Obsession: A Love on the Edge romance Read online

  “Can I stay a little longer?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, but no.”

  Tess turned back and kissed his temple. Her hair fell in his eyes and the strawberry scent of her shampoo surrounded him. “I’ll be back,” she whispered in his ear.

  He tried to reach for her, to grab her hand, but she disappeared before he could get his muscles to work.

  ***

  Tess ran a shaking hand through her hair and leaned against the wall outside recovery.

  “Tess?” Her brother-in-law, Roger Sheffield, stepped up beside her. “We came as soon as we heard. Shannon’s in the waiting room. She’s… Well. Upset.” He glanced away, looking haggard and concerned, his face pale, his lips bloodless.

  Tess nodded, too close to tears to speak. She appreciated their support, but wasn’t up to dealing with her sister’s hysterics at the moment and wished they would have just stayed home.

  “How is he?” Roger asked.

  “It’s bad.”

  “Is he awake?”

  She shook her head and repeated to Roger what the doctor had told her about the knee and the vest that had saved his life.

  “He was wearing a vest?” Roger asked.

  She nodded and rubbed her temple where a headache was forming.

  “He’ll live then?”

  “If he can get through the next few hours.” She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Roger was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Alex existed in a haze. Awake, yet not awake. Aware, but not really caring. The continuous beep of the monitors above his head should have been annoying, but instead they were comforting. At least then he knew he was alive.

  Occasionally, he tried to open his eyes, but found it easier just to float.

  Sometimes he heard Tess’s voice and the monitors changed their beat. Grew stronger, faster. He thought he’d talked to her once, but couldn’t be sure.

  “You should have died, Juran.”

  Alex jerked. The monitors made a screeching sound. He tried to open his eyes but they seemed weighted down—like he was in a dream and couldn’t wake up. Except he knew this wasn’t a dream. You didn’t smell in dreams and he could smell this guy.

  Old cigarettes and fear.

  “You’re delaying the inevitable. You know that, don’t you?”

  The person leaned in, tickling Alex’s ear with his smoker’s breath.

  Scenes flashed behind his eyelids. Metal warehouses. Jason. A John Deere cap.

  “Why didn’t you cooperate? Why didn’t you die?”

  The voice pushed buttons inside him. He turned his head. The orange flare of a firing gun flashed through his mind. Blinding pain. Darkness. Tess.

  “Sir!”

  Alex jumped. That voice belonged to the nurse who’d been taking care of him.

  “Sir, you’re not supposed to be in here. You’ll have to leave.”

  The scrape of the man’s shoe and the suddenly fresh air indicated he’d stepped back.

  The nurse harrumphed and Alex felt the cool touch of her fingers on his wrist. The monitors resumed their normal beat. A wave of exhaustion threatened to pull him under but his mind rebelled. Where had he heard that voice before?

  “There you go, Mr. Juran. Just gave you something to help you sleep.” She patted his arm.

  Black clouds of unconsciousness rushed in.

  ***

  Tess woke with sandpaper eyes and a cotton-ball mouth. She sat up, pushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at the clock. Ten a.m.

  Shoving Othello off her legs, she scrambled out of bed and raced into the shower. In record time she was in the kitchen gulping a glass of orange juice. Last night she’d had every intention of staying at the hospital but Tony and the doctors had insisted she go home and rest. She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and she hadn’t meant to sleep at all, let alone so late.

  Waiting for her toast to pop up, her toes tapped an uneven rhythm on the terra cotta floor and her eyes fell on the calendar attached to the refrigerator.

  Tomorrow was the final proceedings for her divorce. Her divorce. She’d always thought of it that way. Not Alex’s. Not even theirs. Hers. Her stomach rolled as it did every time she thought of walking into court and ending her marriage, and she wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing the right thing. Except now she had more to consider. Alex’s injury. Whether he was going to live and what his life was going to be like if—when—he recovered. Could she do this to him? Now?

