Wonders Never Cease (Harlequin Super Romance) Read online

  Jill had started walking toward the house—one hand poking in her purse when she suddenly cried, “Damn. I left my keys with the car. What was I thinking?”

  Ben groaned and shook his head. “It never crossed my mind either. I’ll run you over to the garage—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “There’s a hidden key by the side door.”

  Ben frowned. Jill’s townhouse was the corner unit. Its side yard was fenced and private, but the lone streetlight was half a block away. “Let me get a flashlight.”

  “Good idea. I don’t use that door because the gate sticks. I asked the maintenance guy to fix it about three months ago, but he’s an old crony of Peter’s. I guess I’m last on his list.”

  Ben decided he’d have to look into that. Discrimination of any sort rankled him.

  When Ben opened the Blazer’s door and reached for his large, heavy-duty flashlight that was clipped in place under the dash, Czar made another bid for attention. “Sorry, pal. Just a few minutes more.”

  As he hurried after Jill, he heard a creaking. The redwood gate was open when he reached it, but propped slightly askew.

  Czar’s low whine followed him, but the sound failed to register in his brain. Ben flicked on the flashlight as he entered the small patio area at the side of the house. A narrow step led to a painted door. A concrete path continued to the rear of the house.

  Two large garbage cans on wheels were pushed up against the fence. He found Jill squatting beside a couple of empty clay pots near the stoop.

  Ben flashed the light around; he spotted the hidden key right away—a lone gray rock sitting beside the welcome mat. “You know, that’s a dead giveaway,” he said. “At least bring in a few other rocks to give the burglar a challenge.”

  He could have bitten his tongue when he saw how exhausted Jill looked. The night was catching up with her.

  She unlocked the door then turned and motioned him closer. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll go rock shopping tomorrow, but right now…” She leaned across the distance and placed her lips on his.

  His flashlight made a clunking sound when it hit the concrete. He put his arms around her and closed the gap. Ben wanted more, everything he’d come close to having in the hot tub and then some. He wanted her with a force he hadn’t dreamed possible. It made him ache all over, from the inside out.

  When the pain became unbearable he pulled back, looking to the starlit sky for help.

  “I feel it, too,” she said softly. At least Ben thought she spoke; maybe he was hearing her thoughts. It frightened him a little, but not enough to let go of her.

  When he looked into her eyes, she sighed—a wispy sound that filtered into every corner of his being. She rested her forehead against his. In the far distance was a faint hum of cars on the highway. Her home was only six blocks from the hospital so there was more street traffic than there was near Ben’s home. Even closer was a persistent bark, which seemed to set off other dogs in the neighborhood. Dimly, Ben realized it was Czar leading the chorus.

  That really isn’t like him, one part of his brain said.

  Jill levered herself back, disconnecting her body from his and unloosing her arms from around his neck. Ben felt strangely bereft.

  “I wasn’t expecting this when I asked you out,” she said.

  Ben liked her honesty. “Me, neither. Can we do it again?”

  She looked at him questioningly. He started to laugh; so did she. It was a good release from all the tension, both sexual and unspecified. He rested his free hand against the jamb of the open door.

  “I meant go out,” he clarified. “Preferably without car problems, food poisoning and barking dogs.”

  She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’d like that.”

  Czar’s barking intruded into his consciousness. “I’d better go before Czar wakes up the whole neighborhood. Maybe he’s jealous. I’ve never seen him take to another person like he’s taken to you.”

  “He’s a wonderful animal. Very intelligent, with excellent taste in women,” she added, grinning impishly.

  Ben bent to retrieve his flashlight. As he fished around in the darkness he heard Jill open the door and flip on a switch; she tried it several times but nothing happened. “The bulb must be burned out.”

  She turned on the kitchen light and a warm glow seeped into the little patio area. Ben saw the handle of his flashlight beside a flowerpot and picked it up. “Lock up when I leave,” he ordered.

  She saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  Spunky. That was what Amos had called her, and Ben had to agree. At the moment, his heart felt full of good feelings; some he could identify, others might take a while.

