Читать книгу Secret Agent Affair - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 7

Chapter 2

Marja drove quickly, squeaking through amber lights about to turn red. She hoped all the police squad cars were in another part of the city. She’d deliberately left the radio off so that she could hear her passenger in case he suddenly came to and said something.

He didn’t.

The stranger was still out cold a few minutes later when she pulled into the underground parking garage located directly beneath her apartment building.

Zipping into the assigned parking space, she turned off the engine and eyed the man slumped over beside her.

“Okay, we’re here,” she announced. There was absolutely no indication that he’d heard her. Nudging him, first gently, then with feeling, accomplished nothing. Marja placed her fingertips to his throat and felt for his pulse. He was still alive. “Wake up,” she ordered loudly.

His eyes remained closed.

Okay, now what? she wondered.

Maybe he’d lost more blood than she’d thought. Marja chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. She needed to get him upstairs. No way could she get him out of the car and into the elevator by herself.

Marja looked at the stranger’s face. For a moment she entertained the idea of turning around and driving back to the hospital. Plenty of people could help her there.

But she’d told him that she wouldn’t and for some reason she couldn’t quite put into words, she felt that it was important that she not lie to the man.

With a sigh, she took out her cell phone. She pressed the keypad for Tania, the only one of her sisters who still lived in the apartment that had originally housed Sasha, Natalya and Kady before all three of them had gotten married. Pretty soon, she knew it would be only her living there. But right now, she shared the three-bedroom apartment with Tania—when her sister wasn’t staying over at her fiancé Jesse’s place.

The phone on the other end of the line stopped ringing.

“Where the hell are you?” Tania demanded with exasperation the moment she came on. “You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. I need the car. They called me in to cover for Michaelson. If I don’t get to the hospital in fifteen minutes, I’m going to be late for my shift.”

Marja picked her words carefully. She didn’t want to say any more over the phone than she absolutely had to. “I need you to come down, Tania.” She glanced toward the slumped figure to her right. “I’ve, um, got a slight problem.”

For a moment there was silence, then anger. “There better be nothing wrong with the car or you’re going to be facing more than just a ‘slight’ problem,” Tania warned her.

The next moment the connection was abruptly terminated.

Marja closed her cell phone, pocketing it along with her car keys. Squaring her shoulders, she braced herself for a lecture when Tania arrived. The car was really Tania’s, although they did share it. Her sister had bought it from Sasha after their oldest sister had purchased a new one, an SUV to accommodate her family increasing by one. In its time, the vehicle had ferried all five of the Pulaski women to and from the hospital, as well as the house in Queens where they all grew up and where their parents still resided.

Deciding to give it one more try, Marja shook her unconscious passenger’s shoulder again and wound up with the same results.

“If you know what’s good for you,” she murmured to the unconscious stranger, “you’ll come to—fast.”

The elevator leading up to the other floors was located on the far side of the garage. Marja watched as the doors opened. Her sister had arrived faster than she’d anticipated.

Tania, casually dressed in jeans and a blue pullover sweater, a giant purse slung over her shoulder, quickly cut the distance between the elevator and the parked vehicle to nothing.

It wasn’t until she was only about two feet away from her car that she saw Marja wasn’t alone in it. And it wasn’t until she’d reached the car that she noticed the passenger’s condition.

Marja was already out. Rounding the hood, she opened the passenger door. “I need your help to get him upstairs.”

Tania stared at her sister, stunned. She was accustomed to Marja bringing men home, but they were usually in a far better state than this one—and conscious. She looked back at the slumped passenger.

“Bringing home hospital overflow, Marysia?” she quipped.

This wasn’t the time to get into a discussion. She needed to take care of the stranger’s wound before it became infected.

“Just help me get him upstairs, Tania,” Marja said wearily. “It’s been a long night, not to mention a long day.”

Tania made no move to help. Instead she leaned over the passenger side and peered at the man.

“Scruffy, but definitely not bad-looking,” she pronounced. Straightening, she glanced at her sister, an incredulous expression on her face. “You were the one who always brought home strays,” she recalled. The habit had driven their mother crazy, despite the fact that Magda Pulaski found a way to house each and every wounded animal. “But this—” Tania gestured toward the stranger “—is over the top, even for you.”

Marja started to struggle with the man, trying to move him into position so that they could pull him out of the vehicle. If they both took hold of an arm, they could get him into the elevator.

“I hit him with the car, Tania.” It wasn’t something she’d wanted to admit, at least not yet. Not until Tania was at least a grandmother. But it was obvious that her sister needed to be coerced.

If she was shocked, Tania didn’t show it. Instead she placed her hands on Marja’s shoulders and moved her out of the way so that she could get a closer look at the man. After a quick assessment, she raised her eyes to Marja’s. “Since when does the car shoot bullets?” she asked. “Sasha never mentioned it could do that little trick.”

Annoyed, Marja shifted her out of the way and resumed trying to pull the stranger farther out of the vehicle. “Don’t get sarcastic, Tania.”

