Page 82 of Under Control

“No—they tried to make me.” Danica reached up and touched the scabbing wound on her brow, remembering Carrick’s hand on her cheek. “But I didn’t.”

“Petrov has been pronounced dead.” Kendra appeared to search Danica’s face for response, being as sensitive as possible. “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Kendra sympathized, reaching out to gently touch Danica’s forearm.

Delta moved forward again, seemingly unwilling to let Kendra touch Danica. “Give her some space.”

A tense silence grew between Kendra and Delta, then she turned her attention back to Danica.

“Andriy will live,” Kendra explained, closing her notebook. “LAPD is charging him with forcible confinement, assault causing bodily harm and attempted extortion…among other things. I guess his company will need a new CEO—but then again, you’ll be making that choice now since you will be the company’s sole owner.”

“Sole owner?” Danica exhaled.

“Your lawyer will work through the inheritance with you.” Kendra offered Danica one last look of empathy and turned to leave. “Please let me know if you need anything.”

Danica nodded quickly, offering a grateful smile. As Kendra gave her a knowing look, she tucked her notebook into her tote bag and slung it back onto her shoulder.

But before the sergeant could leave, Danica observed Delta squaring his chest to Kendra. The two stood a few feet apart, face to face. A tension thickened the air, and Danica instinctively stumbled back a few steps.

“It’s been a while, Kendra,” Delta moved in. “I—”

“Not long enough,” Kendra snapped through a clenched jaw, a tousle of her bob falling over her cheek. “And I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

Delta betrayed no emotion, standing and staring at the lively blonde, who was spinning to leave. Kendra flashed her gaze away, and Danica didn’t miss the hurt screwed on her face. As the sergeant marched out of sight, Danica stood back wondering what the hell that had all been about.

Delta looked over at her, his tone far more stressed. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To check in with the nurse.”

Danica lunged forward. “I’m coming with you.”

But then a voice called across the waiting room. “For Carrick Byrne.”

They both spun instantly, watching a surgeon step forward, a serious and grim look on her face.

“Can we talk?”

Chapter Thirty-One

Carrick

Carrick slowly opened his eyes to the sound of machines beeping in a shadowy hospital room. The distant patter of rain beat against the hospital window. He was alone, he realized, as he opened his bleary eyes wider, wondering what the hell was going on.

Wondering where she was.

He tried to turn his head to the window where daylight had been grayed to rainy dullness, but his neck screamed at him—stiff and sore. Instinctively, he reached up to touch his neck, sucking back air through pain, and monitors started beeping faster and more angrily.

“Shit,” he groaned, realizing that his back and ribcage had lacerations and sutures.

A young red-headed nurse in purple scrubs came running in with a worried look on her face. She started pressing buttons and scanning his connections, then leaned over his bed.

“How are you doing, Carrick?” the nurse asked as she flashed a tiny light into each pupil.

“Fine. Got any water?”

The nurse gave him a cup and he sloshed the liquid around his mouth and drank it. She moved her flashlight down his body, peeling back his hospital gown to check his incisions.

“We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” she said. “Let me know when you are feeling up for a chat.”

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