Chapter 15
Dane kept his eyes closed against the light. Not because it was particularly bright and not because he was impersonating sleep. It was because light hit him like the mother of all Tasers when he let it in, zinging every molecule with a shot of paralyzing stimulation.
Such was the effect of his concussion. The doctor had explained it in a soft voice that pounded through his head as he listened. He’d had concussions before, but this time—this time he was lucky he still had a head.
Lucky Del was a lousy shot, that Shana had moved into action to stop him, that he’d been moving when Del fired. All of that had allowed the bullet to drill a sizeable groove in the left side of his skull, but it hadn’t penetrated. His brain had been concussed, but it had no holes in it.
With proper care, the doc said, he could recover to normal.
Dane didn’t have the heart—or the wherewithal—to warn the doc that normal had fled to unknown parts long ago.
The dim light and the quiet didn’t bother him. Lying still didn’t test his patience. Hell, if there’d been a lying still marathon he’d be wearing the crown.
It was the isolation. It had been two days since he’d regained consciousness, according to the nurse, although truthfully he’d been shaky on wakefulness and his concept of time passing had been patchy since then.
But now he’d been aware for a while and his mind was walking around, stretching its legs after a long sit-down.
Now he felt the mandatory isolation. Proper care had demanded next to zero environmental stimuli. The nurse appeared like a rare ghost and the doc had been a one-time apparition.
He moved his head one degree to the right to test it. The treatment, such as it was, was working. The pain meandered through his head in a mild ache instead of the explosion of punishment he remembered when he’d first come to.
A different sort of pain coursed through him now like a dull and relentless pounding in his chest, like a desperate man pounding on the door to his cell.
He wanted desperately to lay his eyes on Shana, to see her whole and perfect beauty, make sure she was alive and well no matter that he’d been told that she was fine. He wanted to hold her, feel her comfort, and give her reassurance that he was still with her, still alive and whole.
He strained to hear something, anything. Silence permeated the room until he’d wondered if his hearing was affected. That he’d have welcomed the ticking of an annoying clock was a sure sign his mind had been affected.
It was time to test his voice.
“Nurse.” It sounded normal, causing a mild buzz in his head. No rasp, no weakness.
No response.
He lifted his eyelids a fraction, letting them adjust. His heart rate went up in anticipation of the Taser effect, but none came. He felt the corners of his mouth lift into a smile and decided.
This was the day he was going home.
*****
Shana paced up and down the short hallway outside Dane’s room. Acer sat in the small lounge at one end of the hall. She checked her phone for the time again. Fifteen minutes had lapsed. Ten thirty-eight a.m. She was getting better. She’d started the day by checking every three minutes.
Taking a sip of her coffee, she realized it was a bad idea but didn’t stop herself. Coffee didn’t help her impatience, didn’t calm her wired nerves. The staff had made her go home and sleep last night. They were evil people. They refused to let her see Dane.
But today was the day he would be allowed a short visit. Maybe. They always say maybe, those noncommittal bastards.
When a nurse rushed from behind her desk and fast-walked in her direction, Shana stopped. When the nurse took a right and pushed into Dane’s room, she ran.
“What is it?”
A second nurse right behind her said, “He’s moving around causing havoc with his monitors.”
She burst into Dane’s room and barely stopped herself before running into the first nurse.
When she saw Dane struggling to push himself from his pillows, head bandaged, pain lining his too-white face, she rushed forward. Protocol be damned.
When she reached him, she slowed and pushed him back onto his pillows.
“Shana.”
The sound of his voice, as if he were speaking from a distance in time and space, rocked her and she fell onto his bed and held him. Felt the solidness of him, the beat of his heart against her chest mingling with her own pounding heart.
She wanted to, she tried like hell, damn it, but she couldn’t keep herself from crying. The ache in her chest spread like a hot coil through her at seeing him like this, seeing him hurting, compromised. And worst of all, she couldn’t do anything to make it right.
She let go of him then, pulling from his arms, and stood. She wasn’t helping him by violating the no-stimulation policy. Even if he’d been a willing victim.
One of them needed to be strong and it was up to her to take care of him, the ornery bastard of a patient that he was.
She backed up a step, out of his reach, sniffled once and swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks to wipe away the tears.
He watched her through slitted eyes, one hand still extended in her direction as if waiting for her to come closer.
