Author's Note: So, this is a pretty significant chapter. Not necessarily because of what happens in it (although I hope the reader finds that significant too) but because of what it is. Chapter 31 is the first chapter written all in 2019. Everything up to this point was originally written prior to July 14, 2002, when I was involved in a car accident that resulted in multiple fractures of my skull and a epidural hematoma, requiring brain surgery. As I have said before, I lost all memory of the story after that and it didn't start to come back until a few years ago. Even then, the thought of having to finish a three (now four) book series that is as multi plot heavy as this one is, not to mention updating everything written to this point so that it wasn't glaringly 17 years in the past, was pretty overwhelming. It wasn't until both my parents died - and a bargain made with Mitzi G - that I committed to it. I have to thank Mitzi, but even more I have to thank my mom. She had been bugging me to get back to this story almost from the minute I told her I'd remembered it. We had a lot of talks before she died and she somehow managed to push for Trinity to be finished every time.
With that said, some people have realized that from my AN in the last chapter, this chapter has been ready for some time. Why the delay? Honestly, I lost my nerve. Every night for the last month I've told myself to post this, and every night I somehow came up with a reason I wouldn't/shouldn't/couldn't/didn't. I'm still shaking but I'm hitting the send button! Thank you to everyone who has put up with these long gaps. i can't promise there won't be more of them, but I can say Flames, at least, is essentially finished and just needs polishing and beta-ing. The next book, Ashes, hopefully will be easier since it was just roughly outlined before and I'm not actually having to reproduce anything. Yes, I know where the whole thing is going...but I'm sure there will be twists and turns as we get there!
Many thanks to those who continue to comment and review!
Part 31
Monica Hastings gently pulled loose from Vin's embrace. She wiped the tears from her face with unsteady fingers. "You always seem to be rescuing me," she said with a shaky laugh.
"I don't mind rescuin' you," Vin insisted. He lightly touched the red marks on Monica's arm. "You need to file a police report."
Monica sucked in a startled breath. "No! Against my uncle? I can't!"
"He grabbed you so hard he left bruises! His own niece. He done that before?"
Monica shook her head. "No." She sensed Vin's disbelief. "Vin, I promise you. He's never hit me before, or grabbed me… not like this. He mostly just… ignored what was going on."
"What was going on?"
Monica sighed. She dropped down into the shapeless chair and looked unseeingly out at the darkness. "My aunt… she couldn't help blame me for what happened to my mother. She — she'd scream at me. Sometimes… well, I told you about my horse. She'd yell at me, try to punish me. Most of the time, Uncle Arthur wouldn't let her do anything too bad, or Steven would distract her." Her eyes, shimmering blue lakes in her pale face, locked with Vin's. "I know… I mean, I know now that Steven was into… criminal things." She shrugged, looking helpless. "But, I can't hate him, Vin, or the memory of him. When I was growing up, he was my protector. He… cared for me." She sighed, her eyes dropping. When she continued, her voice wasn't much more than a whisper. "Can you understand?"
Vin put his arms around her and held her tightly.
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The hospital staff told them they had to leave. They weren't impressed by Arthur Curran's impervious manner, or his forceful demands that he be allowed to stay with his nephew. Nina's legal credentials and the fact she was the patient's sister might have swayed the hospital staff, but neither of those things seemed to matter to the police officers or the federal agents appearing at every corner. David Wyerly was a criminal, a man who had kidnapped a federal agent, put him in the hospital. Nina's comment that everyone was innocent until proven guilty carried no weight with these people and, given the situation, she wasn't really surprised by that.
Finally, her uncle turned on his heel and swept out of the ICU, Nina following. He turned to look at her. "Find your cousin and come home," he said, his voice icy. "I'll meet you there. You'll both spend the night. This family – what is left of it – needs to be together tonight." He stormed away without waiting for her response.
