The Crush Part 40

"Too bad. You don't get a vote."

"Especially with this character Lozada being involved."

"It's because of him that I'm hanging around."

"That the only reason?" His eyes bored into Wick's.

"Me and Corinne have been looking after Rennie for a long time. We don't plan to stop now." He inclined his head, moving in closer. "You've got a big gun and a big mouth, but you're dumber than this fence post here if you don't get what I'm telling you."

"I'd get it if you'd say it straight out."

"All right. Rennie's worked hard to get where she's at

in her career. I've seen her take chances on horseback that seasoned cowboys and stunt riders wouldn't take. She flies off to the other side of the world, goes to places where there's fighting and G.o.d knows what kind of pestilence, and she never shows an ounce of fear.

"But," he said, taking a step closer, "I've never seen her in the company of a man. She's certainly never let one spend the night." He took in Wick's bare chest and made a point of looking down at the fly he had hurriedly b.u.t.toned.

"I hope you're decent enough, man enough, to handle that responsibility."

When Rennie came in from the corral, Wick was watching coffee drip from the filter basket into the carafe. Bare-chested and barefoot, he was wearing only blue jeans. His handgun was lying on the counter next to the Mr. Coffee.

None of this was compatible with her safe, familiar kitchen, and all of it was disconcerting.

"Is there something wrong with the coffeemaker?"

He shook his head with chagrin. "I'm just so anxious for it I've been counting the drips."

"Sounds good to me, too." She took two mugs from the cabinet.

"Spats okay?" he asked.

'Just as Toby said."

"He hates my guts."

She pa.s.sed him a mug. "Don't be silly."

"I'm not. And my feelings aren't hurt. I'm just stating a fact. Did he go home?"

"He just left."

The last of the coffee gurgled into the carafe. Wick filled her mug, warning "It's cops' coffee. Strong."

"Doctors have the same kind." She sipped and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Robbins makes a very serious business out of looking after you. He warned me to keep my grubby paws off you."

"He said no such thing. I know he didn't."

"Not in so many words."

She took another few sips of her coffee, then set her mug on the counter. 'Turn around and let me check your incision."

He turned, set the heels of his hands on the edge of the counter, and leaned forward. "Can't fool me. You just want to look at my a.s.s."

"I've seen it."

"And?"

"I've seen better."

"Now that hurts my feelings."

The human body held few mysteries for Rennie. She had studied it, learned it, seen it in every condition, size, color, and shape. But yesterday when she saw all of Wick's body stretched out on her bed, it had made an impression.

And not from a medical standpoint. His torso was long and lean, his limbs well proportioned. No body she had ever seen had the appeal of his, and she had struggled for professional detachment when she touched it.

She removed the old bandage and gently probed his incision. "Tender?"

"Only when you poke it. It's starting to itch."

"A sign of healing. A medical miracle considering your shortage of bed rest."

"When will you remove the st.i.tches?"

"A few more days. Stay put and finish your coffee. I might just as well clean it during one of your rare periods of immobility."

"No more shots," he called to her as she left the room. She retrieved the supplies from upstairs and was actually surprised to find him still in place when she returned. She told him so. "Doctor's orders." "Yes, but I can't believe you followed them. You're not exactly an ideal patient, Mr. Threadgill." "Why are Toby and Corinne Robbins so protective of you?" 'They've known me since I was a little girl." "So have a lot of other people in Dalton. I don't see anyone else hovering around you and warding off satyrs like me." "I doubt Toby Robbins knows what a satyr is." "But you do, don't you, Rennie?" 'You're not a satyr." "Was Raymond Collier?" He was baiting her, trying to get her to talk about it. She wasn't ready to talk about it. She doubted she would ever be ready to talk about it with Wick. Where would she even begin? With the day she had discovered her father's adultery? Could she make Wick understand how shattering it had been to realize the hypocrisy she'd been living with and stupidly accepting? Or would she begin with Raymond? How he used to follow her. How his longing gaze had never strayed from her if they were in the same gathering of people, including his wife. How she had loathed his calf eyes and moist hands before she realized that she could use his obsession to punish her father. No, she couldn't talk about that with Wick. "There," she said as she placed a new bandage over the incision. "All done, and actually you were fairly cooperative this time." Before she could move away, he took one of her hands in each of his and pulled them around him, to the front of his body, so that she was hugging him from behind. "What are you doing, Wick?" "Who was your ideal patient?" She dismissed the question with a light laugh, something not easily accomplished with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s flattened against his back, her hands splayed over the crisp hair on his chest, and her center growing warm from the contact with his rump. He had covered her hands with his, holding them captive against him. His skin--not his epidermis, but his skin--felt warm and vital against her palms. Beneath her left hand she could feel the strong beating of his heart. For someone accustomed to listening to hearts beat every day, the rhythm of his had a strange effect on her. It was making her own beat faster against the strong muscles of his back. "Shouldn't we be preparing to leave, Wick? I thought you were in a hurry to get away." "Your ideal patient. I want to hear about him or her, or we'll stand here until I do, and you know that I'm just stubborn enough to mean it." For emphasis he pressed down on her arms at his sides, forcing a tighter hug. In surrender, she rested her forehead in the shallow depression between his shoulder blades. But it was far too comfortable, far too nice, so it lasted for only a few brief seconds before she raised her head. "It was a she. A thirty-four-year-old woman. She was a victim of the World Trade Center attack. I was in Philadel phia on September the eleventh, attending a conference. I drove straight to New York and arrived late that evening. "She was one of the few who'd been pulled from the rubble still alive, but her injuries were severe and numerous. I worked on her internal injuries. A specialist amputated her leg. For twenty-four hours we didn't even know her name. She had no identification on her and wasn't lucid enough to tell us who she was. But subconsciously she knew she was being helped. Every time I took her hand, trying to let her know that she was safe, that someone was taking care of her, she would squeeze my hand. "Finally, she regained consciousness enough to give us her name, which we matched with a family, one of thousands desperately seeking information. She was from Ohio and had been on a business trip. Her husband and three children had an emotional reunion with her in the hospital. In the midst of it, she looked at me. Her eyes spoke with such eloquence she didn't have to say anything." At some point during the telling, she had rested her cheek against Wick's back. He was stroking the backs of her hands where they still rested on his chest. "You saved her life, Rennie." "No," she said thickly. "I couldn't. She died two days later. She knew she was going to die. We had told her it was doubtful she could survive such ma.s.sive damage. She was thanking me for extending her life long enough for her to see her family. She wanted to tell them good-bye. It took an act of will and tremendous courage for her to live even that long. Her love for them was stronger than her pain. So when you asked who my ideal patient was, she immediately came to mind." Several moments elapsed before he said, "I think you're incredible, Dr. Newton. No wonder the Robbinses think so highly of you."

