CHAPTER 26

"Michael?" Manda peeked timidly around the door of his hospital room.

"Come in, Manda. I've been waiting for you."

She walked in, and stood nervously next to the bed, but inwardly, she was relieved to see he was looking better, yet slightly pale underneath his bronze skin. He was sitting on the bed in the green hospital gown. His left arm was in a sling. The doctor had told her the bullet didn't penetrate deeply in his left shoulder. Michael had been lucky that the thick padding of his jacket managed to lessen the bullet's impact into his flesh.

Manda had never set foot in the hospital since her encounter with Michael's parents. She'd been too ashamed to be around the Mackenzies. But it had been Mrs. Mackenzie who had coaxed her to visit Michael. "You're the first person he asked for when he regained consciousness," Mrs. Mackenzie had told her on the phone. "He's more worried about you than his own condition." Manda didn't believe it, but she'd assured the woman she would visit Michael the first chance she got. And here she was three days later.

"I've brought you flowers," she said before looking in dismay at large bouquets of roses at the corner of the room. She suddenly was reluctant to show him her pathetic gift. Daisies. What a hoot. She wasn't into flowers that much.

"You can put it on the table."

"It's not that great, really," she hedged. "You can throw it away if you don't like it." She placed a miniature flowerpot on his night table. A couple of white daisies were still in the stage of blooming.

"It's very nice," he told her sincerely. "Now, come and sit here." He patted at an empty space on the bed.

Manda looked at him doubtfully. "You're not mad at me?"

"Because you've been avoiding me?"

She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," she said. Without warning, hot tears suddenly surged into her eyes. She blinked, willing herself not to cry. She had cried once in front of him. Even though he could comfort her, she refused to make this a habit.

"You don't have to apologize. No one's blaming you," Michael assured her gently.

"But your father –"

"Forget about my father," Michael interrupted bitterly, "His behavior has nothing to do with you. Now, come on and sit."

She hesitated for a second before she tentatively perched herself on the bed next to him.

"You've lost weight." He observed her carefully. "That's not good."

"I thought guys like skinny girls," she joked lamely.

"I'm not like most guys," he admitted seriously. She'd already found that out for herself.

"I feel so responsible for this," she said quietly. "I don't blame you if you're having second thoughts about being my partner, or – or doing the detective work. I'll understand if you want to back out. It's not worth it if you're endangering yourself. I hate to see you hurt because of me."

"It hurts me more to see you're dead if I didn't do anything. It's the risk we've got to take, Manda. It's part of the job. You have to accept that."

"But was it really worth it?"

"Believe me, it was worth it." He pulled her into a long hug before he kissed the top of her head affectionately.

She felt her face grew warm. "You're too much," she remarked, feeling shy.

"I know," he said, giving her a rakish smile.

"Sometimes I feel you're more ready to be doing this kind of work than I am."

His expression turned serious again. "You don't give enough credit to yourself. You handle things better in dangerous situations. Have confidence, Manda."

"I was afraid of being too confident."

"Everyone's not perfect. Anyway, what happened to Kim Bowman? Are we going to testify in court?" Michael asked, changing the subject.

"Kim was badly wounded after the shooting, and she was DOA – dead on arrival – lost too much blood, even the three men that were with her. The police even found illegal aliens locked in the Parks Plastic storage facility. Apparently, they were waiting to be transported to New York. Not only that, they also found a couple of barrels filled with discharged mercury at the processing plant. I'll bet it's the same one that's been used for the food poisoning. Anyway, the prosecutors are preparing the paperwork for the trial. We should be testifying against Rostov, Smyth, and Wesson within next month."

"Any evidence against Rodriguez?"

"No." She shook her head.

"It's too much to hope for, isn't it?" he said wryly.

"He's not going to be easy to catch." She felt uneasy at the thought of Rodriguez. What if he decided to revenge against them? Could they be prepared to face him?

"What about those immigrants? What's going to happen to them?"

Manda shrugged. "I don't know, yet. The authorities are considering putting them as witnesses, should they be called to the trial. Some say they would have to be deported back to their countries."