'Damn, damn, damn,' Nina thought to herself. Damn her brother and his damn stupidity and his inability to follow a plan. Follow the plan? He hadn't even had a plan, much less included she or Monica in it! As ridiculous as Monica's attempt to kill Standish with her own designer drug was, at least she had caught a ride on the clue bus and followed Nina's lead. Arthur Curran wanted Ezra Standish dead, but he didn't want it traced back to him, or any of his family. His own vast empire could crumble because of this. The feds might even look at Monica again and start thinking that maybe Kevin Murine was being used as the patsy he was. The one good thing David had done was get rid of Murine. He'd sworn no one would ever find the body. Hopefully he was better at hiding corpses than he was kidnapping and killing Federal agents…
She wasn't worried about David dying. She couldn't make herself care. David was a screw up, but more importantly, he was in her way. She wanted – needed – deserved – to be Arthur Curran's heir, to run his empire when he was gone, all of his empire. The legal and the illegitimate should be left in her hands. She was intelligent, clever, cunning. All those traits that Arthur Curran had himself that had built a billion dollar regime.
And David had none of those traits. He didn't even care about the Curran family, the Curran business, the empire. All he cared about was maiming, killing, torturing the man who'd killed his precious cousin Steven.
Uncle had to know this. Arthur Curran had to know she was the better choice to be his heir. She'd proved herself. She continued to prove herself. What did David do? Put them all in danger! That's all he'd done.
But David was a man.
Nina walked briskly down the hall, somehow comforted by the click of her heels on the shiny tile floor. Monica had said she was going to the waiting room. She'd be there. Monica was dependable about things like that. Nina could trust her.
She'd never be able to trust David. Even if Uncle Arthur realized Nina was the better choice, passed David over for her, she'd never be able to trust or count on her brother. She knew that.
Best if he just died now. She could portray him as the dirty one, maybe even come up with some evidence that would indicate he'd been working with Kevin Murine, trying to set Monica up for his own crimes. Her steps slowed as she considered this idea. Yes, yes, this was good. If David was gone, out of the way, out of her way, she could blame him for everything. Leave Uncle Arthur, and Monica, and Nina herself clear of any involvement in the attempts on Ezra Standish's life.
Of course, there was still the problem of Ezra Standish himself. Uncle still wanted him dead, and it would be so much more difficult now, to kill him and not leave any trail back to them. But she wasn't worried. There was a way. There was always a way. And with Monica ingratiating herself to Standish's team by saving his co-worker… what was his name, Wellington? No… Wilmington. That was right. Buck Wilmington. And Monica had done that all on her own, showing surprising initiative. If she kept up that kind of thinking, Nina would trust her with more responsibilities. Monica, after all, was a genius. But she wasn't greedy. Monica would play her part.
As for Standish, they would find a way to kill him, because Uncle wanted it. Nina didn't care how it happened, as long as it happened, eventually. It could be quick, painless. She didn't have anything against Standish, after all. Actually, quite the contrary. if it wasn't for the fact that Uncle Arthur had demanded his death, Nina would feel quite warm and fuzzy about the man. After all, he'd eliminated the largest obstacle in her path to running the Curran empire.
He'd killed Steven.
Steven, with his good looks and breezy manner. Steven, his mother's "precious boy" and the apple of his father's eye. Steven who was to the manor born, not just some poor relation grafted onto the family tree.
Nina realized she was clenching her hands into fists so tightly that her perfectly manicured nails were digging little crescents of blood into her flesh. Steven, her cousin.
How she'd hated him.
Not that anyone realized that. Nina was no fool. She knew how to act, how to play the game. How to be the empty headed beautiful blonde homecoming queen her aunt had needed her to be. "You're just like I was at your age," Aunt Teresa would preen, apparently forgetting that Nina was only related to her by marriage, while Monica was her own blood.
But Aunt Teresa had hated Monica. Sometimes she'd looked at her as if she wanted to kill her. Offenses the other children in the household had gotten away with, or maybe been mildly reprimanded, meant major punishment for Monica. Nina winced as she remembered one incident. Monica had accidentally knocked over a water glass at dinner – or David had deliberately knocked it over, Nina had never been sure. Teresa Curran had flown into a rage that had shocked everyone. Nina hadn't been very old – maybe five? – but she remembered shivering in her chair, shrinking down as her aunt's strident voice had reverberated around the dining room. She'd backhanded Monica across the face, then screamed at her for fully ten minutes, while everyone just stared at the two of them, not touching the food on the plates. Then Aunt Teresa had banished Monica to her room for three days, mandating she was to get nothing to eat, since she was so careless with the food provided to her. Nina could remember Monica just getting up quietly from her place, her cheek red and already bruising, and leaving the dining room. Uncle Arthur had started to say something to his wife, but she'd just quelled him with a blistering glance. Even David, who did nothing but tease and harass Monica, had looked uneasy and even guilty.
