Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I’ll take care of myself.”
The curtain pulled back again and Dr. Bluff reentered. “All right, here’s the prescription. It’s just a little Tylenol with codeine to help her sleep. Take as needed. She should expect to feel pretty sore for the next couple of days.”
As he went to give the slip to the man, there was another exchange in that language she couldn’t translate—and then the man who’d been sitting with her frowned and leaned forward in the plastic chair. With a shake of the head, the doctor put his hands out as if he were insisting—after which Anne’s mystery man got to his feet and offered his palm. As they shook, that slip changed possession.
“You take care,” Dr. Bluff said to her. “You’re going to be just fine.”
Gritting her teeth, Anne didn’t respond to the doctor leaving, even though that was rude. What did it matter, though. He wasn’t going to get a pater familias personality transplant just because she wasn’t polite to him, and she needed to save her energy for part II of this nightmare.
“I’ll just wait outside for you,” the man told her. “While you change.”
“Fine.” God, she was tired. “I mean, thanks.”
Except instead of leaving, the man came over to the bed. “I’m serious about getting your stuff back. I’ll take care of it.”
She looked up at him, measuring those powerful shoulders. Those strong arms. Meanwhile, the sounds of the emergency room were a helluva soundtrack, the urgent footfalls, whispered exchanges—and quiet weeping across the aisle—like a destiny foreshadowed. Waiting for her like a stalker who’d been denied this night, but was coming back for her on another.
And meanwhile, vengeance was standing right in front of her, at her beck and call.
Anne focused on his eyes, which had gone midnight in color. “It must be nice to be able to… handle things.”
“Just say the word.”
Her heart skipped a beat. God, she really wanted to let him loose. Like he was a bullet from a gun or a dog from its handler. But violence never solved anything, and more to the point, she wasn’t looking to become an accessory to murder.
Because that was what the man was offering her: Some things didn’t need words.
Yet she still was not afraid of him.
Anne took a deep breath—or tried to. When a band of pain took the place of her rib cage, she coughed out, “I thought once you knew I was okay medically we were done.”
“I only want to see this through.”
As images of gravesites flashed before her eyes, she plugged back into reality and shook her head. “I told you before, I’m not your problem. Besides, don’t you have a car to take care of? It was a nice one, if I remember. The last thing I have a clear memory of is the BMW hood ornament. Well, that and the sound of it crashing into something.”
“I can get another sedan. There isn’t going to be another you.”
When there was a beat of silence, he tilted his head—and made her think of a German shepherd: big, fierce… and endearing.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“Do you want me to be honest?”
“Always.”
“I can’t decide whether you’re a savior… or a case of out of the frying pan, into the fire.” Pushing the blankets off, she shuffled her legs over the side of the hospital bed and looked down. “I think I lost a shoe, didn’t I. I seem to recall that all of a sudden.”
“I didn’t have time to look for it. I’m sorry.”
She stared at her bare feet for a moment. Then glanced over to the chair next to the one he’d been in. When she’d changed into the hospital johnny, she’d folded her clothes and put them on the orange plastic seat. The lone surviving L.L. Bean penny loafer seemed like a commentary on not just the last couple of hours, but her life as a whole.
“I really liked those shoes, too.”
“I’ll find it for you.”
Flexing her feet, she felt a tightness in her right calf, as well as an ache in her hip and some numbness in her knee. It was a good thing, she decided, getting those X-rays, even if the doctor had been patronizing.
“I’ll get dressed now,” she said.
“I’ll be waiting for you just outside.”
Anne watched as the draping swung back into place behind him, and the way the heavy fabric undulated made her think of a flag in a lazy wind. And then as she looked at her clothes again, the sounds and smells around her returned, like the knob on the hospital had been turned back up: The hushed crying across the way was still ongoing.
A spear of fear went through her. Things could have ended very differently in her case—except no one would have been crying for her. In fact, she had to wonder who would have claimed her body. She had a couple of cousins in Vermont. Maybe they’d have taken care of things?