Karen Kirst - Intensive Care Crisis

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Audrey.”

Her mouth twisted. “Problem is, I can’t prove it.”

* * *

Not convinced leaving her alone was a good idea, Julian accompanied her to the cafeteria. As they didn’t have a slushy machine, she settled for coffee. He watched as she doctored it.

“I’ll follow you home when you’re ready,” he said.

“I’m going upstairs to speak with Veronica.” She took a small sip to taste and added another packet of sugar. “There’s no reason why I shouldn’t work today.”

While her color had returned to normal and the welt across her throat looked less angry, she was jumpy, as her gaze performed frequent sweeps of the room.

“Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I want you to have my number, just in case.”

“That’s not necessary.” At the register, she swiped her employee ID and thanked the cashier.

“I insist.”

She reluctantly did as he asked. When he’d finished inputting the information, she tucked it back into her pocket. “I don’t plan on calling you.”

“I hope you don’t have to.”

“I know why you’re doing this.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Because of my dad. And because you have a warrior mind-set. You see a problem, you fix it. You see someone in trouble, you make it your business to help. Like you said before, you don’t know how to turn off the marine and be a regular guy.”

All those things may be true, but he suspected there was more to his drive to help her. There was something different about her, an elusive quality that intrigued him. He didn’t want to be intrigued. Didn’t want to notice her compassionate eyes, her cute nose or kind mouth. He certainly didn’t want to catch her looking at him like he was that word the newspapers had thrown around. He wasn’t a hero.

“Speaking of problems, we’re about to have one.”

She glanced over her shoulder to the main set of double doors and gasped. “What is he doing here?”

Trent Harris strode into the dining area alongside a male friend. They were deep in conversation and hadn’t spotted them yet. Although out of uniform, Trent had the military look, his silver hair buzzed short and his physique honed from years of service. He exuded an undeniable air of authority.

“I forgot Dad meets with some of the board of directors this time of year to plan the annual charity golf tournament. I can’t let him see me like this,” she said, gesturing to her neck. “I’ll slip out the side exit.”

“Audrey—”

“Please, he has enough to worry about with work. All those men lost...he’s taking it hard. Maybe not as hard as you are—” She broke off, her eyes pleading with him. “I can’t burden him with this. Not now.”

Julian didn’t agree, but what say did he have in her choices? “Fine. Go.”

“Thank you.” She dodged tables and garbage receptacles and rushed out the door. He was watching her retreating form through the large windows separating the cafeteria and hallway when his superior approached.

“Sergeant Tan.” His eyes—the same bold hue as his daughter’s—gleamed with speculation. “What are you doing here?”

Harris’s friend continued into the food service area. “I had a post-op checkup.”

One broad eyebrow arched in silent question.

“It’s healing on schedule. I’ll report for work Monday.” Not for his usual duties, he thought bitterly. They’d planted him at an admin desk until the unit doctor decided to return him to full duty or trot him before a medical board for retirement consideration. Before the accident, he would’ve prayed for God to restore the career he loved. He didn’t bother now.

“If you need more sick time, call Staff Sergeant Webb.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “Now, why don’t you explain to me what you were doing with my daughter?”

Julian controlled his reaction. He’d begun to think Harris hadn’t seen her. “Audrey was getting coffee, sir. We talked.”

“About?”

None of your business , he wanted to say. But he respected the man. Julian would go so far as to say he admired him. “My recovery. Your daughter is very conscientious.”

“Hmm.”

He stifled the urge to squirm beneath the stare that would have lesser men spilling all their secrets. “Looks like your friend has his food. I’ll see you in the office.”

“Tan.”

The single word had the effect of a snapped whip. Julian stopped short.

“I like you, but I’m envisioning a quiet, stable life for my daughter. I’m hoping I’ll get a doctor or lawyer for a son-in-law.”

“I understand, sir.” Marines need not apply, especially force-recon marines. They had a reputation for being rougher and wilder than the rest. Not that Julian had done anything to earn such a reputation. “I have no intention of dating Audrey.”

He nodded, seemingly appeased. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Julian left the hospital feeling dissatisfied. Thoughts of Audrey trailed him the rest of the day. He had a feeling this wasn’t over. But Harris had warned him off, and the woman herself didn’t want his help or protection.

He didn’t need the distraction, anyway. Getting his old life back had to be his main focus.

Her apartment door was ajar.

The mental and physical exhaustion that had rendered her almost dizzy during the drive home was instantly forgotten as she touched her fingertips to the black painted wood. She’d locked it this morning. She always locked it. Thanks to her dad’s infamous lectures, “safety” could be her middle name.

Audrey bent to examine the knob and doorjamb and didn’t see any obvious damage. But then, anyone wanting to get in without alerting the neighbors could’ve used something as simple as a credit card. Her throat ached as memories of the storage-room attack pressed in. Had it only been a matter of hours since a stranger had attempted to murder her? She stared at the door, a tsunami of uncertainty building inside. Had he discovered her home address and decided to try again when she was alone and there was less chance of interference?

The urge to run to Julian’s apartment was strong. She’d insisted she wouldn’t call him. She hadn’t said anything about not pounding on his door.

The slim chance that a maintenance man had made an unscheduled visit kept her in place.

Taking a steadying breath, she pushed the door inward and was granted an unobstructed view of the entryway and short hallway that emptied into the dining nook. Her knees threatened to buckle. Late evening sun slanted through the patio doors, glinting on bits of glass and broken picture frames. Shoes formed haphazard piles on the linoleum—they’d been yanked out of the storage cubicle tucked against the wall.

Audrey didn’t pause to consider her options. Spinning on her heel, she jogged down the hall, half-expecting to be ambushed from behind.

She pounded on Julian’s door. From this distance, she couldn’t see her apartment. Her assailant could use the opportunity to slip out undetected. Or he could still be hiding in her closet, behind her shower curtain or beneath her bed...

The door swung open, revealing a sleep-tousled marine. At the sight of her, he snapped to attention. “Audrey.”

“I woke you, didn’t I? I promised not to bother you with my problems, but my door was open and my stuff is everywhere—”

She broke off when he left her in the doorway and disappeared into what she assumed was his bedroom. When he returned, he had a sleek black gun in his grip and there was no trace of fatigue in his hardened face. He didn’t spare her a glance as he strode past her into the hall. This, she realized, was a force-recon marine in action, focus narrowed on the potential threat.