Healing Kiss, page 9
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“I promised you a single date, not an inquisition.” Lillian set her plate aside and stood. “Where can I take a shower? I’d like to get back to the hospital.”
“You haven’t finished your lunch.”
“I had a big breakfast in the middle of the night, remember? I’m not hungry.”
His eyes labeled her a liar, but he polished off his sandwich and stood, pointing her toward the grand staircase to the floor above. “You room is the first bedroom on the left. I put your suitcase there, and there are plenty of towels and washcloths in the bathroom.”
She brushed by him, pretending to be oblivious to the heat of his hard body and the annoying scent of his minty cologne. But she couldn’t control a shiver at his next words, which seemed to chase her up the stairs.
“I will learn what has you so frightened, Zoey, whether you decide to tell me or not.”
The minute Zoey was out of sight, Tristan grabbed his cell phone and made his way to his office, kicking the door shut behind him. He found the number in his recents for Brian Townsend, a high school buddy who ran the security firm he hired, and called it. Then he paced back and forth in front of the window until Brian picked up.
“Any leads on the attempted break-in?”
“None yet, but I’ve tightened security.” Brian’s raspy baritone managed to sound both confident and surprised. “You have more evidence?”
“No, but I have another assignment for you.”
“Sure, my man. What is it?”
“I’d like you to do a thorough investigation of a woman I recently met. Her name is Zoey Mills.”
“What can you tell me about her?”
“Not much. She’s a nurse who lives in Denver and works in an emergency room. She’s in Cleveland because her childhood friend, Hannah Milano—is ill. I have a hunch she’s gotten herself into some difficult circumstances. I need to know what or who is causing her problems.”
“I’m on it. M-I-L-L-S?
“Yes.”
“How old is she?”
“I’d say she’s in her late twenties.”
“What does she look like?”
“She’s petite, slim, about five-four, with green eyes and long blonde hair. Her hair and eye color may not be natural—she wears a wig. I have a photo of her…I’ll text it to you. I want daily reports. And I’ll pay double if you can get this information to me fast. There’s some urgency.”
“Gotcha.”
He ended the call and studied the photo he’d snapped of Zoey. Her eyes looked too big in her thin, pale face. She couldn’t be older than thirty. What was she hiding behind her calm façade?
He sent Brian the photo, then stared out the window without really seeing anything. Townsend Security was the best in the business. He’d be surprised if Brian didn’t have everything he wanted to know in a report to him tomorrow morning. And then he and Zoey were going to have a little heart-to-heart about the importance of trust and honesty between them.
Lillian looked around the spare bedroom, which in her opinion seemed more like the primary, and stole a breath. A large queen bed, covered in a cranberry-and-white quilt and an assortment of pillows, was flanked by two large windows on either side and a striking oil painting of a gold vase with multi-colored flowers that hung in between. The shiny wood floor was covered in a lovely faded gray-and-pink Oriental rug, and Lillian’s suitcase had been placed on an antique luggage rack in front of the bed.
She turned and locked the bedroom door, testing the knob to make sure it was secure, and then strode forward to study the painting. It looked like it had last been displayed in an art museum. A matching gold vase sat in the center of the nightstand with an assortment of pale pink and white flowers, which coordinated with the bedspread and the painting. Perfection.
The room had a soft, feminine air and smelled like lavender. It was the kind of room that made Lillian want to curl up and take a nap. But of course, there was no time for napping.
She removed her wig and undressed, putting on a plush white bathrobe she found in the room’s massive closet. Then she took the hottest and fastest shower she’d taken in some time. Her pulse thrummed, and she couldn’t stop from peeking behind the shower curtain, fearing Kinetica’s soldiers had raided the premises and would catch her while she was naked and vulnerable and unable to fight.
Thankfully, her fears were unfounded, and within a short time, she had dried her hair, put on the wig, changed into clean clothes and was heading down the winding staircase to find Tristan and let him know it was time to return to the hospital. As soon as Hannah was recovered, Lillian would be on an airplane home. The attempted break-in was a clear warning she’d be foolish to ignore.
She made her way into the kitchen, where Tristan was seated at the table with his computer, looking cool and elegant in a navy-blue polo almost the exact shade of his eyes. By the look of his slightly damp hair, he’d changed his shirt and taken a shower. She sniffed the air around him, which smelled like a cool, refreshing waterfall.
“Working?”
He gave a slight shrug and closed the laptop. “Playing online chess. Keeps the brain sharp. Feeling better?”
“Yes.” She did feel better now that she was clean, and he had stopped asking pointed questions. “I need to get back to Hannah. I can drive myself if you’re busy.”
“No, I can take you, but first I want to mention I’ve heard from Mel, the doctor I was telling you about. She’s talked to Hannah’s doctors. She’s amazed at the turnaround. Called it a miracle.”
Ding-dong.
The chime of the doorbell interrupted their conversation and sent adrenaline spiking through Lillian’s veins. “Are you expecting someone?”
