opened her mouth, a scream building from her soul. The man shook his head. His fingers pressed gently against her raw, chapped lips.
“Don’t,” he ordered. “You’re safe now. You don’t have to scream anymore.”
The tone, rather than the words, released the scream as a long shuddering sigh. Sydney trembled. Pain raced up her arm. Other pain quickly followed. She tried to lift her hand. It wouldn’t move. Something white covered it completely. Sydney fought against the incipient panic rising in her chest.
She couldn’t move!
Large hands rested against her shoulders, gently but effectively holding her in place.
“Look at me, Sydney.”
She had no choice but to do as he commanded. Still, she couldn’t stop the quaking that gripped her body.
He nodded. “That’s better. If you scream, the cop outside your door will throw me out of here.”
What was he talking about? The hands moved away from her shoulders. Ironically, she wanted that reassuring contact back.
“Don’t fade out on me, Sydney. Take a couple of deep breaths.”
She licked at her chapped lips as she stared into his ruggedly handsome face. He wore a military dress uniform, she realized. Puzzling out why this should be significant was too hard for her muzzy brain to contemplate. It was enough that he was here. She relaxed, staring up at him, drawn to him in some indefinable way.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked.
Sydney nodded, bewildered, and suddenly, terribly tired. The last thing she remembered—
“No! Don’t try to remember. Look at me, okay?”
Looking at him was the easiest thing she’d ever been asked to do. Just his presence made her feel safe and protected. He lifted a cup with a straw poking from the top. Carefully, he brought it to her lips in silent offering.
“Just a small sip,” he cautioned.
The ice water slid down her grateful throat, soothing the strained, parched dryness. Her whole body felt strained. She hurt. Everywhere.
“Listen to me.”
Dark somber eyes bored into her.
“Visiting hours don’t start for some time yet, so I don’t know how long I’ll have in here before one of the nurses comes to check on you.”
She blinked, trying to focus on those chiseled features. While he was somehow achingly familiar, she knew she’d never seen him before. How sad to have wasted all this time.
“You were shot during a bank robbery.”
The muzzle of the gun. Deafening noise. Blood. So much blood.
Jerome!
“Easy. You’re safe now,” his voice continued.
Blood had pumped from Mrs. Argossy’s fallen form to mingle with the spilled soda on the white tile floor.
“Listen to me, Sydney. You’re safe.”
His words banished the horrible images. His hand absently stroked her shoulder, calming the tremors that threatened to shake her apart.
“You’re in the hospital. You’ve been here three days. Do you understand?”
She focused on his face, trying to still the living nightmare. His somber expression helped hold the horror at bay. Since it seemed important to him that she agree, she nodded.
“Who are you?” Her voice croaked, sounding as rusty and sore as it felt.
His lips thinned. “Noah.”
The name took processing. “Jerome’s brother?”
No. Anyone but Jerome’s brother. Fate couldn’t be so unkind. But that would explain the military uniform. Jerome had often talked about his brother, the major.
“Yes. I’m Jerome’s brother.”
Deep sadness filled his brooding expression. She wanted to reach out to him, to ease that sorrow. This was Jerome’s brother!
Jerome.
She shut her eyes against the pain. In her head, the gunshots echoed, blending with the screams she’d locked inside. She smelled the sharp tang that had hung in the wisps of smoke. She felt Jerome’s full weight crashing down on her as he stumbled forward and collapsed, his body jerking repeatedly, pinning her to the floor.
She didn’t need the words, but her lips formed them anyhow. She opened her eyes. “He’s dead,” she stated. She knew it to be true.
“Yes.”
Noah responded so softly she almost didn’t hear him as the first salty tear trickled down her cheek.
“Don’t,” he said sharply. “Please. We need to talk before they toss me out of here.”
She stared at him, frustrated by her inability to wipe the wetness from her cheek. “I wasn’t planning to give in to hysterics.”
His expression softened. “Good. That would send me screaming. Do you remember everything that happened?”
If only she could forget.
She tried to sit up and found she still couldn’t move her hands. For the first time, she noticed the IV bottle on the other side of the bed. She blinked rapidly in frustration and Noah withdrew a crisp white handkerchief. He blotted her cheeks and eyes.
The elusive scent she’d noticed on awakening came from him, she realized. Probably a cologne, though it was so faint she couldn’t be certain. The distracting smell helped to calm her, for some reason.
“Mrs. Argossy?”
“Dead,” he answered quietly.
Sydney cringed.
“Take deep breaths,” Noah encouraged.
A long shudder passed through her. Once again she tried to move. “My hands—”
“They tied you down so you wouldn’t thrash around anymore. You pulled the IV out twice. They were afraid you’d injure yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You slammed your head against something when you fell, Sydney. You suffered a concussion. When you finally started to come to, you began to thrash around so violently that they had to sedate you.”
“I don’t remember.” Yet she could almost remember horrible screams that felt lodged deep inside her. She stared up at him, focusing on his face in a bid for control.
“My head hurts.”
He