  “G’night,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his ears.

  He didn’t want to leave. Something made him want to stay right there and never let her out of his sight, but his rational mind kicked in. Besides, his dog was barking like a maniac. “See you tomorrow.”

  He waited until he heard the door close and the lock click in place then he made his way past the sticky door. Maybe tomorrow he’d run by while she was at work and plane off the excess wood at the bottom of the door.

  Czar was still barking when Ben reached the car. He unlocked the door and started to slide in when he realized Czar was trying to squeeze his body through the opening between the two sections of the vehicle.

  “Czar!” he cried in alarm, releasing the lock on the rear doors. He whipped open the rear driver’s-side door. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  As soon as the door was open, Czar did a reverse crawl to extricate himself from the opening then bolted past Ben, who stood dumbfounded by his partner’s behavior. “What the…?”

  A sudden knife blade of fear arced through him. Ben looked to see where Czar had gone, but the dog was already around the corner of the house. Ben charged after him. “Czar.”

  He’d only taken two steps when he heard the report of a gun. There was an answering whimper.

  Ben’s fear changed to pain. But through the haze of agony came years of training. He shut off his mind and let instinct take over. He dived for the Blazer and, using the door as a shield, picked up the mike.

  “Officer down, 4403 Heather Ridge Court,” he cried. “Repeat—officer down.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE PAIN STOPPED without warning. One second there was nothing but pain; the next there was nothing. Period. Jill opened her eyes, trying to absorb what was happening to her.

  She saw action—too much to follow all at once—but heard nothing. It was like watching a television show with the mute button on. People in sloppy green outfits gestured frantically over a prostrate figure on a moving gurney. Three women poked, prodded and attached clear tubes to the still, lifeless form while two men in orange jumpsuits pushed the mobile cart toward a brightly lit cubicle. Jill sensed this was her body on the table, but she didn’t feel overly alarmed.

  A gangly, earnest-faced man with a mop of curly, orange-red hair and thick glasses rushed through a pair of swinging doors; he gestured with impatient motions for two more nurses to join him.

  “Wow,” Jill uttered, although no sound reached her ears.

  That one word suddenly brought a flood of images as sharp and clear as if she was reliving them. First, that terrifying instant of awareness when she knew someone was in her house. She’d turned to flee but the hooded figure in black had charged—weapon raised. Another gift from her mother—a heavy brass phallic-shaped statue. The God of Fertility.

  “Ben,” she’d screamed.

  The intruder had grabbed her by the hair and yanked backward.

  Through the black cloak of panic one word had formed in her mind. Fall. A self-defense instructor once told her, “When there’s no other defense, use your body as a weapon. Go limp. The dead weight will throw your assailant off balance.”

  The statue whooshed past her ear, grazing her collarbone. Her shoulder exploded in neon pain—right before th
e intruder landed a second blow near her temple. The movie screen in her mind went black, and Jill blinked, bringing her attention back to the present.

  The redheaded doctor suddenly jumped up on the gurney, straddling her body. He seemed to be shouting at the others. Jill “moved” closer to the action.

  Am I dead? Truly dead?

  She looked closely at her body. Her skin, always reluctant to tan, was the color of pumice. Her hair was matted with some sort of black gum. Her features, which she often cursed for being too Scandinavian, were slack, as if her soul had taken the air out of her skin when it left. Jill was grateful her eyes were closed; she didn’t want to see them empty of life.

  White sheets covered her haphazardly. Her arms dangled like broken puppet pieces with tubes for support; no one was manning them. Snippets of her clothing were lying in a heap in the corner. Her exposed skin looked slightly bluish, but Jill didn’t feel cold. She didn’t feel anything, just a surreal sense of witnessing a life-or-death drama.

  “Please, don’t die.” She addressed the body on the table. “You have to fight. You have a lot to live for…your work, your cat…Ben.”

  Ben. She pictured his sweet, handsome, loving face. He might be the one. We both felt something…something good, dammit! She silently railed against fate’s injustice. So close, so very close.

