Chapter Two - Lost Souls
Luka stormed from the Windbreaker, the bar's other patrons parting in the wake of his fury. He stepped outside and the frigid night air assaulted him like the fists he'd just delivered. He lifted his hand, his lips tightening. Two of his knuckles were bleeding, the others bruised. He brushed the blood away and stalked down the street, his anger lending length and speed to his steps.
Had he ever been this angry? If so, it was impossible to remember when.
The day had started out normal, or at least as normal as it could get when you worked in a busy emergency room. He'd returned to Chicago after an interminably long but uneventful flight, and as soon as he was through his door he'd crashed on the couch. A few short hours later he'd picked up the phone and answered Kerry's plea to come in and help.
He'd been glad to get there and see Abby. There was a piece of his heart only she could fill, and even though they weren't together anymore, being near her helped ease the lonely ache inside him. Their breakup hadn't erased his feelings for her; he wanted her back, wanted a second chance, he just didn't know how to make it happen. He didn't know how to make up for everything that had gone wrong.
He'd seen a new side of her today with Joyce. The gentle, compassionate nurse had been there, but she'd been joined by another Abby. This new side of her was tough, determined. She'd steamrolled through Joyce's fearful reluctance and made the woman see how dangerous it was to remain in a relationship with a violent man like Brian. And then, when she had Joyce's attention, she gentled her voice and stayed at her side until a counselor came from the shelter to give her a ride.
His respect for Abby had grown immensely that afternoon. He'd seen her in a new light, and he'd wanted her all the more after seeing that protective side.
She'd gone home after Joyce left for the shelter, and he'd thought everything was fine. Until they got the call that stopped his heart.
Abby. Assaulted. Loss of consciousness. Paramedics on the way.
His world had narrowed to those few quick, disturbing words. He dropped all pretense of seeing other patients and hurried to the ambulance bay. The ten minutes it took the ambulance to arrive were some of the most nerve- racking of his life. He'd paced back and forth, wringing his hands and muttering Croatian curses under his breath. He hadn't been able to stop the furious flow of questions through his mind. What exactly had happened? When? Where? Who had done it? How badly was she hurt? Was she going to be okay?
She has to be okay, he'd repeated over and over again.
His heart had stuttered when he heard the ambulance's siren down the street. He'd wanted to chase the ambulance down, rip the door open, and pull her into his arms. But that wouldn't help her. He needed to remain calm so he didn't upset her further. So he schooled his face into a blank mask when the ambulance pulled up and the doors opened.
He could scarcely breathe when they lifted the gurney out and he got his first look at her. She was wearing that silky robe that she loved, but it was splattered with blood. Her face was a mass of bruises, her eye swollen halfway shut. Seeing her that way had broken his heart, and at the same time had filled him with a tidal wave of anger. How dare someone put their hands on her?
She endured the exam stoically, her eyes meeting his several times but always sliding away. She'd seemed small and vulnerable, and he'd hated that he couldn't take her in his arms and comfort her. He hated even more that he hadn't been able to protect her.
And then Susan had said it. Rape. Such an ugly, despicable word. Something inside him had snapped at the thought that Abby had suffered it. Not her. Not Abby. He'd gone cold, his heart freezing in his chest, anger stealing into his veins. No one touched her, no one put that fear in her, especially not someone who harmed defenseless women and dared call himself a man.
If he thought waiting for the ambulance to get there was nerve-racking, it was unbearable pacing around the hall while Susan did the exam. Seeing Abby like that-bruised, battered, in pain-had brought to mind the atrocities he'd witnessed during the war. It made him remember Danjiela during those endless moments after the bomb, and the emptiness he'd felt at his inability to protect the woman he loved.
It was happening again. He'd failed again. After Danjiela, he'd never expected to find another woman to love. But he'd found Abby, and he'd vowed to protect her. He'd failed.
He'd tried to act casual when Susan had emerged from the exam room. He didn't want her to know the direction of his thoughts. He didn't want her to guess his intentions. Once he'd been assured she hadn't been touched other than being punched in the face, he'd begged off and left the hospital, Abby's earlier words ringing in his ears.
A bar down the street...Windbreaker...Fourth and Ashland...
Now, he found himself wandering the streets, no idea of what to do next. He supposed he should go home and ice his hand, but then what? Sit around worrying, wondering if Abby was okay? No thanks, he thought with a grunt of annoyance. Go get a drink maybe? The idea didn't hold as much appeal as it might have, had he not been so worried about her.
He stopped suddenly, shaking his head and glancing back in the direction he'd come from. Who was he kidding? What he really wanted was to be with Abby. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her and assure her she was going to be okay. That Brian would never come near her again.
