Knot innocent knot pmcs.., p.12
Knot Innocent (Knot PMCs Book 2), page 12
“What’s wrong with her?!”
One of the nosy onlookers volunteers, “It’ll be ok. Her boyfriend went to get her medicine.”
“He did not,” my immediate denial.
“Yeah,” the woman insists. “He said she had too much to drink, and when she called for help, he said she needed her medicine and took off to get it.”
Facing off with the woman, I yell, “No, he did not! I’m her fucking boyfriend.”
I drop to the ground by Birdie’s side, checking her pulse and eyes. “I need a bus, Jackson!”
Jackson points to the woman who spoke up about the fake boyfriend. “You! Call 911!” Then, into his own phone, he says, “Commander, I need you to put in a call to Dillan Knot. It’s an emergency.”
Ignoring them both, I bend down close. “Birdie, can you hear me?”
She moans and opens her eyes but can’t focus or even recognize that I’ve spoken to her. My phone rings in my pocket, but I ignore the call. The ringing stops as I check Birdie for excessive sweating or clammy skin. When it rings again, I pull the device from my pocket and toss it to Jackson.
Sirens sound in the distance as he answers, but I ignore the harried conversation in favor of the EMTs rushing through the crowd of onlookers. “What have we got?” one of them asks as he snaps on a pair of gloves. “I went to get drinks. Some guy ran into her, and a short time later, she collapsed. The guy that hit her claimed to be her boyfriend before running off.”
“Who are you?”
“The real boyfriend. The other guy claimed she was drunk and needed some medication before he split. I’m guessing our friend scared him away.”
The other medic, who’d begun checking Birdie’s vitals, calls them out. “BP’s low. Respiratory depression,” he reports. “Pulse below normal.”
“What kind of drugs does she take,” I’m asked.
“I can’t give you a medical history, but I guarantee she’s clean. I know this because of where she works.”
“Well, she’s definitely under the influence of something. She’s exhibiting signs of overdose.”
I bend down once again, brushing her hair off her forehead. “Dammit, Birdie. What happened?”
The medics shove me out of the way to load her onto a gurney, and I look around to seek out Jackson. “I’m going with her. You deal with the police. Tell them to get in touch with a Detective Cooper. He’s local.”
Grabbing Birdie’s bag, I keep pace with the medical crew on their way out of the park. “Where are you taking her?”
“Princess Anne,” the driver answers.
Knowing Jackson would have heard his response, I trail the gurney to the waiting bus. I more or less stand guard at the rear until the ambulance doors are slammed shut, and then I race to my truck to follow.
I keep on the ambulance’s back bumper, reaching the hospital at the same time it does, and slide into a spot outside emergency.
From there, I sprint to the ambulance in time to open the rear doors. Birdie’s eyes are open now, but when I call out her name, she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t see me, making the overdose diagnosis much more tangible. My legs go weak at the thought of losing her like this.
“Any word?” a low voice laced with fury growls behind me.
“You got here fast,” I say to my boss.
Knot and I watch the medics wheel Birdie inside, and a punishing grip on my shoulder keeps me from following.
“I think it’s time you and I had a little talk.”
Birdie
“Birdie, dammit. Knock it off.”
At Detective Cooper’s sharp command, I stop batting away the bright lights and turn toward his voice. The image is too blurry to make out, so I focus on the gray blob until a human form takes shape. “Cooper?”
He comes closer, helping me see him better, though it won’t be enough since I don’t have my glasses on. “What’s… what happened?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. I’m sitting at home, recovering from surgery, when I get a call from dispatch. A Navy SEAL named Jackson Bennett reported that you were the victim of either a failed kidnapping or murder attempt. It’s my job to find out which.”
My brain’s a little slow on the uptake, but I get stuck on the name he mentioned. “Who?”
“You don’t know any Jackson Bennett?”
“Um, no.”
A man in a lab coat steps closer and says, “It’s possible, Detective, that the ketamine has caused retrograde amnesia. Ms. Crenshaw might not recover memories from her attack.”
