His Belt (Part Ten) Read online

  His Belt

  Part Ten

  Hannah Ford

  Contents

  His Belt

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Copyright © 2019 by Hannah Ford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  His Belt

  (Part Ten)

  Chapter 1

  ABIGAIL

  Red.

  It will be what I remember the most when I think back on his horrible night.

  Red.

  The blood all over Hailey’s arm.

  The flash of the ambulance lights outside of the club.

  My safe word.

  All red, red, red.

  “You’re okay,” I say to Hailey, holding her hand as a paramedic helps her onto a stretcher. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Elijah and I had raced out of the club, and it hadn’t taken long to find her. She was crumpled up on the curb a few yards down the sidewalk, her dress torn, her arm covered in blood and deep cuts, her face deadly white except for the crimson bruise on her temple.

  There was a loose knot of people gathered around her, people who’d been waiting in line to get into the club, along with concerned passersby who had stopped to help. Someone had already called 911, and it seemed like it was only a second later that an ambulance pulled up in front of the club, followed by two police cars.

  The officers are lingering on the sidewalk now, anxious to find out what happened, but giving the paramedics space to do their thing.

  “She’s definitely going to need stitches,” one of the paramedics says as she wraps Hailey’s arm in gauze. Hailey moans in terror or pain, I can’t tell which. “We’ll take her to Presbyterian. You can ride with her, or follow us.”

  “I’ll ride with her,” I say automatically.

  Elijah’s hand tightens around mine. He was the first to reach Hailey, kneeling on the ground next to her and taking off his sweater and then the t-shirt he wore under it, wrapping it around her arm to help staunch the blood that was coming from the deep cuts that lined her arm.

  “You’ll stay with me,” he growls.

  I shake out of his grip. If he thinks I’m not going to ride in the ambulance with my best friend, then he’s sorely mistaken. It’s one thing for him to tell me I can’t go out to a club with her to meet a guy she met on Tinder, it’s another for him to tell me I can’t go with her after she’s been hurt. Especially after what just happened in the club, the way he used his belt on me, the confusing emotions that are swirling through me like a tornado.

  “I’ll ride with her,” I repeat firmly, meeting his gaze with my own.

  I take the paramedic’s hand and she helps me up into the ambulance. Elijah makes a move to climb in behind me, but the paramedic stops him.

  “We only have room for one,” she says, and before he can reply, the doors to the ambulance are slammed shut.

  A moment later, the lights kick on, and the ambulance pulls away from the curb.

  I can see Elijah through the window, his eyes dark, his shoulders pulled back. On the curb behind him, the t-shirt he used to help clean up Hailey’s blood lays crumped and forgotten, the white material stained red.

  Riding in an ambulance is nothing like I imagined.

  I thought it would be chaotic, sirens blaring, people shouting, horns honking.

  Instead, it’s calm.

  The lights are on, but the sirens are off, and the normally insane New York City traffic parts peacefully to let us through.

  Hailey lays on the stretcher. The bandage that the paramedics gave her is wrapped around her arm, stopping her bleeding, but her face is still deathly white.

  I want to ask her what happened, who did this to her, but her eyes are closed, and I don’t want to stress her. There must be a reason they keep everything so calm back here, and asking questions about what happened probably isn’t going to help.

  When we get to the hospital, we’re immediately ushered into a room.

  A nurse named Amanda hooks Hailey up to an IV and starts to give her fluids, then takes a peek under the bandage.

  “Yup,” she says. “Looks like you’re going to need stitches. You got cut pretty bad, didn’t you, hon?”

  Hailey nods.

  “Are you feeling nauseous?”

  Hailey shakes her head. “Just a little weak.”

  “The fluids will help,” the nurse says. “And I can give you something for the pain or for the anxiety.”

  “Thank you,” Hailey says.

  The nurse nods and clicks around on the tablet she’s holding. “I’ll check with the doctor. He should be here soon, and then he’ll numb you up. That will help, too.”

  Elijah appears in the doorway, striding into the room as if he’s late to a party at which he’s the guest of honor.

  What the fuck? How the hell did he get here so fast? The ambulance wasn’t speeding, but it got here in record time.

  He must have told his driver to speed. Or, knowing Elijah, sent his driver home in an Uber and drove the car himself.

  “We want a plastic surgeon,” he tells the nurse, “to stitch her up.”

  Amanda turns from where she’s fiddling with Hailey’s IV to look at Elijah, her eyes widening just a little as she takes in his broad shoulders that seem to fill the room, the commanding way he’s holding himself, the strong line of his brow and the set of his jaw.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but in the middle of the night, for a wound on the arm, a plastic surgeon is –”

  “What’s your name?” he demands.

  “Amanda,” she says, and now her bubbly demeanor is gone, replaced with the look I’ve seen people get around Elijah – half intimidated, half fearful.

  Elijah nods, as if he’s making a note of this. “Well, Amanda, you wouldn’t want me to have to call Eleanor Squire and bother her, would you? To let her know that one of her nurses is telling one of the hospital’s biggest donors that she can’t manage to find a plastic surgeon for him at…what is it, eleven o’clock? Which is hardly the middle of the night, wouldn’t you agree?”

