MAKING UP
Larkin awoke well after sunrise when a wisecracking nurse came in to take her vitals and draw yet more blood. She had no idea why they wanted to take so much damn blood from her. The only good thing they had done for her this morning was to take the IV line out. Today, they intended to feed her real food, but she didn't know if she had an appetite. It was then that she noticed Donovan's absence in the room. He had stayed with her last night, sleeping in the recliner bed thing in the corner of the room. She reasoned that he had either gone home for a while or went to the cafeteria. Although she was certain he needed the room and the breathing space, she was disappointed not to see his face the first thing. There was so much shit they needed to work through and talk about, but she wasn't quite ready. Her neck and head hurt like a mother and all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. Sleep and forget. Forget and sleep. When the nurse was gone for a few minutes, the door opened again. God, no more blood, please. I'll bet I don't have a quart left in me. Instead of a member of the hospital staff, it was Donovan. The poor guy looked like shit. He had a day's growth of beard on his face and dark circles under his eyes. He probably hadn't slept in his own bed in a couple of days. Donovan said nothing to her. Instead, he moved back over to the recliner and sat down. They hadn't spoken much since last night because neither of them really knew what to say to the other. For weeks, for months, they'd dreamed of the day Larkin finally transferred. However, they never thought it would turn out this way. She wasn't looking at him, but she could feel his eyes on her, wondering when she would focus her eyes on him.
Sensing that Larkin had no intention of speaking to him right away, he decided to touch upon something else eating at him, something that he needed to ask last night. "Selena, did you see who rammed into you?"
She finally looked up at him. "I didn't see him that well. It was a young man, but I couldn't tell you what he looked like."
"A young man," he said, the words tweaking him, pricking him like a thousand needles. He immediately thought of Devere's 'brother.' Why would they target Larkin…unless they thought it was he in the car? Why go to such an extreme? He held his tongue and didn't mention Devere's name. It would only bring up the pain and he had no intention of hurting her again. "I'll find him."
He saw the look in her eyes. The question 'how' was clearly written in them. He had begun to elaborate further when the door came open again. When Larkin saw that it was a nurse, she groaned again, thinking that she had come for more blood or tests. Instead, she asked for Donovan, and he nodded briefly. Curiously, she watched as he left the room and stepped out in the hall. If her damn neck wasn't killing her, she would have climbed out of bed to find out what the hell they were talking about, but she really had no energy for that anyway. She was halfway tempted to go back to sleep, but she couldn't do that either. She worked the bed up as far as she could stand it. After that, she carefully swung her legs over the bed, sending a jolt of pain into her neck that traveled down to her bruised ribs and cramping stomach. Taking a deep breath, she planted her bare feet on the cold floor. Goddamn, everything hurts so fucking much. Her door was cracked open just the slightest and if she could make it up there, she might be able to hear what Donovan was discussing with the nurse. She didn't understand why he would be discussing her or her treatment. She didn't think something like that was necessary. When she reached the door, she could hear Donovan's voice, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Jane, why the hell do you care so much what he and that nurse are talking about? Do you think they're discussing you? She began to back up when she heard the mumbling voices dying out. Any moment now, he'd come back to her room. She thought she might have a chance to make it back to the bed before he reentered. However, she didn't.
Donovan entered and saw that Larkin was standing almost in the middle of the room, heading toward her bed. Had she been trying to listen? It wasn't something he was ready to discuss with her yet, but it didn't fail to cross his mind that she probably inherently knew what was going on anyway. "Selena? What are you doing?"
"I had to get up and move around," she said. She approached the bed and slid back onto it with the same slow, careful movements. She was in a lot of pain, but she didn't want to show it in front of him. She noticed that Donovan hadn't moved any further into the room. "What were you talking about with that nurse," she asked. "She came for you and I heard your voices. What's going on?"
Sighing, Donovan moved over to the chair that he had parked close to her bedside. He sat down and crossed his legs. He wanted to tell her, but was it too soon? He remembered her tears last night and the way she had begged him not to mention anything about their fight. What he had discussed with the nurse was directly related to it. It was information she needed; it was something he needed to share with her. "It's nothing," he finally said. "It can wait for a few days."
"No it can't," she said stubbornly. "Tell me."
Donovan sighed again and ran his hands over his face. He didn't want to utter the name in her presence so soon, but she was pressing, and she did need to be told. He focused his eyes on her face and said, "Before you came, I requested a drug test and it was scheduled when the accident occurred. Last night, I asked the hospital to do it. The nurse came by to give me the results. I didn't want to tell you because of your wish to wait. They found benzos, Selena."
