by Dana Marton
Cole tossed the empty cup into the garbage and swore under his breath, because, of course, the whole time he had an image of Annie in his head.
Annie Murray was the woman he wanted.
He’d barely stopped himself from hauling her out of the hospital bed and into his arms. He wanted to pick her up and carry her off to someplace safe.
This is a hospital. She’s safe here.
Trouble was he didn’t want to trust her to others. He wanted to keep her safe. He wanted to take care of her.
Seeing Annie hurt brought out two visceral responses in him: the overwhelming need to hunt down and kill whoever had hurt her, and the need to celebrate the fact that she was alive. In his head, the images of that celebration looked a lot like passionate lovemaking.
Except, he couldn’t kill the guy who’d hurt her, even if the cops caught the bastard. Beating someone to death would be a one-way ticket to prison, and Cole would die before he’d be locked in a cell again. Also, Annie wouldn’t want violence.
Making love to her . . . He suddenly wanted that more than he wanted his next breath.
Cole headed out of the waiting room, back to her, reaching Kelly outside the green curtain just as the doctor was leaving. The little man didn’t look grim, nor did he shout orders for CAT scans and emergency surgeries, but still Cole couldn’t relax.
He should have let Kelly go in first, give the cousins a few minutes alone, but he stepped through the curtains right behind the woman. Annie could send him away if she wanted.
“I have a bruised rib and a mild concussion,” she said instead, with a smile as if sharing good news. “I’m being released.”
Fine, that last part worked.
Kelly stepped up to the bed to squeeze Annie’s hand. “You can come home with me. I brought you clean clothes, in case you needed some. Comfortable, in case you’re sore. Sweatshirt, sweatpants.”
Cole stepped forward. “I’ll take you back to Hope Hill.”
Kelly shot him an annoyed look that asked why he was even there.
“You have to work tomorrow,” Annie told her. “Hope Hill will be fine. Half the staff there has one kind of medical training or another. If anything comes up, help will be at hand.”
Some of Cole’s tension relaxed.
Kelly wasn’t as happy. “Are you sure? Having you over would be no trouble. I swear. I can take time off from work.”
“I have a bunch of my stuff at Hope Hill already. Maybe the hot tub will help me get rid of some of the aching.”
Kelly hesitated, but after a moment, she nodded. “I’m going to call you and check on you in between each showing. I only have half a dozen appointments scheduled.”
“You’ll have to let me know if you have any weird clients.” Annie made a valiant attempt to grin, but as she shifted on the bed, the grin turned into a grimace that said she was hurting. She pushed the covers back anyway as she looked at Kelly. “Could you please help me get dressed? I’m ready to get out of here.”
Cole took that as his cue to step outside again.
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the car. Since Annie sat in the passenger seat, the seat belt touched her neck on the right side. The strap didn’t rub the abrasion on her left that had turned yellow once a nurse swabbed the wound with iodine.
Cole put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it. Instead, he looked over at her, the bright parking-lot lights illuminating her face through the windshield. “Are you hurt more than you let on?”
“Sore.” She sighed. “How did you know I had an accident?”
“I was with Finnegan when his radio went off. He hasn’t discovered anything new in your case, so he’s circling back. He had more questions about how the two of us became such close friends so fast. He wanted to know why am I going to midnight feedings with you. He tried to pin down whether I’m obsessed with you in a stalkerish, want-to-put-you-in-the-trunk-of-my-car kind of way.”
“You don’t have a trunk. You drive a pickup.”
“Exactly what I told him.”
“I should text him to let him know I’m heading to Hope Hill.” She dug through her purse, then pecked out a message. “He was going to come to the hospital after he finished recording the scene of the accident.”
“Care to tell me what happened?” Cole’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
She gave a tired nod, then began with leaving her house. By the time she was finished with the story, the plastic was creaking from the pressure of Cole’s grip.
She finished with, “It wasn’t an accident.”
The war drum started up inside him again, but all he said was, “You know you can call me at any time, right? Day or night.”
She watched him, her gaze growing even more troubled. “I appreciate that, Cole. But—” She glanced away, then back. “I probably shouldn’t even have accepted this ride. I should have had Kelly drive me.”
If she had, Cole would have followed right behind them. He couldn’t leave her unprotected. Yet he was aware that Annie hadn’t asked him for protection.
“I’m worried that you’re about to tell me to get lost.” He made a point to relax his hands on the steering wheel, ease his shoulders and his tight expression, so he wouldn’t look like a maniac. “I need to make sure that you’re all right. OK? Until Finnegan catches the guy.” He stared straight through the windshield as he asked, but then stole a glance at her to catch her answer.
“Why?”
“I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. You’re like one of those mythical woodland creatures that protect the forest. I feel like if anything happened to you, something important would be lost from the world.”
“A mythical woodland creature? Like an elf?” She huffed out what he knew had to be a laugh because the corners of her mouth turned up before her lips slightly parted, and her eyes crinkled. “I think elves are lanky and willowy. Definitely taller and skinnier than me. Also, pointy-eared.”