He stood, shooting her an apologetic look. “Yes. A business acquaintance whom I couldn’t put off. I’ll be quick.”
Her heartbeat settled, and he disappeared, presumably to greet his visitor. She was in the act of pulling out a chair at the table when he came back into the kitchen followed by his guest.
Dominic Raines, holy crap!
All the blood froze in her veins, and she lost her balance, lurching to the side like a drunk crab. The chair she held toppled to the ground with a loud bang.
“I’ll get it,” Tristan said, reaching out a strong arm to steady her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded because she couldn’t trust herself to speak.
“Sit,” Tristan said, righting the chair and ushering her into it, his brow creased.
Lillian sat, when all she wanted to do was run screaming from the room. Although he hadn’t been the doctor who had experimented on her mother, the man standing across from her, this horrible, evil man, was ultimately responsible for her mother’s murder.
“Zoey, this is Dominic Raines,” Tristan said. “Dominic’s company conducts research on emergency cell and gene therapy.”
Oh, she knew all about how Kinetica conducted cell and gene therapy. That’s why her mother had been so valuable to them. She’d had a rare mutation in her DNA that made her extra special. They planned to use her cells to create their own super healers. But her mother had escaped, and they murdered her before she could go to the police. With her mother gone, they now needed to find someone else with the gene. Someone like Lillian.
“Zoey is a friend of mine.” Tristan’s deep voice cut into her horrified thoughts.
“You look familiar.” Dominic held out a hand with a flash of white teeth and glassy, gray eyes that showed no emotion. “Have we met?”
Acid reflux burned her throat, fear tightened her muscles. Zoey could not bring herself to shake the asshole’s hand, but for her own safety, she needed to put on a convincing act. She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She cupped a hand over her mouth to keep from losing her lunch in front of him.
Tristan touched her shoulder. “You okay?”
She forced her lips in an upward tilt. “I’ve been better.”
“Zoey’s friend is sick,” Tristan said to Dominic. “She’s had a hard time of it. Why don’t you and I go into my office and leave her some quiet time.” To Lillian he said, “We’ll be quick.”
“Of course,” Dominic said, flashing her a dentured smile. “I’m sorry about your friend. I do hope she recovers quickly.”
Goosebumps rolled down Lillian’s spine like cold little marbles. The words of sympathy sounded ominous coming from Dominic. Had he come here to verify her identity?
She waited until the men vanished from sight, and then she pulled herself together and hurried after them without making a sound. She would discover what Tristan’s dealings were with Kinetica and then get the hell out of his house.
Lillian crept upstairs and tiptoed down the long hallway, pressing her ear against the office door to hear what they were saying. They spoke so quietly, she had trouble picking up anything but murmurs. But then Dominic must have passed by the closed door because she heard him say, “…five million.”
There were some more murmurs, and she was about ready to give up, in case they opened the door and caught her eavesdropping, when she heard Tristan say, “…heal her,” and Dominic respond with what sounded like, “We’re running out of time.”
The doorknob started to turn, and she jumped, racing through the long hallway and down the stairs until she reached the kitchen, out of breath. She had only a minute to park herself at the table before Dominic and Tristan re-entered the room.
She busied herself picking up her glass and taking a sip of water. Was Tristan planning to fund Kinetica’s research in exchange for a cure for his mother? It seemed the most likely reason for the two men to have struck up a business relationship. Did he have any idea what he was funding?
“You wouldn’t have something to drink before I head out? My throat is parched,” Dominic said to Tristan.
“Sure. Water or something stronger?”
“Water’s fine.” Dominic turned toward Lillian. “So, Zoey, what do you do for a living?” He pulled out the chair across from her and sat like he had all the time in the world.
Lillian clutched her glass, her heartbeat drumming in her ears. She had to consciously slow her breathing so she wouldn’t hyperventilate. “Not much.”
Tristan came and stood beside her with a puzzled frown. “She’s being modest—she’s a nurse.”
Lillian set her glass down and rose. “Not to be rude, but Tristan, I really must get back to the hospital. It’s after two. I can drive myself. You two can finish your business discussion.”
“Zoey, you’re not feeling well. I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”
“There’s no need…” she started to say, but Tristan wasn’t listening. He was talking to Dominic again. “Sorry to rush you out, but can we do this another time?”
“Certainly.” Dominic rose from his seat and held out his hand to Tristan, who shook it.
“About our conversation, if you want in, don’t wait too long.”
“Right,” Tristan nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”
Dominic turned to Lillian, his watery eyes like shards of ice. “I hope to get the opportunity to talk to you again, when you’re feeling better, Zoey.”
Lillian murmured something nonsensical, but it must have been sufficient because Tristan walked him to the door. Dominic was gone, and she could breathe again.
She put her head in her hands and rubbed her sinuses, which had begun to throb. Was Tristan already invested in Kinetica or was he just considering it, as the conversation she’d overheard seemed to indicate? Did it matter? Either scenario had Tristan consorting with the enemy.
She had to get out of here. Now. Unfortunately, Tristan was right about her stress level and not feeling well. She was in no condition to drive.
