by Diana Gardin
I fold my arms across my chest. “You know my situation. If Eli ever showed up here, I want to be prepared to cut and run. And I don’t want anyone around here to be able to tell him too much about me. I no longer have my married name, and in Oklahoma my hair was longer and darker. I changed a lot about myself when I moved here, started going by Frannie instead of Francesca. With the exception of meeting Indigo a couple of months ago, becoming close to people isn’t a part of my life in Wilmington. It can’t be. I think it only worked with Indy because she lived right next door, and I sensed the same kind of spirit in her I had inside myself…she was holding something back. We needed one another.”
He holds on to my gaze for a moment too long, turning the inside of my chest to warm honey.
Finally, he nods. “I’m willing to stay here and let you do your thing at work, as long as you check in often. Once an hour at minimum. I gotta know that you’re safe. That means on your twelve-hour shift, I see your pretty face peeking through that door twelve times. Otherwise, I’m coming to look for you.”
His tone, dead serious and full of promise, makes a shiver tiptoe down my spine. I dip my chin in understanding just before scurrying out of the room like my scrubs are on fire.
So far, I’ve checked in with Ryder eight times, and I’m now sitting at the nurses’ station, catching up on paperwork. We had an interstate pile-up come in around lunchtime, and I was bustling around the ER checking on patients and assisting doctors for a few hours. Coffee in hand, I scroll on the computer screen in front of me.
Light foot traffic flows around me as nurses and doctors and the occasional patient float by, but the burn of eyes penetrating my skin causes my fingers to pause in their typing.
Deep sienna eyes meet mine. A chin drops into a hand as a huff escapes impatient lips, and dreadlocks pulled into a ponytail practically tremble with unasked questions.
“Can I help you, Denver?” I bite my lip, trying hard to hide my smile.
Denver Hall, probably the only person other than Indigo I could actually call a friend here in Wilmington, is an X-ray technician here at the hospital. He works day shift too, and stops by to see me regularly when he knows I’m working.
“First of all…” Without moving his face from his chin, Denver gives me one long blink. That blink is so full of attitude I can feel his irritation from across the large nurses’ station.
I swallow.
“…We haven’t gone out for a drink in more than a minute. And second of all, word around the hallways today is that you came in this morning with some tall, delicious drink on your arm. And I haven’t heard shit about it. Where have you been, and who is the man?”
My mouth goes dry. How are people talking about Ryder? I didn’t think more than one or two people even caught sight of him this morning!
I sigh, frowning. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to grab a drink. I’ve had a lot going on…in my personal life lately.”
Denver stands up straight again and arches a brow. His handsome face transforms, expression becoming curious. “For real? The personal life you like to keep tight-lipped about?”
I roll my eyes and wave a hand, my heartbeat picking up. “That’s because it’s always too boring to talk about. Your personal life is much more interesting.”
Denver’s eyes narrow at me as he takes a beat, and then he grins. “You’re right. Okay, we’ll come back to that. What about the man?”
He props a hip on the desk and folds his arms. Tattoos cover the dark chocolate skin of both biceps, partially visible beneath the short sleeves of the light green scrubs he wears. The silver hoop looping through one of his nostrils winks in the fluorescent hallway lighting. “Talk, girl. You know I’ll find out.”
Panic flares, flames of heat licking at my insides, forcing words to leave my mouth before I’ve really thought them through. “My brother’s in town. Um. He’s visiting from where he lives. Yeah, in…Florida?” My voice rises at the end like I’m asking Denver where my brother lives, instead of telling him.
Denver’s dark eyebrows lift nearly to his hairline. “Oh, really? You never told me you had a brother. Well, great. I can’t wait to meet him.”
Panic bubbles faster. “Um, well…he’s pretty shy. I brought him in so he could see the hospital and he’s just sitting in the lounge working while I finish my shift.”
His eyes pop, the whites showing around the dark brown irises. “He stayed? For your entire twelve-hour shift?”