“Attack? Can someone tell me what’s going on?”
“We’ll get to that,” Cooper promises. “What is the last thing you remember?”
Warm apples. “Bash. He made breakfast.”
“Do you mean Bastien Laurent?”
I nod absently, mind wandering to what I could have gotten myself into. “I’ll talk to him next,” Cooper announces. “Since you’re awake, you have a visitor if you feel up to it.”
My answer is to nod again, and Detective Cooper opens the door. None other than Dillan Knot walks in and rushes to my bedside. He places his hand over mine and leans down close enough for me to see his face clearly. “You scared the hell out of me. Are you all right?”
“I don’t know. I guess so. Where’s Bastien?”
“He’s outside waiting for Bennet to arrive from the dog park.”
“Dog park? Who is this Bennett everybody keeps talking about?”
Knot turns and gives a questioning look to the doctor, who shakes his head. Knot returns his gaze to me and answers, “Laurent served with him. Apparently, the two were helping you with a sting operation.”
My breath catches in my throat. Oh god. Please tell me my boss doesn’t know. The machines I’m attached to start beeping, and Knot bends and whispers, “Don’t worry, Birdie. I’ve known for a long, long time.”
My breathing normalizes, and he adds, “I left you alone because you were doing a good job and being smart about it. And it seemed like something you needed to do. I never had a reason to worry until now. Laurent tells me that someone has been following you.”
The blue car. Cooper perks up and steps closer to the bed. “That was just once, I think.” Addressing Cooper directly, I add, “The night you couldn’t make it. Someone followed me home. I thought it was Bastien, but it wasn’t. We’ve been looking for the car without any luck.”
Without a word, Detective Cooper goes to the door again. “Get in here. Both of you.”
Bastien and another man walk in, and Bash rushes to my bedside. “You’re okay?”
“I’m okay.” Looking to the other man, I ask, “Who’s your friend?”
Bastien’s brows knit together in confusion, and he snaps upright again. “This is Clothespin. He went to the dog park with us because we needed to borrow his dog. He sat with you the whole time I was undercover. You don’t remember?”
I turn to study the man. He’s maybe a couple of years older than Bastien. Built and ruggedly handsome, just not as much as Bastien, in my opinion. Nothing about him seems familiar. “The doctor said the drug I was given wiped my memory of everything past breakfast. What were those apple things called again?”
Bastien pulls his hat off and drops his head. “Then he was trying to kill her. The EMTs said they thought she’d overdosed on something.”
“Not quite an overdose,” the doctor says. “The dosage was strong enough to incapacitate her but not cause death.”
Throat suddenly thick, I swallow and ask, “For what purpose?”
Knot pipes up when no one else does. “My guess is that he was trying to make you disappear.”
“Oh shit.”
The crowded space grows even more packed when another body enters the room. This one I do recognize. He’s Cooper’s partner. Speaking to Cooper and pointing to Bastien and the other man, he says, “I deposed these guys while you had your hands full. Until we get the official medical reports, we’re all wrapped up here.”
Detective Cooper nods and walks toward the bed again, displacing Bastien. “Once you’re out of here, I’d like you to come to the station to give a statement.”
“I don’t remember anything, remember?”
“I’d like to hear more about the night you were followed home,” he replies.
“Okay.”
The two cops exit the room, leaving Bastien, Knot, Bastien’s friend, and the doctor. “How long will she be here,” my boss asks.
“Now that she’s awake and showing no adverse effects besides the memory loss, I’ll be comfortable discharging her as soon as—” he points to a bag of clear fluids hanging from an IV pole “—this is empty.”
The doctor takes his leave then, and I find myself alone with three very angry males. “So… how much trouble am I in?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” the stranger insists. “It’s my fault. I left your side to get us some water.”
“Stop,” Bastien tells the man. “This isn’t on you. We had no reason to think that Birdie was in danger. It’s not even like we were followed to the dog park. I checked.”
