Bound For Me

by Natalie Anderson

  “I’ve been with you all night and you’ve been tucked up here the whole time.” Krista came forward, speaking super-quick, as if she’d been saving up the small speech for hours. “You’re safe. You’re totally safe.”

  Safe? Why wouldn’t she be safe? And where was here?

  “Well that’s good. I guess.” Savannah muttered, wishing Krista would clarify things a little more.

  Why couldn’t she remember anything? What the hell had been going on? She pushed herself up, wincing at an unexpected pain in her hand. She glanced at it and paused—why did she have a needle inserted into the back of her hand and taped on?

  Krista smiled and audibly sighed in relief. “Yep, you’re okay. But man, I’ve never seen the Icicle looking so emotional.” She moved to pour a couple of glasses of water from the pitcher on a tray beside the bed. “Frankly, he looked hot.” She fanned herself with her free hand.

  Savannah just stared at her. “The ‘Icicle’?”

  “Connor.” Krista added, like it was obvious. Her smile turned sly. “You should have seen the way he stood over you.” She fanned her cheek again and giggled.

  Savannah’s bamboozled brain finally started putting the pieces together.

  The Icicle. Connor. Ultra short hair. Angry blue eyes.

  No. No freaking way.

  Disbelief knifed through her nausea.

  Krista fell silent and though she kept a smile on her face, a different kind of concern crept into her eyes. Caution. “Don’t worry,” she said quickly, setting the glass down and rubbing her palms down her trendy new après-ski pants. “Just tell him everything you remember. It’ll be okay. He’ll fix it.” She bit her lip for a second. “Connor takes care of everyone. It’s like, what he does.”

  What, so that ‘emotion’ she’d mentioned a second ago was nothing all of a sudden?

  “What he ‘does’?” Savannah echoed, trying to ignore the rising tide of horror within her.

  “Mmm hmm,” Krista nodded brightly. “You know, it’s just his thing. He’s the big man ‘round here… makes sure everyone is all okay…”

  The big man—as in the King of the Mountain?

  A fragment surfaced, a hazy image… a few words.

  I’m so stupid.

  She sure as fuck was.

  “I need to get out of here.” Savannah pushed back the light coverings. “Where are my boo—”

  “No, just wait. You have to wait.”

  No she didn’t. She had to get out of here.

  But the door opened, right on queue.

  He walked in. Savannah froze in place and just stared at him. No way could this be Connor Hughes.

  He met her gaze square on. Hers locked. Yeah, there was no noticing anything else the minute he appeared.

  He didn’t so much as glance at Krista, he just walked forward right to the side of her bed. Peripherally she took in the worn, faded blue jeans. The loose white tee that exposed tanned, muscled forearms. And he had freaking bare feet. Didn’t that just cement how obviously at ease he was in this environment. In this freaking room. Now why was that? It better not be his room.

  Savannah’s rage trebled.

  “You’re awake.”

  How observant of him.

  “Am I? I’m hoping this is a nightmare,” she answered sourly.

  “Sav, it could have been a far worse nightmare.” Krista said softly.

  Connor turned. “Thanks so much Krista, you’re probably keen to get home and get some decent sleep. I think it’s pretty clear Savannah’s back to her bristly self and able to handle things on her own.”

  Krista’s eyes widened but she nodded. “Sure.” But then she leaned past him to look into Savannah’s face with a bright smile. “You need anything, you text me.” She straightened. “I mean anything. I can give you a lift—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Connor interrupted.

  “Right,” Krista stepped back. “I’ve already told Luca there’s no way you’ll be working tonight.”

  Savannah was still recovering from the ‘bristly-self’ comment but now she had to clamp her mouth shut with sheer willpower while trying to stretch her lips into something of a ‘thank you’ smile.

  Of course she’d be working tonight. She had no freaking choice.

  “Thanks Krista,” Connor took it upon himself to do the talking for her. “Can you tell Austin and Mac to come in.”