  Ever?

  She grabbed the phone and dialed her attorney’s home number before she could second guess herself.

  “’Lo,” the groggy voice answered on the fourth ring.

  “Marlene? It’s Tess. Sorry to bother you at home on a Sunday.”

  “Tess?”

  Tess heard movement on the other side and a distinctive male voice. “Sorry, Marlene. You, um, sound busy.”

  “No, no. Not at all. What’s up, Tess?”

  Black toast popped out of the toaster and she stared at it, forming the words in her mind before she said them. “Alex was shot Friday night.”

  Marlene hissed in a breath. “Oh my God, Tess. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  The odor of burnt bread made her stomach turn. She threw her breakfast to the dog, who immediately pounced on it, then she unplugged the toaster and shoved the appliance into the cabinet.

  “I can’t go through with this while Alex is hurt, Marlene.”

  “Tess—”

  “No.” She shook her head even though Marlene couldn’t see it. “I won’t do that to him. I won’t end our marriage while he’s like this.” Is that the only reason? Just because he’s in the hospital? Or is it an excuse? Because even though he’d torn her heart apart with his indifference and his absences, deep down she still loved him. That was brought home to her when she was racing to the hospital, praying he was still alive.

  “All right,” Marlene said on a sigh. “I’ll call the judge, he can contact Alex’s attorney.”

  “Thanks, Marlene.”

  “Hang in there, Tess. We’ll get you through this.”

  Tess hung up and rubbed her eyes but all she could picture was Alex hooked up to those machines, tubes coming out of his leg and bags of medicine dripping into his arm.

  A divorce was one thing, but Alex’s death would rip a hole inside her that all the pain that had come before couldn’t even begin to compare to.

  ***

  Alex opened his eyes to find himself looking out a wide window where dark gray clouds heavy with snow hovered in the distance.

  The absence of the machines plunged the room into an uncomfortable quiet. His throat hurt, as if he’d swallowed a watermelon whole. He licked dry lips and tasted stale rubber. God, he could use a drink right now. A tall, ice-cold beer.

  “Oh, good, you’re awake.” A nurse walked in with a big smile and a stethoscope wrapped around her neck. “Welcome back, Officer Juran. There are a lot of people waiting to talk to you.”

  Alex licked his lips with a dry tongue. “Water.” His voice sounded like two arguing bullfrogs and even that short word tired him out.

  “Coming right up.”

  The wet glub-glub of pouring water had his mouth salivating. Nurse Perky shoved a cup with a straw under his nose and he drank deeply.

  She pulled the cup away. Water sprayed his face and he jerked back.

  “Sorry, not too much at once. When that settles you can have more.”

  She raised the head of his bed and he was faced with a wall of flower arrangements and dancing balloons. Bits and pieces of the last several days drifted back to him, but a complete picture refused to form. “What day is it?”

  She fiddled with the IVs. “Monday, December twelfth.” She started humming the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas”.

  Alex went still. “What time is it?”

  “Two in the afternoon.”

  He sque
ezed his eyes shut.

  “Officer Juran, are you in pain?”

  He laughed, a short bark of sound that scraped his already raw throat. Pain came in many forms. Over the last several days he’d felt physical pain like he’d never felt before and never wanted to feel again. Over the past six months, he’d discovered a completely different sort of pain.

  Yeah, he was in pain all right.

  “I’m fine,” he managed.

  “You want me to open the curtains a little more? Looks like we’ll be getting snow. A white Christmas for sure.”

  Alex shook his head.

  “Okay, then. Just use this little button here—” she picked up a gray box attached to a wire,“—to call me if you need anything.”

  Alex stared out the window, watching the heavy clouds drift in, and tried not to think that his marriage had ended sometime in the last hour. Shit. He didn’t think it would be like this. This emptiness. It wasn’t like they’d been living together or anything. He’d been out of the house for six months. And, yeah, he’d admit that they’d grown apart before that, but he’d never expected her to actually go through with the divorce.

