Racing Against the Clock Page 11

  Stupefied, he poured himself a glass of water, then sat at the kitchen table and tried to make sense of everything that had occurred that evening, from kissing Hannah to his wound healing to her sudden illness after the cure.

  Confusion clouded his brain and dulled his thought processes. He didn’t like the feeling. As a surgeon, Tyler was accustomed to identifying problems and dealing with them. If someone had a tumor, he took it out. If someone got stabbed, he repaired the damage. Everything in his world was tangible and sensible, if at times tragic. The world Hannah painted for him was a world too foreign to ponder.

  From the time he was a small boy and had saved his grandfather’s life, Tyler had known he was destined to be a doctor. It was his calling, his identity and one of the reasons he’d had such a hard time accepting Yvette’s terminal diagnosis. He was meant to rescue the infirm, not lose a young, vibrant patient.

  What of the healing power Hannah now possessed? How far did it extend? How many lives could she save?

  Had Hannah thought through the ethical dilemmas inherent in her abilities? Did she realize this healing power essentially made her God, giving her jurisdiction over life and death? Power was ultimately what Daycon wanted. Power other people would want, as well. She would be inundated with the infirm seeking healing. Her life would never be her own.

  “If indeed she even survives this,” he whispered and stared into the water glass.

  He thought of Yvette.

  A lump rose in Tyler’s throat. He removed his wallet from his back pocket and slipped his dead wife’s faded picture from the plastic folds. She smiled up at him, her arms draped around a carousel horse on the merry-go-round at the county fair. He remembered the day the picture was taken. Their third anniversary. They had acted like children, giggling together, eating cotton candy, taking their turn at games of chance. Even though they hadn’t known it at the time, it was one of the last happy, carefree days they’d had left.

  “Why did you wait so long to tell me about the cancer?” he whispered. “Why did you cheat me out of those precious months?” A tear slid down his cheek. He would have given his own life for Hannah’s healing touch six years ago.

  Closing his eyes, Tyler swallowed back the pain. For six years, he had been performing his duties, doing what was necessary but never really enjoying life.

  He dated occasionally because those in his social set expected it, especially as the years had rolled away and Yvette’s death had slipped further into the past. But Tyler was a loyal man and he did not easily forget. The women who escorted him to hospital functions soon discovered he rarely called them for a second date. It wasn’t that they weren’t nice women, it was just that none of them sparked his interest.

  That is until Hannah Zachary.

  He recalled the odd feeling of panic he’d felt when he first examined her in the emergency room, and now he understood what his intuition had been trying to tell him. Here was a woman he could fall in love with. A woman who could help him overcome the pain of the past and redeem him by showing him how to live again.

  Except that she was quite possibly dying.

  Tyler groaned low in his throat and bit down on his hand to silence his agony. He did not want to feel the things he was feeling—desire, concern, worry. He ached to run back into his familiar shell and hide behind work.

  But he could not.

  Hannah needed him and he would not let her down the way he had let Yvette down. He regretted staying in denial so long that he had wasted the time he’d had left with his wife.

  Besides, there was hope, albeit a small one.

  If he could halt Hannah’s immune system response to the drug, could he save her life? It was a question he could not answer. Not now.

  He started to put Yvette’s picture back into his wallet, but stopped. “You’d like her,” he murmured. “I know you would. You two could pass for sisters.”

  Yvette kept smiling.

  She would have wanted him to go on, to love anew. She had told him so many times in those last days but he hadn’t wanted to listen. He’d had his love, but it had come and gone.

  But Hannah made him hope for a second chance. Could fate grant her a second chance, as well? Tyler knew there was only one thing to do. Take Hannah to New Mexico. Become her protector. Help her find this Marcus fellow and, at all costs, keep her safe from Lionel Daycon.

  He got to his feet, kissed Yvette’s picture one last time, then put it away in a drawer. It was time to let go of the past. He would never forget her, but now his responsibility was to the living.

  Picking up the phone, he called his medical partners, then took a deep breath and rang up Michael Ledbetter at home.

  “What is it, Fresno?” Ledbetter asked, coming to the phone after his wife had answered.

  “I need a leave of absence, sir.”

  Ledbetter made a noise of exasperation. “When?”

  “Immediately.”

  “Don’t you have surgery scheduled for next week?”

  “Yes, but I’ve already made arrangements with my partners to take over for me.”

  “This is highly irregular.”

  “I appreciate that, but I’ve never made such a request before. This an emergency situation.”

  “Does this have anything to do with that Jane Doe case?” Ledbetter asked suspiciously.

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “You’re putting your job on the line, Fresno.”

  “I’m aware of that, sir.” Tyler tightened his grip on the telephone receiver. He hated supplicating himself before this hardheaded man, but he had to do it. For Hannah’s sake.

  “When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “I’m sorry, I simply can’t say how long this will take.”

  Ledbetter was silent for a moment. “All right. I’ll give you seven days. If you’re not back in surgery a week from Monday, your hospital privileges will be rescinded.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And, Fresno…”

  “Yes?”

  “This little episode will go into your file. Don’t think it’s not going to come up when it’s time for promotion.”

