LINKED (The Bening Files Book 1) Page 16

  “Just go with the flow, Nettles,” Robinson whispered in her ear.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  The woman looked her up at down. “You’re soaking wet. Get a towel before somebody slips in your mess.” She thrust the clipboard into Amanda’s hands, then pursed her lips a minute. “And you’re late. We’ve got a small group tonight. Lucky, for you they’re all ambulatory.” A half dozen names, including the next morning’s scheduled tests and each patient’s restrictions came from the woman’s brown lips. She didn’t stick around to instruct Amanda about what to do first.

  She found a cupboard full of linens, grabbed a towel, dried her hair and patted her clothing, then she discarded it.

  A vital cart sat feet from where she stood, tucked into a corner. She scanned the list of names until she came to Birmingham, Garrett. Room 316. She grabbed the small cart and rolled it toward his room. The squeak of wet sneakers followed her down the hall.

  The partially closed door had a large, white NPO sign plastered to it. White light from the TV illuminated the plastic foot of his hospital bed.

  She knocked softly, then wheeled the cart inside, like she’d done so many times when she’d worked as a CNA during college. Only then she’d worked the Med-Surg floor instead of Cardiology/Telemetry.

  She expected to find Birmingham asleep, but he lay there, the bedside light reflected in his glasses as he read Forbes magazine. The head of his bed sat at a forty-five degree angle. Once he saw her and the cart, he held out his right arm.

  “It’s a wonder anybody gets better in this place.” He glanced at the watch on his left forearm, the magazine still slightly rolled in his grasp. “It’s almost two a.m. and you’re still checking my blood pressure.”

  Amanda pulled out the rolling chair from under the sink/mirror combo to her left and sat. She fastened the blood pressure cuff around his upper arm and hit the start button. “At least you weren’t asleep.”

  He flipped the magazine closed and tossed it on his lap. “I’m a natural night owl, anyway. Any idea when they’re going to release me?”

  “Hard to say.” She searched her mind for what the head nurse had said regarding his care. “Don’t you have an angiogram in the morning?”

  “Do I really need that? I’m fine.” He patted his chest. “Good to go. Fit as a fiddle. A little CPR from a pretty girl doesn’t hurt either.” He winked.

  Yuck.

  “What’s the hurry?”

  He leaned toward her as if he had some great secret to tell. “No offense, but these places aren’t anyone’s favorite. The smell of disinfectant is overpowering and the food is horrible at best.” He sat back. “I want a burger, what I get is dried out turkey with bland vegetables.”

  “Do you bring out everybody’s good side, Nettles?” Robinson sounded appalled.

  She chuckled, a dab of annoyance mixed in for Robinson’s benefit.

  “I’m sure you’ve never been on this side before,” Birmingham was saying. “You’re too young.”

  Amanda removed the cuff and tucked it back into her cart, then stuck the 02 sensor on his finger. Red lights lit up on the screen, in front of her, along with the rhythmic beat of his heart. “Not you’re first time here?”

  “No. My daddy had heart problems. Of course back then, the medical world knew a lot less about these things.” A smile curved his lips. “The irony is that the heart condition didn’t kill him, a woman did.” As if he’d realized his conversation had wandered in a personal direction, he shook his head. “That’s a long boring story, though.” He focused on the TV, behind her.

  CNN headlines scrolled across the bottom. Birmingham had the volume on mute, so that closed captions updated as the blonde woman on the screen read the news. They finished reporting on a Tsunami half-way around the world and switched to local news. The Gaidies’ faces flashed across the screen. Birmingham watched a few seconds, then fumbled for the remote anchored to his bed and shut off the TV.

  “I get ten channels. All but two of them are playing the news. One’s playing a Golden Girls marathon. The other the Home Shopping Network. And they expect a guy to leave here sane.”

  “I’m sure your family will be back in the morning to keep you company?” She removed the 02 sensor and shut off the machine.

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Do you have any kids—” He looked at her name tag. “Jackie?”

