“No! Let me out! Help! Please, let me out.” Alessandra’s screams pierced through the glass. She writhed on the table, fighting against the restraints that had been placed on her. “Please, somebody . . .” she sobbed, “please let me out.”
“Shut it off!” Josh yelled at the tech. “Get her the hell out of there.” He rushed into the room and frantically unstrapped her from the table. “Alessandra, it’s okay,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice, one that masked his own terror. “Alessandra, my name is Dr. Parker. You’re at Metro General Hospital. It’s okay. You’re okay,” he babbled as he removed the last strap holding her in place.
She bolted upright and grabbed the edge of the table for support, her body swaying, and her head lowering. “I’m claustrophobic,” she whispered.
Josh noticed the way her voice wavered, and her entire body trembled with fear. Getting an MRI was difficult for most people. It was impossible for people suffering from claustrophobia. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’ve been unconscious for over twelve hours. I ordered the test to make sure you hadn’t suffered any brain trauma. I was worried.” Okay, that sounded a lot more personal than it should have.
“What happened?” She slowly lifted her head and met his gaze.
What he saw nearly brought him to his knees. Her eyes . . . they were big, brown, and innocent, yet clouded with pain and uncertainty. They looked exactly like Laura’s eyes had the last time he’d looked into them. It was unsettling. “I was hoping you could tell me, Alessandra.” He had no idea how much she remembered, but he didn’t want to say anything to upset her any more than she already was.
“Alessa,” she mumbled, looking away from him. “My name is Alessa.”
“Okay, Alessa.” He licked his lips and glanced toward the glass window where the tech sat, watching and listening. “I’m going to take you back up to your room so we can talk, okay?”
She nodded.
Josh left the room and peeked his head into where the tech sat. “Could you call for a wheelchair, please?”
“Why don’t you just wheel her back up in her bed?” the tech said, seemingly bored with the entire situation and his job in general.
“Just do it.” Josh went back to Alessa and gave her a comforting smile as he entered the room. “You’re bleeding,” he said, pointing to his forehead. He gently pulled back the blood-stained bandage and checked her wound. “Looks like you pulled out a couple of stitches.” No doubt a result of her thrashing while in the MRI machine. He replaced the bandage, and then a hospital volunteer arrived with a wheelchair.
Alessa tried to hop off the table, and Josh instinctively reached out to help her. His hold on her arm tightened as she took a step toward the wheelchair. Images of her collapsing on the floor filled his mind as an unfamiliar tingle raced up his arm and exploded in his chest. It took all of his effort not to stumble back a few steps. Good grief, what was wrong with him?
“Thank you,” she said once she was safely seated in the chair.
Josh smiled. “I’m going to let this gentleman take you back up to your room and I’ll . . .”
“No!” She grabbed at Josh’s arm. “I want you to take me. Please.”
The fear in her voice was palpable, and his heart clenched. It was suddenly difficult to breathe. Who or what was she so afraid of? And why didn’t she seem to be afraid of him? “Okay, I’ll take you then.” He thanked the volunteer, and then escorted Alessa up to her room on the fourth floor. Once there, he helped her into a new bed that had been brought in. “Comfortable?” he asked.
“As much as I can be considering I’m in the hospital,” she said with a hint of humor.
He laughed. “Good point. Okay, I need to go get some supplies to fix your stitches. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Josh left the room and went to the supply closet down the hall. Before he made it back to Alessa’s room, he was stopped by Dr. David Rhoades.
“Hey, Josh, what’re you doing here? I thought you were on nights this weekend?” Dr. Rhoades said.
“I am. The medics brought in a woman last night. Beaten, unconscious, and left for dead. I think she’s suffering from some memory loss. She just woke up,” he said.
David eyed him suspiciously. “You couldn’t let someone else take care of that? You’re not overdoing it, are you?”
Josh sighed with frustration. “No, of course not. I was worried maybe I’d missed something so I wanted to be present this morning during her MRI. That’s it.”
“How about lunch today? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”
“Yeah, okay, sure. I’ll try to meet you at the deli.” Josh stepped around David and continued on to Alessa’s room. Dr. Rhoades was Josh’s mentor and best friend. Normally, Josh looked forward to the time they spent together, but he had a sinking feeling having lunch with him today was going to be more of a lecture than a friendly gathering. Well, he’d deal with that when the time came. Right now, he had to re-stitch Alessa’s forehead.
When he entered her room, she was sitting up in bed, staring out the window. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. She turned and looked at him, her eyes igniting a fire in his chest that threatened to consume him. He breathed through it, the pressure lessening with each evenly paced inhale and exhale. He forced himself to recognize the scent of antiseptic, to hear the quiet beeping of the monitor, to see the drab colored walls. Each was a reminder of his only role in her life. He spoke evenly, “I’m going to clean the laceration, and then I’m going to re-stitch the one corner, okay?”
She smiled, and he stilled. Even with a cut, swollen lip and a face marred with bruises, she had a smile that did strange things to his heart—like remind him that it was there. “Is it going to hurt?” she asked.