  Tyler’s gut squeezed. For years he had had his eye on Michael Ledbetter’s job. He had wanted nothing more than to be chief of surgery at Saint Madeleine’s. But now, it suddenly didn’t seem to matter.

  “Very well,” he said. “I understand.” Tyler hung up and experienced a peacefulness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He’d done the right thing.

  The phone jangled. Surprised, he picked it up thinking it was one of his partners calling back for particulars on a patient’s condition. “Dr. Fresno here.”

  “Is this Tyler?” The woman’s voice was muffled, as if she had been crying.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me, Margie Price.”

  “Margie,” Tyler said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve done a terrible thing.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “Some men came to your house.”

  “My house?” He didn’t understand what she was talking about. Margie was sniffling so hard he could barely hear her.

  “One of them came over to speak to me. He wanted to know where you were. He was looking for Jane.”

  “Jane?”

  “Except he called her Hannah.”

  “Margie, are you all right? You sound pretty shaken up.”

  “I would never have told them where you were, but the man pulled a gun on me. He was very mean, very nasty. He looked like a TV gangster.”

  “Margie!”

  “Who are they, Tyler? What do they want? I was scared and I’m so sorry I told them where to find you, but he threatened to do awful things to me if I didn’t talk.”

  Daycon’s hired thugs. The ones who’d caused Hannah’s car wreck. “It’s all right, Margie,” he soothed, trying to calm the hysterical woman. “Can you tell me how lon
g ago this was?”

  “An hour, maybe more. I was too shook up to call for awhile and then when I tried, the phone was busy.”

  Hell, they could be pulling into the driveway right now. Tyler’s gut tensed. He didn’t own a gun.

  “You did fine—don’t blame yourself. I’ll take care of everything. You lock your doors, take a sedative and go to bed. I’ve got to go now.”

  “Tyler.”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful. Those men are very dangerous.”

  Get her the hell out of here.

  Not knowing how much time he had before two armed toughs showed up on his doorstep, Tyler raced through the house gathering what they might need for an extended road trip. Panting, he stuffed the supplies into the trunk of his BMW and then dashed back inside and up the stairs to where Hannah slept, oblivious to the fact her pursuers were minutes away.

  He tried to rouse her but she slumbered as deeply as if she’d swallowed a double dose of Ambien. Having no choice, he threw her over his shoulder and hauled her to the car.

  Her hair swung against his back. She was soft in his arms, her smell delicate.

  Poor kid. She’s got no one except me.

  He was taking her on the road to the devil only knew where, away from the devil only knew what. It wasn’t prudent, it wasn’t smart, but this Tyler knew from the bottom of his heart—he would do anything to protect Hannah. He had let Yvette down when she needed him most and he would not repeat his mistake.

  Somehow, he managed to maneuver Hannah into the passenger seat and get her buckled up.

  He slammed her door, then ran around to the driver’s side, got in and started the car. His breath was a visible white cloud in the frosty night air. He fumbled for the headlights as he put the car in reverse. Revving the engine, he backed up and to his dismay saw a car turn off the main street and onto the beach road leading to the house.

  There were only two cottages on this lane. His and Margie’s. And he knew Margie was in Houston.

  His blood chilled. Were these the men who were after Hannah? For the first time in his life, Tyler wished for a handgun.

  He slammed the gearshift into drive and trod on the accelerator as if he were an action-movie stuntman. He shot past the oncoming battered white sedan, his BMW bottoming out in the low driveway, jostling him and his passenger. But Tyler never eased off the gas pedal. Hazarding a glance in the side-view mirror, he saw the sedan brake suddenly and spin around to follow them.

  Son-of-a-bitch!

  “Tyler?” Hannah mumbled. She was sitting up, her eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re being followed.”

  “Daycon’s men?”

  “I’m assuming.”

  “A white sedan.” She turned and looked over her shoulder out the back window. One hand clenched the armrest. Tyler saw her knuckles had gone pale from gripping so hard.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s the same car that ran me off the road.”

  “Let’s see ’em outrun this baby,” he said and pushed his foot to the floor.

  They flew without being airborne.

  Hannah raised a hand to her throat. Flashes from the accident flickered through her mind and fear spilled a bitter taste into her mouth. In an instant, she was reliving the car crash.

  Except, this time, she was not alone.

  With the intent expression of a man on a sacred mission, Tyler kept his eyes glued to the road, his hands on the wheel. It was Hannah who kept peering back at the sedan.

  He burst from the beach road onto Seawall Boulevard, thick with evening traffic. Cars honked and swerved to get out of their way, but he never slowed, driving as calmly and skillfully as a professional race-car driver.

  Hannah’s breath hovered in her lungs, barely slipping in and out through her nose. The ocean lay to their left. Restaurants and clubs extended out over piers, neon lights burning brightly. Shrimp boats bobbed in the Gulf. A few tourists, bundled in coats, strolled the sea wall.

  “They’re still following,” she said, sneaking yet another glance over her shoulder.

  A signal light turned yellow and Tyler sped through the intersection. “That ought to slow them down.”

  “No, it didn’t. They ran the red.”