Michael nodded thoughtfully. "That sucks."

"I hear you."

"And what about Sondra? What happened to her?"

"She was wounded after the shoot out, but the doctor said she would be back on her feet in a few weeks."

"I'm glad to hear that. So, how does dinner at Anthony's sound to you?" he suddenly asked.

"Dinner?" She looked at him in puzzlement.

"Yeah. Didn't I say that I would buy you dinner? You've saved my life. I've booked a table on Friday night."

"But you've saved my life, too. So, we're even," she pointed out gently.

"I'm still not changing my mind."

Manda was secretly elated. She had always wanted to go to Anthony's, and sometimes, she would imagine herself having dinner there in a nice dress, even though she hated dressing up. But the reality that Michael was taking her there shocked her that she began shaking her head vehemently.

"I c-can't," she started saying.

"Why not?" He frowned.

"It's...It's too expensive, and... and I don't have any nice dress to put on. Actually, I don't like wearing one... And besides, I don't even own a dress." She felt embarrassed to be confessing that. He had to be wondering what kind of girl she was when she didn't even own a pretty dress – let alone unable to afford one. He probably would think twice about taking her to Anthony's again.

"Then we'll go shopping tomorrow afternoon, and find a dress for you," he suggested firmly. "I'll do the buying."

"You can't do that."

"Consider it as a gift." His voice sounded final, and there was no way she could change his mind despite her endless protests.

"B-But tomorrow afternoon is not a good time either," she told him, feeling nervous.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Well...uh, you see, someone's already invited me for lunch tomorrow." She wiped her sweaty palms against her jeans.

"Someone? Like who?"

"It's nothing serious, really, just a friendly meet," she rambled on, "I know I haven't known him for a long time. He's just a friend, you know... I – I mean, like – you know, like us – friends. Right?"

"He?" His arm around her tightened.

"Michael!"

"His name's Michael, too?"

"What? N-No! That's not what I meant."

"Then what's his name?"

"Damien." Her voice came out small, and she looked at Michael in apprehension.

He was silent for a moment, and Manda couldn't read the stoic expression on his face.

"Fine. We'll go shopping for your dress the day after tomorrow," he finally said.

She couldn't believe what she just had heard. "You...You're not angry, are you?"

"No. You're free to meet anyone you like. After all, like you said, we're friends... Right?"

Somehow she found his words upsetting that she couldn't even explain the reason behind it.

"Right. Only friends..." she murmured. Their eyes met for a moment, but she quickly turned away, afraid to find out what she might see.

"Mackenzie! I've been trying to reach you for days," a female voice suddenly said from the doorway. It was Linda.

Manda instinctively pulled away from Michael, and stood up. She wondered how long Linda had been standing there, or if she had heard everything.

"Oh, hi, Linda," Michael said politely. "Come in."

Linda entered the room, carrying a bouquet of pink roses. "I've heard from Chief Buchanan that you've been shot. How are you doing?" she asked him, looking critically at the daisies on the table.

"I'll live," he replied distractedly.

Linda pushed the daisies away, and placed her roses instead. "You didn't tell me you've solved the case," she said huffily, perching on the bed next to him.

"I didn't. I've got help from Manda, and Sondra," he told her, pulling the daisies closer toward him. For some reason, the sight made Manda felt warm inside.

"Tell me the whole story," Linda urged him eagerly.

"I thought you already knew everything."

"Obviously, someone has taken me out of the action. I've tried to sneak back to Westlake Side, but the chief had me constrained at the station with his detectives."

Michael bit his lips together, looking as if he was holding back a smile.

"Does that mean you didn't tell the police to go to Westlake Side after Sondra had told you to do it?" Manda spoke up.

Linda shrugged, looking away from Manda. "I didn't think it would be that dangerous. Besides, I had to tell them when they caught me trying to sneak out. They were already on their way soon after that. You two should be grateful that I also have saved your lives."

"I really appreciate that, Linda," Manda replied, fighting an urge from rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

"Now, let's start." Linda pulled out a note pad and her tape recorder from her purse. She looked at Michael expectantly.

