Adam's Promise Page 7

  “Me?” Emily laughed. “Not me, but I’d bet I know someone who does.”

  Heat crept up Kate’s neck as she tried to will it away. “I’m his colleague and that’s it. We spent months together, and I’m just concerned about him. It’s natural.”

  Part of Kate longed to unlock her heart and talk with Emily. Her friend had a good head on her shoulders, but to say her feelings aloud made them too real. “You know Adam and I come from two different worlds. He’s well-to-do and comes from a prestigious family in Colorado Springs. I’m… Well, I’m a nobody.”

  “A nobody?” Emily wagged her finger at Kate. “Why would you say that? You’re a respected nurse. You’re talented and a beautiful woman. Any man would—”

  “Any man, maybe, but not Mr. Attitude. I don’t even think Adam likes me.”

  Emily gave her a smug look. “Time will tell, Kate.”

  The phrase rang in her head. Kate had heard that before, but now it had so much more meaning.

  Time will tell.

  Chapter Seven

  When Kate returned to Adam’s room, his parents were gone. Adam lay on his back, his eyes closed, his face drawn. Her gaze was drawn to a large vase of flowers sitting on his bedstand.

  Adam lifted his lids and watched her as she headed toward the bouquet. “Who sent the flowers?” she asked.

  “A secret admirer.”

  Her heart twinged, and she wondered if he was serious. “No card?”

  He gave her a pain-filled grin. “They’re from my folks. They had them delivered.”

  His parents. The truth gave her an embarrassing kick. “They’re beautiful.” She shifted to his bedside and saw the discomfort etched in his face. “I know you’re in pain. I’ll check with the nurse and see if it’s time for your meds.”

  “I’m miserable. I feel like cow droppings. Worse.”

  “You’ve had too much excitement today,” she said.

  “No. It’s more than that.”

  His sharp voice caused her to falter. “Adam, I—”

  As she turned, a stranger stood in the doorway. He gave her a questioning look. “I see you’re awake.” He sauntered into the room and stood beside Adam’s bed.

  “Hi, Sam. I woke up this morning. About time from what I hear.”

  She watched Adam put a congenial expression on his face, but it didn’t fool Kate. He was miserable. Even so, he made the introductions.

  “Sam Vance. Katherine…Darling.”

  Sam did a double take.

  “It’s my last name. Darling.”

  “Are you Adam’s nurse?”

  His scrutinizing look made her uneasy. “I’m a nurse, but I’m not Adam’s—”

  “Katherine worked with me in Venezuela as part of the Doctors Without Borders team. She found me when I was shot.”

  Sam’s look seemed a quick study of her. “You were there?”

  “Yes.” Kate squirmed beneath his penetrating gaze.

  “Sam’s a detective with CSPD,” Adam said.

  “Detective?” Irritation ruffled up her spine. Was this official business? Kate thought he’d dropped by as a friend.

  Sam drew over a chair, spun it around and straddled it, resting his hands on the back. “So you’re okay?”

  Adam shrugged. “I’m alive. I suppose that’s good news.”

  “He’s in a lot of pain,” Kate said.

  Sam gave Kate a glance, then returned his attention to Adam. “The department’s anxious to know if you’re up to talking.”

  “To you?” Adam asked, a frown settling on his face.

  “Not me. I’m coordinating with the FBI.”

  Adam winced and shifted his head. “What do you mean, FBI?”

  “The Feds are working with the authorities in Venezuela.”

  Adam closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “This stinks.”

  Sam recoiled at Adam’s anger.

  “It’s not you. It’s the pain. Ever had a hole in your gut?”

  Kate twinged with his comment. She’d hoped Sam would back off. Adam needed rest, not questions.

  “I’m sorry,” Sam said.

  Kate felt defensive. She stood above Adam’s bed and smoothed his blanket. “Adam’s not well. He really needs his pain medication. Couldn’t you hold off until he’s a little better?”

  Pain wavered across Adam’s face. “I know it’s your job, but like Kate said, I’m hurting…and here’s the bad news. I remember zilch.”