  “Yeah. A little girl.” The lie came easily. “She’ll be five next month.”

  Birmingham gave a small smile. “They grow up fast. I remember when my oldest son was that age.”

  “He has more than one?” Robinson’s voice echoed her thoughts.

  “Just the two boys then?”

  “Yeah. They’re so trusting when they’re that age. Before you know it, they’re teenagers who think everything you do is dumb. It makes you so mad, you forget they’re you’re flesh and blood. Then they’re adults who don’t have time to spare.”

  “Do you’re sons live in town?”

  “Yes, but we’re not on speaking terms.” Sadness passed over his face, as if this thought pained him more than nearly dying did.

  If she hadn’t known Jordan, she might have been sympathetic. If he didn’t like his own father, that said more than words. “I could call them for you. Get them out of bed and explain the situation.”

  He smiled and patted her hand. “That’s sweet.”

  “What about your wife?”

  Birmingham chuckled. “Never been married. Came close twice.”

  “What happened?”

  He sat up and repositioned his hospital issued gown beneath the blankets. “None of the other aides have spent much time in here. You hiding from that head nurse?”

  “She’s a treat, isn’t she?”

  “I didn’t hear you say that. I better watch my mouth, she could kill me and no one would be wiser.” He smiled as if it was a joke, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  She pretended ignorance. “So? What went wrong in the great love life of Garrett Birmingham?”

  “I wouldn’t call it great.”

  “I could go back to my rounds.” She started to rise.

  “The first one left me.”

  She sat back down.

  “The second died on me.”

  “The first one actually used to work in this hospital.”

  “A doctor?

  He nodded.

  “Nice catch.”

  “Smart too. Ah…Alexis.” He gazed off behind her, as if seeing something other than white walls and shadowed areas. “Alexis Blaney. Well, she’s married now, so it’s not Blaney anymore.”

  No, it wasn’t. Alexis Blaney had become Alexis Blaney-Moore a long time ago.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The noise entered her mind, her dreamless state, but she couldn’t make herself open her eyes.

  Little tiny, lead weights had attached themselves to her lashes, anchoring them to her cheeks.

  The noise came again, registering as a soft tap against glass. McKenna’s eyes snapped open. The side of her cheek pressed against the warmth of Jordan’s bare chest, his heart beating an even tune in her ear. The spicy scent of his skin enticed her to stay, but the dead weight of her right arm wedged beneath her, begged for blood flow. She shifted on the couch, managing to wedge herself farther into the corner, Jordan’s body pressing closer.

  Jordan.

  She waited for the same shock she’d felt upon waking up next to him in Vegas. The intense anxiety wasn’t hanging on her shoulders, threatening to choke her. Instead, a sense of normalcy blanketed her. As if waking up in the arms of this man righted every wrong ever done.

  She didn’t move for a second, trying to orientate herself in his living room in the predawn light. She could make out the coffee table with Jordan’s phone, laptop and some papers. The muted television in the corner had an early newscaster predicting sunshine for the next week, the dim light illuminating the space in front of her. The lazy-boy recliner held
the remnants of their clothing from the previous day.

  Where had the noise come from? Had she imagined it?

  Next to her, Jordan’s breathing remained even as he lay on his back, one arm strewn over the edge of the couch. The blanket that covered them was more on the floor than anywhere else. The chain around his neck, lay across his throat, the two rings attached resting on the couch beneath his head. Her ring. His mother’s ring.

  She tried not to remember that while Jordan had spilled his guts last night, she’d held hers in check. Every time she opened her mouth to admit what she knew, her throat would close up.

  That day came rushing back to her.

  The Duke University letter had come. When her mom hollered up the stairs with the news, McKenna almost didn’t want to go down and see which envelope sat on the kitchen table. Big envelope equaled acceptance. She refused to think about the other possibility. Duke was it. It was both her father and Matthew’s Alma Mater.

  And it would be hers, too. It had to be.

