by Rita Herron
She couldn’t fight it.
After the pain, the darkness, there had to be a light. Peace. Freedom. She ached to find it.
“Pulse is weak and thready, she’s not breathing! We’re losing her!”
Voices echoed through the haze. Distant, far away. The droning of other noises interceded. A wailing sound like a siren. Then she was moving again, plowing through the water. Thick weeds and underbrush battered her body and gouged her skin like talons. Something hard slammed against her chest, and she bucked upward. A puff of air sifted through the concentrated quicksand, exploding into her mouth and lungs.
“Fight it, Melissa, fight it.”
Fingers yanked at her, trying to pull her back through the murkiness, but a whirlwind sucked her the other way. “Come on, breathe, damn it!”
A coldness settled around her, chilling her to the bone. Numbness slowly seeped through her, obliterating the pain. She was floating. She welcomed the lifeless sensation, wanted to escape the suffocating darkness where she was all alone.
“Don’t you dare give up, Melissa,” the voice whispered. “You’re not alone. Do you hear me, you’re not alone. I’m here.”
But she was alone. The floating felt so peaceful….
“Melissa, I care about you, please, don’t give up. Come back to me.”
She began to spin in circles, weaving through the darkness, around and around. The pain was back, pricking at her skin, the air thick with death, the light…
“I’m here, Melissa, hold my hand and fight.” Her hand moved upward, pressed against something coarse, damp. A face, tears.
Eric. He was calling her name, dragging her from the well of darkness.
“I need you, Melissa. I’ve never said that to anyone but my brother, but I need you. Please don’t leave me here alone.”
The pain receded, faded to a dull droning ache. Light burst through the gray. A soft halo of someone’s face.
Eric’s.
She wiggled her fingers in an attempt to squeeze his hand, but she was so weak, she didn’t know if he could feel it.
ERIC CRADLED MELISSA’S hand in his, pressing it against his cheek. He lowered his head, emotions battling to the surface. He couldn’t lose her. A flutter of her fingers, and he jerked his head up.
“She’s breathing on her own again,” the paramedic said.
Relief surged through him.
He stroked her cheek. “Melissa, hang in there, you hear me. You’re strong, you’re going to be all right.”
Her squeeze felt stronger this time, and he finally released the breath he’d been holding. The ambulance barreled into the hospital parking lot, and the paramedics catapulted into motion, barking details of her condition to the doctors and nurses waiting to greet them.
The second paramedic helped Eric from the ambulance. His legs felt unsteady as the man assisted him in, and brought him a wheelchair. Now his adrenaline surge had petered off, the familiar ache of his injuries had returned.
But at least he had been able to save Melissa.
They rushed her into the E.R., and he wheeled into the waiting room, for the first time since his accident, craving the sweet relief of nicotine.
He felt so damn helpless.
Black and Fox were investigating Melissa’s cabin for evidence and the doctors were taking care of Melissa. What the hell could he do but wait?
The familiar scents of the hospital bombarded him, reminding him of his long stint in the burn ward. Cain must have been out of his mind when he’d thought Eric had died in the explosion. His brother had thrown himself into saving Alanna and Simon as a favor to Eric, but thankfully, Cain had found love in the process. His brother deserved it.
He punched in Cain’s number. Alanna answered on the third ring. “Hello.”
“Alanna, it’s Eric.”
“Eric, we were just talking about you. How are things at CIRP?”
“That’s why I’m calling. Can I speak to Cain?”
“Sure.” She sounded worried but she called Cain to the phone. His brother cooed to baby Simon, then said hello.
“What’s wrong, Eric? Are you in trouble?”
He explained about the incident with Melissa. “I don’t want her to die,” Eric admitted in a gruff voice. “And Devlin wants me to use Melissa to bait Hughes.”
Cain hesitated. “You’re falling for her, aren’t you?”
Eric scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I…but I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”
Cain chuckled. “You always were a sucker for a woman in trouble.” Cain whispered something to Alanna. “Then again, I guess I should be grateful. I would never have met Alanna or Simon if you weren’t such a good-hearted bastard.”
“I’m not good-hearted,” Eric growled.
Cain snorted in disbelief. “Do you want me to come to Savannah? Say the word, and I’m there.”
“No. You need to stay with your family.”
Family…the one thing they’d both lost early on.
“Do what you think is right,” Cain said. “But be careful, Eric. And call me if you need me.”
Eric hung up, feeling marginally better. He was glad Cain had a new family. But what about him? Did he deserve to have a woman in his life?
Or was he destined to live his life alone?
He glanced down at his scarred body. Would any woman be able to accept him the way he was now? Would Melissa…
He wanted to touch her, taste her, tell her the truth.
But she would hate him when she learned he had lied about his identity.
“MR. COLLIER?”
Eric jerked his head up, shocked to find the CEO of CIRP, Ian Hall, standing in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
Hall dug his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “I heard one of our employees was hurt and had to be admitted.”
Eric bottled his volatile emotions. “Hurt isn’t exactly the right word. Melissa Fagan was assaulted, bound and gagged and left to die in some underground crawl space next to one of the storage buildings.”