  I don’t know who this Eleanor Squire person is, but the mention of her name seems to strike even more fear in the heart of poor Amanda.

  “Of course, sir,” she says instantly, and then she’s rushing out of the room, presumably to find a plastic surgeon. She pokes her head back in the room. “Elijah Armstrong, correct?”

  Elijah nods, still staring her down, an incredulous look on his face, like he can’t believe she’s questioning who he is, even though he never even introduced himself.

  She scuttles off again.

  “Who’s Eleanor Squire?” I ask as soon as she’s gone. Dammit. I’ve decided I’m not speaking to him, but my curiosity has gotten the best of me.

  “She’s the CEO of this hospital.” Elijah walks over to Hailey, inspecting her IV, studying the bag that hangs from the pole. “And a close personal friend of mine.”

  “Well la-di-da for you,” I mutter, wondering if close personal friend means that he fucked her.

  He looks at me, his eyes boring into mine. And even though I’m pissed at him, even though I can’t believe he did what he did to me back at the club, my body prickles under his gaze.

  “Eleanor Squire and her husband Edward have been friends of mine for years. My nephews are in the same class as their grandsons.”

  Okay. So he didn’t fuck her.

  Still.

  Ugh
.

  I hate that he knew what I was thinking, hate that he had to make a clarification to let me know that he hadn’t had a romantic relationship with this woman. Hate that he thinks – know, that he knows – that I care.

  But what I hate the most is that I actually do care, hate that I want him here taking care of things, because he’s doing such a damn good job of it.

  “Are you a doctor now?” I ask as he continues checking Hailey’s IV.

  “It’s good to be familiar with the protocols of hospitals so that you can make sure the standard of care is being met.”

  “Thank you,” Hailey says weakly from the bed.

  “You’re welcome,” Elijah says magnanimously, and I feel as if I’ve walked into some alternate reality where they aren’t suspicious of each other. It’s annoying. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Water,” Hailey croaks, licking her lips.

  He crosses the room to the sink and fills a paper cup, finds a straw in one of the drawers underneath it, and brings it to Hailey, deftly swinging out the tray that’s in front of her bed before setting the cup down on top of it.

  “I’m going to raise your bed a little so that you can drink,” he says. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

  “Okay,” Hailey says.

  Once the bed is up, she takes a small sip of water, then thanks Elijah again.

  I scoot my chair closer to her bed.

  “Hailey,” I say, taking her hand. Her skin is cold. “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

  But before she can answer, two police officers appear in the doorway.

  “Hailey?” the taller one asks. He’s young – maybe thirty – with broad shoulders and the kind of generic good looks that probably made him an asshole in high school. But his voice is kind.

  The other officer is a pretty woman with blond highlights in her long dark hair, which is pulled back into a tight bun.

  “Yes?” Hailey asks.

  “I’m Office Moore, and this is my partner, Officer Ramirez. How are you feeling?”

  “I guess I’m okay,” Hailey says. “A little weak, I guess.”

  “Do you think you might be ready to answer some questions about what happened tonight?” Office Moore asks gently.

  Hailey nods.

  Officer Moore’s eyes scan the room. “And who are these people here with you tonight?”

  Officer Ramirez pulls out a tablet and sets it up on the counter over by the sink, touching the screen with a stylus, flipping through screens until she gets to the one she wants.

  “This is my best friend Abigail Bennett, and her boyfriend… uh, my boss… uh, he’s my boss and her boyfriend, Elijah Armstrong.” Hailey frowns. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s hurt or because it’s just a complicated situation that’s making her sound so confused.

  Officer Moore glances sharply at Elijah when he hears his name. “Mr. Armstrong.”

  Elijah nods back, but doesn’t say anything. “Officer.”

  “So you were all at Somersault tonight, is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Hailey says. She licks her bottom lip, and I squeeze her hand, letting her know that I’m right here with her. “With Tyler, this guy I met on Tinder.”

  “And he assaulted you outside of the club?” the officer asks.

  Hailey’s hand squeezes mine back. “No.” She shakes her head. “No, it wasn’t Tyler.”

  Officer Moore looks at up sharply his notebook. “Then who was it?”

  “It was a man I didn’t know,” Hailey says, and instantly, my stomach drops. “Tyler was… he’d run into the store around the corner for something. I was waiting for him outside.”

  “Hailey, if you are lying to protect Tyler,” Officer Ramirez says gently from the other side of the room, “there are things we can do to help you. People we can put you in touch with, programs we can --”

  “No.” Hailey shakes her head and starts to sit up. “It wasn’t Tyler. He went around the corner to buy condoms.” She shoots me a look as if she’s embarrassed by this confession, but honestly, this situation is way past anyone being embarrassed about the fact that they were about to have sex with some random. “And I was standing there waiting for him, and suddenly, this man came up to me and asked me if he could use my phone. And I told him I was sorry, but my battery was low.” She swallows. “It was true, but I probably wouldn’t have let him use it anyway. You know, because people just grab them and run.”

