The Lawman's Promise Page 15

  The Knights had been sent to the best schools and had received the best education. They’d inherited their father’s business skills—touch anything and it’d turn to gold. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the same luck when it came to relationships.

  When Angelina was diagnosed Victor’s life had turned upside down. She’d shown up at his house late one evening and blurted out the details over a bowl of rum raisin ice cream. She could have gone anywhere, to any treatment center in the world, but she’d wanted to stay in Virginia at the family estate. This was where she felt closest to their mother.

  The mere thought that he could lose Angelina weighed heavily on Victor’s already slumping shoulders. He wondered how his brothers would take the news. That was, if his sister would tell them. She didn’t want them to worry.

  Here lately Angelina had been talking relentlessly to Victor about finding love, marrying a special someone. A relationship was the last thing he wanted, or needed, at this time in his life. No woman would want a man who was eyeball deep in running a business, not to mention he had serious character flaws. Admitting those faults was the first step, or so he’d heard. Unfortunately, he was too much like his dad, and, unless Victor could somehow eradicate his gene pool, this was a misfortune he couldn’t change.

  The doors to the elevator opened and he stepped in along with a man and woman who were holding hands. Once the doors closed, the couple snuggled closer, rubbing noses and giggling over the news of her pregnancy. Victor cringed. What was it about elevators that brought out the romantic side in people? Or sexual raw need? He’d been struck with it a few times and had pressed a willing female against a cubicle wall, pounding her right up until the very ding of the bell announced that they’d reached their floor. His cock twitched at the thought, reminding him that he hadn’t held a woman in weeks.

  There were times that he was lonely. That was the only caveat of not being in a relationship. He didn’t get to hold a warm, soft body on those nights when he needed it most. And it was likely tonight would be one of those nights.

  Sure, there was a woman he met on occasion and they would tear up the sheets, but their meetings had gotten further and further apart. Since he’d taken over the business, he’d been on a different schedule than what pleased her. She’d given up on waiting for him, especially after he’d stood her up the last time. Hell, how was he supposed to know an emergency at the vineyard would arise? He should have called her, but he didn’t.

  In truth, he didn’t have much time for sex, not since he had responsibility now. His days repeated themselves. He’d leave his office, come home and drop into bed, asleep the second his head hit the pillow. Up early, work out in his home gym, then back at the grind. Hell, he shouldn’t complain. He was fairly young, in good health, and Knight Vineyard and Winery was doing the best it had done in years—ever. His chest puffed out. His dreams of one day turning the house into a bed and breakfast were possible. Then he could own a small house on the water, spend some time fishing, sailing, grilling out, and enjoying life.

  His plans would have to be placed on hold, at least until his sister was well.

  At times he wondered if he should sell the estate and go back to his bachelor lifestyle. Exclusive parties. Sexy, desirable women. Traveling as he pleased.

  Those were the days.

  If he wanted sex-for-convenience, he could easily find another willing partner. Women found him attractive. The large bank account, respectable last name, and his seat as owner of the vineyards didn’t hurt a man’s reputation. He swore he could be covered in warts, no teeth, and stink like a troll and no woman would notice as long as he had money. That made his chest cave. Would a woman ever see past the green and see him for what he was? Really, it was his own fault. He’d gotten skilled at keeping women at arm’s length, or choosing to occupy his time with ladies who had dollar signs for irises. Another trait passed down from his father who’d had a mistress on every four corners of the world after Rose died. During one of the rare conversations Victor had with Theobald, he’d said, “Son, sampling every flower in the garden is fine, but when you find the exotic flower, the unique one that stands out from the rest, make sure you don’t pluck her and toss her away. Instead, nurture her and watch her blossom.”

  Victor moaned and the couple looked at him curiously. He smiled, then went back to his thoughts.

  Last night he’d gone to bed and the ache in his groin had almost been unbearable. That’s why he’d picked up the phone and called Selena, asking if he could come over to see her. She’d forgiven him for standing her up and agreed. He could have stayed home and masturbated, but then he would have missed out on having the blonde bombshell on the middle of her expensive Egyptian rug. Besides the hot sex, he liked that Selena wasn’t the marrying type. He certainly wouldn’t want his trailer hitched to a woman who spent enough on her wardrobe each month to end hunger in a third world country. She had no clue what charity meant unless it included a gala where she could get all dolled up and flash her bling.

  The doors opened. He allowed the couple to step out first, then he followed, watching them tuck their arms around each other as they headed for the exit doors. He smiled, then turned down a narrow hall that led him straight into the small gift shop. He stopped at the threshold and glanced around at the glass shelves filled with sentimental products. His stomach lurched.

  “Can I help you, sir? We have a sale on our selection of cards,” the silver-haired woman with bright red cheeks said from behind the counter. It was only natural that she would be bubbly.

  He stepped up and gave her his best smile. “I’d like to get two flower bouquets.”

  “Which would you like?” she asked. “We have carnations, roses, daffodils—”

  “Colorful flowers, please.” He’d never interested himself in the different varieties. He wrote a check to the landscaper every week and that was the extent of his knowledge.

  She narrowed her gaze as she stepped from the counter and went to a large carousel holding an array of bouquets. She grabbed two from the stand. “Will these do?” He nodded. “Two colorful bouquets. Is that it?”

  He grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, grabbed a hundred-dollar bill and laid it on the counter. A selection of glass animal figurines caught his attention. He remembered that his mom had collected similar pieces. “I’ll take the glass panda too.”

  Once she rang up his total, she handed him the change and he stuck it into a charity box sitting next to the register and left the shop, bouquets tucked in one arm and the gift wrapped panda in the other. He sure hoped Avary Pine liked the glass figurine. If anything, it’d give her something to throw and break if the frustration became too much.