She recognized the statement as a transition. He wanted to know about her relationship with Toby and Corinne, and this was his roundabout way of asking. What would be the harm in telling him that much? He probably knew anyway. It was possible that Toby had told him during their extended conversation at the corral fence and Wick wanted to hear her version of it.

This time when her forehead came to rest between his shoulder blades, she kept it there. "After Raymond Collier, my parents enrolled me in a boarding school in Dallas.

The first Christmas I was there, they went to Europe.

Mother didn't want to go, or so she claimed. But there was no arguing with T. Dan. As part of my punishment for the trouble I'd caused, I was left at school to spend the holiday alone.

"Somehow, Toby and Corinne found out. They showed up on Christmas morning. They brought their children, goodies, presents, and tried to make me happy. They've been seeing to my happiness ever since. If he comes across as overly protective, I think it's because he still sees me as a lonely abandoned girl on Christmas."

"What happened in your father's study that day, Rennie?"

She raised her head and withdrew her hands from beneath his. "If we're going to Galveston, we should be going."

He came around and took her by the shoulders. "What happened, Rennie?"

"Wesley will blame me for any delay" was her only answer.

"Did he rape you? Try?"

Angered by his tenacity, she flung off his hands. "G.o.d, you never give up!"

"Did he?"

"Isn't that what my father told the police?"

'Yes. And from what little I know of T. Dan Newton, lying would be the least of his sins. He'd lie to the police and smile while doing it. Now, what caused you to shoot Raymond Collier?"

"What does it matter?"

"It matters because I want to know, dammit! It matters because you're so d.a.m.ned and determined to keep the secret your daddy's money got buried. And it matters because I'm working on a two-day hard-on that I can't do anything about. Not without you accusing me of mauling you and getting death threats from your neighbor Toby."

He had backed her into a corner, literally--she was wedged into the right angle formed by intersecting cabinetry --and he had backed her into a corner emotionally.

She came out fighting. "Raymond never forced me to do anything. Not that afternoon. Not ever. If you want to invent a myth about attempted rape because that somehow sanitizes it in your mind and makes you feel better about me, then fine. But that's not the way it was. "Raymond and T. Dan became partners on a land deal when I was fourteen. He started coming around a lot, spending time with us. I knew the impact I had on him. I teased him unmercifully. Under the guise of an affectionate older man, he seized every opportunity to touch me. I encouraged it and laughed about it later. He had this . . . this naked yearning that I thought was hilarious." She paused to take a breath. "Still think I'm 'incredible,' Wick? Just wait. There's more."

