Healing Kiss, page 19
“Roger that.”
Tristan ended the call and sped up, passing the slower-moving vehicles in the other lane. His gut churned like a worn-out washing machine. Was Lillian all right? Had he put her in more danger, as she’d accused, by telling his friend at the FBI what he suspected? He turned left and headed down Chester Avenue toward the North Side Clinic, his heart pounding all the while. Could the men Brian spotted belong to Kinetica? Had they been tipped off by the FBI?
The light from Chester to East 93rd Street seemed to take forever. Tristan tapped the steering wheel and tried to keep his breathing in check. When the light changed, he navigated the turn and pressed on the accelerator, zipping down the street at warp speed.
The minute he turned into the hospital lot, he slammed the car into park and was out the door, running toward the entrance. All the while, his footsteps hammered out a frantic rhythm that seemed to keep time with the blood pounding through his body. What was happening in Hannah’s room? Had Lillian cured her sister?
He moved through the sliding doors, run-walking as fast as he could, watching for Brian’s crew. When he didn’t find them inside, he hurried to the elevator and rode it to Hannah’s floor. The doors opened, and he stepped out and looked around. A woman dressed in a white lab coat passed by, followed by a man in blue scrubs. Everything appeared normal. Where were the men Brian said would meet him?
He didn’t spend time looking, preferring to make his way as fast as he could to Hannah’s room. He’d verify for himself that Lillian, Hannah, and their dad were inside safe. Some instinct made him pause before entering the room.
A woman screamed.
He didn’t hesitate, pushing the door open and rushing into the room, prepared for a fight. What he saw was a horrible dream come to life. Frank Milano was slumped on a chair, blood oozing from a nasty wound on his forehead. Next to him, a nurse lay crumpled on the floor in a pool of blood. Hannah Milano was sitting up in the bed, her eyes wide with terror, and Lillian was missing.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Dad, are you okay? Dad? Tristan, help him!” Hannah Milano sat up in bed and pointed at her father in horror.
Tristan crouched by Frank to check his pulse. The regular beat reassured him the man was very much alive. “It’s okay. He’s just been knocked unconscious.”
On cue, Frank groaned and lifted his head.
“Steady now. You’ll be okay.” Tristan motioned to the remote control on Hannah’s bed. “Hannah, use your emergency button to call for help.”
Hannah scrambled to comply. When Tristan was sure Frank wasn’t going to tumble from the chair, he bent to check the nurse on the ground. Where was Brian’s crew? Nurses and doctors streamed into the room, followed by several police officers.
He stepped back from the body, but he knew their efforts were pointless. No amount of medical personnel would bring the nurse on the floor back to life. She had been hit on the head so hard, her skull had been crushed.
Tristan squelched the fear pumping through his veins. What had they done to Lillian? She’d warned him what Kinetica’s soldiers were capable of, but he hadn’t really thought they would snatch her from a hospital, of all places. He’d been wrong, and now Lillian and her family would suffer for it.
As if echoing the thought, Frank groaned. The medical team placed him on a hospital bed and moved him to the room next to Hannah, where they hooked him up to an IV. Tristan followed to make sure Frank was okay and then returned to check on Hannah. A nurse was taking her vitals, but that didn’t stop Hannah from beckoning him to her side.
“You have to find my sister.”
“What did they look like?”
“I don’t know. I was pretty sick and had my eyes closed, so I didn’t see whoever it was. By the time I was well enough to understand what was happening, all I saw was my dad and the…the nurse on the ground. Is she going to be okay?”
Tristan shook his head. “No, Hannah, the nurse is dead.” Where was Brian’s security team?
Hannah’s eyes widened in horror. “How’s my dad?”
“He’s conscious. I’ll check on him again and let you know.”
He went next door to visit Frank, who gazed at Tristan in fear and grabbed his arm.