He sighed wearily. "Manda can help fill in the blanks. I have to admit, there are so much that I don't know," Michael told Linda.

"All right," Linda said grudgingly, obviously reluctant to include Manda into the discussion.

He spent the next fifteen minutes briefing Linda about the case. Manda occasionally added in the missing information. Linda never ceased to praise him for his cleverness, and bravery for solving the case. Manda couldn't help feeling sorry for him. She could tell Michael was uncomfortable by Linda's exaggerating compliments.

"I think we're compatible with each other," Linda told Michael when he had done, clutching his free hand tightly. "With my skills and your intelligence, we'll make a great team. You can even join in as the campus reporter."

"Wh-What?" Michael suddenly looked nervous. He glanced at Manda with a silent plea for help.

"Admit it, we do work well together. You'll be like my partner in crime," Linda went on, this time stroking the broad pane of his chest.

Manda stiffened, and began contemplating with herself if she should leave the room, but the look that Michael gave her forced her to stay.

He calmly pushed Linda's hands away. "Thank you for the offer Linda, but I can't accept it. Besides, I already have a partner." At this, his eyes raised and met Manda's. She tried to look indifferent, but she couldn't stop the heat from creeping up her cheeks.

But Linda didn't seem to be upset by Michael's answer. "Oh, well, it's your loss," she said casually, "but you'll change your mind soon enough." Linda suddenly leaned forward, and planted a kiss on his lips.

Before Michael could recover from his surprise, Linda stood, smiling at him. "I better go now. See ya later, Michael," she said and marched out of the room.

"Why do I get a feeling that we'll be seeing her again in the future?" Manda asked after a moment of silence. She stood next to his bed.

He grimaced. "I hope you're wrong. If not, we know where we stand."

"Does that mean you're still interested doing this work again? Even after taking the danger, and risks into account?"

"As long as people like Rodriguez is out there, I'm willing to do it again," Michael admitted seriously. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No," she replied, and smiled. "Do you really mean it when you say I'm your partner?"

"Yes."

"You don't regret it? You know I have a tendency to be troublesome for you."

He smiled at her meaningfully. "I've never regretted it. Besides, I can handle any trouble from you."

"Can I ask you something?" she asked in a serious tone.

"Sure."

"Umm...this might sounds a little nosy, but what was the trouble you've had that Chief Buchanan kept hinting at?"

His blue eyes immediately shuttered, devoid of warmth and familiarity that Manda immediately regretted for asking him the question.

"Let's not talk about that, yet..." he said emotionlessly.

"I'm sorry."

"Someday, I'll tell you, but not right now. Not when everything is still confusing for me. Someday, Manda..."

***

His dark eyes flashed in contempt as he read through the morning headline. Kim Bowman was dead. Another setback in his plan. Despite that, he was particularly interested at a small picture of a young woman, and a young man that had begun to be a familiar sight to him.

"What do you make of this, sir?" A man in brown executive suit asked him. His personal assistant. Organized, and efficient. He wouldn't trade him for anybody else. The man was looking at him expectantly, waiting for his next instruction. In his hand was an electronic organizer.

He leaned back in his leatherback chair, and puffed out his Cuban cigar, sending the smoke coiling up to the ceiling. His large hand was idly smoothing the lapels of his white suit. Gold rings glittered as his hand moved.

"Find out everything about those two. And I mean EVERYTHING... what they like to eat, where they live, who are they seeing, what kind of music they like, their weaknesses, fears... Every little detail." His deep voice exuded authority, yet laced with venom.

"Yes, sir. Do you want to use our usual channel?"

"Yes. Do it right away. When we're ready, we can proceed with our plan. We'll make sure they would think twice about messing with us again."

THE END…?

A/N:

Hi, I would like to thank everyone who has read and reviewed my story. I really appreciate it, even though there are some parts of the story that I'm still not satisfied with. I know the ending sounds ominous, but that will be explained in my third story, which is still untitled. It might take a while to complete the next one. My life is hectic at the moment, lots of workload…stuff like that :( 

Anyway, thanks, again!

Raven