  Jordan had been harassing her for the last month. Teasing her that she wouldn’t get in, being as she wasn’t as smart as him. “Why would they want a bratty little know-it-all on campus?” he’d asked.

  She couldn’t wait to see his face when she told him the good news. He’d have to pay up on their bet. Taking his red 1968 Dodge Charger with her to school for a whole semester and knowing he’d be driving her hand-me-down Bonneville would be more than satisfying.

  McKenna clutched the brown acceptance packet between her teeth as she navigated the five-mile trail between their houses on her old Schwinn bike. Any other day, she might have been upset that her brother, Alex, had taken her car without asking. Not today.

  Nothing could ruin this.

  Another few feet and she’d be on Jordan’s mother’s property. She could already see a portion of the three-story’s tan roof, its white siding covered with various climbing plants, which Cassidy Bening was forever pruning. The woman was a genius with shrubbery.

  McKenna breezed in under the wooden trellis covered with Morning Glory’s and stashed her bike at the back corner of the house, not bothering with the long ago broken kickstand.

  The look on Jordan’s face would be worth today’s trek.

  Jordan’s car was in the driveway, not a speck of dust on its shiny surface. She noted Matthew’s unmarked cruiser next to it as she rounded the corner of the house. The driver’s side door stood open, the hum of his police scanner a faint sound of jumbled voices carrying on the wind.

  Harsh breathing to her left caught her attention and she came to a complete halt. Cassidy lay on the sidewalk twenty feet from her. Jordan had one of her pale hands in his, his eyes glued to her unnaturally still body.

  McKenna blinked, but the scene came back in full focus, unchanged.

  Matthew bent over her, his arms pumping into her chest and then his mouth trying to give her air. Blood covered the once white walkway, slowly spreading in McKenna’s direction, as if it knew she was standing there. As if it were reaching for her, wanting to pull her in and take her life as well.

  Matthew said something, wet tears falling from his chin, unchecked. McKenna couldn’t comprehend the words. She couldn’t move forward. She couldn’t move away.

  Was her heart even beating? Her brain had disconnected from her body ions ago. The tank top she’d thrown on earlier squeezed the air from her lungs. The quickly warming rays of the April sun pounded on her exposed skin, making everything hot.

  “No.” Jordan’s fist hit the ground. “No!” His scream permeated her fog. He clutched his mother’s body to his chest. Most of her long blonde hair was now red.

  Red. Everything was red.

  Her stomach jumped into her throat and started turning. The bile was in the back of her mouth, thick and soupy.

  She did the only thing she could. She ran.

  Ten years later and McKenna was still running. Jordan may have left, but she had yet to come back. The truth had never tasted so bitter.

  She bit her lip and eased off the couch, careful not to disturb him. He rolled onto his side, into the crevice she had vacated and mumbled something incoherent. The blanket slipped farther onto the floor, exposing the naked chest she’d spent all night drooling on.

  Huh, still normal.

  The pounding came again, this time louder. She grabbed Jordan’s phone off the coffee table and knocked the stack of papers off the edge of the table in the process. They scattered to the floor in a noisy thunk. After ascertaining that Jordan hadn’t moved, she bent to pick them up. Even without full light, she noticed the neat scrawl across one envelope.

  Something uncomfortable shifted near her heart as she noted the address of the Sussex II prison in Virginia. Maybe she should have felt guilty about reading Jordan’s private mail, but she didn’t.

  Matthew’s note was succinct and didn’t sound at all like the uncle she remembered. The mention of Cassidy only appeared once in the short paragraph he’d written.

  A copy of Cassidy’s trial transcript lay underneath it.

  Two more thuds on Jordan’s front door. “Bening, come on.”

  McKenna dropped the stack of papers back in their original spot as Jordan lurched into a sitting position on the couch. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What was that?”

  Hoping on one leg, she shoved her legs into her pants and then reached for the shirt on the recliner, careful to keep out of sight of the door. “Someone’s here,” she whispered.

  “What?” This time he pulled his SIG from beneath the couch and stood in one fluid motion. The blanket fell the rest of the way to the floor, exposing his boxer-clad form.