“A shorter nature-related mythical creature, then, with round ears.”
“A gnome? Are you seriously calling me a garden gnome right now?” Her eyes crinkled again.
A rare sense of contentment filled him. Air rushed into his lungs, as if he’d just come up from a deep dive.
He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. She closed her eyes, and he let her rest. The night landscape flew by them, endless fields. Little more than farms lay between West Chester and Broslin.
When they reached Hope Hill, he parked as close to the entrance as possible. “Stay put. I’ll come around.”
He opened her door and lifted her out of the pickup. “Put your arms around my neck, and hold on. I’m going to carry you to your room, and since I only have one good arm, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fight me on this. I don’t want to drop you.”
Before she could object, he added, “This is me helping you, because right now you need help. Like I acknowledged that I needed help and let you help me with the tree meditation back in the deer blind.”
“I don’t remember you ever acknowledging that you needed help.”
“It was there. You had to read between the lines.”
“Those lines must have been in small print.”
“Be that as it may, this is me helping.”
“This is me not protesting,” she said as he began walking toward the building.
She was too tall to weigh nothing, but he had no trouble carrying her. He’d carried gear twice her weight, hour after hour, over rough terrain. Sometimes under enemy fire.
At her door, he set her down, but he kept an arm around her waist, holding her close to him. And then he let all good sense leave him and went with impulse. “This is me kissing you.”
He paused a beat to give her time to say no.
She blinked at him, her eyes going wide. But she didn’t move.
He dipped his head. Just a kiss. He was the wrong guy for her, he got that. But he needed to feel her lips under his right now, needed
to feel her alive and well after the scare she’d given him.
One kiss and then he would give her up. He was disciplined enough to do it.
Heat gathered where their lips met, slow and heavy heat that settled into his entire body. The need to pull her to him full-length and grind his hardness against her soft places was nearly irresistible. He dropped his hands from her hips to stop himself.
Not going to happen.
Just one kiss.
Harper Finnegan’s arrival helped Cole keep to that limit. Cole didn’t hear the guy walk up behind him, but Annie’s eyes suddenly flew open, and she jumped back, flushing crimson. Finnegan must have made some noise, scuffed a foot or cleared his throat.
By the time Cole turned around, the detective had his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, an amused expression on his face. “Good to see you doing well, Annie.”
She blushed deeper.
“Let’s have a chat,” the detective told her.
She opened her door. Was that a slight tremble in her hand? Cole’s whole heart trembled.
“Come in, Harper,” she said.
“Mild concussion,” Cole spoke up, not missing that the invitation hadn’t been extended to him. “She probably shouldn’t sleep.”
Then he nodded at the detective and strode away.
Even if the sight of another man walking into Annie’s room just about killed him.
Chapter Eighteen
HARPER SAT ON the only chair in the room, while Annie sat on the bed, doing her best to lock Cole’s kiss in the farthest corner of her mind. Later, she would take it out, look at it, think about it, yell at herself for allowing it, but she couldn’t do that right now.
“I want you to know that I’m not taking the attack lightly,” Harper was saying. “If we had a better budget, I would ask for around-the-clock protection. But even if I did, it’s almost never approved after a single attempt.”
Annie kept upright with effort. She was exhausted and hurt—not just physically, but emotionally. She hadn’t been aware that anyone hated her, let alone hated her enough to want to kill her. When Harper asked her if she had any suspicion who might be doing this, she told him just that.
“With my fence hit and the gate left open, I thought it might be Joey,” she said. “Maybe he’s thinking if he scares me, I’ll be too frightened to stay alone at night, and I’ll ask him over, give him a chance to win me back. But I don’t think he would hurt me.”
“He’s not an angel, but he’s more of the drunken-brawl type when he’s hunting for trouble.” Harper tapped his pen on the notepad he held. “I’ll track him down and see where he’s been for the last couple of hours. He drives a pickup. Are you sure the car you saw wasn’t a truck?
“Yes.” A sudden thought squeezed her heart. “His mother has a dark-blue SUV.”
“I think you’re right. She usually parks it in the driveway, so that’ll be easy enough to check without a warrant.” Harper paused a beat. “Anybody else?”
She shook her head, then regretted even the slight motion. Her head was beginning to hurt again.
“How about here at Hope Hill?” Harper asked. “An angry patient? Some people with PTSD can become violent.”
She had two dozen patients. She considered them, one by one. Yes, some were depressed, some had anger-management issues, some had anxiety. But she could not classify any of them as a danger to others. If she did, she would have reported it to Dan already. Hope Hill was a rehab center, but not for severe psychological cases that required a locked psych ward and a lot more supervision than they had here.
“I don’t think it’s a patient.”
Harper paged back in his notebook. “Every page of this investigation has Cole Makani Hunter’s name on it. I’m not a big believer in coincidence.” He asked his next question in a careful tone. “I saw that kiss. How involved are you two?”
