by Rebecca York
“We can’t,” he said in a gritty voice.
“I . . . want . . .”
“You want to forget where you are,” he finished for her.
“Yes, but it’s not just that,” she answered.
“What if someone came in?”
She considered that, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. When you . . .” She stopped and started again. “I’m too out of it to think straight. I don’t even know your name, and look what we’re doing.”
“I’m Brand.”
“That’s your last name?”
“No, my first.”
“No last name?”
“Probably better—for now.”
“I’m Tory Robinson. No reason I shouldn’t tell you.” She made a small sound. “I have nothing to hide—from you, or anyone else as it turns out.”
“Tory,” he said softly, just to try out the syllable on his lips.
Her eyes turned pleading. “What’s wrong with me? Nothing feels normal.”
“I heard two guys talking out on the back porch. I think they drugged your dinner.”
She thought about that for several moments.
“Yes, but not only then. They put me out on the way up here. Then when I tried to escape at the airport. Dr. Son of a Bitch was waiting for me in the car when the goons brought me back, and he gave me a shot of something that knocked me out again.”
“Dr. Son of a Bitch?”
“Dr. Raymond.” she answered in a shaky voice. “That’s what I call him.”
“He’s running this place?”
She closed her hand around his arm. “You don’t know? Then what are you doing here—dressed like one of them?” she demanded.
“I found the clothes in a room down the hall. I don’t know much—except that your balcony puts you in a cage, and two guys were on the porch talking about getting information out of you.”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard, then went on rapidly. “As far as I can figure out, they’re trying to drive me crazy.”
“How?”
“Starting with the timeline. I’m pretty sure I was in New York City last night, but Raymond is trying to convince me that I’ve been here for weeks.”
“What is this place?”
She considered the question for a few moments. “I guess it’s supposed to be a private sanatorium, but if I had to guess, I’d say I’m the only real inmate here. The other patients are props to help work me over, so to speak.”
“Why?”
Her expression hardened. “Raymond thinks I have some information he wants.”
Brand tried to take it in, but the explanation was confusing. If he were objective, he might come to the conclusion that this woman really was nuts, except that in his gut he didn’t think so.
On the other hand, they’d only been talking for a few minutes, and his impression of her was clouded by lust. All of which meant that he couldn’t be sure that her version of reality was the correct one.
She could be locked in because she really was insane—maybe criminally insane. But in any case, he’d better keep one ear tuned to the door.
She’d closed her eyes.
“Tory?”
Her lids blinked open. “Sorry, I have to focus really hard to stay awake.”
“Yeah. Can you tell me why you’re here? What did you do?”
“I’m a dancer,” she answered, then laughed softly. “I guess that’s not really what you’re after.”
“Right.”
“I’m featured at the Midnight Club in New York. Or I was,” she added, despair creeping into her voice. “And I got mixed up with the wrong man.”
The words hit him with the force of cannonballs. She’d been with a man, when she was his?
The thought came at him like a blow to the chest. He’d known her for only a few minutes, and she was his?
Then he ordered himself to pull back. Never mind his own explosive reaction; she was talking about a time before he even knew she existed.
Well, somehow he’d known she existed, waiting for him to come here. The thought was hardly logical, but he knew it was true.
“What man?” he asked, struggling to keep a note of accusation out of his voice.
“Johnny Denato.”
“The Mafia guy?”
“Is he?”
“From what I’ve read in the papers,” he answered, not willing to tell her that the security operatives at Decorah kept up with the goings-on in the underworld. It might help her to know his profession, but if she was somehow questioned about her visitor, the less she knew the better.
She was silent for several moments, and it looked like she was drifting off into space.
“Tory?”
She focused on him. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. It sounds like they pumped a lot of stuff into you.”
“Yes.”
“You were telling me about Denato.”
“Right. He came into the club and saw the show, and it seemed like he was interested in me. He asked me to dinner, and I was afraid to tell him I couldn’t go with him. I mean, I knew my manager wouldn’t like me turning down a good customer. Denato and I saw each other after the show a couple of times.”
His whole body tensed as he waited for her to talk about a sexual relationship.
Instead, she said, “I kept waiting for him to pounce on me, but he was always a perfect gentleman. I started thinking he was going out with me for the wrong reasons.”
“Like what?”
“Like he wanted people to see me with him—but he didn’t really want to do anything . . . sexual.”
“Then why continue seeing you?” he asked, unable to keep the harshness out of his tone.
“Maybe he’s gay. Maybe he wanted people to see him with a beautiful dancer.”
That was one explanation that could make sense. Like that gay guy in The Sopranos who had to pretend he was straight. And when he finally let the others know the truth, they killed him.