  Sam’s head drew back like a cobra ready to strike. “Zilch? What do you mean?”

  Kate swept in feeling like a defense attorney. “He means he remembers nothing. He has retrograde amnesia.”

  “Retro what?”

  “I can’t remember anything after I walked into the dispensary,” Adam said.

  When the frustration showed on Adam’s face, Kate wanted to demand Sam leave him alone.

  “Then you must have seen them,” Sam said, leaning forward as if expecting a positive response.

  “I remember seeing two figures—two men—but they’re hazy. Shadows. No faces. Only…I keep thinking…” He slammed his fist into the mattress. “Forget it. I can’t remember anything.” He looked helplessly at Kate.

  “He was alone when I found him,” Kate said. “Cartons of drugs had been knocked onto the floor. Adam was right inside the entrance. I didn’t see anyone and I don’t know if Adam saw them, either. I’m sure Lionel Valenti gave them a description.”

  “Valenti?” Adam looked from Sam to Kate.

  Seeing Adam’s questioning gaze, Kate realized she hadn’t told him the whole story. Sam listened with narrowed eyes.

  “Is he still in Venezuela?” Adam asked.

  “No,” Kate said. “He dropped by to see you when you were still…unconscious. He looks terrible. And Dr. Eckerd dropped by a couple of times.”

  Adam looked discouraged. “Can you tell me anything, Sam? Any details about the guy Valenti shot? Who was he?”

  Sam paused so long, Kate thought he hadn’t heard Adam’s question. Finally he ran a hand across his jaw and answered. “You know I can’t jeopardize the case, Adam.”

  Though pain wracked Adam’s face, he edged up on an elbow. He pressed his hand against his chest. “This is my life, Sam. I should be able to know something about what happened.” He dropped against the pillow.

  Sam rose. “Sorry.”

  A grimace grew on Adam’s face.

  Kate recognized the symptom and knew he needed his pain medication. She moved to the call button and gave a push.

  Adam frowned at her, but she ignored him and told the nurse what he needed when she answered.

  Sam studied the two of them, his gaze shifting from one to the other, but Kate ignored him, too, and changed the subject. “What about the second guy? You can at least tell us if they nab him.”

  “Sorry. I can’t.”

  “Sam, I wish—” Adam’s words ended with a groan.

  “I’ll let the Feds know you’re able to talk.” He moved toward the doorway as if wanting to avoid seeing Adam’s pain. “Just remember, Adam, justice will be served. We’ve been friends a long time, and a Vance never forgets. I’ll do what I can to see those guys pay for what they’ve done.”

  When Sam vanished through the doorway, Adam looked at her with glazed eyes. She moved closer and leaned over his bed. “The meds should be here soon.” She eyed the door again, wondering why the physician hadn’t arrived. “Can you describe your sensations?”

  “I don’t know. Something’s wrong.”

  Kate noticed perspiration beading his skin. “You should be feeling better by now. Not great, but better.”

  “You think I…can’t handle pain?”

  “No. I think you’re sick.”

  “Great deduction.”

  She ignored his dig. He’d been pressed to the limit with his friend’s questions.

  Adam shuddered and dragged the blanket higher up his neck.

  “Chills?”

  H
e nodded, his eyes fluttering closed.

  Chills and perspiration. A fever. She watched his breathing grow more labored every minute.

  Fear rose up her back. She grasped his wrist and counted. His heartbeat pounded. Too rapid.

  “I don’t like this.”

  Adam shifted his hand to his chest, his flesh growing as pale as death.

  Kate leaned over again and pressed the nurse’s call button.

  He opened his eyes, and his glassy stare sent panic tearing through her.

  “Get out of here and leave me alone.” The words flew from his mouth, sharp and sudden as a jejen’s sting.

  Kate slumped with his attack, but the look on his face let her know this wasn’t Adam talking. He was confused. Delirious. She’d never seen fear in his eyes before.

  The nurse’s voice questioned from the speaker.

  Kate leaned closer. “We need a doctor in here. Stat.” A prayer flew as quickly to heaven.

