Читать книгу Security Blanket - Delores Fossen, Delores Fossen - Страница 8

Marin heard someone say her name.

It was a stranger’s voice.

She wondered if it was real or all part of the relentless nightmare she’d been having. A nightmare of explosions and trains. At least, she thought it might be a train. The only clear image that kept going through her mind was of a pair of snakeskin boots. Everything else was a chaotic blur of sounds and smells and pain. Mostly pain. There were times when it was unbearable.

“Marin?” she heard the strange voice say again.

It was a woman. She sounded real, and Marin thought she might have felt someone gently touch her cheek.

She tried to open her eyes and failed the first time, but then tried again. She was instantly sorry that she’d succeeded. The bright overhead lights stabbed right into her eyes and made her wince.

Marin groaned.

Just like that, with a soft click, the lights went away. “Better?” the woman asked.

Marin managed a nod that hurt, as well.

The dimmed lighting helped, but her head was still throbbing, and it seemed as if she had way too many nerves in that particular part of her body. The pain was also affecting her vision. Everything was out of focus.

“Where am I?” Marin asked.

Since her words had no sound, she repeated them. It took her four tries to come up with a simple audible three-word question. Quite an accomplishment though, considering her throat was as dry as west Texas dust.

“St. Mary’s,” the woman provided.

Marin stared at her, her gaze moving from the woman’s pinned-up auburn hair to her perky cotton-candy-pink uniform. Her name tag said she was Betty Garcia, RN. That realization caused Marin to glance around the room.

“I’m in a hospital?” Marin licked her lips. They were dry and chapped.

“Yes. You don’t remember being brought here?”

Marin opened her mouth to answer, only to realize that she didn’t have an answer. Until a few seconds ago, she’d thought she was having a nightmare. She definitely didn’t remember being admitted to a hospital.

“Are you real?” Marin asked, just to make sure she wasn’t trapped in the dream.

The woman smiled. “I’m going to assume that’s not some sort of philosophical question. Yes, I’m real. And so are you.” She checked the machine next to the bed. “How do you feel?”

Marin made a quick assessment. “I feel like someone bashed me in the head.”

The woman made a sound of agreement. “Not someone. Something. But you’re better now. You don’t remember the train accident?”

“The accident,” Marin repeated, trying to sort through the images in her head.

“It’s still under investigation,” the nurse continued. She touched Marin’s arm. “But the authorities think there was some kind of electrical malfunction that caused the explosion.”

An explosion. She remembered that.

Didn’t she?

“Thankfully, no one was killed,” the woman went on. She picked up Marin’s wrist and took her pulse. “But over a dozen people were hurt, including you.”

It was the word hurt that made the memories all come flooding back. The call from her grandmother, telling Marin that she was sick and begging her to come home. The train trip from Fort Worth to San Antonio.

The explosion.

God, the explosion.

“Noah!” Marin shouted. “Where’s my son?”

Marin jackknifed to a sitting position, and she would have launched herself out of the bed if Nurse Garcia and the blinding pain hadn’t stopped her.

“Easy now,” the nurse murmured. She released her grip on Marin’s wrist and caught on to her shoulders instead, easing her down onto the mattress.

Marin cooperated, but only because she had no choice. “My son—”

“Is fine. He wasn’t hurt. He didn’t even get a scratch.”

The relief was as overwhelming as the pain. Noah was all right. The explosion that had catapulted them through the air had obviously hurt her enough that she needed to be hospitalized, but her son had escaped unharmed.

Marin considered that a moment.

How had he escaped?

A clear image of Lucky Bacelli came into her head.

The man she’d been certain was following her. He’d promised to get Noah out, and apparently he had.

“I want to see Noah,” Marin insisted. “Could you bring him to me now?”

Nurse Garcia stared at her, and the calm serenity that had been in her coffee-colored eyes quickly faded to concern. “Your son’s not here.”

Marin was sure there was some concern in her own eyes, as well. “But—”

“Do you have any idea how long you’ve been in the hospital?” the nurse interrupted.

Marin opened her mouth, closed it and considered the question. She finally shook her head. “How long?”

“Nearly two days.”

“Days?” Not hours. Marin was sure it’d only been a few hours. Or maybe she was simply hoping it had been. “So where is he? Who’s had my baby all this time?” But the moment she asked, the fear shot through her. “Not my parents. Please don’t tell me he’s with them.”

A very unnerving silence followed, and Nurse Garcia’s forehead bunched up.

That did it.

Marin pushed aside the nurse’s attempts to restrain her and tried to get out of the bed. It wasn’t easy, nowhere close, but she fought through the pain and wooziness and forced herself to stand up.