She began speaking again. “He took me back to his apartment last night. It was the first time I’d been there. Or maybe it wasn’t last night. Maybe they’re telling the truth—it was weeks ago, and I’ve been in a fog ever since.” Before he could comment, she hurried on. “And now the worst part. I was in the living room, and he had stepped into the hall to take a call. Men came in . . . and killed him.”
Brand blinked. “Say what?”
“He was murdered. I heard the shots. Then I saw him lying in a pool of blood in the foyer.”
“And you called the authorities?”
Self-accusation filled her voice. “I should have, but I wasn’t exactly rational. I decided I had to get out of his apartment—and out of town. I thought the cops would assume I was involved. And the murders would find out who I was and think I’d seen them, which I didn’t,” she added quickly. “I was afraid they’d kill me, too. I rushed back home. Then I realized I had to call the police. But it was already too late. Two guys arrive at my door a few minutes later.”
She heaved in a breath and let it out before continuing. “I got out my apartment window, but they caught me and slapped something over my face, and I woke up in a small plane. On the way here.” She sounded like she was fixing the details in her mind, as though she wasn’t quite sure of exactly what had happened.
He stroked his hand up and down her arm, trying to imagine the whole scenario from her point of view. It had to be terrifying.
She gave him a questioning look. “I don’t even know where we are.”
“Upstate New York.”
“Okay.”
She rushed through the rest of the story. “Right before dinner I woke up in a chair in Raymond’s office, like we’d been in the middle of a therapy session and I’d nodded off. That’s when he claimed I’d been here for weeks. Outside in the sitting room, a woman named June was waiting for me. She said we had gotten to be friends, and it was time for dinner. I started feeling muzzy again as soon as I ate.”
>
Brand cursed under his breath. It could be all made up, but he didn’t think so. The story was too crazy for her to have invented it on the spot—and too detailed. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault—unless they sent you in here to get me to cooperate. I meant like June—trying to convince me we’re friends.”
The despair in her voice was like a knife blade slicing at his soul.
He cupped his hands around her shoulders. “Look at me.”
When she did, he went on, “I’m not like June.” He said it softly, but he tried to project every ounce of sincerity he could muster.
She searched his face. “I want to believe you. Maybe that’s a mistake.”
“No.”
“You could prove it by helping me get out of here.”
He gave the only answer he could. “I want to, but I can’t do it tonight.”
Panic and disappointment claimed her expression. “Oh Christ. The longer I stay here, the more likely it is that he’ll turn my brain to cottage cheese. I mean—with his drugs and the games he’s playing.”
The way she said it made his stomach clench. “No he won’t. You’re stronger than he is.”
“How do you know?”
“You already tried to escape twice, and you attacked me when I came in here.”
She winced.
“You aren’t giving in. You were fighting him, even when you didn’t know what you were up against.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “But I can’t get you out of here tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not prepared. I stumbled on this place by accident, and I didn’t bring any equipment with me. We have to do it tomorrow night.”
“Fate brought you here to me.”
He’d been thinking something similar. Fate or the ancient gods who had turned the males in his family into more than men.
“I know it’s hard, but try to stay cool for a little while longer. Don’t act like you’re fighting the doctor. Pretend you’re cooperating with him.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be back for you tomorrow. I promise.”
She slung her arms around his neck and hung on tight, and he felt her tension, sensing that she was fighting not to sob.
“I know,” he whispered.
“You can’t know.”
“I can understand desperation.”
He ran his hands up and down her back, teetering on the brink, knowing that if he didn’t get away now, he’d do something he’d regret.
Before he could change his mind, he stood up quickly and walked to the door.
Chapter Ten
Brand pressed his ear to the door and listened. When he heard nothing, he stepped into the hall, knowing that if he looked back at Tory again, he could never leave. But if he tried to spring her now, he could get her killed. That thought was the only thing that could make him keep his resolve.
As he stood in the hallway, the idea of locking her in again made him almost physically sick, but he had to do it. Everything had to be just as he’d found it.
He had just finished when he heard footsteps coming from the direction of the stairs.
He sprinted in the other direction, slipping into one of the empty rooms. The steps stopped at Tory’s door, and he knew he had been just in time.
Holding the door open a crack, he looked into the hall.
A slimly built older man was looking around, his expression suspicious, and Brand suspected he might have heard someone up here.
Brand tensed, ready to flatten the guy if he came into the room where he was hiding.
To his relief, the man stayed where he was and tried the lock on Tory’s door, then looked through a peephole at her.
Was it Dr. Raymond or someone else?
The man stayed where he was for long moments. Then he finally turned and left.
Brand waited for several minutes before checking the hall again and making sure it was empty. He didn’t know the time, but he was hoping that a lot of the people here would already have turned in. Or maybe they were relaxing in front of a television set in some common room.
That still left him to decide how to get away. He’d come in as a wolf, and only a wolf could slip back under the fence. But was it better to stay as he was before he got there?