Larkin leaned back a little and took her eyes off his face. He hadn't lied. Devere drugged him. If she drugged him, then perhaps she never fucked him, either. Again, she felt the overwhelming sensation of experiencing too much at once. Her mind had begun to spin. Why had everything gotten so screwed up so fast? Why would Devere fuck around with him like that? She could only deal with those little pieces. She couldn't yet deal with the miscarriage, and would probably hide from it as long as she could. Her shattered heart ached with the knowledge that he hadn't lied to her, but the hurt was still there. Grimacing again, she turned onto her side, her back facing him. Right at that moment, she didn't know how she felt or what she should do. She longed to have Donovan crawl in behind her again, but at the same time, she didn't want him to touch her. What the hell was happening to her? Was she losing her mind? The man she loved sat no further than a foot away from her, he had not cheated on her, but she still couldn't reach out and bridge the gap. God. Why did she suddenly feel so worthless? She wanted to ask Donovan to leave, but she didn't. She knew he could sense she wanted him to go, but he didn't budge, and she would never forget that.
* * *
Bailey Devere was in bed, but as usual, she was not alone. Beside her slept her brother, Beau. He had passed out just seconds after coming all over her. He was no more than eighteen or nineteen years old, but could be an amorous and vigorous lover. However, he had fucked up big. She recalled screaming at him at the top of her lungs for running the wrong person off the road. It mattered little to her that it was the putrid girlfriend, but she had wanted it to be Donovan. Beau had groaned and whined for more than an hour, pleading with her not to kick him out. She had relented and then slept with the pathetic little fuck. Yet, he was becoming useless to her now. He had helped get her the drugs she'd slipped to Donovan and she had no more fucked him than she had fucked the girlfriend. Sooner or later, she'd have to take Beau out and dump his body somewhere. Having too many assistants wasn't a good idea. She laughed a little when she thought about what she had done to the man. It was fun playing with his head. The devastation on his face was beautiful, something she would have liked to have saved on film. He was effectively ruined now, with his girlfriend and himself. She wasn't finished yet. She stretched and ran her hands through her hair. She made a face when she realized that her roots were beginning to show. It was almost time for another dye job.
Unable to sleep now, she left the bed and approached her vanity. She brushed her short hair back from her face and grimaced when she fixed her eyes on her mutilated ear. No amount of plastic surgeries had fixed it. If either Martel or Larkin saw her ear, they would immediately know Bailey Devere was, in fact, Kira Grant. There was little else she could do right now. Larkin was in the hospital and Martel would not leave her side unless he was pressed to do so. There were some issues she had to take care of, because Martel wasn't an idiot. How long would it take him to suspect he had been drugged? A simple drug test would show the dope that she had popped into the wine bottle. She was running out of time to do what she needed to, but the unexpected hospital thing had thwarted her plans a little, made them more difficult. She turned around in her chair and made a face at the little fucker in her bed. For a moment, she had honestly forgotten what his name was. Her memory wasn't up to par yet, so she continued to call him Beau, and he didn't seem to mind. Of course, she was giving him a daily piece of ass, and there wasn't much he'd complain about. When he awoke, she would take the kid with her, drug him, and eliminate him once and for all. Grant sat completely still for a moment, her mind blanking out on her, a buzzing noise filling her head. For several minutes, she didn't move or blink. When she came around, she shook her head slowly. Who had she been thinking about? What was it now? Martel. Franklin Chase Martel. Grant, you are losing your fucking mind.
* * *
Ellen Landry-Cole sat in her office dazed and silent. She had received a few other calls from her cousin. She wasn't sure if Kira had even remembered them, because she would repeat the same information over and over again. Kira wasn't focused and seemed a little…insane. She rambled incessantly about Martel and the things she wanted to do to him. It had gotten to the point where Elle was scared shitless. She knew she should have tried to find Martel after the first phone call, but she hadn't wanted to get embroiled in whatever her cousin was trying to do. One close call was enough for her. Elle had poked around a little since Kira had been contacting her, and there didn't seem to be any information about Martel anywhere. It was as if all his records had been deleted. If she could find him, she would warn him. The only person who would know Martel's location was Dubois, the former CIA director. He was stuck somewhere in a federal prison in D.C., and it wouldn't be difficult to visit him, not with her title. All she had to do was tell the VP she needed some vital information from him, and a visit would be granted without question.
* * *
Grumbling, Grant entered her apartment and took off her trench coat. Her blouse was streaked with the little fucker's blood. When she stabbed him, he had bled like a fucking pig. Thank God she hadn't done it in the car. The place where she'd taken him was fairly remote and the police wouldn't immediately find him. However, if she didn't get rid of the fucking blood evidence all over her damn blouse, her game would end quickly. She stripped out of the blouse and carried it over to the sink. She dug out a pair of scissors and began cutting up the blouse in small strips. She fed each of them down the garbage disposal, hoping that it didn't clog the damn thing. Whatever would she tell the landlord if her disposal got jammed? Sorry, sir, but I was trying to feed it my blood soaked blouse. Where did the blood come from? Oh, sir, it came from the little boy I've been fucking. I slit his throat. You should have seen the blood! Shaking it off, she breathed a sigh of relief as the disposal ate it piece by piece. When her task was complete, she shoved the trench coat into the trash. There was probably blood on it, too, but it was black and it wouldn't show quite as vividly. There was still blood streaking her body at various spots. It was time to take a shower and to begin plotting out her final plans for the putrid couple.