“Not at all.” She jumped up. Her head pounded. She sank back onto the mattress again. “What you saw was a mistake. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. I was shaken up, and Cole was . . . feeling protective, and . . . I should have stopped him. There’s not going to be a next time. I swear.”
Harper’s skeptical gaze said he didn’t entirely believe her. “Just because you don’t think you’re in a relationship doesn’t mean he’s on the same page. Maybe he’s the one who wants to scare you so you go to him to feel safe.” He tapped his notebook again. “Usually, when the same guy’s name comes up over and over in an investigation, it means something.”
“It’s not him.”
“He didn’t run you off the road. I’ll agree on that. I was with him when the call came in. But he could be behind the incidents at your house.”
They went around on that point for another few minutes. Then Harper had her tell him everything about the accident all over again, starting with when she’d first noticed the SUV behind her.
She finished with, “I wish I could remember something helpful.”
Harper stood to leave. “Call me if you remember anything new at all.”
He tore a sheet from his notepad and scribbled a phone number on it. “That’s my private number. If you feel that you’re in danger, you call 911 first, then you call me immediately after.”
On his way out, Harper stopped by the door. “You gonna be OK? I could stick around for a while. My shift is almost over. I doubt I’ll get another call tonight.”
“I’m good. I’m just going to watch TV. Thanks anyway.” She walked over, and when he left, she locked the door behind him.
She was barely halfway to her bed when someone knocked. Did Harper forget something? She opened the door.
Cole stood outside. He looked tired and rumpled, and like the man she wanted to kiss again. She swallowed a groan. That’d better be the painkiller talking.
His gaze sharpened, his forehead furrowed into a deep scowl. “What are you doing opening the door without asking who it is first?”
“Don’t yell at me.” She let him in. “I have a headache.”
“I wasn’t yelling.”
“You were talking sternly.”
The corner of his mouth did that almost-twitch.
Don’t think about the kiss. He’s only looking at your mouth to read your lips.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“People who have a concussion aren’t supposed to stay alone.”
“Mild concussion.”
His expression said he wasn’t impressed by her nitpicking.
She didn’t have it in her to argue with him. “You can stay half an hour, if it makes you feel better. You don’t need to stay all night.”
“I won’t. At midnight, I’ll go feed your small herd of skunks. I figure you can handle an hour alone. As long as you promise not to lie down and fall asleep.”
She couldn’t say no to his offer to take the midnight feeding. She hadn’t asked Kelly because her cousin had made it clear in the past that she was not going anywhere near the skunks. The skunklets wouldn’t starve in a single night; they’d be just extra hungry by morning. But if they didn’t have to go hungry, Annie would definitely prefer that.
The fact that Cole thought of her skunks had to go into the same vault where his two kisses were locked away—things she’d think about later. “Thank you.”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “No big deal. Unless I get sprayed. If the little stinkers spray me, you’re going to owe me for the rest of your life. Just so we’re clear.”
“You ever need a kidney, I’ll hand one right over.”
He smiled.
She wanted to step into his arms and lay her head on his chest. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She glanced at the bedside clock that showed past eleven o’clock. She gestured him to the chair and went to sit on the bed as she had with Harper. Except Cole took up a lot more room, both physically and emotionally. She was aware of him as she hadn’t been aware of the detective.
She cleared her throat. “Now wha
t?”
He pulled a deck of cards from his pocket. “We’ll play strip poker.”
She had to work on not laughing. “I don’t think so.”
“Fine. Regular poker.” He murmured something under his breath about people who had no sense of adventure, then shuffled the deck and dealt. “Did you like Broslin when you were a kid?”
She looked at her cards and practiced her best poker face. “I always liked the woods. Always liked nature and animals. I grew up on my grandparents’ farm. When my grandmother was still alive, they grew soybeans and raised goats. My grandmother made goat cheese and soap from goat milk.”
“I don’t think they have goats in Chicago,” Cole said. “Not the part where I lived. And in my neighborhood, people mostly went to the park to buy drugs.”
She thought about that as she played her cards. “That could be a problem. You didn’t grow up with the idea of nature as a good place.”
“I saw plenty of nature in the service.”
She considered that for a few seconds. “Yes, but when you were in some desert or on an Afghan hillside, you were there expecting to kill or to be killed.”
The very thing that had been a source of peace and nourishment for her, had been a place of deadly danger for him. Her heart cracked.
“I don’t mind walking through the woods with you,” he said. Then he added, “You should take another couple of days off from work.”
“It’s not like my work is difficult. The woods are my healing place. I’ll just walk through slower than usual. Helping others will stop me from thinking about my own problems all day.”
“But no more sessions with me?”
“No. Sorry.” Definitely not after that second kiss. She cleared her throat. “We can go for walks as friends.”
His eyes said he had some very definite opinions on friends. He didn’t voice them. Maybe he didn’t think she could handle it.
He was right about that.
He glanced at the clock, put his cards on the small desk facedown, then stood and fixed her with a stern look. “Don’t look at my cards while I’m gone. If you do, I’ll know it.”