The nurse came forward, checked the monitor, and spoke softly.
“Mr. Blaise I’ll check with the doctor to see if you’re ready for visitors—”
“I am.” His voice dominated. He didn’t take his limited gaze from her. “Tell the doctor I want to see him. I’m going home today.”
His words were final. Shana’s chest bubbled with glad apprehension. She wanted him home. She wanted him to be ready for home. She closed her eyes and told herself that no matter what the doctor said, if Dane wanted to be ready, he would be.
There was no one with a more dominating will than Dane Blaise. None that she’d ever met and that meant a lot of hotshots, including herself.
The nurse didn’t argue. She took one last check of the monitors, one last gaze at Dane then Shana, and left the room.
*****
When he got back to the beach shack that evening, back home, he made up for lost time with visitors. It was probably overkill and he’d pay the next day, but he was like a thirsty man drowning himself in water. Or he would have been if he weren’t a tough S.O.B.
In spite of the small size of his bedroom—Shana had insisted he stay in bed with the blinds closed against the sunset—it fit several visitors at once.
Acer had dragged a chair to sit at the end of his bed. Cap stood leaning against the dresser. Gable and Penny were in the doorway. Shana must have been in the kitchen doing some hostess-related thing or other.
“You sure you’re up for it?” Cap asked. Dane sighed. He knew Cap was concerned. He also knew Cap enjoyed annoying him. He had that in common with Shana. They were both very brave.
“Don’t make me get out of this bed.”
Cap laughed, but he relented. Dane wanted to know what the hell had happened to Del and his partner Beau. Shana hadn’t known and hadn’t cared, according to her story about accompanying him to the hospital in the back of an ambulance.
“Beaumont is still in the hospital. Unlike you. Being treated for his wounds.”
“He’s soft.”
Cap grunted. Acer nodded agreement. Gable and Penny stood wide-eyed, watching as if seeing a movie being played out on a set.
“Also unlike you, he didn’t have a head wound. When he woke from surgery, he talked. Loud and clear all, about Delbert Parrish and his operation in arms dealing. Drugs were only the front operation.”
“What about Harvey’s murder?”
Cap shifted on his feet. Dane looked at Penny. She had a sad smile of resignation. Another woman might have been hysterical or outraged at losing her husband and her brother. Penny Lake was a tough cookie under her ex-Vegas showgirl exterior.
“Beaumont was there at the motel room and helped to search the place and rough him up.” Cap paused to glance at Penny with an apologetic look. Penny blinked, but remained calm.
“He says Del did all the talking, gave all the orders, and then shot Harvey up with an elephant-size dose of heroin to kill him. Del’s claiming the opposite. That Beau was responsible for killing Harvey and that he never told him to kill his own brother-in-law.”
“What was Beau’s explanation for being there?”
“He said Harvey invited him and we believe him. After that we don’t believe a word he’s saying. He has good attorneys and they’re likely to get him a deal.”
Penny spoke up then. “He’ll end up doing time in prison.” It was like she was trying to convince herself that this was a bad dream but she couldn’t quite believe it.
“He will. Probably a lot of years. I’m told the prosecutor on the case wants a jury trial and the max for the corruption charges.”
“What about Pratt?”
Cap shrugged. “They’re still trying to sort out who he is and what he was involved in. Turns out he wasn’t an ATF agent when I checked, but he had been a few years back and got let go.”
“He played a role in the kidnapping,” Dane reminded Cap.
“He’d been below watching these two,” Cap said, gesturing to Gable and Penny. “We thought we would find them tied up but they weren’t.”
“We heard gunshots and were too damned scared to go anywhere,” Gable said.
“Too smart,” Penny said.
“Pratt came up to the salon after we got there and when he saw what was going on he tried to escape. He managed to get off The Winner and was taking off in a small motorboat when one of my men spotted him.”
“Vendi gave chase in a forty-seven?” Dane guessed.
Cap nodded.
Poor sucker didn’t have a chance. Pratt was lucky his dinghy didn’t get run down or capsized by Vendi’s forty-seven-foot Coast Guard cutter. Or maybe it had. Dane didn’t bother asking. Pratt hadn’t gotten away.
Shana came to the doorway then, forcing Gable and Penny inside the room. Everyone shifted until there was a ring of people surrounding him. Shana stayed in the door and moved aside to let the governor step in.