  “Geez!” She grabbed the gun and deposited it on the coffee table. “Have you ever heard of a gun safe?”

  All at once, he seemed to register the gun, the coffee table and then her. Standing in his living room. “The safety’s on.”

  McKenna shook her head. “Get dressed. You have company.”

  “What time is it?”

  She glanced at the digital display on the cell phone still clutched in her hand, then tossed it to him. “Five-forty-five.”

  She flicked on the kitchen lights, blinked against the ensuing blindness and made it to the entryway before their visitor could knock again. The scent of smoke wafted in her direction the minute she opened the door.

  Rupert stood on the other side, his son, Shawn, asleep in his arms. He had a smudge of something inky across his cheek. Rupert had a nice black eye to match.

  His mouth opened and closed several times as he took in her disheveled appearance. “What are you doing here?”

  “Good morning to you, too.” McKenna crossed her arms over her chest.

  He didn’t say anything for so long, she started to feel naked. She resisted the urge to check for missed clothing articles. Would there ever come a time when he didn't make her feel inadequate?

  His eyes turned into little slits. “Agent Bening your rebound guy?”

  “My what?” Her body went ramrod straight. Fury boiled in front of her eyes for a few seconds, red-hot, begging for a showdown.

  “You know. The guy you use to get over me.”

  “Seriously?” She didn’t think any other words could pass between the ball of anger building near her lungs, to her esophagus.

  “You heard me.” The words were low, competing for top position with the disgust covering his face.

  Before she could think about it, she slammed the door in his face.

  Childish. Rewarding. No regrets.

  Jordan stepped into view, fully dressed, but not nearly as rough looking as she imagined she looked. He pointed to the door. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” She headed for the kitchen. “Wrong house.”

  Jordan caught her arm and pulled her back. “It doesn’t look like nothing.” He peered out the small security window. “Guess my front door wasn’t safe after all.”

  If it had been a little later in the day, she might ha
ve laughed.

  He shook his head, then opened the door. “Kind of early for a visit, isn’t it, Mr. Dillon?”

  Rupert shifted the boy in his arms, so that his head rested on Rupert’s shoulder. “McKenna’s car crashed into my house early this morning. The police believe sparks from the engine started my living room on fire.”

  What?

  A glance in Jordan’s direction told her nothing. He wore a stoic expression, devoid of every ounce of the passion she’d seen last night while they were talking.

  “How do you know it was McKenna’s car?” Jordan stuck one hand in the front pocket of his jeans, as if this were any other day.

  “I bought it.” Rupert shifted his son again. “I think I can identify it.”

  Oh, boy. Here we go.

  Jordan didn’t bat an eyelash. “There are over five-hundred-thousand people in Charlotte. An Audi’s not exactly rare.”

  “Same make and model. Same license plate.” Rupert flicked a glare in her direction.

  McKenna held up her hands. “I didn’t drive it into your house.”

  The muscle in Rupert’s jaw clenched. “Well, somebody did.”

  Jordan shook his head as if he were talking to a child who didn’t yet understand words. “It was stolen over a week ago.”

  He covered his son’s exposed ear with his free hand. “Look, while you guys are here playing house, my family is dying off one by one. My son and I will not be next. I need answers.”

  “Daddy?” Shawn lifted his head and rubbed his eyes.

  Rupert’s demeanor changed from angry to gentle in a heartbeat. “Hey, sleepy head.”

  “You said it’s not nice to yell.” The words came out on a yawn.

  “Mmm-hmm. You hungry? Maybe we can stop at McDonald’s when we’re done here. How’s that sound?”

  Shawn glanced at Jordan and scrunched up his face. “Okay, but I get the Happy Meal toy.” His sleepy gaze collided with McKenna. “Kenna.” He wiggled out of Rupert’s grasp, ran to her and wrapped his arms around her midsection.

  Taking his hands, she crouched in front of him. “Hey, buddy. How are you?”