  Suddenly a ripple of commotion passed through Jill’s awareness—as if a distant door opened and another presence entered the same dimension of consciousness. She looked away from the frantic scene below her and focused on the tumultuous wave of images surging into the periphery of her view.

  “Ben,” she called out as he charged across Tri-County Hospital’s emergency room. He was pushing a second gurney while two paramedics ran to keep up with him. He wore a bulky, much-too-large jacket with a Bullion Police Department emblem on it. Unzipped, she could see his bare chest heaving. The sweatshirt he’d been wearing when he took her home was partially tucked beneath the patient’s head like a baby’s security blanket; crimson stains, wet and fresh, were smeared like finger paints. The small figure on the gurney lay hidden beneath a mound of gray blankets.

  Somehow Jill knew the identity of the victim on the gurney even before one of the paramedics pulled away a blanket. Czar. Jill’s heart started to crumble into little pieces; a terrible heaviness weighed her down. Where before there was lightness and a sense of peace, now Jill felt a fearsome sense of loss.

  “No, please not Czar. Don’t let him die. Ben would be heartbroken. You can’t let it happen,” she begged whatever forces might be listening. “Take me instead. Just don’t take Czar.”

  She moved closer to the gurney, which Ben had pushed into the cubicle adjoining her little theater. She studied Czar, her newfound friend. The majestic animal looked small and pitiful against the starched white sheet. Ben gently worked his sweatshirt out from under the dog and flung it into a corner; he motioned for someone to help him. Jill could tell he was near the breaking point.

  The two paramedics hung back, looking helpless and distressed. Suddenly a door on the far side of the room snapped open and a small, Mediterranean-looking man in evening wear barreled through the portal. Jill recognized the socially prominent doctor from his high-profile lifestyle. She didn’t trust him to care about a dog. She moved closer to Czar’s side.

  Without knowing how, Jill suddenly could hear a powerful din of noise. Ben’s voice came through loud and clear. “Doctor, you’ve got to help my partner.”

  Jill flinched at the raw agony in his voice. Was she to blame for this? Did Czar get in the way of the person who attacked her? Did he come to her rescue?

  “Good God, this is a dog,” the doctor exclaimed.

  “Czar is a police officer who was wounded in the line of duty. And you damn well better treat him.”

  Jill could see the doctor didn’t appreciate Ben’s threat, but something—maybe pride—made him whip a small, lighted penlike apparatus off a nearby tray of sterilized instruments. After making sure his protective gloves were in place, he leaned over Czar and flashed the light into the dog’s unresponsive eyes. Next, he carefully examined the wound below Czar’s right ear. Matted blood, thick and chunky in spots, was plastered to the black and tan fur.

  “Not good,” he muttered. “Nurse, cut off this damn collar.”

  Ben stepped back to give the medical-team room to maneuver, but he never left Czar’s side. He glanced toward the adjacent cubicle. “She’s gonna make it, isn’t she?” Jill heard him ask the doctor.

  “The wound isn’t deep, but it breached the cranium,” the doctor said, taking a nasty-looking instrument from the tray.

  “I meant the woman over there. Is she okay?”

  The doctor didn’t look up. “I have no idea. I can only work on one patient at a time.”

  Jill didn’t care for the man’s bedside manner. She felt as useless as an empty glass after a party.

  Maybe I can reach Czar’s spirit and encourage him to fight. Jill inched closer. She tried not to think about the ghostly aspects of her situation. She didn’t feel dead. In a way, she felt more alive than she could explain.

  “Czar,” she called. “Czar, my friend. Don’t be afraid. Be strong and brave. Fight. Think about Ben, don’t lose sight of Ben. He loves you, boy. He needs you.”

  Jill reached out her hand to touch the still form of the dog. She didn’t like the eerie image of other hands passing through hers as the doctor and nurse performed their duties.

  “I don’t know a dog’s physiology,” the doctor said. “I don’t know what got damaged. And he’s lost a lot of blood. Where’s the damn vet?”

  “His answering service said he went to Reno,” the nurse answered. “They’re trying to track him down.”

  “Stay with us, Czar,” Jill coaxed. “You can do it.”