He flexed his fingers, wincing a little. They'd already started getting stiff. He really should ice them. He wouldn't be able to do his job properly if his fingers were too stiff and painful to use. So, maybe he'd make a compromise with himself; he'd go home, ice his hand, then he'd call the hospital and talk to Abby. He wasn't sure what he'd say, but he thought hearing her voice would help ease his mind.
Fifteen minutes later he pulled an ice pack from his freezer and laid it over his knuckles. He slumped down on his couch and picked up his phone. He dialed the ER and rolled his eyes at Susan's weary greeting. "You're answering phones now, too?" he asked.
He heard Susan sigh. "Jerry ate one of those stupid bagels, and you only get to judge me if you come back in and see some more patients."
"Sorry, I'm done for the day. I just called to talk to Abby for a minute."
"She left already."
The ice pack slid to the floor. Luka shot from the couch, the phone clutched tightly in his hand. "What do you mean, she left?"
"She changed into some scrubs and walked out the door."
"How could you let her leave?" he all but shouted. "It's not safe for her to be out there alone."
"Look, I offered to let her sleep on my couch, but she turned me down. She said she had a friend she could stay with for the night."
"Damn it," he muttered. If he knew anything about Abby, it was that she hated asking for help. She was stubborn and proud, and she much preferred to handle things on her own. "Why didn't you make her wait until her friend showed up? Why did you let her leave by herself? Why didn't you at least get her friend's name?"
"Just hold on," Susan said. "I offered her a place to stay, but she turned me down. She's a grown woman. I couldn't force her to stay."
Luka knew she was right, but he was scared. He didn't want her out there alone, even after his confrontation with Brian. So soon after something as traumatic as her assault, she should have someone with her. Back at the hospital, he'd seen her stubbornly fighting back tears. She needed someone to lean on right now, whether she admitted it or not, and he was going to be that person. He just had to find her.
"Okay, okay," he said. "Listen, if she happens to call there, find out where she is and call me on my cell phone."
"Is everything all right?" Susan asked.
"I just want to make sure she's okay. Call me if you hear from her."
"No problem."
Luka hung up the phone and scrubbed a hand over his face. She was fine, he told himself. Nothing was wrong. Brian wouldn't dare come after her again. But she was still out there somewhere, and he wouldn't be able to rest until he found her and saw for himself that she was okay.
He scooped up his keys and hurried from his apartment, never noticing the steadily blinking red light of his answering machine.
Luka stormed from the Windbreaker, the bar's other patrons parting in the wake of his fury. He stepped outside and the frigid night air assaulted him like the fists he'd just delivered. He lifted his hand, his lips tightening. Two of his knuckles were bleeding, the others bruised. He brushed the blood away and stalked down the street, his anger lending length and speed to his steps.
Had he ever been this angry? If so, it was impossible to remember when.
The day had started out normal, or at least as normal as it could get when you worked in a busy emergency room. He'd returned to Chicago after an interminably long but uneventful flight, and as soon as he was through his door he'd crashed on the couch. A few short hours later he'd picked up the phone and answered Kerry's plea to come in and help.
He'd been glad to get there and see Abby. There was a piece of his heart only she could fill, and even though they weren't together anymore, being near her helped ease the lonely ache inside him. Their breakup hadn't erased his feelings for her; he wanted her back, wanted a second chance, he just didn't know how to make it happen. He didn't know how to make up for everything that had gone wrong.
He'd seen a new side of her today with Joyce. The gentle, compassionate nurse had been there, but she'd been joined by another Abby. This new side of her was tough, determined. She'd steamrolled through Joyce's fearful reluctance and made the woman see how dangerous it was to remain in a relationship with a violent man like Brian. And then, when she had Joyce's attention, she gentled her voice and stayed at her side until a counselor came from the shelter to give her a ride.
His respect for Abby had grown immensely that afternoon. He'd seen her in a new light, and he'd wanted her all the more after seeing that protective side.
She'd gone home after Joyce left for the shelter, and he'd thought everything was fine. Until they got the call that stopped his heart.
Abby. Assaulted. Loss of consciousness. Paramedics on the way.
His world had narrowed to those few quick, disturbing words. He dropped all pretense of seeing other patients and hurried to the ambulance bay. The ten minutes it took the ambulance to arrive were some of the most nerve- racking of his life. He'd paced back and forth, wringing his hands and muttering Croatian curses under his breath. He hadn't been able to stop the furious flow of questions through his mind. What exactly had happened? When? Where? Who had done it? How badly was she hurt? Was she going to be okay?
She has to be okay, he'd repeated over and over again.
His heart had stuttered when he heard the ambulance's siren down the street. He'd wanted to chase the ambulance down, rip the door open, and pull her into his arms. But that wouldn't help her. He needed to remain calm so he didn't upset her further. So he schooled his face into a blank mask when the ambulance pulled up and the doors opened.
