Fast Track (Buchanan-Renard #12)

Fast Track (Buchanan-Renard #12) Page 24

“What is it?”

“The attorneys still haven’t gotten the papers ready to sign on the house.”

“Would you like me to call them?”

He shook his head. “No, they promised they’ll get it done. But Regan and I were hoping you wouldn’t mind if we moved some of our things into the house now.”

“No, of course I don’t mind. Didn’t Regan want to change the paint color in most of the rooms before you moved?”

“Just two rooms, and the painters will be there tomorrow . . . if that’s okay.”

“Yes, it’s okay. Go ahead and do whatever you want to do.”

Alec left a few minutes later. Aiden walked him to the door, and the two of them stood there talking for several minutes in low tones. They both glanced at her a couple of times, and she knew they were talking about her. She also knew neither one of them would tell her what they were saying, though she was relatively sure it had something to do with keeping her in the hotel.

Alec had e-mailed the video to her before he left. She opened it on her laptop and watched it again. “This video is going to stay in my head for a long time,” she told Aiden when he returned to her.

“Maybe if you stopped watching it . . .”

He had a point. “Okay.”

“Try to think about something else.”

“What a brilliant idea. I never would have thought to do that.”

“Glad I could help,” he replied, totally unfazed by her sarcasm.

He walked back to the table with his laptop and sat down to check a file. Several minutes passed in silence. He was so engrossed in his work, Cordie went into her bedroom and sat on the bed while she pondered what she could do to speed the investigation along. She walked back into the living room. “Aiden, I was wondering . . . ,” she began sweetly.

“What?” Abrupt as always.

“When are you going back to Sydney?”

He stopped typing and looked at her. “Why?”

“I’d like to go with you.”

He gave her what she could interpret only as the are-you-crazy look. “No.”

“Wouldn’t you like to hear why I want to go with you?”

“No.”

“I’m telling you anyway.”

He sat back. “I thought you might.”

“I want to knock on Simone Rayburn’s door, and I’m going to make her admit she sent someone to get rid of me. Then I think I just might do what Jayden suggested.”

It was difficult for Aiden not to smile. Cordie was really getting worked up. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Run her over. I might even take out the whole family.”

“Cordelia, you’re not going to Sydney.”

She stopped arguing. It felt good to rant for a minute or two about Simone and get rid of some of her anger, but she realized in the end she did need to be patient. Liam was investigating, and maybe soon he would get the proof needed to arrest Simone and the man or men she sent to Chicago. There was absolutely no question in her mind that it could be anyone else.

“I’ll be leaving for an appointment in a few minutes,” Aiden announced. He closed his laptop and took it into his bedroom. When he returned, he was putting on his sport coat.

He didn’t tell her where he was going or when he would be back, and she didn’t ask. If he wanted her to know, he would have taken the time to explain—which would have been the polite thing to do. He would rather be rude, however. Should she mention that it was already after ten? No, of course she shouldn’t. Teachers went to bed at ten on school nights—at least she did when she was teaching—but millionaire CEOs could stay out all night partying if they wanted. They didn’t have to do things like control teenage boys with raging hormones the next morning.

Slipping his cell phone into his coat pocket, he said, “There’s a security guard in the hall.”

“I know. I saw him.”

“You’ll be safe. He won’t let anyone in or out.”

Or out? In other words, she wasn’t going anywhere. She decided to mess with him. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I love it here. I may never leave. Have a nice time tonight.” Without another word she walked into her bedroom and quietly shut the door.

She hadn’t lied. She was exhausted and wanted only to sleep. It was a luxury to be pampered, and right now that was what she needed. Forget about being self-reliant. She had to have help to get her strength back. Staying at the hotel just a little longer wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She’d rest one more day, and then she’d go home.

She watched television for a couple of hours and relaxed. She fell asleep around midnight but woke up later screaming. Bolting upright, she frantically looked around the room trying to find the threat. She heard a crash, then a curse, and suddenly Aiden was at her side.

“What the . . . Are you all right?” he panted.

She pushed the hair out of her eyes and squinted up at him. “Did I wake you?”