Josh pulled a chair to her bedside and sat. Then he lowered her bed to a position that made it easy for him to reach her. “I’ll numb the area first, so you shouldn’t feel much of anything.”
Alessa sighed and closed her eyes as Josh went to work cleaning the wound. He kept letting his gaze lower to her face and lips, watching and waiting for any indication he was hurting her, but none came. His mind raced with thoughts about her, about what happened to her, about who could have done something so horrible to her, about who she was, and why he was having such strong reactions toward her, reactions that made absolutely no sense in his mind.
“All done.” He raised her bed into an upright position.
She reached up and lightly touched her bandage. “Thanks. I didn’t feel a thing.”
“Good.” He smiled. “So, is there anyone you’d like us to call for you? Parents? Siblings? A husband?” His throat went dry as that last word left his mouth. He really hoped she didn’t have a husband.
“No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head, confused.
“You don’t think so?” He cocked his head to the side and studied her.
“No. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t remember much of anything really.”
Josh sighed. He was afraid of that. “What do you remember?”
She shrugged. “Walking to the bus station, hearing someone behind me, and then waking up in that metal tomb downstairs.”
“Metal tomb?” He raised a brow and tried to hide his smile. Now was not the time for jokes, but the way she said that . . . it was funny. It was time to get serious, though. “The EMTs found some personal items on you. They’re in the chair over there.” He nodded to the corner. “Maybe taking a look at them will trigger a memory. The police were here last night, too, asking to speak to you.”
The look of fear returned to her eyes. “I don’t remember anything. I can’t talk to them. I don’t know anything.”
Without thinking about it, he reached over and put his hand on hers. The contact once again had an odd effect on him. “Tell them exactly what you just told me. It’s not uncommon for victims of brutal crimes to repress the memories of the attack. Add a head trauma to that and it’s no wonder you’re having trouble remembering what h
appened.”
“It’s not just the attack. It’s everything. I know my name is Alessa Mathews, and I don’t have any family. But that’s all I know. And I’m not even sure how I know that.”
Josh stood and retrieved her personal belongings from the chair in the corner. He handed them to her and smiled. “When you’re ready, take a look.”
“Thank you.” The way she quirked her lips to the side made him smile, and he knew he was in serious trouble.
“My shift is over, but I’ll be back in later tonight. In the meantime, Dr. Asher will be here if you need anything. He’s great. You’ll like him.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes, I have to. I’ve been here almost eighteen hours.” He laughed, and then yawned.
Alessa looked away from him, but not before he saw that same fearful look on her face. “I don’t want another doctor. I want you,” she said so quietly he almost hadn’t heard her.
Those three little words: I want you. She didn’t mean them in the way he’d taken them, but it still caused an odd sensation to course through his veins. “Here,” he grabbed the notepad and pen from the bedside table and scrawled his cell phone number on it, “this is my personal number.” He tore the paper from the pad and handed it to her. “You can reach me here all day. Call anytime, for any reason, okay?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. What he’d just done was so unprofessional. He knew better. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything other than making sure she felt safe.
She took the paper from his hand and smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Parker.”
“It’s Josh,” he said, and then mentally slapped himself for saying that, too. If he didn’t get out of her room, out of this hospital, he was going to end up professing his love and asking her to move in with him. “Get some rest, okay?”
“I will.”
With a nod, he forced his body out of the room. Each step he took away from her became harder and harder to take. Maybe he needed an intervention from himself. Going home to sleep was the sensible thing to do, but he needed an outlet for the restlessness crawling over him, something to take his mind off of Alessa and the hospital. It had been a while since he’d gone for a good, hard run, and he’d probably regret it in the morning, but there were worse things he could do to get a woman out of his head.
CHAPTER FOUR
Alessa fumbled with the plastic bag that held her personal belongings. Her life had been reduced to a handful of items that held no meaning to her. How pathetic. Mouth set, she pulled open the bag and peered in, removing one item at a time. A wallet. She opened it. A driver’s license with her name: Alessandra P. Mathews. There was no address though, just a post office box. “Of course. Why would I ever need to know where I lived?” she mumbled.
No pictures, which she thought was odd. What kind of woman didn’t carry pictures in their wallet? “A woman who has no family, no husband, no kids, no one who cares about her.” There were no credit cards, either, just ten dollars in cash. “I’m not just a loser, I’m broke, too. Perfect.” She closed the wallet and tossed it to the foot of the bed.
Further down in the bag was a compact with a mirror and tube of lipstick. It was blood red. Alessa cringed. “What am I? A streetwalker?” She paused, and then shrugged. Maybe it was her pimp who beat her and left her for dead. Who else would do that to her? And why?
No, she didn’t feel like a prostitute. Surely she would feel something—dirty, loose, or ashamed—something.
“This is useless.” Alessa dropped the bag to the floor and averted her gaze out the window. She had a feeling her attack wasn’t random, that it was done by someone she knew. If she were involved with people who would beat a woman to near death; then she really wasn’t in a rush to get back to them. Maybe losing her memory was a blessing.