  He waited ’til Krista had made it to the door before turning and looking back down at Savannah.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

  She couldn’t answer.

  “Sugar?”

  Oh that was too unfair. And he was watching her so damn intensely—like she’d turned into the Rubik’s cube conundrum of the other night again.

  “I’ve had better starts to the day,” she said warily.

  She’d slept with him. The guy she’d wanted to hunt out and make pay somehow. How was that possible?

  “It’s not going to get much better for a few more minutes I’m afraid,” he said. “There are a couple of people who’d like to talk to you.” He turned, waved in the two men now lingering just inside the doorway.

  “This is Austin,” he gestured to the man in the white Summerhill tee. “Resident doctor. And this is Mac, our local Sheriff.”

  “I need to talk to you, if you’re feeling up to it, Ms Nash,” the officer stepped forward.

  Savannah eyed the notebook the guy already had open and then turned to Connor. “What the hell is happening?”

  “You’ve been unwell.” The doctor answered. “You lost consciousness last night and the Sheriff here is interested in finding out why.”

  “Lost consciousness? At work?” Savannah’s mouth dried even more. “But…” Hell, did they think she’d gotten drunk and passed out or something? “I don’t understand, I don’t drink on the job. Only water.”

  “No,” Austin smiled reassuringly. “It wasn’t anything you did. I’m afraid it seems you were given something. Some kind of drug.”

  Savannah’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t help glancing at Connor. He was standing at the foot of the bed, glaring grimly at the edge of the blanket.

  “You remember being at the bar?” The Sheriff asked.

  Slowly she nodded. “Sure. I’d started the evening shift.”

  “After working the lunch shift,” Connor interjected with an ominous note in his voice.

  “Yes,” she lifted her chin and refused to look at him again. Some people had to work hard for a living. “It was busy. I remember there were a lot of people. A lot of the usual customers…” she trailed off.

  “What else do you remember?” The sheriff prompted gently.

  “Making cocktails. And feeling hot.”

  “Did you have anything to drink?”

  “Only from my water bottle. Only water.”

  “Do you know where that bottle is now?”

  She shook her head again. “It’s green. Neon. Hard to miss.”

  “And you always drink from that bottle?”

  She looked down at the needle in the back of her hand and nodded, feeling sick. Feeling scared. But damned if she was going to show it.

  “I put the needle in, in case I needed to put you on a drip,” the doctor explained quietly. “But it wasn’t necessary. You were sick a couple times, but didn’t get too dehydrated. If you keep up your fluids today you’ll start to feel better.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve taken a blood sample already, but I’ll need you to sign a couple of forms.”

  “Of course.” She’d been sick? So that’d be why there was a towel beside her pillow. Why there was a bowl. Why she’d been lying on her side.

  The horror of it all made her want to be sick again now. She swallowed rapidly. Enough humiliation, right?

  “I’ll take that out for you now, if you’d like?” Austin gestured towards her hand.

  “Thanks.”

  “I understand you’ve moved only recently to Summerhill, but is there a
nyone you can think of who might want to cause you harm Ms Nash?” The officer started the scary questions again.

  Involuntarily her gaze flew to Connor’s. Jerk. Double Jerk. Ultimate Jerk-Off. She knew Connor remembered their harassing words. They’d been at the bar again last night. And they were total assholes… but, surely not. They wouldn’t be that stupid, would they?

  “I don’t know anyone who’d want to bother,” she said lamely.

  Connor’s frown was instant.

  “You’re sure?” The officer asked.

  “I really don’t know anyone in this town other than my work colleagues.” She glanced down as Austin deftly removed the needle and quickly applied a Band-aid.

  “No ex-boyfriend who’d come after you? You’ve had no issues with stalkers in the past?”