“He’s gone. Mind telling me what that was all about?” Tristan stood in front of her again, his brow creased in concern.
“I have a headache.”
He crouched until they were eye level. “Try again.”
“What do you mean?” She avoided his gaze.
“I mean something has you so terrified you’re about to collapse. That would be the second time today. What is it, Zoey?”
She took a breath, and then another. Thankfully, the spinning room slowed, and she was able to hold his gaze. “I’m really worried about Hannah. Thanks for everything, but you’ve done enough. I’d like to stay at the hospital from here on out. No need to put yourself out any longer. I’ll call an Uber.”
His lips thinned. “Why do I have the feeling you’re planning to forfeit your part of our bargain?”
Bargain? How had she forgotten about it?
“This is a fancy event, and I’ll need you to dress the part. How will you accomplish that from the hospital?”
“I…”
“That’s what I thought. You don’t have a plan. Will it really kill you to stay a little longer?”
It might. And him as well.
The pressure increased behind her eyelids. She pressed her fingers against her sinuses, a poor attempt to stop the pain. She really didn’t have the strength to argue with him. She just wanted to get back to her sister.
“Fine. I’ll stay one more day. Just take me back to the hospital. Please.”
He stood and held out a hand to assist her. “Of course. And I’ll get you an aspirin.”
Lillian blinked up at him. “Thank you.” She took a breath and placed her hand in Tristan’s.
The room finally stopped spinning.
Chapter Twelve
Tristan kept to his own thoughts on the way to the hospital, mostly because he’d didn’t want to upset Zoey further, but he wasn’t fooled by her innocent act. She’d been so frightened of Dominic she’d been physically ill, which meant…what?
He pulled onto the street and headed west toward the hospital before glancing her way again. She sat clutching her purse, seemingly lost in thought. What exactly did she have in there?
He pressed on the accelerator and moved into the left lane to pass a semi-truck. Something didn’t add up about Zoey. She was on the run from someone or something. And he still hadn’t fully digested the conversation he’d had with Mel while Zoey had been taking a shower.
“I’ve talked to Hannah Milano’s doctor, and he says the patient has had an amazing turnaround,” Mel had told him.
He’d agreed. Hannah had made a remarkable recovery.
“It’s more than remarkable, Tristan,” Mel continued. “From what the doctor told me, the patient has gone from her lungs and organs shutting down last night to sitting up in bed this morning talking and laughing. You know how rare that is? One in a million. It’s incredible. She’s a walking miracle.”
It was incredible, wasn’t it? Impossible his visit had any impact on Hannah. He hadn’t even attempted to talk to her.
Tristan flicked another glance at Zoey. Annie Logan’s recovery had also happened overnight after Zoey had paid her a visit. One minute the little girl had been deathly sick, and the next day she was sent home symptom-free. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Zoey had slipped the child a miracle drug or something.
His heartbeat sped up, and he tightened his grip on the wheel.
I’m a talented nurse.
Did her talent run to healing patients overnight?
I have an outstanding track record.
What exactly was her track record?
I’m great with patients—at easing fears and listening to confidences and consoling their loved ones when they feel all hope is gone. I could offer you or your family my services.
He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. Did her services include miracle cures? If this were true, why had she asked him to visit Hannah?
He pulled into the hospital and parked in the visitor lot. He had so many questions buzzing around in his brain with no place to land. Because what he’d just entertained in his thoughts wasn’t possible…was it?
Nah. He’d watched her the whole time with Hannah, and she’d done nothing but hold the woman’s hands.
The minute he shut the car off, Zoey unfastened her seatbelt and opened the door. She scurried toward the entrance, hunching as if she didn’t want to be noticed. Who was she hiding from?
He scrambled from the vehicle and hurried after her. He was letting his imagination overrule his logic. People couldn’t miraculously cure other people of fatal illnesses simply by touching them. But what if Zoey had slipped Hannah a shot of a powerful drug?
“You’re awake,” Zoey said to Hannah when they entered her room. Her friend lay propped against the pillows in the hospital bed. A large ball of blue yarn lay next to her, and she held a pair of knitting needles, which she put to good use. Her dad still sat in a chair by her bedside.
Zoey placed a hand on Hannah’s forehead and brushed a stray hair from her face. “You must be feeling better if you’re knitting. Whatcha making?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Hannah turned to him, smiling. “Hi, Tristan.” Her dark-brown hair had been pulled back with a bright-blue headband, her skin no longer flushed and pale.
Tristan nodded. “Hi, Hannah, Mr. Milano.”
“Call me Frank.” Hannah’s dad stood and stretched out his hand. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for leaving your fundraiser to visit Hannah last night. I’m grateful.”
“A small thing.” Tristan shook Frank’s hand then turned to Hannah with a smile. “It’s good to see you feeling so much better.”
Frank wrapped an arm around Zoey, giving her a squeeze. “Thank you, dear, for everything.”
Zoey laid her cheek against Frank’s shoulder. “It was nothing.”