“You have to find Zoey.” Frank had a nasty bruise on his forehead. “They took her…men dressed like medical professionals…you have to find her. Please.” For someone who had been knocked out, Frank’s grip was surprisingly strong.
Tristan tightened his lips. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know. I only got a glimpse, but there were more than one. They hit me from behind. I suspect it’s a high-tech pharmaceutical company called Kinetica that’s responsible. Zoey has…special gifts…which make her valuable to them. Promise me you’ll find her.”
Tristan pressed his palm against Frank’s hand and squeezed. “You have my word.” Tristan turned to leave, pausing a moment to talk to the nurse. “He’ll recover?”
“We can’t be sure until we do an MRI, but he most likely has a concussion. He was hit pretty hard on the head, but he’s conscious and aware of his surroundings, which is a good sign.”
“Please reassure his daughter who’s in the room next door—she’s extremely worried. I have something I need to do.” He didn’t wait around for the nurse’s response but headed out the door, ripping his cell from his pocket and dialing Brian, who answered on the first ring.
“Where are the men you promised?”
“They were caught off guard, but don’t worry, we have her.”
“Thank God.” Tristan stopped and bent over, letting out the breath he held. “Where?”
“In the parking garage, second floor. They didn’t get far.”
“Thank God,” he said again. Tristan stood and raced toward the exit, holding the phone to his ear, his pulse pounding.
“Don’t celebrate yet. She’s unconscious. It’s not looking good, Tristan.”
His heart beat like a wild creature. “What do you mean it’s not looking good? What did they do to her?” He quickened his pace, running to the elevator that would take him to the parking garage.
“The men who held her claim they did nothing. They could be lying. Paramedics are looking at her now.”
The doors swung open. “Okay, I’m almost there.” He pressed the glowing P for the parking garage and paced the small space. What if Lillian didn’t make it? It would be his fault. He should have listened to her and not tried to delay her leaving.
The doors opened, and then he was out in the garage looking left and right.
“I’m here,” he barked into the phone.
“Behind you,” Brian answered.
He swerved the opposite direction and spotted men in the distance. He ran full out toward them, shouting, “Where is she?”
But even as he asked, he saw Lillian lying on the ground, surrounded by an emergency crew. The men lifted her stiff body onto a stretcher.
He took in the scene in a single glance and worked to stay calm. Lillian didn’t need him freaking out right now.
Her eyes were closed, her face pale and drawn. The medical crew had strapped a mask on her face, he presumed to feed her oxygen, and had started an IV. Two men dressed in blue medical scrubs were on the floor next to her, their hands cuffed behind their backs, while the police stood over them. Several plainclothes men, probably Brian’s gang, hovered nearby.
He caught up to the stretcher and crouched by Lillian’s side, holding her cold hands in his, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. What was it she’d called him…a burner? If he could transfer his energy to her now, he’d gladly do it. If he only knew how.
“Lillian, it’s me, Tristan. I’m here now.”
“We need to get her inside,” one of the paramedics said. “She has a pulse, but it’s weak.”
“Let’s move, then,” Tristan said.
He continued to walk beside Lillian, while the paramedics rolled the stretcher onto the elevator and up to the main floor.
A fire raged, burning Lillian from inside out. Sweat matted the hair against her neck. Water. What she would do for a tall glass of cold water.
“Hang on, Lillian, hang on.”
“Tristan?” She tried to speak but couldn’t through dry, cracked lips. There was so much she wanted to tell him. Now it was too late.
Death comes to all of us eventually.
“Mom?” Her mother had warned her what would happen. Why hadn’t she listened? She wasn’t ready to die.
It’s not your job to heal everyone, Lillian.
“Mom, is that you?”
A cool hand touched her forehead, offering some relief. The scent of roses filled the air.
“Please, stay with me, Mom. Don’t leave. I’m afraid.”
Her mother cast Lillian an understanding smile.
“Would you sing to me, Mom?” Lillian asked. “Like you used to?”
