Just a Little Bit Guilty (2 page)
"Y'all clear the way for Judge Costa!" the policeman thundered.
With the officer as a human battering ram, Jake carried his charge through more double doors. He hardly noticed when busy medical personnel glanced up from a forest of patients, examining tables, and equipment. Still staring down at Vivian Costa, his blood rushing too loudly inside his ear drums, he bumped his knee on a trash can and stopped distractedly. Jake glanced up to see a middle-aged, dark-skinned woman in jeans and a white lab coat bustling towards them, shaking her finger at Washington.
"Barney Washington, what do you think you're doing?" she interrogated with a Latin accent.
"Dr. Hernandez, it's Judge Costa!" the officer protested, looking hurt.
"It's Vivian? No!" Jake watched as the doctor grasped Vivian's hand. "Hey, Judge, you are causing some trouble again, eh?"
"Eh," Vivian agreed weakly. "Maria? Is that you?"
"Yeah, sure is. Make a joke so I know you're alive." 12
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"He saved me, Maria. Do you believe that? A stranger ... risked his hide ... to save me." She paused, and a wistful smile curved her lips. "Isn't he unbelievable?"
"Yeah, really." Jake found the doctor's sharp eyes on him as her fingers gauged Vivian's pulse. "You. Mister. Who are you, and what has happened?"
"She was mugged outside my apartment building," Jake said patiently. He realized the he was grinning down at Vivian Costa so widely that his mouth hurt. Her compliment made him feel strong and needed, and at this point in his lonely life, he particularly appreciated that. "Two guys hit her in the head. She's all fainty and disoriented. Though she lands a pretty good punch and she still claims she's got a Taser on her, somewhere."
"Ah! Sounds like a concussion." Dr. Hernandez waved for him to follow her and started across the crowded examination room toward a gurney in one corner.
"Thanks, man, for bringin' her in," Barney Washington allowed. "She's our patron saint. She really cares about people."
"You!" Dr. Hernandez bellowed at Jake. "You, redneck! No more chatting. Come here."
With a nod to Officer Washington, Jake strode over. He carefully draped Vivian's small body on the padded table, while Dr. Hernandez arranged a curtain to afford a little privacy.
"You have strong arms, Jake Coltrane," Vivian whispered weakly. "Gentle arms."
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"You're mighty easy to hold, ma'am," he told her, his breath shallow and hard in his throat. He'd have fought a whole army of muggers on her behalf. "You're just like a little sweet baby deer I once caught..."
She pressed a gloved hand to her forehead, and her mouth grimaced in distress. "Too many cornpone references ... I ... my head ... please."
He slid his fingers under her sock cap and eased it off. Wavy hair the color and texture of chocolate-black silk flowed over his callused fingers as he massaged her scalp. She relaxed onto the gurney.
"Good," she sighed. "Makes the pain go away. Stay a ... while."
"Easy, darlin', nobody could pry me outta here," he assured her gruffly.
He slipped his hand under her head and raised it for the pillow Dr. Hernandez placed underneath. Vivian turned her face into the antiseptic softness and sighed, her eyes closed again.
"Help or leave!" the doctor snapped. Jake's big fingers fumbled at coats, scarves, and sweaters while the doctor ran practiced fingers over Vivian's scalp and peered into her eyes. Jake stopped, his stomach knotted, while the woman peeled her down to a University of Georgia sweatshirt and the black leggings.
You're a perfect little doll, Vivian Costa
, Jake observed silently in continuing, breathless appreciation.
"Vivvy, you got a bump like Stone Mountain," Dr. Hernandez concluded, touching the right side of her head 14
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above one ear. "But your eyes aren't dilated, and you got some smarts, so I think we'll just order a couple of tests, watch you a while and let you go home. Are you still dizzy?"
"Only when I blink, dammit," Vivian mumbled. Jake took her hand and squeezed it. Vivian wanted to study him closely, to get a good look at this amazing man who showed such concern for her. But her head swam as she tried to focus, so she simply squeezed his huge hand back.
A nurse appeared with an ice bag, which Dr. Hernandez plopped into Jake's hand.
