Healing Kiss, page 7
“If anything happens to…to Hannah’s dad, please keep an eye on Hannah—at least until she’s well.”
Hard muscles clenched under her hand, and his forehead creased. “Nothing’s going to happen to Hannah’s dad.”
“I worry for them.”
He paused, a considering expression on his face. “Hannah is vastly improved. What exactly do you think is going to happen to her dad?”
“Nothing.” She couldn’t very well tell him about Kinetica, could she? He’d start poking around, asking questions. They’d come after her and kill him if he stood in their way. Kill her family. “I’m afraid for Hannah when I’m not around. She only has her dad to look after her, and he’s exhausted.”
“I promise I won’t let anything happen to either of them. But you must make me a promise, too.”
Her heartbeat stuttered, then fluttered against the walls of her chest cavity like a trapped bird. “What?”
“Stay here and sleep until I get back.”
She dropped his hand. “That’s silly.”
His eyes bore into hers, all trace of laughter removed from their icy-blue depths. “Is it?”
She swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I won’t be a pawn in any games. You asked for my help, and I’ve given it, but if there’s something you’re not telling me, spill.”
She swallowed hard and prayed her expression appeared innocent. “There’s nothing.”
Tristan searched her eyes but must have been satisfied by what he saw because he gave her one last nod and then walked to the door. “Rest. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Lillian flopped her head against the recliner. She took deep, calming breaths—anything to still the butterflies wreaking havoc in her stomach.
Tristan didn’t know anything. She didn’t have to listen to him, and he’d probably forget about the photo he’d snapped after she’d returned to Boston. At least, she hoped he would.
She tried to slow her breathing. Sure, she’d asked for Tristan’s help, but that didn’t mean he was entitled to take her picture and order her to sleep. Lillian didn’t care how angry that made him. He didn’t comprehend the danger of her situation.
She closed her eyes. She’d just lay here for a few minutes until she calmed her racing heart, then she’d get up to keep watch by Hannah’s bedside.
“Tristan, Tristan, wait up.” Angelina’s familiar voice carried down the hospital corridor.
Tristan paused, holding his breath before turning around. She’d pulled her long, red hair behind her ears, which emphasized her slender neck. A small pair of diamond studs he’d given her one Christmas glittered in her ears.
A familiar ache formed in his chest. “What is it?” The words came out gruffer than he’d intended.
“I never got to say goodbye last night after you left the party so quickly. Is your mom getting her usual treatment?”
He nodded. “I’m on my way to see her now.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
His heart pounded, which was annoying enough to make him frown. Would he ever not react this way in her presence? “Don’t you have more important things to do?”
“I can’t think of anything more important than keeping you company.” She looped her arm in his, blinding him with her smile. “I know how hard this is for you.”
He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Yes.” But he wasn’t only talking about his mom’s condition.
They walked in silence for a minute before she got to what was really on her mind, as he knew she would. “Have you thought about what we talked about?”
“What was that?” He refused to make it easy for her.
“You remember…about getting back together. You said you’d think about it. Well, it’s been a few weeks, so I was wondering…”
“I have thought about it.” He’d been thinking about nothing else until Zoey’s arrival.
“And…are you going to forgive me or keep punishing me?”
Punishing himself was more like it. He stopped walking, dropping his arm and stepping away from the warm invitation of her body. “I…I don’t know yet.”
She blinked up at him with wide, knowing eyes, causing his heartbeat to accelerate. “I love you, Tristan. And I’m pretty sure you still love me. I’ve apologized for what I did and asked for your forgiveness. If you still want me, you need to let me know that.”
“I…I know.”
“Good. Because I won’t wait around forever.” She leaned forward, the powdery scent of her perfume permeating his senses. “I have to run, but I’ll see you at the party later. I’ll be waiting for your answer.”
Chapter Nine
“How long has she been sleeping?”
Lillian’s eyes fluttered, but some sixth sense made her keep them closed when she recognized Tristan’s deep voice. He was talking to someone. Dad?
“She was asleep when I got here at nine.”
“It’s eleven now,” Tristan murmured. He sounded satisfied that she’d obeyed his command to rest, which was annoying.
“Thank you for checking on her,” her dad said.
“It was nothing. But I’d like to ask you another question. Do you mind?” Tristan asked.
“Not at all. What is it?”
“Is Zoey in some kind of trouble?”
“Not that I’m aware of. We don’t see or hear from her much. She works a lot. What makes you think she’s in trouble?” Her father sounded wary, and with good reason. If Tristan started fishing around, asking questions, he’d blow her cover and put them all in danger.
“I don’t know. She seems nervous. Before I left the room earlier, she made me promise I’d take care of Hannah if something happened to you.”
Her dad grunted. “It can’t be easy seeing her best friend in a hospital bed.”
Enough. Lillian cleared her throat and coughed.
“She’s awake.”
Lillian stirred and opened her eyes to see two pairs gazing back at her, one set a worried brown, the other a suspicious blue. “How’s Hannah?”
“Talking and eating, both good signs,” Tristan said.