Her mother nodded and hummed a melody, familiar and comforting and haunting at the same time.
“You love him, don’t you?” She had reached the end of the song.
Lillian blinked. “Love, who?” She had been half-listening, drifting in the dreamy lullaby. How could her mother possibly know about Tristan? She’d died long before they could be introduced. Lillian’s mind stuttered over the thought.
“Oh, I think you know who.”
Dead. Her mother was dead. This was a dream. Still, she wanted it to go on and on and on. “Yes. But there’s no hope for us.”
“Oh, darling, there’s always hope.”
Lillian’s breath hitched. She’d spent the past two years on autopilot, not really living—researching Kinetica, afraid of every stranger, jumping at every sound, never daring to want anything for herself.
“Kinetica still wants me. I told Tristan lies and deliberately hurt him, so he wouldn’t follow me. He won’t forgive me. He asked me to trust him, but I didn’t. I hurt him terribly—I could see it in his eyes.”
Her mother smoothed the hair from Lillian’s forehead. “My Lily, always so steadfast and loyal. Always so protective of those you love. Always ready to sacrifice your own happiness. The time has come to see if you’re strong enough to grab happiness for yourself.”
“What are you saying, Mom?”
Her mother’s expression grew serious. “It will not be easy. You must be willing to humble yourself…to follow your heart.”
“Her heart rate’s too high. She’s running a hundred and three-degree temp,” a woman said over Lillian’s head. Not her mother.
The clinical voice cut into the hallucination—it was a hallucination, wasn’t it?—snapping Lillian back to her current circumstances. She watched from far above where she lay on a gurney, a team of medical professionals surrounding her. A doctor barked out orders.
Where was she? The hospital, of course. She was in the hospital and the doctor was putting paddles on her chest. A defibrillator?
“One, two, three…clear.”
Pain radiated from her head to her toes.
“Sleep now, Lily,” her mother said. “You’ll feel better soon.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“How is she?”
Tristan eyed Hannah through bloodshot eyes. He sat across from Lillian’s bedside—he could have been there a day, or maybe it was longer. He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember when he’d last ate or slept, either.
He shook his head and pressed his lips together. “She went into cardiac arrest. The doctors shocked her heart and brought her back to life, but she’s still unconscious.”
“My God.” Hannah brought her hand to her mouth, suppressing a sob. Her dark hair gleamed, shimmering with a rich chestnut color under the harsh hospital lights. If he hadn’t seen her in a hospital bed earlier, Tristan would never have known the woman before him had been near death only a few days ago.
Hannah seemed to pull herself together, straightening her shoulders and casting him a fierce look. “We can’t let her die. We must find a way to save her.”
He shook his head, looking down at his hands in his lap to avoid her fiery gaze. He managed a single, painful breath and muttered. “I’ve tried. I’ve talked to every medical professional I know. She’s in a coma. The doctors say there’s only a slim chance she’ll awaken.”
“No, Tristan.” Hannah laid a hand on his arm, a hesitant touch, but it opened something inside him.
He lifted his head until their eyes met. A mistake. He seemed to get pulled into their swirling amber depths, until he couldn’t look away.
“You can save her. But you must act fast. Here’s what you must do.”
Something brushed Lillian’s face, and she swatted at it like a fly. She blinked, but the fog was so thick in front of her, she couldn’t see.
“Don’t fight me,” a woman whispered in a thick accent. “Soon you’ll feel better. Davay ya tebe pomog.”
Lillian strained to open her eyes, but they were sealed. Power whispered over her skin, and she trembled. “Who are you?” Had she spoken out loud? But no, she hadn’t moved her lips.
“A friend. I’m here to help. Relax, my dear.”
Easier said than done. Heat entered her veins—warm, thrilling, powerful heat. There was something familiar in the woman’s touch, in the heat, but Lillian couldn’t figure out what.
The woman mumbled something, and a low voice answered. It was then Lillian realized they were not alone. Someone else was there…a man.