  She almost laughed. She’d had three years worth of bullying to see out her school days, but then she’d buried herself at her father’s struggling hotel. She’d been out of her school acquaintances sight for so long, she knew she was out of their minds. And her one serious ex had hit the road as soon as he’d realized the extent of her father’s problems. He was never going to turn stalker.

  “No,” she answered. “I can’t think of anyone.”

  The officer nodded. “We’ve already reviewed the security footage from the cameras in the bar, but for a few moments both cameras that were focused on where your bottle was, were obscured.” He frowned at his notes. “And your water bottle is now nowhere to be found. Though we do,” he paused and glanced over at Connor. “Have a couple of leads.”

  “You do?”

  “We’ll be following them up.” He flipped his notebook shut and nodded at the doctor, then Connor.

  “Savannah,” the doctor took his cue. “I’m on the premises, you feel at all bad, you come see me, okay? I’ll call you later as well.”

  “Sure. Thanks.” She drew breath. “And if you hear anything Sheriff…” Like what those leads were? But the guy had clammed. “Or if you have any more questions…” Her voice wavered. “You know where my apartment unit is?”

  “I do, Ma’am. And I’d like to say how sorry I am this has happened. There’s very little crime in Summerhill, this is unusual. But we’ll do everything we can to find whoever was responsible.”

  “I’m sure it was just some… stupid prank or something,” she mumbled.

  A hideous prank. And the more it was sinking in, the worse she was feeling. She cleared her throat and adjusted the cover, pulling it higher. She really needed some alone time. Glancing up, she caught both the doctor and Connor scrutinising her. The doc with clinical detachment—Connor, not so detached.

  He suddenly turned towards the two men. “I’ll see you guys out.”

  “Thanks.”

  Turned out ‘seeing them out’ meant walking them as far as the bedroom door. Connor muttered something in a low voice and they left. Connor closed the door after them and faced her.

  Savannah decided now wasn’t the time to try to stand up.

  Slowly he walked back towards the bed. She drew her knees up and tightened her grip on the cover. For a moment she didn’t know what was freaking her more—being drugged or knowing she’d slept with Connor Hughes. It ought to be the drugging. But that this guy was Connor?

  “Mind if I sit?”

  She shook her head, tried not to wince as it pounded.

  He didn’t take the chair Krista had left vacant, instead he sat on the edge of the bed, his hip level with hers. And she was not following that thought any further… too intimate.

  As it was he looked too at home—like he owned the place. Which, she realized grimly, he probably did.

  She’d walked right into the lion’s den. Finally was where she’d wanted to be, but in totally the wrong circumstances. She’d wanted to put the screws on him, not actually screw him. But she had. Totally.

  And now remnants of that heat burned up her unruly body.

  Seriously?

  Despite feeling super crap, her hormones wanted him to play? Yet the thought of his touch, sent the sick feeling away.

  He was the freaking enemy.

  She mentally tossed her body under a freezeroid shower. It was never, ever happening again.

  “So,” she opted to play it cool. It was never too late to play it cool. And Savannah was a master of very, very cool. “Not a banker.”

  His mouth twitched a little. “No.”

  “Not a liftie either.”

  “I am a liftie. Sometimes. For a couple hours.”

  “The rest of the time you run this place...” she said. “This is Summerhill, right? The famous Lodge.”

  He nodded.

  “And you own it,” she sighed. “So much for a small net worth.”

  “But you don’t like me for it,” he replied, sounding like he was smiling now.

  She closed her eyes so she couldn’t see him. Couldn’t be affected. “You can’t be Connor Hughes.”

  He reached out and covered her cold hand with his, gently rubbed her Band-aid with his still-bandaged finger. “Why can’t I?”

  She looked at him, curling her fingers into a fist underneath his warm palm. “You have longer hair. In that picture on the website...”

  Oh. Way to go Savannah—she’d just busted herself. Let him know she’d cyber stalked him. It had been harder than she’d thought it would be. There were far fewer pictures of him than his brother Logan. The model. Connor had been much harder to find—turned out the pictures were old.