“You were supposed to wake me up, mister. I want to see her.”
“And now that you’re rested you can see her.”
She narrowed her gaze. “I don’t need your permission to visit my friend.”
His eyes glittered like the tanzanite in her favorite ring. “I never said you did.”
“Good.” She sat up and pulled the covers off her. “I’m glad we got that straight.”
She didn’t wait for a response but stretched and stood, pushing past the curtain and striding toward Hannah’s bedside. Her sister’s eyes were closed, the ventilator removed. Her chest rose and fell, and her pale skin had taken on a bit of color. Thank goodness. Once Lillian was sure Hannah had fully recovered, she’d be on the next flight to Boston.
“I told you she was sleeping.”
Tristan’s deep voice vibrated her hair, causing her to jump.
How had she not heard him move? “I…I know. I just needed to see for myself.”
The door opened, and she startled. It was just the nurse to check vitals. Lillian didn’t look at Tristan, but she didn’t kid herself he hadn’t noticed her reaction.
Her dad came to the rescue. “Why don’t you two grab lunch? I’ll stay with Hannah.”
Lillian frowned, exchanging a silent communication with her dad, whose expression indicated it was the only idea he could think of to distract Tristan. She hoped her dad correctly interpreted her answering frown as saying she shouldn’t be leaving the hospital.
She flicked a quick glance at Tristan, who nodded, his blue eyes piercing. “Good idea.” He motioned for Lillian to proceed in front of him.
She ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it, and forced a smile. Objecting would only put Tristan on full alert, and she had to eat at some point. “Call or text me when she’s awake, okay?” she told her dad. “I’ll come right back.”
Her father had already taken the chair next to her sister’s bedside. He nodded and waved her off. “Don’t worry. I will.” She hoped he caught her emphasis on the word “right” and understood she wanted him to summon her to return as soon as possible. She didn’t need to be hanging out with Tristan any longer than necessary.
Then she was heading toward the stairs, Tristan’s warm breath on her back. He placed a hand on her shoulder, directing her to the nurse’s station. A wave of heat traveled over her skin and lightened her step. How easily his presence calmed and energized her.
“Let’s stop at the front desk. Hannah’s father told me you’re authorized to request her medical records. I want to look them over and share them with the doctor I was telling you about—Melanie Harris. She’ll check into Hannah’s treatment.”
He guided her toward the desk where two nurses sat.
“My friend is feeling better now. Is it really necessary to involve another doctor in her care?”
“Mel—Dr. Harris is the best respiratory doctor around.”
She wanted to argue that Tristan’s fancy doctor friend couldn’t do anything more for Hannah than Lillian already had. But he wouldn’t believe her, so she might as well save her breath. Besides, she’d agreed to let Tristan have access to Hannah’s records, and it wouldn’t hurt Hannah to have Tristan’s doctor friend look over them, would it?
“Hello, Tristan,” a familiar female voice purred, interrupting their conversation. “How did it go with your mom?”
Tristan stiffened, and Lillian had a strange sense of déjà vu when he draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. Every place where her body touched Tristan came alive, and she had to work hard to keep from shivering.
“Hello, Angelina. She’s recuperating. Have I introduced you to my friend?”
She peered at Lillian and nodded her head, not missing a beat. “Oh, yes, the other night. And you brought her to yesterday’s little shindig.” She turned to Lillian, offering her a limp hand and a fake smile. “I’m Angelina Ramos.”
“Zoey Mills.” Lillian knew the smile she mustered up was also fake.
“Did you enjoy the little party?”
Enjoy it? “Yes, yes it was nice,” Lillian said, hoping she sounded enthusiastic enough for Angelina.
But as it turned out, Angelina was only being polite and had already turned her attention to Tristan. “I’m looking forward to talking with you at the event tonight. Why don’t we ride together? I can pick you up at six.”
“I can’t. Zoey will be coming with me.”
“Oh.” Angelina’s smile faded, but she shrugged and gave a sad little pout that Lillian wondered if she practiced because it somehow looked cute and not all that sad. It seemed to work on Tristan, though, because he hadn’t taken his eyes off Angelina, even though he had Lillian tucked into his side like a life preserver.
“I’ll look forward to seeing you there, then. We have a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”
She smiled and walked away, and Tristan’s gaze followed her swishing hips all the way down the hall until she disappeared around a corner.
Lillian managed to detach herself from his side.
“How do you know her?” she asked to break the awkward silence.
“Sorry?” He finally seemed to realize he was still staring at Angelina’s backside. “We met at a charity fundraiser a few years ago. She’s the coordinator for tonight’s event. Listen, I have to use the restroom. You go ahead. I’ll be right back.”
She frowned and watched as he hurried away. Was he really going to the restroom, or was he chasing after Angelina? Why did she care? It gave Lillian a breather, didn’t it?
Tristan followed Angelina down the hall, his blood pumping in his veins. Who was he fooling by playing hard to get? He still had the hots for her, and she’d made it clear she still wanted him. They had been good in bed together, hadn’t they? And she knew how to please him. What the hell was he waiting for then?