"Stop it, Rennie." "Oh no, you wanted to know. You wanted relief for your hard-on. Well this ought to cure it. For two years I tormented that poor man. Then, about a week before that wretched day, I had a quarrel with my father. I don't even remember what I'd done, but he took away the keys to my car and grounded me for a month. "So I got back at him by sleeping with his business partner. That's right, Wick. I called Raymond from a motel and told him that if he wanted me he could have me, but that he had to come right then. I was waiting for him." She brushed tears of shame off her hot cheeks, but it was too late to stop now. The words continued to bubble out of her. "Raymond came to the motel and I went to bed with him. Just like I went to bed with all of them. Everything you've heard about Rennie Newton is true. You probably haven't heard a fraction of what there is to tell. Sometime when I haven't got a killer breathing down my neck, we'll get together and split a bottle of wine, and I'll detail for you all my s.e.xual escapades. It'll be like telling ghost stories, only better. "But this is the one story that seems to have you itching for the lowdown. And rightly so, because it was the worst thing I ever did. Daddy punished me, but I showed him, didn't I? I showed him but good."

Chapter 28.

Reportedly, Wesley had been relieved to hear that she and Wick had pa.s.sed the night safely and that there'd been no trace of Lozada. But since they'd left the ranch he had called Wick at half-hour intervals even though Wick had a.s.sured him he would be notified immediately if they spotted Lozada at any point on the long drive to Galveston. Wick had insisted on taking his pickup, and he had insisted on driving. It would be a difficult and exhausting trip for him as a pa.s.senger. Driving would add more stress and strain, but she hadn't quarreled with him about it. They avoided talking at all. The tension between them since their last conversation was pulled so taut that one cross word could cause it to snap like an overextended rubber band. And Wick had resumed wearing one around his wrist. She was staring out the pa.s.senger window looking dis interestedly at the scenery speeding by when his cell phone rang for the umpteenth time. "Jesus, Oren, give it a rest," he said. "Extend to the detective my warmest regards," she said drolly. "Yeah?" Rennie sensed the change in Wick instantly. She turned away from the window and saw that his free hand had tightened around the steering wheel and his lips were set in a thin, straight line. His voice, however, was incongruently pleasant. "Well, well, well, Ricky Roy. Haven't seen you in a while. Of course the last time we shared s.p.a.ce I didn't exactly see you, did I?" Just knowing that Lozada was on the other end of the call caused Rennie to shudder. The fear she'd felt that evening in her kitchen was still a fresh memory. Had he been brutal or raving, he wouldn't have frightened her nearly as much, but his complacency had been terrifying. Wick steered the pickup off the highway. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, Ricky Roy, but backstabbing someone is really a chicken-s.h.i.t thing to do." When the truck came to a full stop, he pushed the gear stick into Park. "But I'm as good as new now. Pity I can't say the same for Sally Horton. Sally Horton, a.s.shole. You remember. The girl you killed the night you tried to kill me." Rennie could hear Lozada's silky laughter coming through the phone. She unfastened her seat belt, moved closer to Wick, and motioned for him to hold the phone away from his ear so she could listen in. "You must still be on mind-altering painkillers, Threadgill," he said. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then let me clarify it. You're a cowardly woman killer."

Lozada was too clever to fall for such obvious baiting.

"I read that you had barely survived an a.s.sault of some kind, and that you would have died if you hadn't received excellent emergency care."

"Rennie Newton is an excellent surgeon."

"A good f.u.c.k, too."

Rennie reacted as though she'd been struck. She looked at Wick but could only see herself reflected in the lenses of his sungla.s.ses.

"Is she there with you now?" Lozada asked.

"If she weren't you wouldn't be calling me, would you?"

"Strange, isn't it? You and I sharing a woman. Although,"

he continued smoothly, "it's not surprising that Rennie is attracted to both of us. Danger turns her on.

Like when her friend Dr. Howell died. She described to me the violent way he died, and during the telling she got wet."

Rennie made a lunging grab for the telephone, but Wick caught her wrist and pushed her hand away. He shook his head furiously.

"That was only the second time we were together,"

Lozada said. "She was a wild one that night. Even I could barely keep up with her."

"That doesn't surprise me," Wick said as though bored. "I always figured your murder weapons were subst.i.tutes for physical shortcomings."

Lozada tsked. "That was a cheap shot. Unworthy of even you."

"You're right. I should have come right out and called you an impotent slug-d.i.c.k."

Lozada laughed. "It really bothers you that I had her first, doesn't it? I bet you wonder how you compare. I once made her come just by licking her nipples. Can you do that?"

Rennie covered her ears, but she could still hear Wick say, "You know, Ricky Roy, I'm beginning to think you're trying to come on to me with all this dirty talk. What's the point of this call anyway?"

She didn't hear what Lozada said, but Wick's response to it was, "Wrong. If you were finished with her, you wouldn't be making this call. You're jealous and can't stand it that she's with me now. Eat your heart out, a.s.shole."

He clicked off, practically threw the phone up onto the dashboard, and cursed viciously.

"He's lying," she said gruffly.

He shifted the pickup into Drive and checked for oncoming traffic, then pulled back onto the highway.

"He's lying, Wick."

He still didn't acknowledge her.

"He's manipulating you, and you're letting him!"

He turned to her then and she could feel his eyes probing hers from behind the sungla.s.ses. But all he said was "Buckle your seat belt."