  Adam’s face twisted in pain, and he gasped for air, his chest rising and falling in fast unsteady pants. Hyperventilating.

  She eyed the door. No doctor. She felt for Adam’s pulse. His heart pounded. One-hundred eighty, she calculated.

  Tachycardia.

  She rammed the call button again. “Doctor! Stat!”

  Dear Lord, please…please, help him.

  He stood at the far end of the corridor and watched the drama unfold. Dr. Adam Montgomery, beloved plastic surgeon, had a life-threatening emergency. What a pity.

  He pictured Montgomery strutting around with his self-importance—an arrogant snob, looking down his nose at those who didn’t sit on his imperious throne.

  Montgomery had never experienced poverty. He’d never known defeat. He’d grown up extremely privileged. And he pretended compassion in the name of Christianity. But today…today fate had sent Montgomery a deeper blow than the bullet that felled him. Missed its mark, in his opinion.

  But one day nothing would save Montgomery. The precious plastic surgeon would no longer swagger past the fawning crowds who bowed and scraped. If he survived today, one day very soon, Montgomery wouldn’t be as lucky. He would soon know defeat. Montgomery would experience the taste…of death.

  Saturday morning, Adam saw his mother falter in the doorway while his father looked over her shoulder, their eyes focused on the IV pole beside him.

  “What’s wrong?” Liza asked, hurrying into the room. Her gaze clung to the IV stand and bag hanging on its arm. “We miss seeing you one evening and—”

  “I didn’t want to worry you,” Adam said.

  Liza hovered above him. “Worry us? I would have been here, Adam. What is this?”

  “Antibiotics.”

  “Now what?” his father asked, standing at the foot of his bed. “Infection?”

  Adam nodded. “Sepsis. It’s always a risk with an injury like I had.” He pulled the blanket higher to thwart off the chill that assailed him. “They did a blood culture. That’ll tell them what kind of bacteria.”

  “Is this negligence?” his father asked, his brows drawn into a frown. “If so—”

  “It happens, Dad.” Adam had no strength to argue with his father today. His mind was as muddied as the rutted mountain trails after rain.

  His father smacked his hand on the bed railing, and Adam moaned with the jarring movement.

  “Frank, be careful. Adam said these things happen.” Liza’s gaze returned to Adam. “We’re just not happy that it happened to you.” She brushed Adam’s hair away from his face.

  “I’m not happy ei—” His words faltered as Dr. Fletcher came through the doorway.

  “Feeling better?” the internist asked.

  Adam nodded, although at that moment he felt miserable.

  Fletcher greeted Adam’s parents, then turned to the patient. “Your blood culture identified the bacteria and your blood gases reveal acidosis. I’ve ordered a more aggressive antibiotic now that we know what we’re fighting. I’m glad we caught it in time.”

  “Me, too,” Adam said. “Any more surprises?”

  Fletcher shook his head. “We’ve avoided septic shock and we’ll keep a good watch that you don’t develop bacterial pneumonia. That’s good news, at least.”

  Tension charged through Adam’s body. “When can I get out of here?”

  “Once you’re well. You’re not ready yet.”

  Adam bit back his comment. Not ready yet? He was more ready than a child waiting for Christmas.

  Kate came through the doorway. Adam lay with his arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

  “Feeling better?”

  He gave a faint nod, eyeing her over his blankets.

  “What’s up?” She stepped beside him.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “That’s progress,” she said, pleased she could send him a barb before he gave one to her.

  Though she could tell he fought it, a grin edged to his lips. “My, my.”

  “I learned that from the master,” she said. She sank into the chair that stood beside his bed and gazed at him. Thankfulness covered her as she studied the brighter color in Adam’s face and the familiar glint in his gorgeous eyes.

  He didn’t respond but stared back.

  She watched him trace the line of her face with his gaze—her hair, her eyes, her lips and chin. The look sent her stomach on a spin.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “About you…for one.”

  “Me?” She shifted in the chair, caught by an uneasy feeling. “What about me?”

  “My mother mentioned you’d been sitting here for days. I wondered why.”