She stopped to talk to a young, handsome medical student, laughing at something he said. Tristan strained to hear but was too far away to make sense of the conversation. He could see the man’s gaze checking out her perfectly proportioned body as she pointed at something down the hall.
Tristan took a step forward. Maybe it was high time he put an end to this foolish charade. Angelina was a beautiful, confident woman, and she was his if he set aside his pride. But would it solve the issues between them? She wanted children and he didn’t. If they married, wouldn’t that eventually cause resentment between them? The truth of the logic didn’t ease the tightness in his chest.
She turned and saw him, raising her brows in surprise before heading in his direction. She stopped when she was directly in front of him, her blue-eyed gaze wide and perceptive. “Did you need something?”
You. He wanted to shout, but he cleared his throat instead. “Just the restroom,” he croaked.
She tipped her head back and laughed, then leaned forward and whispered in his ear, her cool lips grazing his cheek. “The restroom is that way.” She pointed in the direction he’d come from.
Warmth flooded his cheeks. She gave him a jaunty wave and continued down the hallway, her throaty voice drifting back to him. “See you tonight, Tristan.”
He stood there like a fool, watching until she rounded the next corner.
After Tristan disappeared in the same direction as Angelina, Lillian turned to the desk, where a nurse she had not seen before greeted her with a friendly smile. The nurse had a thin face, close-cropped black hair, and was partly hidden by a large vase of yellow tulips.
Lillian peeked around the flowers. “Excuse me. I’d like to request a copy of Hannah Milano’s medical records. I’m her personal representative and here’s my power of attorney.” She handed the nurse the form she kept in her purse.
The nurse scanned the document then Lillian, and she must have passed inspection because she handed her a piece of paper on a clipboard and said in a bored tone, “I’ll need you to complete a HIPAA release form and sign it at the bottom. I’ll need to see your driver’s license, too. Will you want a printed copy or electronic?”
“Can I get them both ways?”
The nurse nodded. Lillian took the clipboard and began filling out the form. She glanced at the flowers and paused in the act of signing the document. She squinted at the signature on the card stuck in the vase, a strange feeling gripping her belly. Frank Milano? It wasn’t her dad’s signature, and when would he have had time to order flowers, anyway? A frisson of fear pricked her nerve endings.
The nurse caught her gaze.
“Beautiful flowers,” Lillian said, injecting a casual note in her voice.
“Aren’t they? A patient’s father sent them this morning.”
“I recognize the name on the card. That’s my friend’s father. I’m surprised he would have had time to send flowers, though. His daughter’s pretty sick.”
The nurse glanced at the card. “Oh, we’ve been giving him regular updates on his daughter’s condition. He sent these as a thank you.”
Why would her dad call looking for updates when he was at Hannah’s bedside most of the time?
Lillian dropped the clipboard in the act of handing it to the nurse. It clattered against the counter and onto the floor, nearly hitting her in the process. She scooped it up, placing it on the counter and flattening her sweaty palms against her legs. She managed to take a breath.
“How long before I can get a copy of her records?”
“Shouldn’t be long, maybe an hour or so. If you leave me your telephone number, I can text you when they’re ready.”
Lillian nodded. “Yes, okay.”
The nurse handed her a piece of paper and a pen, and she took them and scribbled her phone number at the same moment Tristan returned, flashing her his confident smile. Was that a trace of lipstick on his cheek?
“All set?”
Lillian nodded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the increased fragile state of her already fragile nerves.
“I thought we’d go to a deli nearby. It will taste much better than hospital food. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” she said, thankful he’d not witnessed her distress over the flowers her father had supposedly sent. She suspected he would hound her until he had answers.
They stepped through the automatic doors into the sunlight almost in tandem, her blood slinging through her veins. She scanned the parking lot, alert to any sign of danger.
Tristan’s hand settled on her elbow. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“You have been on edge since the moment I first spotted you at the hospital.” Tristan managed to sound both conversational and dangerous at the same time, which increased her anxiety.
“Of course, I’m tense. Who wouldn’t be? My friend is ill.”
“There’s that.”
They had reached his car and the door handles popped out. She flinched as if to prove his point. Why couldn’t she get used to the way his techno vehicle worked? She ignored looking at him and the suspicious expression on his face and slid into the passenger seat.
He donned a pair of aviator sunglasses and put the car in gear. It glided from the lot. “You have a stalker?”
“A…what? No…of course not.”
“You act as if you think someone is going to grab you when you’re not looking.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Who or what are you afraid of, Zoey?”
Lillian tightened her fingers against the edge of the seat and cleared her throat. “I’m not afraid, but even if I were, it’s not your concern.”
“You made it my concern when you asked for my help.”
Fear settled in her chest, a hard mass pressing against her lungs so she could barely breathe. She couldn’t tell Tristan the truth—couldn’t knowingly drag him into a dangerous situation that could take his life. She had to convince him there was nothing to worry about. But how? She focused on the flashing scenery outside her window to give herself time to think.