  He didn’t pick her up her revealing slip, just answered easily. “I shaved it off recently.”

  “Why?”

  “Cancer fundraiser. One of the housemaids has a child...”

  Connor takes care of everyone. Or so Krista thought.

  But Savannah knew he didn’t. Because of Connor Hughes and his father, her father had lost everything he’d had left. Even his dignity.

  The Hughes empire had stolen Savannah’s future. She wasn’t ever going to forgive him for that. He was so damn spoiled. She’d bet he’d never really done a proper day’s work in his life.

  He was watching her closely. No smile in those eyes now. He’d seen her anger?

  “The leads the sheriff has… you think you know who it was?” she asked for diversion as much as curiosity.

  “I think we both know who it was.”

  “Those jerks?” She couldn’t believe it. Were they really that stupid? That mean?

  “I don’t know what they thought they could get away with.” Bleakness dimmed the brightness of his eyes.

  She shrugged, not wanting to even go there.

  “You could have had a bad reaction to whatever it was they gave you,” he all but growled. “They could have hurt you.”

  Like those thoughts hadn’t already occurred to her?

  The anger inside was almost uncontrollable. To have her strength taken away from her? To be incapacitated like that—forcing her to be dependent on someone else? On Connor freaking Hughes?

  “I know you’re angry,” he said.

  “You have no idea how I’m feeling,” she choked.

  He leaned closer but she flinched back, snatching her hand out from under his.

  She did not want his sympathy. She did not want his touch.

  “We’ll get them, Savannah. I promise.”

  Really? What was his promise worth? “Justice is that important to you?” she asked sceptically.

  “Of course. Isn’t it to you?”

  “It’s very important to me,” she answered in a hard voice. “When someone has done something wrong, they ought to have to pay.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  She breathed in. Maybe she’d said that a little too vehemently.

  “Is that why you’re here?” he asked.

  Her lungs constricted. “What do you mean?”

  “Why are you here, in Summerhill?”

  “I need money and I get good tips here.” She swept her hair back from her face in a casual gestur
e.

  “Really?” He sounded so disbelieving.

  “Some people like my bitch bartender act.” She sent him a pointed look.

  “And we both know it’s an act.” He laughed under his breath. “You’re not anywhere near as cold as you make out.”

  She stiffened, unable to contain her anger any longer. “You should have told me who you were.”

  His laugh was louder that time. “I’m not the bad guy here.”

  “No? I asked if you knew Rex Hughes. If you knew Connor. You didn’t tell me. Then we had sex and you still didn’t tell me.”

  He sobered completely. “And why do you want to know Rex? Why do you want to know me?” He put one fist either side of her, bracing forward to ask right in her face. “What do you want from me?”

  That really wasn’t a question she wanted to answer right now. Her brain was too scrambled. And her body? Too confused to know what was best for it.

  She’d come here with the general notion of making them pay somehow. But it wasn’t like she was actually about to blackmail them like in some TV soap. Probably the worst she could do was go to the press and see if someone was interested in her story.

  But she didn’t want that humiliation for her father.

  Truth? She’d been so lost after discovering what her dad had done. That he’d lied to her. Lost her money. Lost her home. Lost his dignity.

  Coming here was the one idea that she could cling to. To come to Summerhill and see them for herself and find out how fake they were. Because she was certain they were fake. She wanted to prove that this whole perfect life image that they sold—that they promised anyone could have—was a facade. Then she could go back to her father and show him something—anything—to get him to pull himself together.

  “You said you were supposed to hate me,” he said.

  She shot him a startled glance.

  “Last night, when you learned who I was. You said you were supposed to hate me.” He leaned over her again. “Why?”

  “I do hate you.” She loathed him at this moment.

  “No. You don’t.”

  She gasped. Of all the breathtakingly arrogant things to say?

  “You wanted me before you knew who I was,” he said. “You still want me now.”