"Redneck, you sit here—" she pulled up a dirty, green stool, and he settled his big body onto it—"and hold this bag on her bump." She put her arms akimbo and eyed him warily.
"You got that?"
He gave her an exasperated look. His sharp-edged drawl warned that he was tired of being the object of her sarcasm.
"I rescued her, ma'am. I got her here. I believe I can take care of the rest."
"Okay, okay." Dr. Hernandez's expression registered apology. "I'm sorry. Thanks." He smiled and shrugged. "Get her to talk more. Ask her things, and see if she makes sense."
With that, the doctor hurried off.
Like a man undertaking the most monumental duty of his life, Jake leaned over his ex-bag lady and followed the instructions Dr. Hernandez had just given.
* * * *
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The scent of a big, warm, male body close to her face invaded Vivian's nose and swam through her dull thoughts, zapping them into alertness. The ice bag brought welcome relief to the throb in her head and settled her churning stomach.
Maybe I am still human
, she thought, here eyes closed. She tried to remember everything that had happened to her on the street, but couldn't. She could only picture the shotgun-toting man who kept calling her
darlin'
like some sort of NASCAR driver or country-western singer. He was the owner of the sandpaper-tipped fingers now stroking her temple. The pillow was cool and smooth on one side of her face; those fingers were hot and deliciously textured on the other.
The arm that occasionally brushed her cheek was covered in soft material that smelled good, earthy, and wood-smoked. Vivian sighed at the odd effect all those sensations had on her pulse rate, and turned her face toward the ceiling. Warm, masculine breath, pleasant and musky, filled her senses. Her eyes opened clear and wide.
Whatever she'd expected paled next to the breathtaking reality of the welcoming, worshiping, magnetic blue gaze of the man who came into focus above her.
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"Batman," she managed finally, her heart racing. "Your bat costume is covered in flannel."
He smiled, then stopped smiling, then smiled again in slow, hypnotic sequence, widely and warmly, showing a glimpse of milk-white teeth between a stern upper lip and a generous lower one. His eyes—set in a handsome, open face with a blunt jaw—kept her spellbound.
The color of worn denim or clear sky on a summer day, those eyes never wavered. His ruddy, weathered complexion provided a contrasting backdrop, and stubby, thick eyelashes added brown accents. His brows and unruly hair were not quite red and not quite blond. His hair wanted desperately to curl, but because it was short on the sides and moderately long on top, the best it could manage was a glossy network of valleys and hills. He looked healthy and outdoorsy and sexier than any man had a right to be.
"You feelin' better, tough stuff?" he asked.
What a voice
, she thought. "That's
Judge
Tough Stuff to you."
He chuckled and rearranged the ice bag gently. As her senses continued to sharpen, Vivian noticed a forest of reddish hair peeking over the collar of his blue plaid shirt.
"Thank you again for helping me," she murmured. Bits and pieces of the evening were beginning to creep back, but she still felt groggy. It was infinitely easier to think about him than to puzzle over her situation.
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"You're sure welcome. Pleased to meet you. I never knew a judge could be so strong. Lord! Talk about the long arm of the law. I bet I've got bruises."
"I'm just a plain old first-arraignment judge," Vivian replied, smiling. "Just think how hard a superior court judge would have whacked you." Her smile faded. "But I'm really sorry."
"Forget about it. I thought all that swingin' and spittin'
were cute."
He acted earnest and polite, sort of "Aw, shucks" and yet sophisticated in some way she couldn't define. Vivian wondered what in the world this sweet man was doing in the middle of her harsh, brash city. She wanted to protect him, and at the same time envied his fresh perspective. Vivian merrily twisted her Atlanta-bred lilt to mimic his heavy drawl.
"Well, Mr. Coltrane. What neck of the backwoods are you from?"
He leaned back, drew his heavy-soled work boots up so that his feet rested on the stool's bottom rung and gazed at her through narrowed eyes.
"I wouldn't make fun of you," he said quietly, with mild reproach. "And believe me, it'd be awful easy tonight." After a long moment she nodded. "I'm sorry. I had a reason for dressing up and going out on the street." Vivian tried to cross her arms over her chest, but in the process her hands ran into the sheepskin covered brick wall of his arm. He still sat with that arm across her, holding the ice pack to her head. She snatched her hands down by her sides and felt her heart rate begin to sprint. She shifted self-consciously. "I 18
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was trying to get a look at the characters who've been robbing elderly women around the neighborhood."