* * *
Several people came to visit Larkin, including her family again, and the members of the team. Donovan stayed pretty much on the periphery, attempting to leave when her family entered, but they wanted him to stay. Her family was nice enough, but he still felt awkward around them. There had been too much stress and tension for him to feel comfortable. He wasn't sure how much they knew, but from the look on Larkin's face, she hadn't told them anything. She smiled a lot and acted as if she was happy to see everyone, but he noted that the smile never really touched her eyes. She was still so very sad and hurt. It broke Donovan's heart a little to see that look in her eyes and he had difficulty watching her. He had gotten up at one point and went to the window. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Devere and what she had done to him. It seemed a bit out of the ordinary for her to go to such extreme lengths to hurt him and Larkin simply because of jealousy or even obsession. Devere was weird, but she wasn't obsessive at all. Grant? Is it Grant? The thought wouldn't go away, it kept eating at him, digging persistently. However, she was dead. There was no way the woman could come back from the grave and wreak havoc. It was insane. Was Devere somehow tied to Grant? He sighed a little. Nothing made sense anymore. As soon as he and Larkin had had the time they needed to work through this shit, he intended to confront the bitch. He had sent Jake and Alex several times to the apartment, but she never answered her door. It was time for him to face off with her and if he had to, drag her ass up to the hospital, and make her confess as to what she had done. If he had to, he'd bring her kicking and screaming. He would not allow this bitch to ruin his relationship with Larkin, not after almost ten months. Damn you, Devere, what the fuck is your connection?
"Frank?"
Donovan turned at the sound of Larkin's voice calling his name. They were in the room alone. He hadn't realized that her visitors had left her. He hadn't heard a soul leaving. He'd been lost in an enraged fog. Quietly, he walked over and grabbed a chair, pulling it up against her bedside. "I'm sorry, I have a lot on my mind. I'll apologize to your family the next time they visit."
She shook her head. "No," she said, "You don't have to apologize. They were focused on me and they worry excessively. It's that baby of the family only girl child thing. I know you have a lot on your mind, because it's probably in mine as well. It's the same kind of stuff." She looked down at her broken fingers before settling her eyes on his face again. "I want to apologize, but I really don't know what I'd be apologizing for, other than those awful words I said to you, and the fact that I flew off the handle without listening to you. But I feel like there's more I need to say, more I need to ask of you."
"Selena, you don't have to apologize for anything. I can't say I would have handled the situation any differently than you did," he said.
"When I sleep, I think about it, about everything that happened in that tiny space of time. I think of things I could have done differently, things I could have said. I ran away when I could have faced you, but I didn't…didn't know what else to do. I think about all those 'what ifs.' What if I'd stayed? There would have been no accident, no pain, and no hospital. If I'd stayed, there wouldn't have been a miscarriage. I don't know how you feel about that, but I would have been thrilled. I would have been…" She couldn't say anything else. Her words died in her throat and she buried her face in her hands.
He again wasn't sure how she would react to him, but he didn't think about it. Instead, he touched her arm and she immediately removed her hands. She wasn't yet crying, but she read what he wanted to do just by the look in his eyes. She moved slightly to accommodate Donovan's body. He sat beside her, drew her close, nearly cradling her in his arms [ever mindful of her injuries]. "No, Selena, don't think like that. Don't try to put all this on your shoulders. There is no blame here. The thought of you having my baby is one I cannot describe with mere words. Nothing I could say or do would ever touch it or come close. If you'll stay with me, give me another chance, we can take that step again whenever you're ready."
She closed her eyes tightly. "There was never a question of staying with you or giving you another chance. I love you, Frank. I just wish it could all be taken back. All of it…everything."
"Whatever happened has happened and it can't be changed. There's always tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. Whoever hurt you will have to watch his back every day of his life. He will never do it again."
* * *
The next day, Donovan went to the nest to find out if Cody had uncovered any information regarding witnesses to the accident. There were a few, but most of them had only seen a dark car without tags. No one had seen who was driving the vehicle. He was irritated to say the least, but not surprised. He then went by his apartment and banged on Devere's door for a good five minutes, but she never answered. He stood at her door and scribbled a note. He slid it under the door and went back to the nest. Larkin was due out of the hospital at the end of the week, and he wanted the situation straightened out with Devere before she moved in. He had no doubt that Devere and her weird ass brother were behind the wreck. He couldn't prove it, but deep inside his heart, he knew. When he left his apartment, he went by the coffee shop on a whim. He growled in anger when he saw the 'closed' sign. Below that was one that said 'for sale.' Goddamn her, she's trying to split.
____________________
To be continued…