  “Damn.”

  “They’re not going to stop.”

  Hannah shifted in her seat to study Tyler’s profile. He was incredibly handsome, especially with that determined look on his face—his jaw resolute, his lips pressed into an unyielding line—as if nothing could stand in his way. His strength gave her courage.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The traffic thinned the farther west they traveled, the city giving way to more condos, beach resorts and long stretches of sand. Tyler increased his pace and continued to zigzag between the lanes.

  “We’re going to run out of island soon,” Hannah said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.” His tone was adamant, leaving no doubt to his commitment.

  Why is he doing this? she wondered. She’d had few true friends in her life. Hannah wasn’t the type to cultivate lasting relationships. She had her work. It had always been enough. Until now. In an instant, she realized what she had been missing all these years. Someone to confide in. Someone she could count on through thick and thin. Someone to share her life with.

  Someone to love.

  Did she dare to trust him completely? Heart and soul?

  The questions scared her. She wanted someone to love, but at the same time she was afraid that if she let herself hope it would all slip through her fingers.

  “How far are they behind us?” Tyler asked.

  “You’ve outpaced them a little. There are three cars between us and them.”

  “Good.”

  Up ahead, the road curved. Two lanes went right. The third, the lane they were in, continued straight to the ferry landing.

  There were no other cars in line. Hannah saw the ferry lights winking in the harbor and her stomach sank as she realized the ferry was just about to pull away from the dock.

  “We’re too late.” Dismay shot through her as the slender mechanical arm began to descend across the lane.

  “Hang on!”

  She sucked in her breath when it dawned on her what he intended. “Tyler, no!”

  He floored the BMW and they shot through just as the mechanical arm grazed the trunk. The ferry was a good foot from the dock, but they were traveling too fast to stop. The road ran out and they were airborne.

  Hannah screamed.

  For one awful split second that seemed to stretch on into infinity, they hovered above the Gulf of Mexico. Hannah gazed down at the dark waters below and thought, We’re going to die together.

  Wham!

  The BMW landed with teeth-jarring impact on the back of the ferry, thankfully empty of cars, and immediately the engine died.

  Ferry workers were shouting and running toward them. People got out of their cars to gawk. Hannah trembled, all the air expelled from her lungs.

  “Are you all right?” Tyler asked.

  “Uh.” She placed a hand to her chest.

  “Hannah?” Panic laced his voice.

  “I’m okay,” she managed. “Knocked my breath out of my lungs. Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m a little dazed,” she admitted, leaning her head back against the headrest.

  “I’m sorry I had to do that.”

  She nodded.

  “We gave them the slip.” His smile looked as shaky as hers felt. They both turned and glanced out the back windshield.

  Under the bright dock lights, two stocky men were standing beside the white sedan with arms akimbo and wearing incredulous expressions on their heavy faces.

  A ferry worker jerked Tyler’s door open, startling him and Hannah. “Just what in the hell do you think you were doing fella? You coulda gotten yourself killed.”

  Hannah sa
t shivering on the upper deck of the ferry, a cup of steaming black coffee clutched in her hands. She wasn’t shivering from the cold, although the night air was nippy. Rather, she was suffering a delayed reaction to the car chase and the clear fact that she and Tyler had almost lost their lives.

  Tyler was below with the ferry workers, trying to talk his way out of trouble. It was nice, she thought, to have a man handle things for her. A simple luxury. Even as a child, she had taken care of herself, often fixing her own meals because her parents were too wrapped up in their work to spare time or attention to something as mundane as food. She had often been jealous of her classmates who came home from school to houses warm with the smell of baking cookies and welcoming hugs.

  He makes me feel safe. Hannah marveled at the unique sensation. He makes me feel special.

  But could she trust these feelings? Could she trust herself?

  Instantly, her old self-esteem issues raised their ugly head. Why would a vibrant, successful man like Tyler be interested in a woman like her? A woman who had spent her life in front of a microscope. A woman who had no idea how to have fun. A woman who was a cold fish in bed.

  Hush, she warned that nay-saying voice. Shut up and let me relish him while I can. It’ll end soon enough.

  Finishing off the coffee, she disposed of the plastic cup in a nearby waste receptacle and went to stand at the railing. The coffee worked its magic, giving her energy while at the same time paradoxically soothing her frazzled nerves. She tilted her face to intercept the cool night breeze.

  Several people were clotted in groups, staring at her and murmuring under their breath. She and Tyler had certainly given them a show. Hannah smiled as she imagined what the crowd had seen as the BMW sailed toward the moving ferry.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She raised her head and met Tyler’s gaze. He wore a half smile of his own, but his dark eyes were serious. Running a hand through her hair, she wished for a comb and some lipstick. Funny, she wasn’t usually given to vanity, sometimes going months between haircuts, but with Tyler around she had a sudden desire to look her best, to prove she was worthy of his attention.

  “This whole situation. It’s like something from an Ian Flemming novel,” she said.

  “Bond.” Tyler affected a British accent, moved beside her and gave her a naughty wink. “James Bond. And you’re…” He raised a finger. “Let me guess. Ravishina Beauty.”