She didn’t stay vertical long.

Marin’s legs turned boneless, and she had no choice but to slouch back down on the bed.

“There isn’t any reason for you to worry,” the nurse assured her. “Your son is okay.”

Marin gasped for breath so she could speak. “Yes, so you’ve said. But who has him?”

“Your fiancé, of course. His father.”

What breath she’d managed to regain, Marin instantly lost. “His…father?”

Nurse Garcia nodded, smiling. The bunched up forehead was history.

Marin experienced no such calmness. Adrenaline and fear hit her like a heavyweight’s punch.

Noah’s father was dead. He was killed in a boating accident nearly eight months before Noah was even born. There was no way he could be here.

“Your fiancé should be arriving any minute,” the nurse cheerfully added.

Nothing could have kept Marin in the bed. Ignoring the nurse’s protest and the weak muscles in her legs, Marin got up and went in search of her clothes. But even if she had to leave the hospital in her gown, she intended to get out of there and see what was going on.

Nurse Garcia caught on to her arm. Her expression changed, softened. “Everything’s okay. There’s no need for you to panic.”

Oh, yes, there was. Either Randall had returned from the grave or something was terribly wrong. Noah had no father, and she had no fiancé.

There was a knock at the door. One soft rap before it opened. The jeans, the black leather jacket. The boots.

Lucky Bacelli.

Not Randall.

“Where’s Noah?” she demanded.

Lucky ignored her question and strolled closer. “You gave me quite a scare, you know that? I’m glad you’re finally awake.” And with that totally irrelevant observation, he smiled. A secretive little smile that only he and Mona Lisa could have pulled off.

“I want to see Noah,” Marin snapped. “And I want to see him now.”

Another smile caused a dimple to wink in his left cheek. He reached out, touched her right arm and rubbed softly. A gesture no doubt meant to soothe her. It didn’t work. For one thing, it was too intimate. Boy, was it. For another, nothing would soothe her except for holding her son and making sure he was okay.

“The doctor wants to examine you before he allows any other visitors so Noah’s waiting at the nurses’ station,” Lucky explained, his voice a slow, easy drawl. The sound and ease of Texas practically danced off the words. “And I’m sure they’re spoiling him rotten.”

Marin disregarded the last half of his comment. Her son was at the nurses’ station. That’s all she needed to know. She ducked around Lucky and headed toward the door. Marin had no idea where the nurses’ station was, but she’d find it.

Lucky stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Where are you going, darling?”

That stopped her in her tracks.

Darling?

He said it as if he had a right to.

That was well past being intimate. Then he slid his arm around her waist and leaned in close. Too close. It violated her personal space and then some. Marin slapped her palm on his chest to stop him from violating it further.

“Is there a problem?” Nurse Garcia asked.

“You bet there is,” Marin informed her.

And she would have voiced exactly what that problem was if she’d had the chance.

She hadn’t.

Because in that same moment, Lucky Bacelli curved his hand around her waist and gently pulled her closer to him. He put his mouth right against her ear. “This was the only way,” he whispered.

Marin tried to move away, but he held on. “The only way for what?” she demanded.

“To keep you and Noah safe.” He kept his voice low, practically a murmur.

Even with the pain and fog in her head and his barely audible voice, she understood what he meant. Lucky had needed to protect Noah from her parents, just as she’d asked him to do. He’d pretended to be Randall Davidson, a dead man. Marin couldn’t remember how Lucky had known Randall’s name. Had she mentioned it? She must have. Thankfully, her parents had never met Randall and knew almost nothing about him. They certainly didn’t know he was dead. She’d kept that from them because if she’d explained his death, she would have also had to endure countless questions about their life together.

Marin stopped struggling to get away from him and wearily dropped her head on his shoulder. He’d lied, but he’d done it all for Noah’s sake. “My parents tried to take him?”

Lucky nodded. “They tried and failed. But I’m pretty sure they’ll be back soon for round two.”

That wasn’t a surprise. With her in a hospital bed, her parents had probably thought they could take over her life before she even regained consciousness. It’d been a miracle that Lucky had been able to stop them, and if he’d had to do that with lies, then it was a small price to pay for her to be able to keep her son from them.

“Thank you,” Marin mouthed.

“Don’t thank me.” Lucky moved back enough to allow their gazes to connect. The gray in his eyes turned stormy. “I don’t think that train accident was really an accident,” he whispered.

Stunned, Marin shookher head. “What do you mean?”

It seemed as if he changed his mind a dozen times about what to say. “Marin, Noah and you were nearly killed because of me.”