JoAnn Ross - No Regrets

Her fingers tightened on his. “Is he all right?”

Dan shrugged. He had never liked Molly’s dangerous predilection for picking up strays. “Thomas is Thomas. He’s the same as he always is. Nuts.”

“He’s in emotional pain,” she managed to argue. “But he still managed to get help for me.”

“Point taken.” His gaze drifted out the window toward the mean streets. “It’s also a possibility that he’s the one who did this to you in the first place, then suffered a sudden case of remorse. Or fear.”

“Thomas would never hurt anyone.”

Dan’s expression was cop hard. “You can’t be sure of that, Molly.”

“I’d stake my life on it.”

“When all that Demerol wears off and you can think rationally again, you might just realize that may be exactly what you’ve done.”

Although the brief conversation had exhausted her, she had to stand up for a man she knew didn’t have the strength to stand up for himself. “Thomas isn’t responsible.”

“Actually, you’re probably right,” he agreed with obvious reluctance. Two strong-willed people, they’d argued often over the years and neither was fond of losing. “Since the test results came back negative.”

“Test results?”

A reluctant smile hovered at the corner of his grimly set lips. “From what we could tell, you bopped the guy a good one, kiddo. Not all that blood in the alley was yours.”

“Nor Thomas’s.”

“No.” He gave her a long look as if judging whether or not to say more.

Belatedly understanding his dilemma, Molly decided to help him out. “I was raped, wasn’t I?”

He closed his eyes, briefly. When he opened them, Molly saw regret and embarrassment. “Yeah.” He exhaled a long breath. “Hell, Molly, I’m so sorry.”

She thought of all the rape victims who’d come through the doors of the ER and realized that in some way, she might be fortunate her memory had blocked out the assault. “You and Reece don’t need to tiptoe around the subject. I’m no different than any other rape victim.”

“Yes you are,” Dan shot back. “The fact of your being a nun—and a virgin—should put you off-limits to creeps like that.”

Jacob’s daughter, Dinah, had been raped, Molly remembered. When she also recalled that Dinah’s brothers had massacred all the men in the rapist’s city to avenge the defilement of their sister, she decided not to share that particular Bible story with this grim-faced man.

“Virgins get raped every day. Some of them are children.” Although her eyes were barely slits, she managed to meet his frustrated gaze. “And I’ve seen you deal with that.”

“True.” This time it was his fingers that tightened on hers. “But what you don’t see is me throwing up afterward.”

Molly tried to smile, then flinched when the attempt pulled the stitches Reece had sewn in her top and bottom lips. “You’re a good man, Dan. And you’re definitely your father’s son.”

His grip loosened, his smile brightened his brown eyes. “Speaking of Pop, he’s been driving everyone nuts waiting to get in to see you.”

Amazingly, Alex Kovaleski had taken an interest in the orphaned McBride sisters after that fateful night fourteen years ago. He’d even tried to adopt them, only to be informed that divorced men were not suitable fathers for little girls.

The bureaucrats were wrong. Molly didn’t want to think about how much worse their rocky childhoods would have been without Alex Kovaleski in their corner.

He’d attended her Profession Day, his chest puffed up with pride as she’d repeated her vows and had the slender gold ring of Christ slipped onto her finger. And although he was a man given to wearing plaid shirts and jeans while off duty, he’d willingly donned a morning coat to give Lena away at her wedding to Reece. Her unconscious smile tugging at the stitches returned Molly’s mind to her reason for being a patient in her own hospital, but before she had a chance to think about that, Lena rushed into the room and threw her arms around her older sister.

“Do you have any idea how much you frightened us?” she asked on a sob as tears streamed down her delicate cheeks. “I was so afraid I’d lose you. Just like…”

Lena didn’t finish the sentence. There was no need. Molly knew they were both thinking of their mother. And Tessa.

“I know.” Although the tight embrace was making her ribs feel as if they were on fire, Molly hugged her sister back. “It’s okay. I’m going to be fine.”

“Of course you will,” Lena agreed. Belatedly remembering Molly’s injuries, she released her. “And as soon as Reece lets you out of here, we’re going to have the biggest celebration in history.” She gave Dan a watery smile. “You and your dad are invited.”

He grinned back. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

They might not be a Norman Rockwell painting, Molly admitted. But she and Lena and Reece, along with Dan and Alex, made one pretty terrific family. And even as her head throbbed and her body ached, she felt the warmth of love in the room and knew everything was going to be all right.

Chapter Four

Elaine Mathison was a stunning woman with a lion’s mane of tawny hair that tumbled over her shoulders. She was tall and slender, and wore a simple tube of ivory silk designed to showcase a figure toned from hours spent with a personal trainer.

“Hello. And aren’t you lovely!” she welcomed Tessa. She exchanged a look with Jason—that was the handsome policeman’s name, Tessa had learned. “Darling, you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“Tessa was afraid she’d be crashing the party,” Jason revealed.

“Nonsense.” Elaine smiled. “A party can never have too many beautiful women. Believe me, darling, with your fresh, innocent looks, you’re going to be a hit.” That stated, she linked arms with the young woman and led her across the sea of white marble in the entry hall.

A massive crystal chandelier dominated the hall, showering sparkling light on a towering sculpture of two lovers in an intimate embrace. Palm trees framed the arched doorway of a living room shimmering in silver and white.

Set high in the hills of Bel Air, the house boasted stunning views of the glittering city below and the dazzling waters of the Pacific Ocean. The scene reminded Tessa of something from the Arabian Nights. Just gazing out over the scene was like being on a magic carpet ride above Los Angeles.

Although there weren’t as many big-name movie stars as Tessa might have wished for, she did recognize several guests. All the women, she noted with a tinge of envy, were young and ravishingly beautiful, and the men older, but still handsome. And those who weren’t handsome looked as if they had so much money, it didn’t matter. Expensive perfumes filled the air, mingling with the seasonal scents of juniper, fir and pine.

Tessa was not overly intimidated by the unfamiliar splendor. Having grown up on air force bases all over the world, she’d acquired the instincts of a natural chameleon. By the time she was ten years old she’d attended seven schools and had developed the ability to adapt her behavior to immediately fit in to her new landscape. She’d worn Izod polo shirts and khaki shorts in New England, flowery cotton summer dresses in Georgia, faded jeans and eelskin boots in Wyoming.

She’d hiked the Grand Canyon, donned Gore-Tex against the unrelenting rains of the Pacific Northwest to ride a racing bike along thirty miles of Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail, and had, in what she would always consider the ultimate endurance test, sat through Wagner’s famed Ring Opera with fellow senior year drama students in Germany. Of course, the fact that she’d been having a secret, passionate affair with her teacher, a self-professed Ring fanatic, made the experience more palatable.