But that had backfired on Teresa. Monica was already showing the genius that would earn her admission to Cal Tech at barely sixteen, and she had special tutors and teachers to augment and enhance the education provided by local school system. One of them showed up that very evening and saw Monica's bruised face. Someone – one of the servants, supposedly, although Nina had always suspected Steven had done it – had told the tutor about the three days without food, and the tutor called the police and children's services. Actually, very brave of him, Nina realized now, given the wealth and power her uncle wielded. The resulting investigation was probably not nearly as thorough as it should have been, but Aunt Teresa had been humiliated and Uncle Arthur infuriated. After that, Aunt Teresa had never physically punished Monica again, although the verbal abuse was nothing short of assault.
Then Aunt Teresa died.
And Nina was damn sure Monica had helped auntie off to her heavenly reward quite prematurely. Not that Nina blamed her, one bit. Aunt Teresa was a shrew. Nobody really mourned her passing. Two weeks after the funeral, Uncle Arthur had taken all of them on a yacht trip around the Greek islands. He said it was to ease their grief, but remembering the fantastic time they'd had, Nina suspected it was more of a celebration. It really had been the best two weeks ever. David was even pleasant and affectionate toward Monica…
Speaking of Monica, where exactly was she?
Then she spotted her cousin. But Monica wasn't alone. She was with that ATF agent she'd been reeling in. Vin Tanner. But not just talking with him. No, Monica was wrapped in his arms and, although Nina couldn't see her cousin's face, she could see the man's. He was looking at Monica with an expression of… longing? Love? Attraction?
And then Monica pulled back from him, but not away. And she looked at him, into his eyes. Nina drew in a hissing breath.
She'd never seen such a look on Monica's face before. Never.
A look of happiness, of contentment.
Love?
Nina didn't think Monica could really love anyone or anything, except her precious lab, her science.
A memory, long dormant, wiggled into Nina's mind. Monica and her horse, that silly animal she'd lavished so much time and attention on, until Aunt Rachel got rid of it to punish Monica for some imagined sin. Really, when Monica was with her horse was the only time Nina remembered her looking – truly happy – carefree.
The look on her face now –
'No,' she tried to assure herself. 'She doesn't love him. She can't. She's acting, doing her performance, making him think… all part of the plan. Our plan. My plan.'
Barely realizing what she was doing, she took a step forward. Monica saw her. Her eyes widened and she pulled herself away from Vin Tanner so quickly she almost stumbled. The ATF agent whirled around, his hand going – well, going for his gun, Nina belatedly realized. His hand dropped away when he realized who she was.
"Nina!" Monica gasped. She looked guilty. Or embarrassed. Nina wasn't sure which. "What – how long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," Nina answered. She looked at Agent Tanner. She didn't know why, but she suddenly blurted out, "Are you the one who shot my brother, Agent?" She deliberately didn't say his name.
"Nina, don't do this," Monica pleased, stepping toward her. Tanner put his hand on her arm and she stopped in mid-step.
"No, ma'am, it wasn't me," the ATF agent told her, his voice soft and accented. Texas, Nina remembered from the information she'd researched. "But, your brother kidnapped and tried to kill a friend of mine. I'm sorry to have t' tell you this, but it's the truth."
"He wouldn't have killed him," Nina insisted, knowing full well that David had had every intention of killing Standish. "Ezra Standish killed our cousin. David was just trying to – to –" she was making this up as she went along, and it made her uncomfortable. She didn't like working without a script. She shot a look at Monica, demanding her cousin help her out.
"Ezra Standish killed Steven?" Monica said, her voice high, shrill. Her eyes met Nina's.
'Are we not supposed to know that?' Nina wondered desperately.
"He shot him in the line of duty," Agent Tanner confirmed, reaching for Monica's hand. She jerked it away.
"You're telling me the man whose life I saved… killed my own cousin?"
Relief swept through Nina so suddenly that her knees trembled. Good. Monica was on script. She was still playing her part. And better than Nina had ever credited her with, better than Nina herself was doing. Impromptu, Nina thought. She should have remembered. Monica had done speech and debate as a break from her science studies in school. She'd actually won a couple of trophies. Uncle Arthur had been beaming with pride and even Aunt Teresa had managed to congratulate her niece. And the area she'd been so good at was called Impromptu, when the contestants were given a topic and five minutes to come up with a speech. No writing and memorizing, just speaking off the cuff. And Monica had been amazingly proficient at it. Nina had forgotten that.
