With a Kiss

With a Kiss

By Kim Dare

Resplendence Publishing, LLC

http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

Resplendence Publishing, LLC
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118

With a Kiss
Copyright © 2011 Kim Dare
Edited by Christine Allen-Riley and Jason Huffman
Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com

Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-420-8

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Electronic Release: October 2011

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

To those who believed I would finish this book,
even when I doubted that myself.
You know who you are.

Chapter One

Liam didn’t stop running as he reached the edge of the pavement. Stumbling off the curb he raced on, headlong into the road.

Car horns blared. Headlights blazed around him. Holding up one hand to shield his eyes, Liam spun around, frantically searching for any way to escape the New Year’s Eve chaos. He barely heard the angry shouts from the drivers as more and more cars squealed to a stop on the busy road.

Squeezing between two car bumpers, Liam scrambled toward the opposite pavement. A dense crowd of people immediately closed in around him. The New Year’s celebrations had brought everyone onto the streets. It was impossible to run. All he could do was keep pushing forward, clawing his way a little closer to the hospital with each step he took.

Rain pelted down, soaking into Liam’s jeans and plastering his thin white t-shirt to his skin. None of New Year’s revelers seemed to care about the downpour as they swarmed toward the firework display due to start on the other side of town. A dozen men cheerfully forced their way through the crowd. They swarmed around Liam. He flinched away from raised fists and beer bottles as drunken hand gestures swung wildly toward him.

A terrified attempt to back away from one man sent him crashing into another. Twisting around, Liam held up his hands, desperate to pacify. “I’m sorry,” he babbled, stumbling away from them all as quickly as he could. “I’m so sorry, I…”

He looked frantically over his shoulder. The crowd behind him thinned out just enough for him to make his escape. Spinning away from the gang of men, Liam took his chance, turned tail and ran.

The wind whipped at his face as he dodged between the laughing groups of men and women, all of them ready to celebrate and all of them heading in the opposite direction to him. Lifting a hand, Liam swiped at the raindrops running down his face and into his eyes, but he didn’t dare stop.

He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t turn around and calmly follow the crowd toward the firework display.

The hospital and Marcus—those were the only two things he could think about now—the only things that offered him any chance of keeping his sanity through the New Year’s Eve celebrations and on into January the first.

Finally, the huge gray building came into view on the opposite side of the road. Liam raced toward it, forcing his shaking legs to keep moving when they threatened to collapse.

Brakes squealed once more, another set of drivers cursed. Liam didn’t even look over his shoulder. His trainers pounded against the tarmac as he threw himself toward the hospital entrance with every scrap of energy he had left.

A security guard stood just to the left of the door. He straightened up and reached for his radio when he caught sight of a mad man hurtling toward him, but Liam had too much momentum to come to a sudden stop. Arms flailing, shoes skidding through the puddles, he finally brought himself to a halt just a few feet from the guard.

The older man’s eyes narrowed slightly, bushy gray eyebrows almost meeting beneath his water-proof cap. A moment passed, and a slight smile touched the older man’s lips. He pressed the button on his radio once more. “Scratch that, Tony. False alarm.”

Another man’s voice crackled through the radio, too low for Liam to be able to make out the words.

“You’re eager tonight, Liam,” Mr. Clark said, slipping back into his usual jovial manner as easily as another man might flip a switch.

Liam tried to force a smile. The taste of blood flooded his mouth. He automatically lifted his fingers to his split lip, as he saw the guard’s smile die and his frown return.

“Ran faster than my feet could keep up with, Mr. Clark,” Liam mumbled.

The other man nodded, but he didn’t put any noticeable effort into pretending he really believed that.

Liam dropped his gaze. Edging around the guard, he backed into the hospital. Hunching his shoulders and keeping his head down, he rushed along the deserted hospital corridors, following the path that had become second nature to him over the last few months.

Water pooled around his feet as an elevator carried him up to the third floor. Closing his eyes, Liam wrapped his arms around his torso. The cold was sinking into him now that he stood still. A shiver danced along his spine as he prayed for the lift to travel faster.