“Well, if you weren’t followed, how did some asshole find Birdie?” our boss demands.
“That’s what I can’t figure out,” Bastien confesses. “We were in my truck. Birdie rode with me to my place, and from there, we went straight to the biergarten.”
Knot’s expression is dire. “Give me your keys.”
Bastien gives them up and accepts the set Knot hands him in return. During the exchange, Knot asks, “What’s your home security like?”
“Standard. No exterior cameras. I haven’t gotten around to upgrading yet.”
“You might want to get on that. Whoever this is found you without following. He probably tagged you. I’m taking your truck to get scanned for tracking devices.”
Knot pats my hand and adds, “Make sure she gets home safe.” He turns for the door, nodding at Bennett on his way out.
Bastien’s friend comes closer then, his stony face finally coming into focus. “I hate that you don’t remember me. I told you some pretty good stories about our boy here. Maybe I can tell you again someday.”
“I’m sure I’ll like them just as much as the first time.”
With a wink for me and a pat on Bastien’s back, Jackson leaves. Bastien hasn’t moved from his spot. He looks miserable, making me feel guilty. Wanting to snap him out of this funk, I ask, “What were we doing at a dog park?”
Bastien leans forward onto his elbows and drops his head. Next, he pulls his cap off and turns it over several times. “Executing a stupid idea.”
Knowing my tendency to go overboard, I draw inward and drop my eyes to my lap. “I sucked you into one of my stings, didn’t I?”
Bastien snickers, but there’s no humor in the sound. “No. This little experiment was my idea. I thought I could role-play and get Mercan to confess to me. It would’ve worked, too. I almost had him, but then someone came after you.”
Bringing a hand to my face. I squeeze my temples. “I was still hoping I was crazy, but this means the guy in the blue car is real.”
“Looks that way,” Bastien confirms.
“So, what now?”
“Well, that volunteer bodyguard assignment you didn’t like is now non-negotiable.”
Funny. I was under the impression that it never was. Before I can point that out, a knock at the door precedes a nurse coming in with a wheelchair. “It’s time to get you out of here. Our orderlies are backed up, so you’ll taste freedom faster if your friend wheels you out.”
The woman removes the IV and has me sign some papers. Bastien steps into the hall for me to dress, and the nurse helps me into the wheelchair. Then she’s gone, and Bastien reenters the room. Without a word, he steps behind me and pushes the wheelchair toward the elevator.
The situation is so unbelievable; I can’t help but laugh. Laugh to keep from crying. “I can’t imagine what’s so funny,” Bastien says.
I fight to reign in my crazy reaction to the absolute insanity of the day. “I’m glad I’m in the hospital instead of some dirtbag’s trunk. At the same time, I hate that I’m in a hospital because Knot threatened to kill you if I ended up here. And I’m hungry.”
At the elevator lobby, I push out of the chair and roll the thing to an empty corner. Bastien’s face pinches like he wants to argue about me being stubborn, but wisely, he keeps his mouth shut. I’d sure hate to have to remind him of the tree incident. He wasn’t exactly a shining example of level-headedness that day.
I don’t speak to Bastien during the drive to my house, not even when he stops at a drive-through to pick up some food. Though I started out scared and angry when I woke up, now, I’m just embarrassed.
Something like this wouldn’t have happened to Sadie or Chelsea. Poor Bastien. He’s saddled with little Miss Naïve, who couldn’t defend herself against an overzealous bunny rabbit.
As I munch on a curly fry, the clock in Knot’s Escalade reads eleven forty p.m. I’ve lost half a day’s memories because of a drug I was given. That’s unbelievable, not to mention infuriating. I know I spent the day with Bastien, but I don’t know what we did. What we talked about. For all I know, he could have confessed his undying love and suggested we run off to Vegas to get married, but then changed his mind when I let myself get nearly kidnapped.
The only things I know about the evening were conveyed to me by other people. Bastien and Jackson Bennet reported that I’d complained about someone running into me at the park. Because I’d called out in pain, the doctor cleared the room of everyone except a nurse and searched every inch of my skin until he found what he’d been looking for. A puncture wound on my left thigh indicated where I’d been injected with the ketamine.