“Don’t get stupid, Marja,” Tania countered, her arms crossed before her chest. “We’re not bringing him upstairs.”

“Fine,” Marja snapped. She’d finally managed to get him to face out. It was like pushing a rock into position. “I’ll do it myself.”

Tania watched her continue to struggle for exactly five seconds, muttered a sharp oath and then grabbed the unconscious stranger by the other arm. Marja looked at her in surprise.

“You are the most stubborn woman on the face of the earth,” Tania declared angrily. Between the two of them, they hoisted the all but dead weight up to his feet.

“Blame Mama. I got it from her,” Marja gasped, struggling beneath the unconscious man’s weight and doing her best not to pitch forward or to fall backward as they slowly made their way to the elevator.

Tania held on to the man’s wrist, his arm slung across her shoulders as she took unsteady steps toward the elevator. “You know this is crazy, don’t you?”

Marja kept her eyes on the prize, silently counting off steps until they finally reached the steel doors. “We’re doctors,” she pointed out haltingly.

Leaning her forehead against the wall to help brace herself, Marja pressed for the elevator. When the doors opened almost immediately, she had to keep from falling forward. Breathing a huge sigh of relief—they were halfway there—she punched the button for their floor.

“We’re supposed to heal people,” she concluded, drawing in a lungful of air as she braced herself for the second half of the journey—getting the man to their apartment once they reached the fifth floor.

Tania craned her neck around the man they held up between them. “That doesn’t mean going out and trolling the streets for patients.”

“I wasn’t trolling. I told you, I hit him with the car.”

“How—?”

She’d braced herself for that same question. “One second he wasn’t there,” Marja answered. “Then he was. And I hit him.”

“But you didn’t shoot him,” Tania insisted. The elevator came to a stop and Tania shifted, getting what she hoped was a better hold on the man. “Why didn’t you just take him to P.M. or call the paramedics?”

Holding tightly on to his other hand, lodging her shoulders beneath his arm, Marja began to walk. “Because he wouldn’t let me.” Why hadn’t she ever noticed before how far away their apartment was from the elevator?

Tania glanced at the unconscious face. “Doesn’t seem to be putting up much resistance at the moment. The man could be a criminal, you realize that, right?”

Almost there, Marja thought. Almost there. “He’s… not.”

Tania all but threw herself against the door, then waited as Marja fished out her key. “And you know this how?” she gasped.

Marja didn’t answer until she’d managed to unlock the door and resumed her forced march, this time through the doorway. “He doesn’t have criminal eyes.”

“Right. You’re crazy, you know that?”

Marja was getting a second wind. From where, she had no idea. “Whatever you say, Tania. Let’s get him… to the sofa,” she instructed.

Together, they deposited the man on the sofa. It was hard not to drop him, but they managed. Because of her position, Marja went down with him, then immediately scrambled to her feet.

“I can take it from here,” she told Tania, dragging in gulps of air. “You just get to the hospital.”

Tania took a step back. She glanced down at her clothes, checking herself over to see if any of the blood had gotten on her. Miraculously, it hadn’t.

Losing no time, Marja made her way to the kitchen for some clean towels and a basin of water. “I said you can go,” she called. “You don’t want to be late,” she added.

Tania glanced at her watch. “I’m already late,” she answered, seeming hesitant to leave. Tania shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Look, I really do have to go. I told them I’d fill in for Michaelson,” she said. “But let me call Jesse.” She began to take out her cell phone. “He can be here in ten minutes and he’ll stay with you until you finish being the Good Samaritan.”

“No,” Marja protested from the kitchen. In less than a second she was back in the room. Water sloshed out of the basin as she came. “No, let Jesse sleep,” she insisted, putting the basin down on the coffee table.

The cell phone remained in Tania’s hand. She wasn’t going to give up that easily. “All right, I’ll call Byron, then.”

That was equally unacceptable. She wasn’t about to put anyone out on her account. Besides, she could take care of herself. The fact that she was petite and young had nothing to do with her ability to defend herself if need be. “No.”

“Mike. Tony.” Tania offered up the names of their other two brothers-in-law, both of whom were detectives associated with the N.Y.P.D. Marja firmly shook her head at the mention of each. Tania frowned. “All right. Dad, then.”

Marja’s eyes grew huge. “No! Especially not Dad. You call Dad about this and you’re a dead woman.” There wasn’t a trace of humor in Marja’s voice.

“Better me than you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Marja insisted, depositing the towels beside the basin. Placing both of her hands to her sister’s back, she steered and then pushed Tania toward the front door. “Really.”

Tania looked far from convinced.

But defeated, she surrendered. Temporarily. “I’m going to call you every fifteen minutes,” Tania declared, stepping out into the hallway. “And you’d better answer.”

Marja nodded, already retreating into the living room. “I promise.” And then she stopped for a second. “And, Tania—”

“What?”

“I’m sorry I hurt the car.” There was a dent in the front bumper. It was minor, but there, and she knew how Tania was about her possessions.

Tania waved her hand, dismissing the words. “Yeah, whatever.” She looked back into the apartment, at the body on the sofa. “Just be careful.”