“I heard a bloodcurdling scream.”

“I heard it, too,” she explained. “I screamed, and that’s what woke me up. I don’t know why I did that.” She sounded bewildered.

“Bad dream?”

“Probably. I don’t remember.”

Wearing nothing but boxers, he stood there staring down at her, and as worn out as she felt, she still noticed how sexy his body was, while hers was . . . colorful. Black-and-blue.

“Do you want me to sleep with you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Okay.” He pulled the sheet back and got in bed with her. “Put your head on my shoulder.”

“You’re even telling me how to sleep now?”

“Good night, Cordelia.”

TWENTY-TWO

Aiden left the suite around seven to work out and didn’t return until after nine. He looked in on Cordelia to make certain she was all right. She was still sleeping soundly. After changing, he left again to get coffee and meet Spencer to discuss what to do about their brother, Walker.

When Cordie awoke, her room was still dark, but a sliver of sun shone through the gap where the draperies met. She rolled out of bed, opened the draperies wide, and looked out on a beautiful sunny day. She convinced herself she was feeling much better. Her aches and pains weren’t nearly as bad, and once she started moving around, the stiffness in her legs eased. Her horribly bruised hip still burned like fire, but it wasn’t unbearable. She could take care of herself now, and to prove it she would get dressed before the nurse showed up to help. She was sure she could manage the plastic sleeve over her cast so it wouldn’t get wet. A new day, a new positive attitude, she told herself.

She was feeling pretty chipper until she saw herself in the mirror. She looked like the kraken. The swelling had gone down, but the bruised skin was more vivid, and her hair—dear God, her hair looked as though it had been styled in front of a jet engine. The expression her hair stood on end didn’t do it justice. Maybe she needed a little help after all.

Patty, the fortysomething nurse who arrived later, was a talker. A little on the plump side, with kind eyes and a maternal disposition, she wasn’t anything at all like the voluptuous nurse who had visited the day before. After she introduced herself, she told Cordie she was happy to have a break from taking care of Walker.

“He’s being difficult?” Cordie asked. She couldn’t hide her surprise. Walker was usually the real charmer in the family.

Because Patty was so soft-spoken, what she said made Cordie laugh. “He’s a pain in the ass.” She removed Cordie’s sling and folded it. “Never a ‘please’ or ‘thank you,’ and he yells whenever we try to help. Moving him from the bed to the wheelchair is a trial.”

“I had planned to go see him today,” Cordie said. “Maybe I should wait until he’s feeling better.”

“Don’t wait. He might sweeten up with a friend there. He sure wasn’t happy to see his physical therapist.”

Cordie hoped Patty was exaggerating. She couldn’t imagine Walker being rude to anyone. Aiden, absolutely. Spencer, maybe sometimes. But Walker? No, never.

Once she was dressed, she headed across the hall to Walker’s suite. The guard looked as though he thought she was trying to pull something, but he let her pass and, like a shadow, followed a foot behind her.

“I’ll be right out here,” he reminded her.

“And I’ll be right in here,” she replied, smiling, as she opened the door and slipped inside.

The suite was dark, and it took a second for her eyes to adjust. All the draperies were closed, and a single lamp on an end table was the only source of light. She took a few steps past the foyer and saw him. Poor Walker. He looked so pale . . . and angry. He was sitting in a wheelchair in the center of the living room next to the coffee table. His leg was straight out in front of him. The cast reached the top of his knee, and Cordie couldn’t tell if he could bend his leg or not.

He managed a smile for her and said, “I hear you got hit by a car.”

“I hear you crashed a car.”

She thought she would give him a kiss on the cheek, but the closer she got to him, the stronger the foul odor became. She abruptly stopped. “You smell rank,” she blurted.

“He won’t let us bathe him,” Patty said. She walked past Cordie with a stack of towels.

Walker’s face became a mask of indifference. He glared at Patty until she disappeared into his bedroom and then said, “I wish everyone would leave me the hell alone.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Cordie demanded. He acted as though he hadn’t heard her. She repeated the question in a much louder voice. She was so focused on Walker, she wasn’t aware that Aiden and Spencer had just walked in. “After you have a bath and put on clean clothes, we’ll all leave you alone, for a little while anyway.”