He stepped back into the room where he’d hidden and crossed to the window. When he looked out, he saw that it had the same view as Tory’s. From here there was no good way down, but to his right, he saw the roof of the back porch where the kitchen door was located. From there, he could lower himself to the ground.
He was cautious as he stepped into the hall, then proceeded in the direction of the next room. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and crossed to the balcony, then quietly opened the window and scanned the grounds for signs of movement. This would be when he most visible if a passing guard happened to look up. Brand waited to be sure nobody had spotted him before easing the window up and stepping over the sill, coming down on the flat roof but staying low.
Again he listened and swept his gaze over the grounds around the house before crossing the porch roof and climbing over the edge, stretching out his arms to lessen the distance he would have to drop.
He hit the ground, stayed on his feet, and dashed to the side of the house where there were no doors. Pressed against the wood siding between two windows, he looked and listened for several moments. When he was sure he was alone, he began to unbutton his borrowed shirt. Next he pulled off his pants and balled up the clothing. Naked in the cooling spring air, he began to say the chant that would turn him into his more primitive persona. It was painful to keep changing form so often, but he saw no other alternative. It was one thing for a wolf or a big dog to be seen inside the fence. It was quite another for a strange man to get caught in here.
And it was the right choice to have made. Almost as soon as Brand had transformed, one of the guards came around the side of the house and stopped short when he saw the animal.
“What the hell?”
In one smooth motion, the man reached for the gun he carried in a holster at his side, unsnapping the shield and drawing the weapon. But Brand was already leaping forward, knocking the gun out of his hand and slamming the guard to the ground. Trying not to cause too much damage, he chomped down on the guy’s gun hand. The man screamed, and Brand silently cursed. Knowing he had very little time now, he abandoned the pile of clothing he’d discarded and pelted for the fence.
He could hear loud voices behind him as he hightailed it toward safety.
“Patrick? What happened?” one of them asked.
“A wolf or a big dog attacked me.”
“Jesus. Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“How did it get in here?”
The man answered with an angry retort. “Who the hell knows?”
At the barrier, Brand scraped away the dirt he had kicked into place, then squeezed under the chain links, tearing the skin of his back as he forced himself through.
The guys must have stopped arguing about what had happened, because a shot hit the ground behind him as he sprinted for the woods. Behind him, lights snapped on, and a siren began to wail.
More shots followed him, but he was in the trees now, and he didn’t think the men were coming through the gate to chase an animal—unless it had killed someone, which he’d been careful not to do. Still, he was remaking his plans as he put distance between himself and the compound.
An animal had gotten in. The guards would plug up the hole, and they’d be on the alert for intruders, which meant he’d need a wire cutter. And he’d have to proceed with extra caution when he came back tomorrow night.
Would they move Tory? The question made his throat clench. He’d counted on knowing where she was.
For a split second, he thought about contacting Decorah Security and asking for help. Then he thought about Tory’s situation. He’d heard the men saying she was expendable. Would Dr. Son of a Bitch kill
her if he thought she was going to be captured?
That danger meant stealth was Brand’s best bet now. After he got her out of there, he could call for backup.
oOo
As footsteps pounded up the stairs, Tory forced herself to lie in bed with her eyes closed. She’d heard a shot, then lights had snapped on, and a siren began to sound.
Oh Lord, they must have spotted Brand.
But she was supposed to be drugged, and she couldn’t react like a normal person would.
She lay rigid, her heart drumming inside her chest. In the next second, the door burst open, and Dr. Raymond charged in.
Her eyes blinked open, like she’d been sleeping.
“What?” she said in a quavery voice.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he looked around the room like he expected to find someone in here with her.
She’d wanted Brand to stay with her. Now she thanked God that he had left in time. But where was he? Was he all right?
“Yes,” she managed to answer.
After a long moment, the doctor backed away, closed the door behind himself and locked it.
She lay with her heart still thumping, not knowing the outcome of the emergency. And not even sure what had happened. Her best guess was that someone had seen Brand—and shot at him. But had he gotten away?
Climbing out of bed, she crossed to the balcony and stepped out. In the light that now flooded the grounds, she could see men moving around the property, searching, and she had to conclude that if they’d found Brand, they wouldn’t still be searching. They would already have hauled him inside for questioning—or killed him.
She shuddered. Now she had a better idea why leaving with Brand tonight would have been impossible.
She stood on the balcony for several more minutes, but the cool air finally forced her back inside.
Lying down again, she hugged her arms around her shoulders and rocked back and forth, praying that Brand was all right.
Although she’d never met him before tonight, she’d felt something for him that she couldn’t even name. She’d started by wanting his help. But she wanted a lot more, too. She tried to analyze what she sensed about the two of them and finally concluded that it was a kind of instant recognition that they belonged together.