He could scarcely breathe when they lifted the gurney out and he got his first look at her. She was wearing that silky robe that she loved, but it was splattered with blood. Her face was a mass of bruises, her eye swollen halfway shut. Seeing her that way had broken his heart, and at the same time had filled him with a tidal wave of anger. How dare someone put their hands on her?
She endured the exam stoically, her eyes meeting his several times but always sliding away. She'd seemed small and vulnerable, and he'd hated that he couldn't take her in his arms and comfort her. He hated even more that he hadn't been able to protect her.
And then Susan had said it. Rape. Such an ugly, despicable word. Something inside him had snapped at the thought that Abby had suffered it. Not her. Not Abby. He'd gone cold, his heart freezing in his chest, anger stealing into his veins. No one touched her, no one put that fear in her, especially not someone who harmed defenseless women and dared call himself a man.
If he thought waiting for the ambulance to get there was nerve-racking, it was unbearable pacing around the hall while Susan did the exam. Seeing Abby like that-bruised, battered, in pain-had brought to mind the atrocities he'd witnessed during the war. It made him remember Danjiela during those endless moments after the bomb, and the emptiness he'd felt at his inability to protect the woman he loved.
It was happening again. He'd failed again. After Danjiela, he'd never expected to find another woman to love. But he'd found Abby, and he'd vowed to protect her. He'd failed.
He'd tried to act casual when Susan had emerged from the exam room. He didn't want her to know the direction of his thoughts. He didn't want her to guess his intentions. Once he'd been assured she hadn't been touched other than being punched in the face, he'd begged off and left the hospital, Abby's earlier words ringing in his ears.
A bar down the street...Windbreaker...Fourth and Ashland...
Now, he found himself wandering the streets, no idea of what to do next. He supposed he should go home and ice his hand, but then what? Sit around worrying, wondering if Abby was okay? No thanks, he thought with a grunt of annoyance. Go get a drink maybe? The idea didn't hold as much appeal as it might have, had he not been so worried about her.
He stopped suddenly, shaking his head and glancing back in the direction he'd come from. Who was he kidding? What he really wanted was to be with Abby. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her and assure her she was going to be okay. That Brian would never come near her again.
He flexed his fingers, wincing a little. They'd already started getting stiff. He really should ice them. He wouldn't be able to do his job properly if his fingers were too stiff and painful to use. So, maybe he'd make a compromise with himself; he'd go home, ice his hand, then he'd call the hospital and talk to Abby. He wasn't sure what he'd say, but he thought hearing her voice would help ease his mind.
Fifteen minutes later he pulled an ice pack from his freezer and laid it over his knuckles. He slumped down on his couch and picked up his phone. He dialed the ER and rolled his eyes at Susan's weary greeting. "You're answering phones now, too?" he asked.
He heard Susan sigh. "Jerry ate one of those stupid bagels, and you only get to judge me if you come back in and see some more patients."
"Sorry, I'm done for the day. I just called to talk to Abby for a minute."
"She left already."
The ice pack slid to the floor. Luka shot from the couch, the phone clutched tightly in his hand. "What do you mean, she left?"
"She changed into some scrubs and walked out the door."
"How could you let her leave?" he all but shouted. "It's not safe for her to be out there alone."
"Look, I offered to let her sleep on my couch, but she turned me down. She said she had a friend she could stay with for the night."
"Damn it," he muttered. If he knew anything about Abby, it was that she hated asking for help. She was stubborn and proud, and she much preferred to handle things on her own. "Why didn't you make her wait until her friend showed up? Why did you let her leave by herself? Why didn't you at least get her friend's name?"
"Just hold on," Susan said. "I offered her a place to stay, but she turned me down. She's a grown woman. I couldn't force her to stay."
Luka knew she was right, but he was scared. He didn't want her out there alone, even after his confrontation with Brian. So soon after something as traumatic as her assault, she should have someone with her. Back at the hospital, he'd seen her stubbornly fighting back tears. She needed someone to lean on right now, whether she admitted it or not, and he was going to be that person. He just had to find her.
"Okay, okay," he said. "Listen, if she happens to call there, find out where she is and call me on my cell phone."
"Is everything all right?" Susan asked.
"I just want to make sure she's okay. Call me if you hear from her."
"No problem."
Luka hung up the phone and scrubbed a hand over his face. She was fine, he told himself. Nothing was wrong. Brian wouldn't dare come after her again. But she was still out there somewhere, and he wouldn't be able to rest until he found her and saw for himself that she was okay.
He scooped up his keys and hurried from his apartment, never noticing the steadily blinking red light of his answering machine.