Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(92)

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Blaine pressed the tissues against his nose.

“I know what you did to Louisa.” Conor enunciated the words individually. “In the boathouse.”

Blaine paled, then shook off his shock. “Everyone in here saw you assault me.”

The detectives stood in the doorway.

“I didn’t see anything.” Detective Jackson shrugged. He back-knuckle tapped his partner on the arm. “Did you see anything?”

“Nope.” Ianelli crossed his arms over his chest. “I was checking my e-mail. Sorry.”

“Margaret.” Blaine put a hand on her shoulder. “I hope you’ll excuse me. Obviously, I’m not wanted here. I’m going back to the hotel.”

“Wait, Blaine. I’m Louisa’s next of kin. I have the right to make her medical decisions.” Margaret cast a steely eye over Conor. A woman accustomed to getting her way. “I don’t know who you are, but no one else gets in to see her except me. You don’t need to leave, Blaine. They do.”

“Aunt Margaret.” Louisa’s voice was weak but clear. “I’m fit to make my own decisions. You may come in. Blaine can go to hell.”

Margaret hesitated before walking into the room with unsure steps.

“I think you’d better sit down,” Conor heard Louisa say.

Blaine took the cue. Grabbing a fresh pile of tissues at the nurses’ station, he walked toward the exit with hurried steps.

Jackson pushed away from the doorframe. “We’d better go.”

“What are you going to do about him?” Conor jerked a thumb toward the elevator doors, which had just closed with Blaine inside the car.

“We found a traffic camera with a decent view of Broad Street in front of the Ritz.” Ianelli’s mouth twitched. “Old Blaine was right behind Dr. Hancock when she took her spill into traffic. Now let’s go.” Jackson headed for the elevator. “I want to keep him in sight. Soon as he crosses back into Philly, he’s ours.”

After the cops left, Conor turned an ear to Louisa’s door. She and her aunt were talking in hushed tones. He leaned on the wall and waited. Fifteen minutes later, Margaret exited. She blew past Conor without stopping, her chin high, her mouth tight, angry tears shining in her eyes.

He went back into Louisa’s room, expecting her to look worn. Instead, her expression was lighter. “Are you all right?”

“I am.” Her voice and eyes were blurry. “She stands by Blaine. I decided I don’t care. I told her never to call me again.”

“Good for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out her pearls. “Oh, I forgot. The nurse gave me these when you first came in.”

“Would you hold on to them for me? They were my mother’s. I don’t want them to get lost.”

“I will.” He squeezed her hand lightly.

Her body relaxed, and her voice faded.

Conor picked up his book from the bedside table and sat in the chair next to the bed, prepared to keep watch. The threat to Louisa’s life was over, but she’d need time to recover.





35


One week later


Louisa opened her eyes. For the first few minutes she was surprised she was in her apartment. Sunlight streamed into the bedroom onto the dog lying next to her. A three-inch row of stitches tracked Kirra’s pink belly. Louisa put her hand inside the plastic cone and scratched her head. The dog sighed.

“Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

She turned her head. Conor sat in an oversize chair he’d brought in from the living room. A book lay open on his lap. He hadn’t left her side since he brought her home the day before.

“I’m fine.” She shifted. Pain surrounded her rib cage, shortening her breaths, but she was content. Home, with her man and dog, was enough for today.

“Maybe you should have stayed in the hospital a few more days.” He moved to the side of the bed and helped her adjust her pillows.

“No.” She’d had quite enough of needles and tubes and IVs. “It felt so good to sleep in my own bed last night.”

“I’ll bet.” Conor eased his weight onto the edge of the mattress. He patted the dog’s flank. Her tail stub wagged.

“Are you sure you can stay here all the time? Don’t you have to work?” Louisa reached for the glass of water on the nightstand.

Conor picked it up and handed it to her. “No. Jayne’s fiancé is back. He’ll fill in for me. I’m here until you’re both back on your feet. We’re hiring a new bartender, so I’ll be cutting some of my hours back on a permanent basis.”

Sipping through the straw, she settled back on the pillow. “How’s your apartment?”

“The remodel is going to take at least a month.” His hand rested on her thigh. “I was hoping I could stay here until it’s done.”

“You can stay here as long as you like.” Forever would work for her. She squeezed his hand. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He leaned forward and kissed her, then brushed a stray hair off her cheek. “Do you want me to close the curtains so you can sleep?”

“No. I don’t want to sleep.”

“You look exhausted.”