Before Nina could say anything, and before she could even think was it her turn to say something, the intercom sounded. "Code blue, ICU two. Code blue, ICU two."
Monica turned to look at Agent Tanner. "ICU two? That isn't Agent Standish, is it?"
Tanner shook his head. "No, he's in three." His eyes widened and he shot a look at Nina. "Two… your brother is in Two."
"David!" Nina gasped. She turned back to run to ICU, vaguely aware that Monica and that ATF agent were on her heels.
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'I'll fucking kill you!"
Chris wasn't sure what exactly was happening. One minute, he'd been telling Dr. Culver that he had been the one who had put that cut in Buck's throat. He'd closed his eyes, unable to look at Buck, as the memory played in his mind. He saw Buck's face, the way it had looked that morning, when Chris had smashed him into the wall. His startled face. Chris saw his hand grabbing up Sarah's prized French boning knife; saw himself holding the knife into Buck's neck; remembered – with a burst of nausea – the warm, red blood trickling down on his hands as he pressed the knife into the vulnerable flesh of Buck's throat.
He'd forced his eyes open, looking at Buck, forcing himself to accept whatever Buck's face showed him. He saw the horror in Buck's eyes and started to turn, instinctively knowing Buck wasn't looking at him but at something behind him – when something – someone plowed into him like a truck.
JD. JD was screaming at him, his face red and his eyes flaming, wild expression and hair standing in unruly spikes. "I'll fucking kill you!"
Chris was both taller and heavier than JD, but Chris was exhausted and emotionally drained, while JD was full of fury. And Chris didn't really want to hurt JD, but JD apparently really did want to kill Chris.
Chris shoved JD back, but JD came at him again, fist heading for his face. Chris dodged in time, then slipped around the younger man and tried to grab him from behind, to wrap his arms around him until he calmed down. But JD somehow wiggled free and came after Chris again.
A crowded ICU cubicle is not conducive to two men fighting. Trying to dodge again, Chris tripped over a piece of medical equipment. Losing his balance, he crashed to the floor, with JD right on top of him. Before Chris could get away, JD had his hands fisted in Chris' collar and was banging his head on the floor.
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Buck struggled to sit up, but weakness and pain overwhelmed him and he fell back on the bed, sucking in oxygen through the canula until the blackness surrounding him faded away.
Was he awake or asleep? Because if he was asleep this was a nightmare, and if he was awake… well, it was still a nightmare.
Buck loved JD. The kid was like the little brother Buck had never known he needed or wanted. Having him in his life brought a whole new aspect to it, made it brighter and more fun and somehow, warmer.
But Chris…
Chris was something else. A brother, a friend, a partner, a challenge, a weight to carry sometimes. Both an obligation and a blessing.
He was Buck's oldest friend. Their friendship went back to when they were two high school kids, when Buck was alone and afraid and lost in a world with the sudden loss of his mother. High school, college vacations, Navy, SEALs, the Denver Police Department, the ATF.
Chris was Buck's home. His family. The person who took care of him, the person he took care of. Buck had sworn over Sarah and Adam's graves he would take care of Chris, that he wouldn't let anyone hurt him ever again.
He knew JD had heard Chris admitting to cutting Buck's throat. It was something Buck wished the younger man hadn't heard, but he didn't understand why JD was beating on Chris about it. Chris was JD's hero.
Buck had never blamed Chris for what had happened that night. Chris had been drunk. More than that, he'd been lost in his grief and rage; lost in his agony over losing his wife and child. Buck should have moved faster, dodged away, moved the knife away before Chris had grabbed it.
He had to stop JD before he hurt Chris or before Chris lost his temper and started fighting back. Nobody knew better than Buck how lethal Chris Larabee could be when riled.
Dr. Culver was just standing there, staring at the two men in front of him. He winced when Chris stumbled over some contraption and fell to the floor. JD leapt on top of him. But Culver was trapped in the corner and couldn't move, and somehow nobody was rushing in to see what all the commotion was about.
Buck's eyes fell on the abandoned cup of melting ice on the table next to the bed.
