The Immortal's Redemption

“Oh.” Kennedy cleared her throat and, focusing, looked around. “So, I’m at the hospital?” Shaking her head, she held up a hand. “Sorry. I know I’m at the hospital. I work here. I mean, I’m here to work. As the director of nurses.” She closed her eyes and tried again. “You seem shocked to see me.”

The petite woman’s shoes squeaked against recently waxed floors. “You didn’t show up for drinks Saturday night, and you missed work yesterday.”

Kennedy’s eyes shot open. Denial burned across her tongue. “Not possible.”

“No one’s been able to reach you for something like three days.” She yanked Kennedy into a fierce hug.

Three days. “I’m sick.” The hoarse admission raked her throat with sharp tines. No. Not sick. Worse than that.

The nurse stepped back and tilted her chin up to accommodate the height difference between the two. “Seriously? Are you okay?”

There was that question again. Kennedy couldn’t answer because she had no idea what had happened or what she’d done, no idea where she’d been. She hadn’t had another blackout since... Friday night played through her mind. There’d been a bar. With bikers. A fight of some sort and she’d left in a cab. The cab. She’d been in the cab when she’d slipped off the precipice of consciousness.

The memory made her shiver. Hard.

“I need to get to work.” The beep of monitors, calls of patients and steady rush of feet up and down the hall punctuated the soft words.

A tiny V formed between the other woman’s brows. “I’m not sure you need to hit the floor if—”

“I need to work, to clear my head. I just...” Kennedy rolled her shoulders. “Grab me some scrubs and a patient care kit.”

The woman chewed her bottom lip and looked Kennedy over.

“I’m not contagious.” Of that much she was sure. When the woman still hesitated to move, Kennedy met her stare. “Don’t force me to make it an order. Please.”

“Okay.” She shook her head when Kennedy opened her mouth. “Don’t thank me. I’m not convinced I’m doing the right thing here.” Shoving her hand in her shirt pocket, she fiddled with a pen. Click. Click. Click. “Room 4410 is open. Use the shower in there. I’ll leave the scrubs on the counter.” Her pager sounded, and she backed away.

Kennedy slipped into the vacant room, rushed through her shower, dressed then headed to her office. This job was all she had left in a world that seemed determined to see her follow in the footsteps of every woman in her family tree—footsteps that led to the intersection of Crazy Lane and Dead Before Forty Boulevard.

* * *

The constant beeping of cardiac monitors was driving Kennedy insane only forty-five minutes later. The clang of every slammed medical cabinet made her jump. Every alarm that sounded made her want to scream. Her neck prickled like someone was watching her. Strange memories invaded her thoughts, providing abstract snapshots of a life she couldn’t recall living. A life that wasn’t hers. Not anymore.

Elbows on the wide counter, forehead in her hands, she craved silence. The second she had it, though, she knew she’d give in to the exhaustion that dogged her. “Someone hook me up to a caffeine IV. Stat.”

The nurse to her right laughed.

Kennedy looked over and tried to smile but couldn’t. “Don’t suppose you have a dollar, do you? I have to raid the vending machines before I lose my mind, but all I’ve got is a five.”

The woman’s grin faded as she studied Kennedy. “Girl, you look like someone beat you with a powder puff before putting your eye shadow on upside down.”

“Huh?”

“Pasty face, dark circles under your eyes,” she answered, digging a dollar from her pocket.

“Just tired.” She accepted the money and turned away before the inevitable “what’s wrong” question was asked. How the hell would she answer? My life’s falling apart, I’m disappearing in my own mind while I run around doing God knows what—and I’m scared I’m going to end up dead while my mind’s on autopilot.

Irritation rode her hard as she stormed into the employee breakroom. Her hands shook. Trying to force-feed the rumpled dollar bill into the recalcitrant vending machine made her long for a cutting torch. She’d take her time. Liberate bottles one at a time. Make the machine bleed quart after quart of whatever ran through its insides if the inanimate son of a bitch didn’t give her caffeine now.

A large hand settled on her shoulder and she whipped around, fist connecting with ribs before she could stop herself.

“Ow!” Her best friend, Ethan, jumped back, clutching his side while eyeing her carefully.

“Sorry.” The apology nearly stuck in her throat as she shook out her fist. The idea of hitting again was more gratifying than making sure she hadn’t hurt him with her first swing. That’s not me. Opening her mouth to ask if he was okay, the words turned to ash on her tongue. No matter how hard she tried, they wouldn’t come.

Stumbling back in a rush to put distance between them, she tripped over a chair and did an ungraceful ass plant before sliding across the hard tile floor. “Damn maintenance! Is this the only place they get the wax and polish right?”

Ethan’s gaze narrowed.

Kennedy could almost hear him ticking off marks on his checklist for mental instability, and the implication there was something wrong with her chafed. Even if it was accurate. It gave her fear a tangible foothold. Made it all too real.

Still sprawled on the floor, she glared up at him. “Stop looking at me like that.” The unguarded hostility in the command forced her to close her eyes and take a deep breath. Undiluted anger simmered in her blood. Not me, not me, not me, she silently chanted.

A whir followed by the thunk of a plastic soda bottle being dispensed made her shoulders sag even as she opened her eyes.

Ethan extended a broad hand and hauled her to her feet, still eyeing her silently.

“You should’ve left me there and run for your life.” Goose bumps decorated her arms, and she rubbed them briskly.

“I thought about it, but we both know you’re only director of nurses until you can take over the world and make me your consort.” He waggled his brows and offered a lopsided grin. “And everyone who’s anyone knows you can’t rule the world from the floor.” He held out the bottle of Coke. “Caffeine.”

Kennedy clenched her jaw shut and forced a close-lipped smile. “I suppose.” What in the world is wrong with me?

Holding the soda as a bribe, Ethan pulled out a chair and sat. He toed a second chair away from the table and tilted the bottle toward it in invitation. “Scared me, disappearing like you did.”

The urge to run kicked her adrenaline into overdrive. Fighting it, she sank into the proffered seat hard enough it slid back a few inches. “Caffeine first. Logical word exchange second.”

“Caffeine while you explain.” He handed over the bottle.

“If it helps, it scared me, too.” The soft admission hung between them, the impetus to a conversation long overdue. Toying with the lid, she finally spun it off and took a deep pull. Ethan’s silence made her shake her head as she picked at the bottle label. “Any other day you’d score me on depth and clarity.”

“There’s not a damn thing about this that I find funny.”

His sharp tone made her look up. “That makes two of us.” She took a second sip before setting the bottle on the table.

Raking a hand through his dark blond hair, he snagged the soda and took a sip. “Where’ve you been?”

“I can honestly say I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it’s been a bad eighty-four hours.”

He considered her, eyes guarded. “That’s a long run of bad.”

“Yeah.” Adrenaline mixed with anxiety to form a wicked cocktail that spread through her with immediate effect. Breaths came faster. Heart pounded. Sweat prickled her nape. “I haven’t been this screwed up since losing my dad and finding myself both devastated that he was gone but also horrifyingly relieved I could stop trying to please him while forever failing.”

Ethan stood and moved behind her, laying a palm between her shoulders and rubbing tiny, soothing circles. “Slow down.”

Panic folded in on itself and left her hollow, her skin too loose, her clothes too tight.

He gradually widened the circle. Heat emanated from his hand and spread through her at a lethargic pace.