Marja grinned. “Always.”

“Ha!” It was the last word Tania said before she closed the door behind her.

Marja turned her attention back to the unconscious, wounded man on the sofa. Moving quickly, she made her way through two of the bathrooms. Between the two, she collected all the things she was going to need to remove the bullet from his side and then sew up his wound.

As a graduation present, her parents had given each one of them an old-fashioned doctor’s black bag. It was there that she kept the kinds of instruments for digging a bullet out of the man’s side. She grabbed hers out of her room.

After depositing everything on the coffee table, Marja pulled on a pair of gloves and got down to business.

They’d dropped him face-down on the sofa. She rolled him over, then pushed open his shirt. Very carefully, she peeled back the T-shirt beneath it. A solid wall of abdominal muscles met her gaze. She hadn’t expected that. He looked a little small for a body builder, but perfect enough to be among their number.

“Who are you?” she murmured under her breath. Curiosity had her glancing at his left hand. No ring. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a wife somewhere, beside herself with worry.

“He’s a patient, not a man,” she reminded herself. But a torso like that was difficult to ignore.

Taking several cotton swabs, she soaked them in alcohol, then started to clean the area around his wound. The moment she touched the swab to his skin, she saw his muscles contract. The next second he grabbed her wrist. Hard.

It took Marja a full minute to push her pounding heart back out of her throat. Her eyes shifted to his face. He was most definitely awake. And scowling like dark storm clouds over the prairie.

“Welcome back.” Marja did her best to sound flippant.

Taking a breath, trying to get his bearings, Kane released the woman’s wrist. His eyes moved quickly around the area. It wasn’t familiar in the slightest. Where the hell was he?

His eyes shifted back to the woman sitting on the edge of the sofa. There was something white and wet in her hand. “What happened?”

Setting the swab aside, Marja looked at him. She almost wished he was still unconscious. This next part was going to be a lot more painful for him awake. “You fainted.”

Kane sneered at the mere suggestion. “Men don’t faint.”

Oh God, he was one of those. Macho with an extra doze of testosterone. She should have known the second she caught a glimpse of his abdominal muscles. “You passed out,” she rephrased, then waited. “Better?”

He shrugged. The movement caused him more than a small amount of discomfort. He felt as if he’d gotten hit by a truck. No, wait, a Mustang. Her Mustang.

“Better,” he rasped. And then he saw the array of things on the table. He honed in on the scalpel. “You planning on using those on me?”

“Unless I can get you to change your mind about going to the hospital, yes.” Maybe if she was lucky, he’d pass out again.

Kane shook his head. The room tilted slightly, then righted itself. “No hospital.”

She didn’t think so. Though she knew nothing about him, she had a feeling he was as stubborn as hell. But then, most men thought they knew best—even when they usually didn’t.

Going over to the liquor cabinet, she found a partially empty bottle of whiskey. Tony had brought it over the other week to celebrate something. At the moment, she couldn’t recall what. Crossing back to the sofa, she offered the bottle to him. “This is going to hurt,” she said simply.

But Kane declined the drink. As far as he was concerned, he was still on duty, still needed a clear head. Alcohol made people stupid. It had certainly evaporated his uncle’s brain.

“Go ahead,” he ordered.

Well, he wasn’t a coward, she thought. Faced with having a bullet dug out sans anesthetic, most men would have grabbed the whiskey with both hands.

Picking up the scalpel, Marja inserted it into the wound. She kept one eye on her patient as she began to slowly probe the wound, listening for the sound of metal on metal. His face reddened. She looked for something to distract him.

Coming up empty, she finally asked, “Why don’t you want me to take you to a hospital?”

Kane took in slow, small breaths, struggling not to tense up. Trying to focus on her question, he gave her an excuse he thought she’d believe.

“I’m between jobs. How easy do you think it’ll be—” sweat was oozing down his brow as she probed deeper “—to get one if they look into my background and see that I was shot? I—” he took a deeper breath, as if that could somehow stand between him and the fiery pain “—don’t want to have to deal with a lot of suspicious, annoying questions.”

She raised her eyes to his for a second, pausing. “Like why were you shot?”

“Yes, like that.”

And then she heard it. That slight noise that told her she’d found her quarry. Metal against metal. Very carefully she went deeper, digging beneath the bullet until she managed to draw it out of the hole it had made. The stranger hadn’t made a single sound. What the hell was he made of?

She realized she was holding her breath and let it go as she deposited the bullet onto the cotton swab on the table. “Why were you shot?”

Pain undulated through him like a marauding snake. Kane took in a deep, shaky breath before answering her.

“Unsuccessful mugging,” he finally managed to say. “I didn’t have anything to mug. Guy got mad. I pushed him and ran. And he shot me. I kept on running. Until you stopped me with your car.” It had gone down differently, all except the last part. But for his purpose and her curiosity, he felt it would do. He looked at the bullet on the table. The bullet she’d removed. He raised his eyes to hers. “I’d say we’re even.”