Making a snap decision to get myself out of this situation, I wave my hand and stand from the desk. Grabbing a stack of files, I quirk my lips upward. “Bye, Denver. I have work to do. I’m gonna deliver these files to radiology, and I’ll talk to you later.”
Rushing away from him before he can stop me, I don’t turn around until I’m inside the elevator at the end of the floor. When I glance back toward the nurses’ station desk, Denver is staring at me with a knowing expression. I’m glancing at the smart watch on my wrist just as someone jams their finger into the button in the hallway so the doors remain open.
Ten minutes until I need to check in with Ryder.
A man steps onto the elevator and I scoot back, realizing I haven’t pressed in the fourth floor, where radiology is located.
“Four, please,” I murmur as I scan the names on the folders to make sure I have all the ones I need.
The man dressed in scrubs in front of me presses the button for four and the button for three for himself. The elevator begins to move, and I glance up to watch the glowing numbers change.
Only they don’t change, because the man in front of me stabs his finger on the bright red emergency stop button.
Small details come into focus, strange details that I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. The bright green threads of his scrubs, individualized and separated as I focus on each fiber. The dark scruff dusting the man’s jawline in stark contrast with the lighter complexion of his skin. The squeak of the rubber soles of his sneakers against the tiled elevator floor, grating against my inner eardrum as he turns to face me in what seems like slow motion.
My limbs seize; my fingers tighten around the files in my hands as the blood in my body turns icy and sluggish.
Before my mind forms words to force from my mouth, the man is upon me, shoving me against the elevator’s back wall. His big hand presses against my mouth while his hot, sour breath washes over my face. I’ve never seen him before, not at the hospital or outside of it. His dark brown hair brushes the tops of his shoulders, and bushy eyebrows crawl like caterpillars toward the center of his sun-lined face. He’s relaxed, like he has all the time in the world, but when he speaks there’s nothing jovial in his tone. Nothing but cold, hard menace that sends a shiver running from my hair to my toes.
His voice is low, intimate. “There you are, Francesca.” My breath escapes me all at once, in a whoosh of compressed air. “Eli sends his love. He’ll be along to see you soon, you hear?”
I just stare at him with wide eyes, and when I don’t answer him, there’s a sharp metallic snap and a cold, sickening pressure against the soft skin of my neck.
Against my will, my knees start to tremble and my skin grows cold.
“Did you hear me, Francesca?”
His voice. Jesus, his voice.
Like Eli’s, it holds a note of cruel finality. Like no matter what happens, he’ll get his way. But where Eli’s voice always carried familiarity and a strange sense of warmth—like he knew he was doing what was best for me, even if I didn’t—this man’s is just cold and vile.
I shiver, and I feel the blade slice my skin.
“Careful now, darlin’,” the man chides. “Wouldn’t want to hurt you. Eli loves that pretty face too much. Listen up, because I have a message for you. Are you listening?”
I say nothing, and he digs the blade in a little deeper.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes, dammit! I’m listening.”
“Good girl. Tell that man you’re riding shotgun with not to
touch a hair on your head. Because all those hairs belong to Eli. And he’ll be along to pick you up soon. You got that?”
He moves the knife just enough for me to nod, and then he’s gone. I feel the absence of him just as surely as I felt the heaviness of his bulk surrounding me, and the energy releases from my body all at once.
A noise escapes me, an ugly cry ripping from my throat—a quiet mixture of rage and fear and righteous indignation. But the man is there and gone again, pressing the red emergency button and slipping out of the elevator, the ghost of his weight heavy on my skin like moss clinging to a damp log.
My legs threaten to drop me to my knees right there on the elevator floor, but I force myself to walk. I learned a long time ago that staying in one place is never the answer. Taking shallow breaths, I walk down the hallway, completely forgetting about the files hanging limply in my hands.