“Do I have to go in the bedroom and lock the door to get some peace?” he growled. “In fact, I think I’m going to do just that.” He started to back his wheelchair away from the coffee table so he could turn around.

Aiden was about to step in and give Walker a piece of his mind for acting like a child until Cordie laughed. The puzzling reaction made him hesitate. What did she think was so funny?

“You think I can’t get you out of a locked room? It would take me five minutes, tops,” she said.

Walker scoffed and stopped turning the wheels of his chair. “What would you do? Get someone to kick in the door?”

“Nothing so barbaric,” she said sweetly. “I know a lot of ways to get you to come out. I could use tear gas, I suppose. That’s quick and easy. Your eyes will burn for a week, but I guarantee you’ll open the door. Or I could—”

He stopped her. “You’re out of your mind. Where are you going to buy tear gas?”

Exasperated, she asked, “What did I do at St. Matthew’s High School?”

“You were a teacher.”

“And what did I teach?”

Before he could guess, she said, “Chemistry, Walker. I taught chemistry. I won’t buy tear gas. I’ll make it, and room service will bring me everything I need. Some vinegar, a little baking soda, a few hot spices . . . should I go on? Or would you like to hear what else I could put together to get you out of a locked room?”

She was bluffing, of course. Yes, she did know how to make tear gas, but she never would, and she didn’t have the faintest idea what she would say if he asked her how she would get the tear gas into the room.

“You’re a ghoul,” he grumbled.

“Yes, I am,” she agreed cheerfully. “Now, are you going to bathe, or do I call room service and start mixing up a few surprises to get you to cooperate?”

He put his hands up in reluctant surrender. “Okay, you win.”

Before he could change his mind, Patty swooped in to roll him into the bedroom.

“Don’t leave, Cordie,” Walker called out. “This won’t take long.”

The way he smelled? She thought it would take the rest of the afternoon.

Aiden came up behind her and put his arm on her shoulder. “Tear gas, Cordelia?”

“You really know how to make that stuff, don’t you?” Spencer sounded impressed.

“Yes, I do,” she said as she turned around to face them.

It had been a long time since she’d seen all three Madison brothers in the same place, and she couldn’t help but notice the similarities. There were distinct differences as well. Spencer and Aiden were both tall, and their muscular builds were a testament to the time they spent working out. Spencer was slightly bulkier in the shoulders than Aiden, but Aiden had the more chiseled body. Walker, on the other hand, didn’t show the same signs of physical fitness. It appeared his lifestyle was beginning to catch up with him, because he was thinner than she remembered, and his skin had a sallow hue that suggested living in the fast lane had finally taken its toll. Despite their different physiques, all three brothers were handsome and could be models. Aiden would look right at home in GQ. Spencer would be more suited to Sports Illustrated. And Walker . . . he was different. While at one time he would have been a candidate for the cover of Esquire, he now looked like a subject for a medical journal.

Spencer patted her on the shoulder. “You look so much better today. I can barely see the bruises,” he told her. “I don’t think anyone would even notice. Doesn’t she look good, Aiden?”

“Cordelia always looks good.”

She was about to thank them for their lies when a knock sounded at the door, and a big, burly man dressed in white came in.

“Walker’s cooperating, Edward,” Aiden said.

“Edward’s an RN,” Spencer told her. “He was going to help us drag Walker into a shower.”

Aiden introduced the nurse to Cordelia. When he took her hand, he frowned and examined her face. “You were in the car with Walker?”

Cordie turned to Spencer and gave him an accusatory scowl. “Barely noticeable bruises, huh?” she said with a laugh.

“She was hit by a car,” Aiden explained.

She didn’t stop Edward when he gently removed her arm from the sling. He checked her fingers and remarked, “Not too much swelling. That’s good. When do you see the doctor?”

She didn’t have the faintest idea. She didn’t even know the name of the doctor who had put the cast on.

Aiden answered. “She has an appointment with a specialist day after tomorrow.”