“Tristan?” A mist formed and tightened its clammy fist around her throat. She gasped and shivered, and her mother wrapped her in a warm blanket.
“Thanks, Mom, I’m so cold.”
“Sweetie, you can’t stay here.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks. “Please, Mom. I want to be with you.”
“You can’t, baby,” her mother said, wiping away her tears. “Your time has not yet come. You must go back.”
“No, please,” she said, her voice shaking.
Her mother’s serene expression didn’t change. She smiled at Lillian and stroked her cheek. “Sweetheart, the choice is not yours to make.”
She strained to gaze beyond her mother’s face, but the mist had thickened, making it impossible to see. She reached out, snagging her mom’s hand in hers. “I won’t let you leave me.”
Her mother’s hand slipped like water in her grasp, but understanding shone from her warm brown eyes, and her voice was steady and clear in Lillian’s ear, while the vision faded into the gray mist.
“Don’t be afraid, my darling.”
Tristan tapped his foot and waited for Tanya—the healer who’d been held at Oak Haven and Brian’s men had tracked down—to tell him what to do next. What was taking her so long? Shouldn’t they be getting started by now?
It had been a week since he’d located the healer, who had been in police custody, and pulled strings to have her come to Cleveland and attempt to cure Lillian. A week fraught with panic and frustration and anxiety, while he wondered if Lillian would live or die. She had slipped into a coma while Tristan held her hands, helpless to save her.
Now Tanya was finally settled into a chair next to Lillian’s bed and her eyes were shut. That had been more than thirty minutes ago. Tristan swore she hadn’t moved an inch since then.
He passed his gaze again over her slim figure dressed in jeans and a plain, white sweatshirt. She didn’t look like she had extrasensory ability. She looked more like a small mouse than the heroine who could save the day. She wore her brown hair braided, her eyes were too close together and narrow, and her skin held a grayish cast, like she hadn’t seen the sun in a good long while.
Tanya gasped, and his heartbeat sped up. He held his breath, but she didn’t utter another sound or open her eyes. What if she were playacting, only pretending to have healing ability for the money? He’d paid her a tremendous sum to cure Lillian.
He let his breath out and tried to slow his beating heart. Really, if he’d been left to pick Tanya out as a healer among a room full of people, she’d be the last person he would have selected.
He hunched over his clasped hands and tried not to gaze at Lillian, who lay motionless. Every time his eyes rested on her slight figure, a rope of despair twisted his stomach into knots.
Tanya coughed, and he looked up, his gaze settling on Lillian’s still figure in the hospital bed again. A mistake. A long, blue tube snaked oxygen into her lungs, and a spiderweb of cords crisscrossed her chest, feeding the drugs keeping her alive into her veins.
He bowed his head, his gaze fixing again on his hands, gripping them to counteract the vision of a lifeless Lillian he couldn’t erase from his brain. She should have died. Only the fast action of the emergency room doctor shocking her heart into beating had kept her alive. Now she was on life support.
He breathed deep, the harsh smell of antiseptics and lemon mingling with the fresh scent of roses he had placed in the vase on the nightstand by her bed. Was he crazy to think a healing even possible? That Tanya—a twenty-two-year-old kid from Russia whom Kinetica had kidnapped, and until a week ago, had forced to conduct atrocious experiments—that Tanya could somehow awaken Lillian from a coma?
“It will work,” Hannah said, as if she’d read his thoughts.
Lillian’s sister had been a rock-steady shoulder to lean on, displaying an incredible resourcefulness and strength. Her presence was so soothing, he’d almost forgotten she was in the room sitting next to him.
He nodded, gripping his hands together and counting to ten—anything to counteract the despair overwhelming his hard-fought control. During the time he had been away from Lillian, he’d leaked the full story of what happened at Oak Haven to the news media, exposing Kinetica and forcing the government to shut down their operations.
