The McCullagh Inn in Maine Read Online Free PDF Page B

uncharacteristic things these past few days…my behavior with Jeremy was just the most recent example. “Right. Thank you.”
    The ride in the cop car was filled with awkward silence. For a moment I reveled in the novelty of riding in the front for a change. Then I started quietly panicking. Paul had just been attacked, and the timing was a coincidence, right? My brother had his fair share of enemies. I shouldn’t jump to the conclusion that this was the work of the people after me.
    But when I walked in the room and saw Paul lying in the hospital bed, I knew. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, and parts of his head were shaved, with thick bandages covering wounds. A thin white blanket concealed most of his body, but I could see that both of Paul’s thumbs were splinted. I knew what that meant.
    They were here.

Chapter 10
    Jeremy pushed through the doors of the hospital, his heart racing as he dodged an old guy in a wheelchair. Nurses in colorful scrubs walked the halls, some clearly at the beginning of their shift, others obviously at the end. One of them, someone he vaguely recognized from high school, smiled at him as she passed, so he nodded back politely. People sat in those horrible plastic chairs in cramped waiting rooms, waiting to find out if they were losing someone they loved today.
    He hated hospitals.
    They reeked of desperation and death.
    When he’d heard of the attack on Paul, his stomach had sunk. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, damn it. He pushed the elevator button harder than necessary, tapping his fingers on his thigh impatiently. “Come on,” he growled.
    He needed to see her in one piece.
    With his own eyes.
    The second the doors started to open, he slipped through the crack, hitting the button for the third floor before anyone could join him. Paul had already been admitted, and word was that he’d be in the hospital for a good couple of weeks.
    Paul had been beaten and tortured.
    It was a miracle he was still alive.
    The only reason Paul was still breathing: He was a message. A warning. One intended for his sister, and one Jeremy intended to take very seriously.
    The doors to the elevator opened and he took a left, heading toward Paul’s room. They hadn’t spoken much over the years, but Jeremy had kept tabs on him. As he approached the room he slowed, walking lightly when he heard the sound of Chelsea’s voice. He stopped just short of the door, where he could see them without being seen.
    She spoke again and her voice washed over him like the first warm spring rain after a long, cold winter. Creeping closer, he stole a quick peek. She sat beside Paul, resting her hand on his arm gently, talking so quietly he had to struggle to hear her words. He was taken back to a time when he’d gotten his appendix out and she hadn’t left his side as he recovered. Why hadn’t he understood what she meant to him back then? How could he have been such a fool to lose her?
    History wouldn’t repeat itself this time.
    “…and that’s why you were attacked tonight. They’re trying to flush me out.”
    “Shit, Chels,” Paul growled.
    Jeremy couldn’t see her face, but her shoulders were drooped, and her head was as low as her voice. “I’m sorry. I never intended for this to happen, for you to get dragged into my fight. If I’d known they would do this…”
    “I know.” Paul stared at her, his bruised face looking like a sick artistic interpretation of a face rather than the real thing. “How are we going to get out of this mess?”
    “There’s no we, just me—” She stopped midsentence, stiffening. He held his breath. Something told him she’d discovered his presence. Or rather, sensed someone standing there, listening. Now she would clam up. “How did they get the drop on you?”
    “What? Why—” Paul stared at her, then nodded once, glancing toward the door. I stepped back quickly, heart racing. Damn them and their silent communication. “I was leaving the DMV—” He