Summoning up strength from somewhere, he forced himself to reach up and grab the cup, to heave it at the two battling bodies. The plastic cup full of ice and water smacked directly into JD's back. The shock of the cold hitting him caused him to jump to his feet and whirl to look at Buck.
Culver finally broke out of his trance and leaned over to help Chris up, but Buck's eyes were only on JD.
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Vin stood near the two women outside the ICU cubicle. The curtains across the windows were hastily drawn, hiding the scene within, but it was obvious from the number of people crammed in there, that something urgent was going on. It had been maybe fifteen minutes since the Code Blue call had gone out over the hospital intercom system.
He let his eyes rest on Monica Hastings. She had her arms around her cousin, speaking quietly into her ear. Monica looked quickly up at him and shook her head. She looked distraught. Nina Wyerly, next to her, seemed to be in shock. Her eyes never moved from staring at the closed door.
Then the door opened, and people started coming out. None of them met the gaze of of the two women. Finally, Dr. Kruse exited the room. Vin hadn't even realized he was in there. Taking a deep breath, he stopped in front of Monica and Nina. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "He started hemorrhaging. We tried to save him, but we couldn't. I'm so sorry."
Monica let out a little cry and turned to Vin, still keeping her arms around her cousin. He moved swiftly to hold her. Nina just stared at Kruse. "Are you saying…" her voice seemed to come from miles away. "David – my brother is dead?"
Kruse closed his eyes and nodded. "I'm so sorry."
Vin couldn't feel an ounce of pity for David Wyerly. The man had almost killed Ezra. But he was sorry for the two women who, in spite of everything else, were David Wyerly's family.
"David's…dead?" Nina sounded like she just couldn't believe it.
Tears were streaming down Monica's cheeks. "Nina, I'm so sorry."
"What did you say?" A man's voice, firm and authoritative.
Vin turned and both women startled, matching terrified expressions on their faces.
Arthur Curran stood in the hallway. He ignored Vin, and the doctor, his eyes glaring at his two nieces. "Nina. I asked you a question."
Nina's white lips moved soundlessly.
"Uncle Arthur," Monica said, in a voice just barely more than a whisper.
It was obvious neither woman was going to be able to tell their uncle that Wyerly was dead. Vin cleared his throat, trying to direct the man's attention to him, but then Dr. Kruse gently pushed past the two females and resolutely moved to stand in front of Arthur Curran. Vin was surprised when he called him by name. "Mr. Curran. I'm very sorry to have to inform you that your nephew didn't make it."
Monica and Nina both cringed, clinging to each other. Dr. Kruse stood there. Vin moved between Monica and her uncle. He didn't know how Curran was going to react and he wasn't going to let him hurt Monica as he had earlier in the evening when he'd grabbed her.
Curran didn't say anything for a few minutes. His face was impassive, unmoving, like cold-carved marble. Finally, he nodded. "I'm sure you did everything you could, doctor." His voice was cold.
Kruse nodded. "We did." He looked like he was going to say more, but Curran wasn't listening to him. The older man swung his gaze to Vin. "Who shot my nephew?"
"Uncle –" Monica started. Her uncle ignored her.
His eyes bore into Vin's. "You heard me, Agent Tanner." The name was a sneer. "I want the name of the man who shot my nephew."
Vin shook his head. "I can't tell you that right now. There's an investigation procedure and—"
"An investigation?" Curran exploded. "As there was when my son was murdered? That was your team as well, wasn't it, Tanner? You expect me to believe there will be justice for David any more than there was for Steven?"
"Uncle Arthur!" It was Monica again. "Please, stop it!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Vin saw the two agents who had been stationed outside the door shift uncomfortably. One of them took a step forward, but Vin shook his head. He gently pushed Monica back toward Nina and moved himself closer to Curran. He kept his voice low. "Sir, I know you're upset, but please, don't make a scene here. It won't help David…and your nieces don't deserve this."
Curran met his gaze. "Did you shoot my nephew?"
Vin shook his head. "Wasn't me. But – if I'd had the shot, it would have been," he admitted. "Your nephew kidnapped and tried to kill a federal agent. A friend of mine."
Hatred and contempt crossed Curran's face. "So you say." He stepped back. "There will be justice for my nephew, Agent Tanner. Or…there will be vengeance. One way or another, your team's actions against my family will not go unanswered."
tbc...