rest now.”
She heard the front door burst open. And then came the pop of a gun. Asher’s body jerked before he slumped to the floor.
Brock rushed to her side. “Jules,” he shouted, slapping her cheek. “Wake up.” “You’re here,” she murmured groggily. He’d done the impossible and come for her. How? How did he know she was in trouble?
“I’m here.”
Before he could say more, Asher rose from the floor and jabbed the syringe into Brock’s arm.
Brock flinched. “What the—?” He jerked the needle out of his arm and threw it down.
Asher fell back to the floor.
“Oh my gosh,” Jules gasped. Her foggy mind roared back to life as adrenaline surged.
“What’s h—happening?” Brock slurred as he stumbled and collapsed onto the couch, where he slumped against her.
“No, no, no.” Jules fought through the haze. “Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes. “Brock,” she screeched. Exerting all of her effort, she raised her hand and tapped his face. “Please, stay with me.”
Luke rushed into the room. When he saw Asher on the floor and then Brock, his eyes went wide with panic. “What the—what happened? I parked the car and told Brock to wait for me so I could help.”
“No time,” Jules rasped. “Call 911. Now!” She forced her tongue into action. “You need to get Brock on his side. He’s been injected with propofol. We have to keep him breathing.”
Luke pulled out his phone and called.
Jules, still dizzy and disoriented, tried to hold on with everything she had.
She could only hope and pray that Brock would do the same.