“My God.” A concerned frown creased the skin between Hall’s eyes as he dropped into a chair beside Eric. “How is her condition?”
“I don’t know. I’m waiting to hear now.”
Hall raked a hand through his neatly clipped hair. “Do the police have any idea who attacked her or why?”
“The police are searching her cottage for evidence now.”
“Was there a robbery?”
“No sign of one.”
“I’ll alert Seaside Security to watch for outsiders, beef up security and put a special guard on Miss Fagan’s place.”
“What if it wasn’t an outsider?”
Hall’s face blanched. “What are you suggesting, Mr. Collier?”
“That someone on the staff might be involved.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Hall reached for his cell phone. “By the way, what exactly is your relationship to Miss Fagan?”
“She’s my therapist,” Eric said, refusing to elaborate.
A doctor approached then and Hall stood. Eric gripped the wheelchair arm. “How is she?”
“We’ve stabilized her for now. The drugs, coupled with the blow to the head, triggered a seizure, but she should be all right by tomorrow.” He folded his hands in front of him. “We need to keep her overnight for observation.”
Eric nodded. “Of course.”
“Good work, Dr. Curry.” Hall shook the middle-aged doctor’s hand. “And please call me if there are any changes in her condition. I want to know immediately.”
“I certainly will.”
Hall turned, offered his hand and Eric accepted it. “I heard you made a pretty heroic rescue, Mr. Collier. As the director of CIRP, I want to extend my thanks. We value each of our employees and patients here.” He dropped his hand. “And please let me know if you see something suspicious or if Miss Fagan has information about her attacker. I’m sure Seaside Security will do whatever it can
to find the person and see justice served.”
Eric watched Hall walk away. He had said all the right things, made all the right moves.
Was he on the level, or was he hiding something?
AN HOUR LATER, they had finally settled Melissa into a private room. Eric had phoned Black to relay her condition and to ask if they’d discovered anything. The police didn’t have the results of the fingerprint tests, but they had bagged a stray hair, which they were testing for DNA.
Shanika, a kind African-American nurse, strode in, introduced herself and patted his arm. He figured he looked pathetic, all dirty and exhausted, parked beside Melissa’s bed, but he didn’t care.
“You can stay with her, but don’t expect her to wake up before morning. She’s weak and suffered a trauma.” The nurse took Melissa’s vitals and recorded them on her chart. “Fatigue also follows this type of seizure, along with a depressed mood. Both will fade, but she needs rest and time to recover.”
Eric nodded. He was a patient man. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d give her all the time in the world to recover. In the meantime, he’d do his damnedest to keep her safe.
Shanika graced him with an understanding smile, then left the room. Eric wheeled closer to Melissa and cradled her hand in his, rubbing her fingers between his to warm her. The other hand was hooked to an IV, the constant drip a reminder that she’d nearly died earlier. Bruises marked her forehead, and a scrape on her cheek testified to the brutality of the crime.
He hated men who used physical force on women, and had vowed he would never raise his hand to a female or child.
But now he wanted to kill the bastard who’d hurt her.
Trying to tamp his anger, he kissed her fingers one by one, then pressed them against his cheek. Her eyelids fluttered. For a second, he thought he’d imagined it, but then they fluttered once more, opening partway. Her eyes seemed unfocused, and she blinked, as if searching through the haze of drugs and pain.
“I’m right here, Melissa, you’re going to be all right.”
A frown pulled at her mouth and she tried to speak, but no sound came out. She wrestled beneath the covers though, as if struggling with her assailant.
“Shh, don’t talk now. Just rest.” He stroked her hands again. “Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to tell me what happened. Tonight, rest, concentrate on getting better.”
Her eyes fluttered again, then closed, and her breathing became more even, but her body jerked once more, a moan rumbling from deep within her.
Her anguish tore him in two, but he continued to hold her hand and to whisper nonsensical comforting words until she finally settled into a deep peaceful sleep.
DAMN IT, HE DIDN’T THINK that Collier guy was ever going to leave the woman’s side. He must be some kind of desperate. Of course, after looking at the man, no doubt he’d be hot to trot for anything with two legs that smiled at him.
He checked his watch. Two-thirty. Finally the man wheeled his chair from the room and headed down the hall. But he still had to get rid of the security guard plastered to the woman’s door.
He had a plan. Had been trained well for his mission.
Slipping down the hall and around the corner, he spied the storage room. Inside were the janitor’s cleaning chemicals. With a gloved hand, he read the contents. Just as he thought. Volatile as hell.
Stifling a laugh, he sprinkled the chemicals on the cleaning rags, dumped them in a big garbage bin in the small room, then dropped a lit match into the center. The flame ignited, caught the chemicals and began smoldering,
Covering his face with a surgical mask to match his scrubs, he slipped out of the room before the smoke curled through the doorway. He moved down the hall unnoticed, then waited in the corridor across from his victim’s room until a nurse noticed the string of smoke.
“Fire!” She waved her arms to attract someone’s attention.
Another nurse ran up, someone shouted at the security guard, and the guard jogged down the hall to help.
