wrong.”
She tried to inject every bit of energy she had into her next words. “Get out of my house.”
Evidently every bit of energy she had wasn’t enough, because he scooped her up in his arms and deposited her on the bed. She should try to fight him, but it was taking every ounce of stamina she had just to keep her eyes open. She slumped back onto the pillows, scowling at him from beneath lowered brows.
“Tell me what I can do to help you.”
She didn’t want his help. Accepting it was the very last thing she wanted to do, but she was weak as a kitten. Maybe if she conceded and allowed him to feel useful he would go away. She had a feeling it was a vain hope. “Some water would be good. And you could hand me my glasses.”
“You don’t need those tinted lenses in here. It’s gloomy as hell.”
“I can’t see without them.” It was a lie, but she’d remembered what it was about eyes that bothered her. Part of it.
He found her glasses on the bedside table and handed them to her before making his way toward the tiny kitchen. She heard him moving around in there and lay back, too wrung out to do anything else. When he returned with a glass of water, Steffi found to her shame that she couldn’t struggle into a sitting position. Without hesitation, Bryce placed the glass on the bedside table and, sitting on the bed next to her, slid an arm around her waist. Lifting her so she could lean against him, he held the glass to her lips. She submitted, grateful for both the cool liquid and his strong arms.
“We have to get you to a doctor.”
She shook her head, the action causing her cheek to rub against the hard muscle of his chest. It was both comforting and disturbing at the same time. Disturbing because she didn’t do physical contact. Closeness meant opening up to another person. That meant trust. The last time Steffi had trusted someone, she had been five years old. The person she trusted had brought her a new doll, then murdered her parents. She had never made that mistake again.
“No doctor.” Not a chance.
“Steffi, you are clearly unwell. If this is about money...”
With an effort, she lifted her head to glare at him. Even behind the dark glasses, she had perfected the expression so it had maximum impact. “I said no.”
His laugh vibrated through her body. “Has anyone ever told you that you are the most stubborn person in the whole world?”
“Apart from you?”
“Apart from me.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Your family? I’d like to meet them.”
You never will. The thought jerked her back to reality. “I’ll be fine now, Bryce. You can go. Thanks for your help.”
“Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” The sarcasm in his voice was withering. “I’m just going to walk out of here and leave you when you can’t even crawl to your own bed.”
“You don’t have any choice. I don’t want you here.” With a determined effort, Steffi pushed herself away from him and tried to sit up straight. It was a mistake. Behind the tinted lenses, the edges of her vision went black. Everything swam out of focus. She heard Bryce call her name in alarm, and the last thing she felt was his strong arms catching her as she fell back onto the pillows.
* * *
Steffi would kill him for ignoring her wishes, Bryce decided as he ended his call. If she couldn’t find something to do to him that would cause more pain than death. He checked on her again in between waiting for Leon Sinclair to answer his summons and fixing the pathetic front door. Her breathing seemed way too shallow.
Stop panicking. Leon will know what to do.
Bryce was pleased to have found this decisiveness within himself. It was a trait that often went missing at the most important times. Day to day, he could function. No one would know there was a problem. At Delaney Transportation, he knew the drivers viewed him as a good boss: tough, uncompromising, a little picky about the details. It was when the unexpected happened, if he was faced with an emergency, that it all came back to him. The explosion, the blood, the guilt. That was when his mind and body froze and he ceased to function. But he had made this decision about Steffi without hesitation. The thought brought with it a new and unexpected tingle of pride.
He prowled restlessly around the little cabin. In contrast to its ramshackle exterior, the inside was scrupulously clean and neat. In the midst of this squalor, Steffi had tried to make the place comfortable. Somehow, the sight of the bright cushions and throw on the sofa brought with it a feeling of sadness. He frowned. If she suspected him of pitying her, Steffi would be outraged. In the bedroom, the quilt on the bed was a colorful, cozy patchwork and there were vases of wildflowers throughout. The whole cabin smelled fresh and clean. There was a TV in the tiny den and a smaller one in the bedroom.
Even so, there was nothing about this place that made it Steffi’s. The few prints on the walls were landscapes. There was nothing personal, no photographs, no knickknacks, nothing that claimed it as hers. It was as bland as a vacation rental or hotel room. If she walked out of here right now, no one would know who had lived here. The only unusual thing was the stack of newspapers—she must read several each day—and celebrity gossip magazines. He wouldn’t have figured Steffi was the type to enjoy those. He shrugged. It just confirmed how little he knew about her.
When Leon arrived, Bryce studied him cautiously. Both men were veterans of the war in Afghanistan, but their career paths could not have been more different. While Bryce had been an explosive ordnance disposal—EOD—specialist, or bomb disposal expert, Leon had been an army doctor. Bryce’s promising career had been brought to an end two years ago by a roadside bomb. His physical injuries had healed quickly, leaving him with only a slight limp. He knew his brothers would say he had been left with other, deeper scars. Bryce didn’t encourage such comments, even if he knew them to be true.
Although Leon retained his medical license to practice, he had been given a medical discharge for mental health reasons. He had come home to Stillwater just over a year ago and had proceeded to make a name for himself by getting drunk and raising every kind of hell he could come up with. He had achieved the distinction of getting himself thrown out of every bar in the city and beyond.
Leon’s arrival in town had coincided with a period in Bryce’s life during which he had wondered whether alcohol might be the answer to his own problems. Since he didn’t even know what the question was, he soon found out it wasn’t. He and Leon had been on some spectacular benders while he tried to find out. Bryce had quickly sobered up, but it took Leon a lot longer. A spell in rehab had followed and he was still fighting his demons day by day. His reputation lingered and Bryce was the only person in Stillwater who didn’t believe it was still Leon’s ambition to drink the town dry.
Although Bryce knew how hard Leon was working to fight his addiction, he was secretly relieved to see that Leon was perfectly sober.
“Where’s the patient?” The slight stammer that disappeared when he had been drinking was evident now as Leon held up his medical bag.
“Through here.” Bryce led him through to the bedroom. “She was on the floor when I found her. Although she was conscious then, she passed out again after I lifted her onto the bed.”
“Who