It doesn’t surprise me that Eli knows where I am. I already knew that he’d found me. And the fact that he’s sending people after me isn’t a shocker either. That’s why NES is protecting me. That’s why I have Ryder sitting in my hospital waiting room right now…
Oh, shit.
Ryder.
My wrist automatically lifts so I can check the time. I’m one minute late for my check-in. The last thing I want is for that Goliath to storm the halls of this ER, looking for me, causing a scene. Especially after what just happened.
But somehow, the thought of Ryder’s face when I tell him about what just happened in the elevator scares me only slightly less than what actually happened with the man in scrubs. Thorn Ryder’s fiercely protective nature has become perfectly clear in the short time that I’ve known him, and it would take only one incident like this for him to take away something I need in my life right now…the one thing that hasn’t been stolen from me.
My job.
5
RYDER
When my watch buzzes against the skin of my wrist, I don’t even have to check it to know that little Pistol Annie has missed her deadline. My gaze moves to the doorway, expectant. She hasn’t missed the mark all day, and I don’t expect any less now. I lean forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my thighs as I turn my phone over and over again in my hands. My laptop sits on the chair beside me. I finished the work I needed to catch up on an hour ago, and I’ve just been killing time reading on my Kindle app.
The seconds tick by, and as they turn into minutes, the anxiety swirling in my system twines tighter around my chest like a vine twisting around a tree trunk. As the day went on and Frannie continued to check in, the nerves I’d carried into the hospital with me had quieted, but now she’s five minutes late and I’m right back to where I started. I never should have let her out of my sight.
Popping to my feet, I’m heading toward the doorway when she coasts around the corner and skids to a stop ten feet in front of me. He face is two shades paler than her usual tan complexion, her blue eyes full of something that makes me swallow around the emotion rising too quickly in my throat.
Fear.
It’s scrawled across her face like a carefully scripted letter, and I’m quickly crossing the distance between us and placing my hands on her upper arms.
“Frannie? What the hell happened?”
She shakes her head and swallows, and my eyes track the movement to her throat. A trickle of blood snakes in a thin line there, daring to mark the otherwise perfect satin skin, and my thumb brushes the spot in a gentle caress. She lifts her hand, her fingers closing around my wrist.
“I’m fine, Ryder. But…” Her bottom lip disappears into her mouth, and a growl rumbles somewhere deep inside me.
“But what?”
“Eli got to me.”
Faster than she can blink, I push her behind me, drawing my Glock. I face the doorway, edging forward, a liberal litany of curses flying from my mouth. “Where?”
She’s whisper-shouting behind me, slapping her small hands against my back. “No, no! Put that away, Ryder! Jesus Christ. The guy is long gone now. It wasn’t actually Eli. Just some man he sent to scare me.”
I holster my gun but keep my hand on it. “We’re leaving.” My voice is clipped, tone angry. “Right now.”
“My shift’s not over—”
I whip my head around to look back at her, a warning in my eyes and in my tone. “Don’t give a fuck about your shift.”
She snaps her mouth closed and doesn’t say another word, except to throw the excuse of being ill at her supervisor as we hurry out of the building. Her boss makes her promise to call her and let her know how she’s doing, which Frannie swears she’ll do, and then we’re in the parking lot, striding to the car.
Every inch of me is in battle mode; scanning for danger, listening for the sound of approaching threats, making sure that Frannie is as protected as I can get her in a place as wide open as a hospital parking lot in broad daylight. I’m hustling her faster than her much-shorter legs should be able to go, and I practically throw her into the passenger side of the BMW before closing her door.
Once I’m inside, I use the car’s Bluetooth system to call Jacob Owen.
“They found Frannie at the hospital today,” I say by way of greeting when he answers. “She’s not going back there.”
“Like hell I’m not!”
Jacob’s voice thunders through the speakers. “Was it Ward?”