  She felt uneasy with his question. How could she answer it? No matter what she might say, she knew the puppy-dog syndrome his mother had mentioned held some truth.

  “I was worried,” she said finally.

  “And that’s it?”

  His gaze lingered on her face in a deep probing look that made her squirm.

  “You don’t understand, Adam. You weren’t there.” Her foolish comment made her grin. “Naturally you were there, but you were unconscious. You didn’t see what I saw.”

  “I’m glad I wasn’t there.” He gave her a crooked grin.

  Her good humor faded as the vision returned. “The horror of finding you bleeding on the floor…the terror I felt…I just can’t forget it.”

  His expression darkened as he listened. His laugh lines deepened into a frown around his mouth. “Thanks for being there.”

  She gave him a wary look, waiting for the punch line.

  “No. I mean it. You saved my life.”

  “No thanks needed. I thank God I was nearby.”

  Kate eyed his serious expression, the deep facial creases, and she longed to run her fingers over his growth of whiskers and feel his strong jaw beneath.

  As if he realized, he shifted his hand and rubbed his chin. “What do you think?”

  “I figured you’re giving up doctoring to be a lumberjack.” She felt pleased leaving the heavier topic.

  “Not a bad idea after this experience.” His smile flew away as quickly as it had appeared, and he slapped his hand against the sheet and gestured to the IV pole. “I hate this. I’m not supposed to be lying here. I’m a doctor, not a patient.”

  Kate numbed at his sudden anger. “Right now, you’re a patient, and if you relax and cooperate, you’ll be up and out of here soon. For all your injuries and now sepsis, you’re doing well.”

  “Well? That’s because you’re not here—” he poked the sheet “—in this bed. Try being here feeling helpless. I can’t even shave with this thing.” He gave a tug at his IV tubing.

  “Be careful. You’ll jerk that IV out and then they’ll have to start poking again.” She moved in closer to check the needle. It looked fine to her.

  His wide emotional swings were part of his injury, but she found it irritating. “You want a shave? I’d be happy to oblige.” She rose and headed for the supplies before he
could say no.

  When she returned, she carried a disposable razor and shaving cream. She stopped in the rest room and filled a basin with warm water, then headed back to Adam.

  “You’re not shaving me.” He pulled his head as far back as he could in a prone position.

  “I’m not? Why?”

  “You look too gleeful with that razor.”

  She eyed the blade and laughed. “Not a bad idea. I’ve given that some thought on occasion, but not since we’ve been back.”

  He looked defeated. “I know. I look helpless.”

  Before he could stop her, she dampened his face and covered his jaw and neck with the shaving cream. While he winced, she pulled the razor along his whiskers, enjoying the closeness, the almost intimate feeling.

  As the beard vanished, his cheeks felt soft against her hand as she followed the strong contour of his jawline. She listened to the bristles scrape as she removed the beard from his neck with a gentle upward stroke.

  Their nearness awakened her senses. She averted her eyes, but he lifted his hand and drew her chin around to face him. His look made her weak.

  Kate fought the sensation.

  “You’ve been so kind…and sweet,” he said, brushing his fingers along his clean-shaven jaw.

  Kate eased back and rinsed the excess cream from his face, heady from the herbal scent and Adam’s closeness. When she had finished, she tilted the mirror on his bed tray to let him look.

  “Not bad,” he said, capturing her gaze. “If you ever give up nursing, you could be a barber. I’ll be happy to give you a reference.”

  Kate raised an eyebrow and lowered the mirror, but before she pulled her hand away, Adam captured it in his. He didn’t speak, and she couldn’t. He carried her hand to his cheek and pressed it against his skin. Her heart swelled and rose to her throat. Her pulse thundered until she feared he would hear it.

  “Smooth?”

  She could only nod.

  “Thank you, Katherine.”

  His attention was more than she could handle, and Kate pulled her hand away, praying she could contain the emotion that boiled through her limbs. “You’re welcome,” she murmured.

  Struggling with her feelings, she rose and grabbed the basin. As she stepped toward the doorway, she saw Colleen standing in the threshold, watching them.