Chapter Five – The Search
After putting in his required Saturday hours at the dealership and closing the deal Philippe failed to do the prior evening, Donovan went back to Ettore's apartment. He decided he would make an appearance at the club again since he knew Taylor would be there.
She had been on his mind most of the day, if not all day. The accounting office was closed on Saturday, so there was no opportunity to see her. He had tried calling, but the answering machine picked up. He didn't bother leaving a message; she would just take it as though he was pressuring her more.
He wanted to see her; he realized that after hours of agonizing over her perception of him. Why he was so determined to win her over had him baffled. He could have prodded her last night for information. In her drunken state, she probably would have told him everything she knew about Creswell. Instead, he was making foolish mistakes, such as going after the woman for more than just milking her for information. He would have had Jake's hide by now if he had pulled any of the crap he was pulling. He had to wonder what his motivation was.
He was damned attracted to Taylor, which surprised the hell right out of him. It wasn't just physical need and he wouldn't bother to waste his time lying about it. It hadn't been all that long since he had last taken a woman to his bed. He wasn't in a serious relationship, nor had he been in one for some time, but he had plenty of casual relationships to satisfy his urges.
He was at a loss. He was not acting like a trained Agent going after an objective. It was more like a man wooing a woman. Was he that weak? Had he been out of action so long he had lost touch with what was most important? She's not important? Remember that when you see the hurt in her eyes again. Harden yourself against that, you prick.
He shook his head and lay down on his bed. He willed the world away so that he might get a few hours sleep before he headed out to the club…and Taylor.
~*~
"She's not here!" Dave yelled across the bar.
"No?" Donovan asked, perplexed. He was about to search out her friends on the dance floor when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Hey, Ettore," Tammy-Lynn greeted. "Looking for Taylor?"
"Salve! [Hello] Yes, I am. The bartender said she is not here."
"Hospital," she yelled as she was grabbed by the arm and pulled toward the dance floor.
"She's in the hospital? What happened?" He yelled back, but only received a shrug as Tammy-Lynn disappeared into the crowd. Taylor was in the hospital?
"Try Savannah Memorial," Dave offered. "That's what Melanie said when they first arrived."
"Molte grazie."
He made his way to Savannah Memorial, all the while having a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was slightly surprised to discover he was worried about her as his mind raced with the hundreds of possible things that could have happened to her.
"Has Taylor Kinney been admitted," he asked the clerk as he stepped up to the admissions desk.
After checking admissions, she said, "No. No one by that name has been admitted. You might try ER." She pointed to her left as she turned her attention back to her paperwork.
"Grazie."
He checked with the Emergency Room attendant and looked around the waiting area without any luck. He was just about to give up and go back to the hotel to check in with his team when he heard her voice. He turned in her direction and saw her walking down the hall next to a doctor. His worry drifted away when he realized she was not ill or injured. He was also glad to see she had not donned those thick glasses that hid her pretty face and eyes. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and she looked comfortable in jeans and a lavender sweater.
"Thank you, Mark," he heard her say.
"Don't thank me yet, Taylor. You know how I feel about this," he admonished softly.
Donovan's stomach soured just a bit at the sight of the doctor pressing an innocent kiss to her cheek. What in the hell is wrong with you? he thought and wondered what exactly was between Taylor and this doctor.
"I know. I'll work on it." She smiled sweetly. "Promise."
"You better."
Taylor turned away from Mark and the sight of Ettore Sansone standing before her nearly caused her to have a heart attack. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him in his tight jeans and button down shirt that was left untucked. After she regained her senses, her suspicion kicked in. "Are you stalking me?" she asked incredulously.
"No! Tammy-Lynn said you were in the hospital," he explained earnestly. "I wanted to make sure you're okay."
Taylor shook her head. She was touched by his obvious thoughtfulness, but at the same time, irritated. She waved a hand toward the door, urging him in that direction. The last thing she wanted was to have her personal business discussed in front of the people in the busy Emergency Room. Once outside, she turned to him. "Now…why are you here?"
"Tammy-Lynn…"
Taylor snorted a bit. "I love her to death, but Tammy-Lynn is a ditz."
He watched as she walked off without another word. He had to hurry to catch up to her. "That's it? That's all you've got to say to me?"
"Look," she said irritably and stopped to talk to him. "I really need to go. There's something I have to do."
"Fine. Let me drive you," he suggested as she began walking again.
"No," she answered without missing a step.
"Taylor, don't be like this…"
"Give me a break," she snapped. "I don't know you from Adam and you think you deserve to be included in my private life? Who do you think you are?"
Frank Donovan, prick extraordinaire. "Someone who wants to know you. Someone who wants you to know him." Not the real me, of course. Wouldn't that just send her running for the hills?
Taylor laughed sarcastically. "You know all the right words, Ettore." She moved back to his side. "Very well. You win this round. I would appreciate the ride; it will save a lot of time."