My palm slams down on the steering wheel as I pull out of the parking lot and turn toward the condo. “No. It was someone he sent. Frannie got a look, but he was gone before she even told me about him.”
Jacob’s cool, methodical. “I’ll send Snyder and Foxx to the hospital with someone from the PD and they can get a look at the security footage and talk to the staff. Gather some intel. If we can find him, maybe he’ll lead us to Ward. Meantime, keep Frannie safe and we’ll check in with you later to update you.”
“Sounds good, Boss Man.”
When I end the call, the waves of animosity rippling toward me from the passenger seat can’t be ignored. I glance over at Frannie and throw both hands in the air when I see her expression. Dropping one hand back on the wheel, I explode.
“I’m sorry, Pistol Annie, but did you really think I was gonna let you just waltz back into that place after you were attacked? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?” My voice is raised, and in the small confines of the car it sounds like yelling, but the emotion of what nearly happened today is rising too quickly to the surface.
“What do you think could have happened? Eli wants me alive, do you think I’m a moron? He wants me, not me in a body bag! And that guy wasn’t going to drag me out of a hospital full of people kicking and screaming! I knew that.”
Frannie’s just as pissed, her chest rising and falling with her breaths, anger causing heat to pink her cheeks and strain her neck muscles. Her eyes are wild, her hands splayed out in front of her on the dashboard, fingers tapping an inconsistent rhythm on the leather.
A sign ahead of me reads BEACH ACCESS, and even though it leads away from the condo, I take the road. I don’t think being confined in the enclosed space of our temporary home will be the best thing for either of us right now.
The beach access road isn’t too crowded with cars for this time of year. Unfortunately, it’s also not deserted, which is what I was counting on.
“Where are we going?” She glances out her window, watching as the beach comes into view and the shops become more tourist-oriented.
“Don’t really feel like going home right now. Thought we’d take a walk.”
I pull into a metered spot on the side of the road and tell Frannie to stay in the car while I use the mirrors to check the street and sidewalks around me. There are couples and families walking to and from the ocean, and there’s an ice cream shop and a pizza parlor on the corner in front of us. Behind us, there are houses lining the block.
Knowing my gun is strapped to the holster at my side, I exit the car and walk around to the passenger side.
Still continuously scanning the street beyond.
When I’ve evaluated our surroundings enough to deem it safe for Frannie to get out of the car and walk with me, I open her door and she climbs out.
Leaving the sidewalk and entering a side street that leads to the beach, we shuck our shoes off at the entrance to the sand and continue without them. There are other people around, walking like we are or still stretched out on the sand as the last fading rays disappear into the horizon.
We walk, the sound of the ocean breaking against the shore setting a comforting rhythm to our silent steps melting into the sand. The anger that’s been radiating within me since I first saw her hurt and scared back at the hospital has finally started to dissipate.
My voice is calm when I finally speak. “Tell me something, Frannie.”
She glances over at me, those big blue eyes finding mine. There’s so much hiding behind her gaze. Staring into those eyes sends a stab of fear piercing straight through me, because they remind me so much of another pair of eyes that hid secrets from me long ago.
Echo.
Internally, I jerk back like I’ve been punched. I think about my sister every single day, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been reminded of her in this way. Her eyes were green, not blue like Frannie’s, but they hid her secrets in the same shuttered way.
Frannie’s tone is cautious. “What?”
I take a breath to steady myself, though inside, I’m reeling. “Tell me why you’d be willing to risk your life for a job. Nursing jobs are a dime a dozen, right? If you don’t go back to this one, you can find another one. And that’s worst-case scenario. Why would you risk him getting to you at work?”
I need to understand why she’d put herself in danger this way. It doesn’t make sense to me, and I need things to make sense. If I’m going to protect her, she has to meet me halfway. She stops walking, as if her legs are no longer willing to move. When I catch sight of the tortured expression on her face, my chest constricts, my breath catching in my throat. Frannie’s head drops as those slender hands rise to cover her face.