  The doctor put a stethoscope to Czar’s heart. “His heart is strong, but I don’t get any reaction in his pupils.”

  “No.” The heart-wrenching cry was enough to stir the dead, or even those on their way to the hereafter because, from the corner of her eye, Jill saw her body twitch as if someone had poked it with a cattle prod.

  The flatline on the heart monitor went haywire. The doctor, who was standing to one side looking downcast and defeated, suddenly cried out, “Holy cripes! She’s back!”

  Jill didn’t feel back. She looked at her hand and saw a white light pass through her essence. Her fingertips, which had been pressed against Czar’s bloodied fur, began to disappear as if drawn downward.

  Jill wasn’t afraid, but she did feel a heavy sadness and deep regret. How could fate be so unkind to give her love, then take it away just like that? She looked at Ben who was talking excitedly, but Jill could no longer make out his words.

  As the white light consumed her, she felt a friendly entity press up against her. A strong, loving presence that looked like Czar. Czar? No, she cried. We can’t both die. No. I refuse to go. But as her essence continued to sink lower and lower toward the gurney, Czar eased past her in the direction of the other operating table. Right toward her body.

  Jill’s confusion made the pain in her head all consuming, but she thought she heard a reassuring voice say: Trust, Jill. This is about healing, not dying.

  The light turned blinding, the roar of pain deafening. When it became too much, her mind switched off, and the world went black. And very still. Jill reached for oblivion, the sweet peace of not knowing and not worrying. It was all she could do.

  “WHAT CAN I DO?” a voice asked.

  Ben looked up from the waiting-room chair to find Amos Simms standing beside him. Others had asked him the same question over the past four hours. Has it only been four hours? It seemed like a week since he walked away from Jill Martin’s back door and into a nightmare.

  “Tell me you’ve caught the guy who did this.”

  Amos’s gray head shook from side to side. “We will, though. I guarantee it.”

  “Have her parents been contacted?” Ben a
sked.

  “Done,” Amos said. “A neighbor came running when the ambulance arrived, and Jimmy took her statement. She had all Miss Martin’s emergency numbers.”

  Ben rose and walked the eight paces to the far wall—he had the routine down pat. Fatigue muddied his brain but he refused to leave until he found out what was happening to Jill.

  “Sounds like Czar’s going make it. Shouldn’t you be home in bed?” Amos asked.

  “Not until I hear about Jill.”

  Amos raised his eyebrows. “I think you’d better tell me about this.”

  Ben straightened. Out of habit his hands went to his belt, which would normally be outfitted with his patrol paraphernalia. No belt. Sweatpants. He glanced down at the borrowed Bullion P.D. jacket someone had given him. His sweatshirt had been soaked with Czar’s blood. And Jill’s blood.

  A shiver passed through him. He walked to the chair and sat down.

  “I left her at the door, I heard the lock click. When I got back to the unit, Czar was going ballistic.” Ben’s deepest regret was that he hadn’t paid more attention to the signals his partner had given him. “When I opened the car door, he bolted past. I’d just started after him when I heard the shot. Small-caliber pistol.” Ben tried not to relive the sickening sound of Czar’s whimper. “I called for backup.”

  His first impulse had been to storm the house, but his training helped him past that momentary burst of panic. He’d advanced swiftly but cautiously. He’d inched around the corner of the fence. About twenty feet away on the lawn a mound lay outlined by the light of a neighbor’s porch light that suddenly switched on. Czar.

  Ben had raced to his prone comrade. A seeping gash near Czar’s right eye appeared to be the only wound, but it looked nasty. Ben had wrapped his sweatshirt around Czar’s head, applying pressure to the spot.

  He’d scanned the area for any sign of the assailant but saw nothing out of place. In the distance, a car engine had revved to life but no screeching tires bespoke panic.

  “Jimmy was first on the scene,” Ben told Amos. “I put him in charge of applying pressure to Czar’s wound while I checked on Jill.” Ben had made it clear he’d hold Jimmy personally responsible if Czar died. Unfair, of course, but Ben had meant it.