Page 93 of Deadly Designs

“Thanks, Ms. LaLonde. You’ve made my day.”

“And you made mine by remembering me, Craig.Thanks.”

Maybe she did have something left in the tank.However, as soon as she returned to the waiting room, she promptlyfell asleep. Her eyes popped open when someone gently shook hershoulder.

“Ms. LaLonde?”

She bolted upright at the sight of the nurse. “Isthere news?”

“Yes. Follow me.”

Aja Blue’s legs shook as she trailed the womanthrough a set of double doors and down a hallway. She stopped andmotioned to a room. “In here.”

Aja Blue stepped inside and let out a cry ofrelief.

“Hey, babe.”

“Christian!”

He had a white bandage wrapped around his head and asmile on his handsome face. She ran to his bed and threw herselfagainst his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart toassure herself he was alive. Reluctantly, she pulled back and tookhis hand. “How do you feel?”

“I’m not feeling any pain at the moment.” He smiledand tipped his head at the IV. “Now, do me a solid and help mebreak out of here, will ya, babe?”

He started to remove his blanket, but she slapped itin place. “Absolutely not! You will stay here until the doctor saysyou can leave and not a moment sooner.”

“Speaking of the doctor, he’ll be in to speak withyou shortly,” the nurse said as she kicked the stopper and closedthe door, giving them privacy.

Aja Blue leaned forward and kissed him. She’d been soworried. She could feel his smile.

“I’m fine to go home, but if you won’t let me, whydon’t you climb in so I can hold you? My head might be sore, butthe rest of me works just fine.” He wiggled his brows and pattedthe mattress beside him.

As seductive as that sounded—and she was sorelytempted—she refrained. “You were seriously injured, Christian. I’mnot taking chances with your health.” Aja Blue shuddered,remembering again the horror she’d felt watching him crumple to theground.

“About that . . . what the hell happened?”

#

The look that passed over Aja Blue’s face, along withthe shudder, told Christian that how he had ended up in a hospitalbed with his head wrapped like a mummy wasn’t good.

“You were crouched down, checking on me, when EleanorSinclair came up from behind and bashed you over the head with abronze bust of Christopher Columbus.”

Christian’s jaw dropped open. “What? Why?” He didn’teven know the woman. Why had she attacked him so violently?

“She thought you had killed her husband.”

“Isn’t that something she should’ve asked beforetrying to crush my skull into dust?” And damn, a statue? It was agood thing he couldn’t feel much of the injury. It had to hurt likea mother.

“She was arrested for attempted murder.”

“I should’ve let her fall to the floor when shefainted,” Christian groused, not that he really would have doneso.

“Nicole took care of her for you. She tackled her andbroke her arm—Mrs. Sinclair’s, not her own.”

He shouldn’t be glad that an older woman was injured,but in fairness, she had tried to kill him. Wait — “Did you sayNicole tackled her?”

“Yep. She dropped her crutches and plowed into herlike a linebacker sacking a quarterback.”

Now that was something he’d have liked to see. He’dhave to remember to thank the detective. “How long was I out?”

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