He was just about able to keep on forcing air into his lungs, but he couldn’t make his breaths follow anything like a steady rhythm. Panic clawed through his insides, sending more and more adrenaline pumping through his veins until he trembled with it.

Finally, the elevator chimed its arrival at his destination. The doors slid slowly open. There was barely enough room for Liam to squeeze through the gap between them before he exited the lift and hurried along the corridor.

Sister Pritchard’s head jerked up as Liam’s sodden trainers squeaked against dull gray flooring. A frown flitted across her forehead as she glanced at the watch pinned to her uniform.

Reaching the nurses’ station set halfway down the corridor, Liam looked from Sister Pritchard to the door leading into the private room at the end of the hall and back again.

“Please?” he whispered.

The matronly lady ran her gaze over Liam, taking in every detail as she silently debated the fate of a visitor who seemed completely incapable of abiding by proper visiting hours. Liam held his breath. His grip on his own arms turning white knuckled as his fingers dug into his biceps.

Finally, the sister nodded. Relief swept through Liam, damn near washing away the last tiny bit of strength he had left. Somehow he managed to take a few steps forward.

Reaching out, he wrapped numb fingers around the door handle. In that moment, it was almost impossible for him not to think back to the first time he’d visited that room.

* * * *

Six months earlier…

“I just talk to him?” Liam looked from the woman behind him, to the sleeping form in the hospital bed and back again.

“That’s the general idea,” she said, lifting her attention from her clipboard for a moment and glaring at him as if he’d just made a very improper suggestion toward her. “It is what you volunteered for after all!”

Liam turned back to the slumbering man. “I know, I just…” Well, for one thing, he’d assumed that when he agreed to spend one afternoon a week visiting lonely hospital patients, he’d be talking to someone who was able to talk back.

“If there’s a problem,” the administrator began, each word more clipped and impatient than the last.

Liam shook his head. “No, it’s fine.”

One curt nod and the woman strode away, pulling the door to the private room closed behind her.

For several long seconds, Liam stood in the middle of the highly polished floor without the least idea what to do with himself. Pushing his hands deeper into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels and studied the comatose patient.

“Just talk to him,” Liam murmured. The words sounded far too loud in the otherwise hushed room. The only noise that broke the silence was the beep of a heart monitor.

Taking a deep breath, Liam took a step forward, determined to make the best of the situation. “Hi. My name’s Liam Bates. I’m a volunteer visitor with the hospital. Do you mind if I sit down?”

To Liam’s complete lack of surprise, the coma patient made no response. Pulling up a chair, Liam perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bright red plastic. Hell, he didn’t even know what to call the guy. Standing up, Liam peeked out through the small glass aperture in the door. The nurses’ station he’d walked past a few minutes before was deserted.

Liam turned back to the room’s other occupant. His attention fell on a wire container hanging from the footboard of the hospital bed, then on the paperwork within it. “I’m…um…just going to look in your records for your name,” he said as he crept forward and picked up the file. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to read any of the confidential stuff or anything. I just want to know what to call you.”

The file was well over two inches thick. Liam frowned as he carefully flicked open the cover to examine the first page.

“Marcus Corrigan,” he read aloud, before dutifully closing the bulging file and returning it to its proper place without snooping any further.

“It’s um…it’s a nice name,” Liam hazarded as he sat down again. “It suits you.” It might have been a bloody stupid thing to say, but at least it was true. A handsome name for a very handsome man…

Against all logic, the guy didn’t actually appear ill. It looked like he was simply sleeping, as if he might open his eyes at any moment. Pushing that idea away, Liam took the opportunity to study the man’s features without any fear that he might be caught.

Long black hair framed his face, standing out in stark contrast to the crisp white hospital pillowcase, but someone had obviously shaved him recently. There wasn’t the slightest hint of stubble along his jaw. High cheek bones and an aquiline nose gave Marcus an almost aristocratic appearance, but his lips were pink and full, just begging to be kissed.