  The door opened again and a petite woman with a cap of gray hair walked in. “Hello, Mr. Juran.” She walked over to the bed and held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Ford. I worked on that knee of yours. How’s it feel?”

  “I don’t feel anything.” If only his mind was as numb as his leg.

  “That’s normal. When the pain meds wear off, you’ll feel it. Tell the nurse and she’ll give you more.” Dr. Ford sat in the chair next to his bed. “So,” she said, looking around. “Where’s Mrs. Juran?”

  Alex blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “We need to talk about your recovery and it’d be best if Mrs. Juran were here.”

  “Mrs. Juran won’t be here today.” She’s too busy ending our marriage while I’m laid up in the hospital with a bum knee.

  “But she said—”

  “She’s not coming.”

  Dr. Ford looked confused.

  “Look, Doctor, just tell me what’s going on with my knee.” Anything would be better than thinking of Tess and the divorce.

  She shifted in her chair. “The bullet hit your knee, nicking the artery and shattering the bone. After the artery was fixed and your condition stabilized, we replaced the knee.”

  The doctor began a long litany of things he should and should not expect over the next several days and months, but all he heard was replace the knee. Good God, his knee? What the hell? He knew he’d been shot in the knee, had figured an artery had been hit and he’d probably bleed out before help arrived. But after he’d woken up, he’d hoped it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.

  His knee.

  Gone.

  Shattered.

  Like his marriage. How ironic.

  He waved the doctor’s words away with a swipe of his hand. “What about my job? When can I go back to work?”

  She shifted again and looked uneasy. “I’d really prefer it if Mrs.—”

  “Look,” he ground out, “Mrs. Juran isn’t returning.” There wasn’t a Mrs. Juran anymore but he’d be damned if he told her that. “When can I go back to work?”

  Her eyes met his. The scent of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol mixed with the flowers made him feel sick to his stomach, but he didn’t think it had anything to do with the odors in the room.

  “We won’t know for at least four months,” she said.

  “So in four months I can go back?”

  “In four months we’ll re-evaluate the situation.”

  “So it could take longer? Say, six months?”

  She looked at him with sad eyes.

  “Tell me.” His voice sounded rough and he thought of that beer somewhere out there with his name on it.

  “You may never return to police work, Mr. Juran. I’m sorry.”

  Alex closed his eyes. Oh, yeah, there were different kinds of pain, and his had just taken a whole new turn.

  He opened his eyes and stared at the happy-face balloons and the banners on the flower arrangements demanding he “get well soon”.

  In one day, he’d lost his wife, his career. His life.

  Dr. Ford’s beeper went off. She looked at the screen and muttered something. “I have to take this call. I’ll be right back so we can discuss this further. Maybe by then Mrs. Juran will be back.” She hurried out the door.

  He gritted his teeth, half wishing he hadn’t been wearing his vest and the bullet had entered his heart. He’d rather meet death head-on because it would be a hell of a lot easier than living his life without Tess and without the career he loved.

  The door opened again and he looked up, expecting Dr. Ford.

  It was Tess who stood in the doorway, the lights from the outside hall backlighting her.

  God, she was beautiful. Her long red hair was done up in what she laughingly called a messy bun. A short brown turtleneck sweater just barely met her form-fitting, well-worn jeans. She held a can of root beer—her favorite drink—nearly crushing the aluminum in her tight grip. “Hello, Alex.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” He hurt everywhere and some perverse part of him wanted her to hurt just as much. Of course, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t hurt her enough in the past. After all, it was why she’d kicked him out and filed for divorce.

  She lifted her chin. “Has Dr. Ford been in yet?”

  “What do you care?”

  She looked pale, the freckles on her nose more prominent. “I care,” she said in that soft voice she used when he’d been overly harsh with her. A tone he’d heard more and more often in the end.