"This way," he said, smiling as he placed a hand to the small of her back, urging her forward. "Where are we going?"
Taylor directed him toward the Riverwalk and a seemingly abandoned warehouse. He voiced his concern at being in such a place at such a late hour, but she just waved it off and pulled a small ring of keys from her purse. She looked over at him briefly before she unlocked the front door and switched on an overhead light. After locking the door behind them, she headed to the far side of the warehouse and climbed a small flight of stairs.
He was extremely curious as to what she was up to and why, but he could do nothing but wait for her to explain. He watched in silence as she threw up her hands in exasperation when she came upon what appeared to be someone's living quarters. It contained a small coffee table, a worn mattress with a few blankets scattered about, a wooden chair, and two lamps.
"Damn it!" she exclaimed, obviously upset.
"What's wrong?"
"He's not here," she explained elusively. Shaking her head, she turned to leave. "I don't know why I'm surprised. I asked him to stay put; I should have known better."
"Who?" Donovan asked, his confusion apparent.
"Can you take me home? It's the only place he could have gone."
He nodded and followed her as she headed back down the stairs. He knew exactly to whom she referred. He couldn't voice that out loud. It wouldn't look good for him to admit to knowing more about her than she had revealed to him. "Are you going to tell me or keep me in the dark?"
Taylor hurried to the car and slid into the passenger side, waiting for Ettore to climb behind the wheel before answering. She wasn't exactly sure how to explain, or if she even wanted to try. "It's complicated and will probably seem very strange to you."
"Le me be the judge, per favore."
She nodded and lapsed into a thoughtful silence although she knew he was waiting for an answer. In all the time he had spent trying to get her to speak to him at the club, the dealership, or even her apartment, he had barely said two words about himself. He was unlike any other salesman she had ever had the misfortune to know. It was in their genetic makeup to think only of themselves. If he were true to his nature, he would be going on and on about himself. She found it a bit unsettling, if not a welcome change from other men she had known. Uncaring that she was changing the subject completely and abruptly, she turned to him and said, "Ettore, tell me something about yourself. I assume you're from Italy, but you haven't talked about yourself once since I've known you."
Frank chuckled. "It's not as though you've given me much of a chance."
She smiled and nodded. "Yes, point taken. Tell me something…anything."
Donovan was a bit surprised by her sudden change of subject, but he wasn't about to object. She would tell him what or whom she was chasing soon enough. He smiled easily and went over his alias' background. "My mother is Italian and my father is American. He was stationed overseas in the Air Force when he met her. Instead of returning home, he stayed on and settled in Messina."
Taylor closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat as she listened to him talk about his family and his life growing up in a cozy fisherman's cottage. He told her that, although he had a wonderful childhood, when his parents passed away a few years ago, he decided he wanted to do some traveling. That was how he wound up in the United States and currently in Savannah, Georgia.
"Thank you for sharing that with me," she said, opening her eyes as the vehicle came to a stop. "And thank you for bringing me home."
He exited the car as quickly as she did.
He was still determined to find out what she had been up to at the
hospital. "Taylor…what's going on with you?"
"Nothing…" she said absently as she focused her attention about a block down the street.
Donovan's attention also turned in that direction. He easily spotted the lone figure sitting on the bench outside the cemetery. "Taylor?" he called softly as she moved off toward the man.
She shook her head, but otherwise did not acknowledge him. He followed her quietly as she walked down the quiet and darkened street and kept off to the side as Taylor sat down beside Bubo.
"Bubo…"
A tired whistle sounded.
"I spoke to Doctor Mark today after he came to see you. He said you didn't eat your supper, and that he's afraid your cold has turned into bronchitis." She reached out and touched his forehead. "You're burning up, Bubo…you can't stay out in the night's air."
He shook his head slightly and emitted a fury of clicks.
"Don't argue with me. It gets too chilly and if you're not careful, you'll develop pneumonia." She stood and offered him her hand. "You're coming home with me. We've got to get that fever down and Doctor Mark gave me some medicine for you."
Donovan thought taking a down-and-out man into her home for the evening was a bad idea. He was about to voice that opinion when Bubo clasped onto Taylor's hand and stood. Donovan immediately noticed how pale the man was, making him look older than he probably was. As far as Donovan could ascertain, Bubo appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties.
"Taylor…"
"It's okay, Ettore. Trust me," she said as if she was reading his troubled thoughts. "It's more important now to get Bubo inside, cleaned up, and in a warm bed," she insisted.
"Really, I think this is a bad idea," he protested.
"Help me, Ettore," she asked softly. "I'll be indebted to you."
Frank shook his head. "I will help you, but please do not feel you owe me." He put an arm around Bubo for support and helped the older man walk to Taylor's house.
…to be continued.