What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(7)

Max clearly didn’t give a damn. “Drug him!”

“We can’t give him any more drugs. He’s had the limit and he’s still yelling.” The intern turned his head back toward the continued shouting, then looked at Kellen. “Is it possible...?”

“No, it is not possible!” Dr. Brundage said.

The synapses in Kellen’s brain flashed her an urgent dispatch. “I’ll see him. I want to see him.” Because what message was so important to a guy with a compound fracture that he stayed conscious to say it?

Dr. Brundage sighed. “All right. Is she ready to be transported to a room?”

“Yes, doctor.” Brenda removed the brakes from the bed and Dr. Brundage helped her wheeled it toward the door. They maneuvered Kellen into the corridor and placed her so her head was even with Roderick’s.

What few strands of hair the guy had were stuck together with blood and perspiration. His skin was sweaty pale green. Both legs were wrapped and elevated. Clearly, despite whatever drugs they had given him, he was in agony. Yet his bulging blue eyes narrowed on Kellen. He rolled onto his shoulder toward her. His hand shot out and grabbed her neck, and he spoke.

Max struck his fingers away.

Dr. Brundage shouted, “Get him out!”

The staff shoved him toward the door.

But Kellen had heard him loud and clear. As he stared into her eyes and squeezed her throat, he had clearly said, “Run, bitch.”



4


The resulting infection kept Kellen in the hospital for an extra two days and by the time Max came to get her, she had read the first four books in the Mercy Thompson series, laughed herself silly with her three best Army friends—Birdie and Temo and Adrian, who drove down from Yearning Sands Resort to visit—listened every afternoon to Rae’s description of the enthralling happenings at day camp and was locked in a battle of wills with Dr. Brundage, who wanted her to stay another day.

When Kellen finally won, Dr. Brundage turned to Max and said, “You make sure she stays in bed for another three days at the least.” She turned back to Kellen. “Do not work out.”

She lectured as if Kellen liked to exercise, when in fact Kellen’s goal was to be in shape to defend herself. Against what, she didn’t know, but having some guy grab her by the throat and say, “Run, bitch,” sent a chill down her spine.

Yes, Roderick was probably drunk and crazy. He’d climbed onto the winery roof, for the love of God. When he grabbed her, he had been on enough drugs to send a normal person to paradise. Telling her to run made no sense, and being so hostile made no sense, either. It was as if he was warning her of some impending doom, when in fact her life had never been so boring. Or peaceful. Whatever.

Dr. Brundage finished her lecture with, “A few days off won’t kill you.”

“Probably not,” Kellen muttered.

“Don’t let her do anything,” Dr. Brundage ordered Max and handed him a page of instructions.

He read through the list. “I have no control over any of the women in my life, including you, Brundage.”

“Fair enough.” Dr. Brundage helped Kellen into a wheelchair. “Kellen, Brenda will be in to push you to the doors. Try not to do anything stupid at least before you leave the hospital grounds.”

“I haven’t done anything stupid at all,” Kellen said.

Max and Dr. Brundage snorted in unison.

Kellen wanted to smack them both, but getting in the wheelchair had exhausted her, and she slept until Max pulled to a stop in front of the sprawling two-story farmhouse.

Max’s home had been built in 1913 for a large family, added onto throughout the past century and now blended architectural styles with a relaxed comfort. In 1971, the Di Luca family had recognized the wine-producing potential of the Willamette Valley and acquired the land with the intention of growing primarily pinot noir. Grapes replaced orchards. Their venture had been successful, their wines expanded to include traditional Italian varietals, and when Max had needed a place to bring his baby and forget his lost love, he had brought Rae and his mother, Verona, to a home that had been, according to her, a wreck dedicated to the survival of the fittest.

Being a woman of exceptional character, Verona had not only taken care of Max and the child, she had also refurbished the home. The kitchen was modern, the plumbing and electricity were all new and worked reliably, the wooden floors had been refinished, the furniture invited a person to lounge and enjoy; all that, and it retained hints of its farmhouse roots.

Now Verona stood on the steps of the wide porch, smiling coolly, as Max helped Kellen out of the passenger seat.

Rae, on the other hand, was thrilled to have her mother back and hopped around so much she put exhausted pleased tears in Kellen’s eyes.

Max fended off their daughter, sent her away and put Kellen to bed in the main floor master bedroom—Max’s bedroom.

She was trembling with weakness. Max handed her a pain pill and a glass of water; her hands shook so much she dropped the pill and the glass rattled against her teeth.

He sat down on the bed and helped her swallow the pill and drink the water.

That was embarrassing. Yes, they’d once been lovers. Yes, they’d created a child. But she remembered only bits and pieces of her time with him, and she didn’t remember anything about the thirteen months in a coma. For her, everything about living in Max’s house was awkward, and even more awkward was her relationship with Max. Were they supposed to become lovers again? Could they be friends with a child? Did Max even want her anymore? Sometimes she knew he did, but sometimes he looked at her as if she was a stranger he didn’t quite like.