  Stopping at the information desk, he found out that indeed, Miss Pine had been admitted into the hospital and, after the kind volunteer gave him the room number, he got back on the elevator and rode it to the third floor. Because he was following through with this deranged act didn’t mean he agreed with Angelina, but he’d get it over with and be on his way. He glanced at his watch. His sister had another hour before she would be finished with her treatment. The oncologist warned that she would be feeling lethargic, some pain, and more than likely stomach irritation. He’d hired a nurse, Sandy, and she would be at the house when they arrived back this afternoon.

  Scanning the room number directions, he followed the corresponding hall looking for Avary Pine. He passed a nurse who smiled and batted her pretty eyes. He glanced over his shoulder, watching the gentle sway of her hips under the material of her blue scrubs.

  Yeah, he needed a release soon.

  Finding room 356, he started for the open door when the faint sound of sniffling stopped him dead. What the hell? He glanced into the dimly lit room, his eyes taking a few seconds to adjust, and then he saw her. She was lying in the hospital bed, her back to him, covered in a thin, white blanket. Her shoulders were shaking and her gentle sobs were the only sound in the sanitary space. She looked so tiny, almost f
ragile, in the large bed that seemed to engulf her. Her long, blonde hair was spread over the pillow and the soft light over the sink caught the highlights making them shimmer like golden threads.

  He stood there, holding the flowers, wanting to say something—knew he should—but he couldn’t seem to get his tongue to cooperate. His chest ached and his heart beat fast. He’d never been good in situations like this. One thing he couldn’t stand was seeing a woman cry, especially when there was nothing he could do to help. He didn’t know her, didn’t know if she’d think he was a stalker bearing gifts. After all, she’d been attacked only hours ago. His feet seemed glued to the floor and he couldn’t move. Couldn’t wrap his brain around what he would say.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  He about jumped out of his Burberry’s. He turned and standing behind him was a nurse, her brows snapped together in curiosity. It didn’t look suspicious at all with him standing in the door staring at the patient. “Can you see that she gets these?” He handed over one bouquet and the box, then hurried away.

  By the time he was in the elevator, heading back to the lobby to wait on Angelina, he was able to get the thought of Avary Pine, lying in bed sobbing, out of his mind—some.

  ****

  Two months later

  “You’ve got to eat.”

  Avary didn’t even look at her sister, but continued to stare at the white ceiling, counting the heavy paint strokes left over from a careless painter.

  “You need to answer me,” Dawn persisted.

  Realizing that her sister wouldn’t give up until she got some sort of reply, Avary lifted her chin. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I didn’t ask if you’re hungry. I said you need to eat.” There was a stubborn tilt to her sister’s chin. Dawn could cut someone down to size with her pensive stare if pushed to that point.

  “Don’t worry about me, sis. I’m fine,” Avary mumbled.

  “Looks like you are. When was the last time you took a shower?” Dawn sniffed and wrinkled her nose.

  “That’s not me, thank you. That’s the lunch the nurse prepared. Who eats sauerkraut and sausage?”

  “Your nurse does,” Dawn muttered. “I’ll make you a PB sandwich. Better yet, a Nutella and banana sandwich.”

  “No. I’m not hungry, remember?” She sat up, leaning her back against the arm of the couch. A pain shot through her hand. It was covered in a thick bandage, hiding the red, angry-looking scar that she had to apply salve to every six hours.

  “Your manager called again this morning. He wants to speak to you,” Dawn’s voice softened.

  “I know. I’ve heard every message he’s left on my voicemail.”

  “Then why don’t you call him back? He wants to talk to you about where you need to go from here, what’s best for you.”

  Avary snickered. “That’s funny. He knows my hand is useless. I can’t hold a toothbrush with it, let alone a bow.” Her chest narrowed and she had a strong urge to cry, but she refused. She’d cried an ocean after the attack and she refused to allow another tear drop to leave her eyes.

  “Doc said therapy will work, but you have to start. The sooner, the better. That’s why I made you an appointment. The office is in the hospital.”

  “I think he hopes it’ll work,” she whispered.

  Dawn sat on the end of the couch and patted Avary’s knee. “They caught the attacker and he’s behind bars. Now is the time to put the incident behind you. You’ll see, if you try, you’ll feel better. Sitting here day in and day out sulking isn’t helping.”

  “What if you couldn’t work as a nurse? What if someone took that ability away from you?”

  “You’re suggesting you’ve lost all hope of recovery, Avary. I remember all of the times you practiced until your fingers bled. Not once did I see a girl who gave up so easily. This isn’t you. Where is my feisty sister who worked her way into being the musician ‘who plays like an angel’?”

  “She’s gone,” she said through tight lips. Overcome with the need to lash out with so many hateful words, Avary bit down hard on her bottom lip. Her sister didn’t deserve it, even if she didn’t understand. Why didn’t she see that Avary needed to be alone? Needed time to work through her emotions. Not only had the attacker robbed her of the use of her hand, but he had also taken away her security. “My show is starting soon and you’re blocking the TV.”

  With an exaggerated sigh, Dawn stood. Crossing her arms over her waist, she jutted her chin. “Fine. Do what you’re going to do. One day you’ll realize how much of yourself you left in that dark alley that night.”

  Not getting a response, Dawn finally left for work.

  Avary looked at the closed door, listening to the low hum of the car engine as it pulled away from the street. The sun flowed through the window and glinted off the glass panda on the coffee table. Picking it up, she moved her fingers over the smooth, cool glass. She had no clue who left her the gift at the hospital, but she had kept it, an unexpected keepsake from a stranger. Maybe she had a guardian angel.

  “Angel, if you’re really out there, please show me the way,” she whispered. “Please give me my hope back.”