"I'd say you got more than a look. Didn't anybody tell you that the judges do the sentencing and the police do the investigating?"
"Why, yes, Mr. Coltrane, I believe we covered that in Judge 101. Or maybe it was something I learned from an episode of
Law and Order
." She frowned at him fiercely, and a tendril of pain shot from the knot above her ear. "Ouch, dammit. You're pressing that ice pack too hard." She tried to move away from his disturbing touch.
"You got a smart mouth, girl. I gotta cool you off."
"You're asking for an assault charge, dude."
"It'd be worth it, Tough Stuff."
"Tough Stuff," she repeated sardonically. Her eyes shut as a wave of dizziness hit her. "If I'm tough it's because I have to be.
You
have to be, too. What you did tonight was crazy. Foolishly brave. I appreciate it—don't get me wrong—but I still don't understand why you cared enough to get involved." Now she could remember how cold the muggers' eyes had been. How dangerous. She still felt a hand grabbing at her throat.
"Why do people in the city act so suspicious?" Jake asked wearily. "Are you
all
this way? I couldn't let those men hurt you. Why is that so hard to figure?"
"Didn't it ever occur to you that you could have gotten hurt or killed ... and all on behalf of a woman you don't even know?"
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"They were hittin' you. They knocked you down." His voice was so angry toward the two men that Vivian felt tears spring to her eyes. He really cared. He was a rare soul. "When I think of what else they might have done..." Nerves, fatigue and pain combined to make her tremble violently. Jake scrambled to his feet, and she opened her eyes as he put his coat over her.
"Hey, now, I'm real smart," he said dryly. "Scaring you, upsettin' you."
"Don't feel guilty. I scared myself." She sighed gratefully and snuggled under his coat, twisting to lie on her side. He tucked it around her and sat back down. He put the ice pack in place again and let his hand rest on her shoulder. The contact was comforting, and she smiled up at him before closing her eyes drowsily.
"You can't go to sleep," he warned. "The doc said for me to ask you questions about yourself. You have to keep talking." She squinted up at his somber face and rebelled at the confident baritone voice. "What kind of questions? I don't like to talk about myself."
"Why do you want to be so ornery?" Jake interjected, looking genuinely puzzled. "Why don't you act sweet like you were when you were addled?"
Vivian blinked rapidly, astonished at how much his words stung. "I don't know how to be sweet, okay? There's no point in you hanging around, waiting to get insulted." He gazed down at her, surprise in his broad, handsome face. She ignored a twinge of self-rebuke. He made her feel 20
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embarrassed and mean and ... oh, all right ... ornery. Vivian avoided his blue eyes.
"Judge Costa," he said softly. He emphasized the 'Judge'
as if he didn't care to be on a first-name basis with her anymore. His voice dripped insult. "If you don't know how to take help, then I feel sorry for you."
"Oh, don't take it so personally."
"You know," he continued, jabbing a blunt finger at her,
"I've been here in the city three months. My place has been robbed, kids stole the radio and the GPS out of my pickup, I got hookers pesterin' me for business and addicts askin' me for money I don't have. But I've acted friendly, and I've gotten a lot of friendliness in return." He raised one red-gold brow at her. "Until I met you. You've got a streak of distrust in you a mile wide. Lord, I'd hate to have to throw myself on the mercy of
your
court." He stood, towering over the examination table, and reached for his coat. Startled and more than a little ashamed, Vivian sat up quickly to blurt an apology. Maybe she'd seen too much ugliness to recognize the other extreme, she thought. Maybe she just couldn't bear to let him walk out of here. The ice pack slid off her head, and dizziness engulfed her. Realizing too late that moving fast had been a foolish thing to do, she pressed the heels of her hands to her temples and gasped. Immediately, his arms surrounded her.
"It's hard to be feisty when your bells are ringing', isn't it?" Jake taunted. But the anger had faded from his voice. Vivian raised yearning, wistful eyes to analyze him. His face was close to hers, his brow furrowed with concern, his mouth 21