Eventually, the doctor determined that the amount in my system was below the danger threshold. The news was both good and bad. It wasn’t attempted murder. At least I won’t have to worry about multiple attempts on my life. On the flip side, the doctor’s conclusion confirmed my biggest fear. The goal was kidnap. I’m having a little trouble processing that information.
Lost in my thoughts, I’m startled when Bastien knocks on my window. I hadn’t even noticed that we’d arrived at my house. Releasing the seatbelt, I move to get out but pause, sensing Bastien has something to say. When he finds his voice, my insides tighten at his words. “I didn’t argue with Knot at the hospital about bringing you home, but now that we’re here, I can’t stomach the thought of you being alone.”
Before my stupid mouth suggests something completely crazy—that he stay with me—I rush to say, “I won’t be. Well, not for long, anyway. I plan to be here just long enough to pack up some stuff and go stay in the dorm at work. I’m hoping the police can ID the guy and pick him up within the next few days.”
Bastien trains his eyes down the street. “And if they don’t?” he asks without looking at me.
What if, indeed? “One day at a time, Bastien. That’s all I can focus on right now.”
With a nod, he says, “Well, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to stick around and see that you get to the compound okay.”
“That would make me feel a lot better. Thanks.”
My easy concession does nothing to ease the worry weighing down Bastien’s brow. His face is still drawn and his shoulders still tense. Sensing he has more to say, I remain seated. Bastien doesn’t make me wait long. “You know. It’s late. I could stay. Keep watch. Then you could get some sleep tonight and do all this in the morning.”
My heart pounds at his suggestion. I’m reading too much into his offer because I want it to mean something. Whispering to hide just how affected I am, I say, “Okay. Thanks.”
Bastien nods, takes my hand, and leads me inside. Then, as I’m finally walking toward my bedroom, he says, “I’m sorry about today. I should’ve… I didn’t think… I’m sorry.”
Dropping my purse, I rush over and place both hands on his shoulders, pulling him down to my eye level. “It wasn’t your fault, Bastien. Neither one of us can see the future. Even the great Dillan Knot didn’t see this coming, and I just found out that he’s known about my hobby for years. Besides, while I may not remember, and despite what you said, I know we wouldn’t have been there unless I had asked.”
Without responding, Bastien backs out of my grip. He spins toward the living room, leaving me watching his back as he walks away, taking my breath with him.
I don’t understand. Bastien’s sudden coldness confuses me. After confessing my darkest sin, he held me all night in my bed. No, there wasn’t some great declaration of love, but I thought it meant something. But now, after being drugged and almost kidnapped… nothing.
Knot could have said something to make him back off. Or it could be that Bastien never had a personal interest. Only by chance was he there to scare off Tom, after all. That scenario, I refuse to accept. There’s no way he’d have stayed the night if he felt nothing.
In any case, agonizing over it isn’t helping. It’s been a hell of a day, and I should get some rest. Picking up my discarded purse, I step inside my room and pause. There is one more possibility—and this is wishful thinking here. Maybe Bastien is only being careful with me because I went through a traumatizing event. That’s more plausible. He’s just looking out for me again, not wanting to push or overstep. It’s completely unnecessary, and I intend to tell him just that.
I walk right back out of my bedroom, following Bastien’s course to the main part of the house. Bash is in the living room, standing in front of the sofa with his shirt and shoes off. Hearing my quiet steps, he turns as I approach. “What’s wrong?”
I close the last few feet, not answering his question. I respond only when I’m close enough to feel the heat from his skin. A single, shaking hand lifts, touching the hard planes of his chest. Bastien freezes, and his breath catches.
Spurred on by his sharp inhalation, I push up on my toes and touch my lips to his. Bastien’s body is so warm but so rigid. My other hand joins the first, and then both slide up to wrap around his neck. Finally, he melts into my kiss.