  The officers glance at each other, and I can tell they’re not sure if they buy her story.

  “He said he really needed it, that it was an emergency, but then my phone actually rang. It was you, Abigail.” She turns to me. “And so I said, ‘I’m sorry, but this is an important call that I have to take’ and I turned away from him, but he grabbed my arm, and he pulled it straight out behind me, kind of twisting it.” She tries to demonstrate, but winces at the pain.

  She puts her arm back down on the bed. “And then the next thing I knew, I felt this…sort of wetness, and then a sting. I looked down and that’s when I saw that he was cutting me with a razor blade.”

  A razor blade.

  The same thing my mother used to kill her victim.

  My stomach drops, and I look up sharply, catching Elijah’s eye. His strong gaze on mine let’s me know that what I’m thinking is true.

  It wasn’t Tyler who cut Hailey’s arm.

  It was Ralph Palmer.

  Chapter 2

  ELIJAH

  I stand next to Hailey’s bed, listening to her telling the officers what happened next. The way the man had pushed her against the side of the building, the way he’d growled into her ear that maybe he couldn’t get at Abigail, but that he sure as hell was able to get at her.

  When she says that part, my fists curl at my sides. It’s a horrible thing that happened to Hailey, and yet I can’t help but think about what I would have done if it had been Abigail who had been cut. Rage burns in my chest, hot and thick like lava.

  “And what did the man look like?” Office Moore prompts.

  I can predict the answer before Hailey even opens her mouth.

  Dark hair.

  Late fifties.

  About 5’6”.

  One hundred and eighty pounds.

  It’s the exact description I was given of Ralph Palmer.

  I can see the look on Abigail’s face as she realizes what’s happened. It’s pointless for her to sit here and listen to the details. It will serve no purpose other than to scare her.

  I pull up the picture that Darren sent me earlier, the same one that was given to my security team earlier, along with the attached specs. “Was this the man who hurt you, Hailey?”

  She looks at the picture, then gasps. “Yes! Yes, that’s him, I’m sure of it.”

  The officers glance at each other again.

  “Jesus,” I growl. “Will you two stop with the looks? If you’re not fucking, you should be.”

  “Elijah!” Abigail exclaims.

  “What? It’s like they’re looking for some big conspiracy to give them a reason to fuck. If you want to fuck, fuck. This isn’t a conspiracy, and it’s not a god damn romantic suspense movie. Ralph Palmer is this man’s name. He’s been in contact with Abigail’s mother, who’s a prisoner upstate. She’s been using him for his money, and he’s gotten sick of it and has sent me emails, demanding money and threatening to come after Abigail if I don’t comply.”

  The nurse from before, Amanda or whatever, pokes her head into the room.

  If she thought I was a bastard before, she has no idea how much more sour my mood has gotten since the last time she saw me.

  “Please tell me a plastic surgeon is arriving imminently,” I say.

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Armstrong. Dr. Wu is on his way in. He’s one of our best.”

  “One of your best? Or your best?”

  “Oh, definitely our best,” she says, panic flashing in her eyes. “His work is impeccable.”

  S
he stands there, waiting for me to say something, her hands twisting together.

  “Is there something else?” I growl.

  “Yes, Mr. Armstrong.”

  “What?”

  “It’s your brother, Mr. Armstrong. He’s upstairs in the ICU, and he’s asking to speak with you. It’s about your father.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ryan, you couldn’t have taken care of this yourself?” I seethe fifteen minutes later.

  My brother is standing outside the door to our father’s room in the ICU, pacing back and forth. My soon-to-be nephews are at his feet. The four-year-old, Dmitri, is wearing a surgical mask over his face, and the two-year-old, Cade, is laying on the floor on his back, legs stick straight in front of him.

  “Hello, Uncle Eli,” Dmitri says seriously. “Do you need any surgery today?”

  “No, thank you, Dmitri,” I reply just as seriously.

  “Because today I’m a surgical. And Cade has eaten a plastic dinosaur and he needs it yanked from his stomach before it infects his guts.” He says this solemnly.

  “Cade didn’t really eat a plastic car,” Ryan explains helpfully.

  “Yeah, I get it, Ryan. Despite your questionable parenting skills, I’m sure that even you wouldn’t let a four-year-old ‘surgical’ perform surgery on a two-year-old.”

  “I’m four-and-a-half,” Dmitri says, sounding offended. He picks up a tongue depressor from where it’s lying on the floor next to one of those pink, kidney-shaped buckets they give you if you’re about to hurl.

  “This is going to hurt a lot,” he says to Cade. “Because I’m out of anything to numb you. So you just hold my hand and scream if you have to. Now open up I need to look down your throat and see this dinosaur.”

  Cade opens his mouth obediently and Dmitri presses the tongue depressor against his tongue. “Hmm,” he mutters. “Worse than I thought.”

  “Do you really think you should be letting them do that?” I ask Ryan. The hospital floor is crawling with germs and bacteria, and I’m sure their immune systems are non-existent.