  The door opened again—honestly, the hospital administration should make it revolving—and Tony strolled in. “Hey, my man, rumor had it you’d decided to rejoin the living.”

  Tony looked at Tess, then back to Alex, apparently sensing the tightly strung emotions between them. “Uh, you want me to leave?”

  Alex eyed Tony’s BDUs and attempted to ignore Tess, who stood awkwardly on the other side of the room. “Tell me you’ve got a beer in one of those deep pockets for me, Blankenship.”

  “Yeah, right. With the meds you’re on? What, you have a death wish?”

  Alex didn’t laugh. Maybe. Probably.

  “So…” Tony sauntered over to the bed. “Thought I’d get to you before the chief and LT.”

  “Yeah?”

  Tony rolled his eyes. “Spill it. What happened the other night that everything got so fucked up?”

  Alex looked at him, his mind a blank.

  “Who the hell shot you, partner? Who killed your contact?”

  “Tony, I don’t think this is the time,” Tess said from far away.

  But Alex wasn’t paying attention. Beyond the actual bullet and what it had done to him, he hadn’t had time to think about what went down that night. He remembered walking through the warehouses, the adrenaline swimming through him, and the long, low bellow of a riverboat. He remembered meeting up with Jason and he recalled the pain of the bullet as it ripped through his knee, rolling to avoid the shot to his chest, waiting for the ambulance.

  What he didn’t remember was who shot him and who killed Jason.

  Chapter Four

  “Out!” Dr. Ford’s voice rang above the chief’s, the lieutenant’s, Tony’s and several detectives Tess didn’t recognize.

  They all looked at the doctor as if amazed anyone had the balls to interrupt them. The doctor pushed the lieutenant on the shoulder and pulled the chief by his sleeve. The others followed, meek as lambs, until the room was empty except for her, Dr. Ford and Alex.

  Alex leaned back and closed his eyes. Sweat beaded his forehead. Dark smudges circled his eyes and bruises dotted his face. Tess wanted to go to him but stayed where she was, too afraid to make that first move.

  With the room finally quiet, Dr. Ford turned to Tess. “You can stay, Mrs. Juran.”

  “No.” Alex opened his eyes and rolled his head in Tess’s di
rection. “She needs to leave too.”

  Their gazes collided, his filled with anger and pain.

  “Alex, please don’t do this.”

  He closed his eyes again and turned away.

  “Alex—”

  “I don’t want her here,” he said to the doctor. “Make her leave.”

  Dr. Ford looked at the floor while Tess stared at her husband. She’d known he was bitter and angry over what he considered her abandonment of their marriage, but hadn’t realized how deeply she had hurt him when she asked him to leave six months ago. She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Quietly she stepped forward and placed a tube of lip balm on the bed beside his hand and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  The group who’d been pushed out of Alex’s room stood in a huddle farther down the hall.

  Roger leaned a shoulder on the wall next to her. “I heard he was awake.”

  “Yeah.” Tess rubbed her tired eyes and moved her feet so a janitor wouldn’t roll over them with his mop bucket.

  “I also heard he can’t remember.”

  Alex’s announcement that he couldn’t remember what happened the night he’d been shot was what had caused the uproar and the subsequent removal of everyone in his room.

  “What’s the doctor saying?” Roger asked.

  “We haven’t spoken yet.” Because half the brass in the police department had crowded in. Crowded her out. She shouldn’t be surprised. After all, the force was what had driven them apart. That it was happening again should have been expected.

  She understood why everyone was concerned. Alex’s shooter was out there and probably knew Alex was alive. Had Alex seen his face? Was the identity of the murderer locked somewhere in Alex’s mind?

  “Mrs. Juran?” Dr. Ford approached. “We need to discuss Mr. Juran’s recovery. Do you have a minute?”

  Tess nodded. After the humiliating incident in Alex’s room, she was surprised the doctor would want to speak to her. Dr. Ford glanced at the knot of uniforms, then motioned Tess into an empty room.