He chuckled beneath the mask. So easy.
Flexing his hand beneath his lab coat, he reached inside for the hypodermic and slid soundlessly into Melissa Fagan’s room. She was sleeping like a baby, already so exhausted from their earlier jaunt that she didn’t even stir. Damn. It really was more fun when they put up a fight.
Still, he had to finish her off tonight.
He raised the needle, injected the drug into her IV, turned and walked from the room. She would be dead before morning. Before anyone discovered she’d been given the wrong combination of drugs.
And no one would ever know the real reason—or who had killed her.
Chapter Twelve
Eric had almost reached the elevator when the smoke alarm sounded. He’d intended to get some fresh air, then return and sit by Melissa’s side for the night, but he spun the wheelchair around and raced back down the hall. No way could he leave Melissa if a fire had broken out. He searched the corridors, his suspicious nature surfacing. What better diversion for a personal attack on a patient than a fire?
Heart beating double time, he rounded the corner and nearly crashed into a young orderly.
“Sir, can’t you hear the alarm? This isn’t a drill, you have to evacuate now.”
Eric shrugged off his concern. “I can’t leave, not until I know my friend is okay.”
“Look, buddy, it’ll be hard enough to get patients out if we need to, much less the visitors, especially handicapped ones.”
Fury balled in Eric’s stomach. “Let me worry about myself. Now, take your hands off the chair, or I’ll do it for you.”
The young man jumped back, and Eric wheeled down the hallway toward Melissa’s room, bypassing a doctor and nurse in earnest conversation, then a surgeon, who cut his eyes toward Eric, his steps clipped, his attention returning to the file in his hands.
The nurses’ station was empty, the crew gathered down the hall near a storage closet where the fire had apparently broken out. He scanned the hallway by Melissa’s room, but the security guard had left his post to check on the source of the fire.
Livid at the man’s incompetency, Eric approached the hospital room. Fear for Melissa tightened his gut as he opened the door.
She lay still in the bed, her breathing a series of hard rasps. He glanced at the IV, remembered the surgeon rushing down the hall, and panic slammed into him.
He turned and called into the hallway, “Help, room 111! Emergency!”
Without waiting further, he ripped the IV from Melissa’s arm and yelled for help again. Shanika rushed in, saw Melissa’s agitated breathing and ran to the door.
“We need a crash cart stat!”
Eric cradled Melissa’s hand. “Hang on, honey, help is on the way. Don’t give up.”
Seconds later, a team of nurses and doctors ran in, and Eric moved aside while they treated her. Once she resumed breathing, he was banned to the waiting room, so he phoned Detective Black and filled him in.
“I want one of your guys here,” Eric said. “That Seaside Security guard left her alone.”
“A rookie mistake,” Black said.
“Yeah, one that almost cost Melissa her life.” Eric blew into his balled fist to release his pent-up frustration. “I don’t trust CIRP’s security. For all we know, Hughes, or whoever is involved in this conspiracy, has the security team in his pocket.”
“You’re probably right,” Black said. “I’ll assign someone immediately.”
It galled Eric that he’d had to ask for help. He thanked Black and hung up, then rolled back to Melissa’s room. He had almost lost her twice today.
He wouldn’t let it happen again. He only hoped that when Melissa woke, she could tell them something concrete to lead them to her attacker.
MELISSA STIRRED FROM a troubled sleep, her body languid and heavy. She struggled to open her eyes, finally forcing them partway open, only to look through a foggy haze. Where was she? What had happened? Why did she feel so exhausted and drained and…
confused?
Memories crashed back. The shower…someone had attacked her, she’d been tied and gagged and left in a cave to die. The claustrophobia—she couldn’t breathe. She had to claw her way out. Then voices. Eric beside her. Lifting her, murmuring sweet loving words, whispering that she wasn’t alone. The darkness, then the brilliant white light had beckoned her, but he had called her back.
Emotions welled inside her. Where was she now?
The whine of an IV drip and another sound—snoring—drifted through her consciousness. She twisted sideways. Eric’s dark head lay facedown on the edge of her bed. His hands were curled around her free one, and he’d fallen asleep. He had stayed with her all night.
“Eric?” It hurt to talk, her mouth was so dry, like cotton.
He jerked his head up, the remnants of sleep and fatigue lining his handsome face.
Love for Eric swelled in her chest.
But what could she do about it? Someone was trying to kill her. She couldn’t put him in danger.
If your father is trying to keep you from finding him, maybe you don’t want to know who he is.
“Melissa, thank God, you’re finally awake.” Worry deepened his gruff voice.
“How…” She paused and wet her parched lips. “How long have I been here?”
“Since last night.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “But it feels like days.”
“You stayed all night?”
He nodded, lifted her hand and planted a kiss in her palm. “I promised you I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
“You always keep your promises?”
His eyes clouded. “I do my best.”
She felt such a connection with him that it frightened her. What had she done to deserve his kindness? And how would he react if she confessed that she was falling in love with him?
“You should be at your place resting. And your therapy—”
“Don’t worry about me, Melissa.” He brushed her hair away from her forehead. “You need to take care of yourself.”