Then, all at once, she was bombarded with a ton of disturbing thoughts. Whoever did this to her, would they come looking for her? Would they try to finish what they’d started? Where was she going to go once she left the hospital? She had no idea where she lived. How would she support herself? Did she have a job? A bank account? Savings? How would she pay for this hospital stay?
She swallowed hard, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling. There was no use in trying to hide them. It’s not like anyone was around to see her anyway. But she wished Dr. Parker was here. Josh. His name brought a smile to her face. There was something about that man she found comforting. He had a calm voice and confident hands. The way he touched her—it was soft and reassuring, as if he’d known exactly what she needed.
A knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. “Yeah,” she called and wiped her tears, wincing as she did. Her face hurt.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Mathews. How’re you feeling?” A nurse walked in carrying a plastic cup with pills in it. Her badge read Connie Mills, RN.
“Sore.”
“That’s to be expected. I’m Connie, the nurse on duty until six when Renee comes in. She was here last night when you were admitted.”
The name sounded familiar. Alessa closed her eyes briefly, and she could hear a man’s voice, Josh’s voice, calling to Renee, giving her instructions to follow him.
“It’s time for your pain medication.” Connie handed Alessa the cup of pills.
Alessa eyed them. “What are these?”
“Tylenol with codeine. Dr. Parker prescribed them to help with the pain.” Connie poured a glass of water and handed it to Alessa. “Come on.” She nudged the cup closer to Alessa.
She cowered in the corner, the cold, hard tile of the floor biting into her bare flesh.
“Open that trouble making mouth of yours and swallow the pills, you filthy excuse for a woman!” The back of his hand cracked across her cheek.
“No.” She shook her head, but it was no use. He grabbed her face and squeezed. She cried out in pain, and he shoved the pills into her mouth.
“I told you to take the pills. When will you learn to obey me?”
A sharp pain pierced behind her eyes. She dropped her head into her hands and leaned forward. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the excruciating pain would subside soon.
“Ms. Mathews, are you all right?” Connie gently rubbed Alessa’s back.
Alessa straightened. Tears fell rapidly as she reached for the cup and tossed the pills into her mouth, washing them down with a mouthful of water. “Yeah, just coming down with a headache,” she lied.
“Do you have a history of headaches? Migraines?” Connie grabbed the clipboard hanging at the foot of the bed and jotted down some notes.
“I don’t think so. I don’t know.” She sighed with frustration. “I mean, I don’t remember.”
Connie smiled warmly. “It’s okay.” She hung the clipboard back to the bed, and then took all of Alessa’s vitals. “Is there anything else you’d like? More water? A magazine, maybe?”
“No, thank you.” When Connie left the room, Alessa settled down into the bed, pulled the sheet up to her chin, and closed her eyes. The urge to call Josh was all consuming, but she didn’t want to seem too needy. The pain medication, coupled with the exhaustion of worrying, started to take effect, and she succumbed to sleep.
* * * *
The feel of something, a hand, fingers maybe, squeezing her arm to the point of losing circulation woke her. She screamed, tearing and grasping at the thing on her arm. “Stop, please stop!”
“Hey, easy, Alessa, it’s me, Dr. Parker.”
She forced her eyes to focus on him. The sound of Velcro being unfastened registered in her mind—the blood pressure cuff. Relaxing, she smiled apologetically at Josh. “Sorry. You startled me.”
His smile was filled with understanding and compassion. It calmed her immediately. On the other side of her, Connie finished taking her vitals, and then quietly left the room.
“How’re you feeling?” Josh pulled up a chair and sat.
“A little better now that I’ve slept.” She yawned. “What time is
it anyway?”
“Almost one in the afternoon.”
“I thought you weren’t coming back in until later this evening.”
He smiled again, and she was caught by the way his lips curved so softly, genuinely. Josh was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, which in the grand scheme of things probably wasn’t the best compliment. Seriously, she couldn’t remember anything or anyone. For all she knew, she could have dated someone better looking than him. Yeah, she doubted that. Still, Josh was easy to look at. He had inviting, stormy gray eyes; dark brown hair that curled around behind his ears; and two of the cutest dimples ever.
“I’m meeting a colleague for a late lunch,” he explained. “I thought I’d come up and check on you, see how you were doing.”
“Thanks. I’ll admit it’s lonely being here, not knowing anyone or anything.”
Josh looked momentarily pained by her words, but quickly recovered. “You still don’t remember anything?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I looked through my stuff, but it didn’t help.”
He reached over and patted her on the shoulder. “These things can take time.”
“Yeah, I know.” Alessa looked down to where her hands rested in her lap. She liked it when Josh touched her. Even if it was just a friendly gesture, it was nice to know he cared. “I’ll be glad to get out of here though.”
“Well, providing you have another good night, I don’t see any reason why you can’t be released to go home tomorrow.”
She frowned, but then quickly masked it. Released to go home . . . too bad for her, she didn’t have a home to go to. Honestly, she’d hoped for another night or two so she could figure out what she was going to do and where she was going to go.
Dangerous Love Page 2