Page 46 of Teach Me
Steven, Cris’s much less volatile husband, Con had learned, rubbed a hand along her back. “How is your man?” he asked.
Jack shrugged, his tension still communicating itself through his grip on Con but not evident in his voice. “They’re still evaluating. Holbrooke left a billy club at the scene. Nic took a direct strike to the back of the head. We’re just thankful right now that his neck wasn’t broken.”
Jack let go of Con, stepping over to the window. His stare might seem blind to the others, but Con knew differently. He was assessing possibilities, considering scenarios, and hopefully coming up with answers Con just couldn’t find at the moment. All he knew was the fragile coolness of Jess’s hand in his and the unending agony of not knowing whether she’d wake. The doctor had assured him she would, but he wouldn’t allow himself to believe it until he saw it.
Cris wasn’t deterred by the change in topic, nor by Jack’s attempt to draw her attention away from Con. “He was waiting for her, right there in the garage,” she said, her voice wavering. Con let her pain pierce his armor, knife him in the heart. He deserved it. “Didn’t you expect him? Didn’t you think the sick son of a bitch would come after her?”
“Cris, hon, stop.” Steven rubbed a hand soothingly over her trembling shoulder. “None of us expected him to be this brazen. He covered his tracks well enough to not be convicted of beating her half to death; he’s careful. Who thought he’d be crazy enough to attack in the middle of the day, in a public place?”
“We should have,” Con admitted.
“He’s escalating,” Jack said.
Cris began to cry once more, her sobs wrenching something deep in Con’s gut. “Should you be here?” he asked Steven, now hovering protectively over his weeping wife. He’d called knowing they wouldn’t want to be kept in the dark—at least, not any further than they’d already been—but Jess had shared her concerns about Cris’s pregnancy. He didn’t know if emotional upset could put her at higher risk of miscarriage, but he didn’t want to be responsible if it could.
Cris raised those angry eyes to his again. “Yes, I should be here,” she hissed. “I should have been there last night.Youshould have called to tell us what was happening withmybest friend.”
“Hon—”
The tiniest whimper sounded from the bed between them. Like heat-seeking missiles, four pairs of eyes all zeroed in.
“Jess?” Leaning down, Con reached for her, hesitated, then allowed himself to carefully cup her sheet-white cheek. “Jess, baby, can you hear me?”
Eyelashes fluttering, Jess moaned again. It took several heart-stopping minutes before those beautiful doe eyes opened fully. Jess squinted up into the glare of the overhead lights. She frowned, jerked her head to the side. A startled cry escaped.
“Shh.” Con stroked her cheek gently. “Easy. No head banging for you yet.”
Jess slitted her eyes and met his. Con didn’t think anything could be sweeter than seeing the comprehension filling her soft gaze. Damn it, he was getting sappy.
Cris had stood when Jess opened her eyes, and now she grabbed Jess’s other hand. Jess turned toward her friend, grimacing with the movement.
“You need to sit,” she told Cris.
A single tear drizzled down Cris’s flushed cheek. “Don’t you be telling me what to do. I’m mad at you. God, Jess…”
“Shh. ’S all right.” She pulled on the hand Conlan held, trying to reach for her friend.
Con tugged her hand back down. “Don’t be moving. You’ve got an IV.”
Steven stepped in, easing Cris back into her chair and using a tissue to mop up his wife’s face. Jess stared down at her hand, encased in Con’s. He knew she must be sore, her wrist slightly swollen from Holbrooke’s grip, mottled bruises already rising to the surface around her wrist and elbow. He watched her take in the sight, watched panic rise in her gaze and squeeze his heart with the knowledge that he hadn’t protected her, hadn’t kept the bogeyman away like he was supposed to. That one look condemned him, though Jess didn’t know it, didn’t even intend it. But Con knew it, and the black marks on his soul would be there forever.
“Where is he?” Jess asked.
Another mark seared him. “He got away.” Con had been more concerned with her crumpled body than Holbrooke’s escape. Jack had searched but found nothing but the discarded weapon lying next to Nic’s unconscious form.
Jess gasped, struggling to sit up despite her weakness. “You get her out of here, you hear me? Get her out!”
Cris reached for Jess. “Calm down. It’s okay.”
“It’s not!” Jess wavered, sinking back onto her pillow, but her frantic need to protect Cris blazed from her eyes. “You have to go. Steven, take her somewhere safe.”
“Not until I know you’re okay.” Cris stood again, her tone firm. “We’re fine here for now.”
“No—”
“Jess. Jess!” Con reached for the bed controls to lift her head, bring her closer to him. “It’s all right. We have a guard outside the door. I wouldn’t let Cris come if I didn’t know it was safe.”
Cris opened her mouth as if to argue. Con slashed a warning look her way.
