shoulders heaved and her breathing was ragged. Sierra’s tough facade washed away in a tidal wave of tears.
Trevor felt himself melting toward her. How could he push her further? But he had to keep going. She had information she was holding back. Even through the tears, he could feel her resistance. “What is it, Sierra? What do you want to tell me?”
“I can’t,” she said. “It’s too much. Leave me alone. Please.”
He returned to the earlier topic. “After he locked you in the closet, what happened?”
“The next morning, I told him I had to go to work. I have two part-time jobs, and I can’t call in sick.”
“Did he let you leave?”
She shook her head. “I told him that if he wanted me to keep quiet, he’d have to kill me.”
A gutsy move on her part. Trevor was impressed. “What happened?”
“He said he’d go. But before he did, he tore my place apart. He found my nest egg, the money I’d been saving so I could move back to Brooklyn. And he took all of it.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“No.”
“Did you follow him?”
“No.”
She was still holding something back. He could feel her resistance. Harshly, he snapped, “You’re not telling me everything.”
“No.” Her eyes squeezed shut. She didn’t want to divulge this secret.
“Why?” he demanded.
Helplessly, she shook her head from side to side.
“I don’t get it, Sierra. You’re a strong woman. You don’t let people push you around. Why did you protect Lyle Nelson? Why did you stay with him?”
“Because he was the father of my child.”
There was a hollow ring to her voice; she was speaking from the depths of unbearable sorrow.
Abruptly, she stopped crying. Her eyes opened wide, revealing her unassuageable pain. “I miscarried. After Lyle was arrested. I lost my baby. My son.”
The color drained from her face. In a matter-of-fact voice, she said, “I wanted to die.”
Her miscarriage was the secret she’d been hiding from him, and Trevor had forced the words from her. My God, what had he done?
She’d been right to call him a monster.
Chapter Three
Though Trevor’s interrogation of Sierra Collins was complete, he did not unfasten her restraints. Not yet. If he released her while she was still under the influence of the mind-numbing truth drug, she’d be disoriented and confused, possibly even delusional. A few hours of recovery time was necessary.
He leaned over the chair and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Hush now, Sierra. You can sleep.”
“Don’t want to.” She gave a halfhearted tug at the restraints. “Let me out of here.”
“Not yet.”
“I’ve got things to do.”
“Relax, Sierra. Relax.” He keyed his voice to a soothing cadence. “You’re tired, aren’t you? Bone tired. Think about it. Feel how tired you are.”
Though she made an effort to resist, her eyelids drooped. Sierra was in a highly suggestible state. Her defenses were gone, shattered by his interrogation. When she looked up at him, her deep brown eyes reflected a vulnerability that touched his heart and made him feel guilty. He had no right to strip away her dignity and pry into her life. Still, he asked, “Why did you stay here after Lyle was arrested? Why didn’t you go home to your family, where they could take care of you?”
“Too tired.” The words fell slowly from her full lips. “After my son died, I holed up in my house. Didn’t work. Didn’t do anything. Maxed out my credit cards. I was too miserable to live, and too scared to die.”
It didn’t take a psychologist to figure out that she’d been severely depressed. “Then what?”
“I don’t know.” She frowned. “One morning I got up and decided it was time for me to get a job. I’ve been working ever since. It’s time for me to go back to Brooklyn, to forget about Montana.”
Trevor would do what he could to spare her from the sorrow of her memories. Hypnotic suggestion would make her reawakening easier.
Gently, he said, “Breathe deeply.”
Her chest rose and fell.
“That’s good, Sierra. Inhale. Exhale. Feel the pain and stress flowing away from you. Listen to my voice.”
Though she had no reason to trust him, Trevor had a natural talent for projecting his will. One of his instructors at Special Forces counterintelligence called it charisma. He offered her reassurance. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you. Okay?”
“I suppose.”
“I want you to think about a beautiful place. The mountains. Or the ocean. Maybe a tropical island.”
“I’m from Brooklyn,” she said. “I don’t know from tropical islands.”
“What’s the most beautiful place you can think of? Somewhere special.”
“The East River.”
As she spoke, her eyes took on a less guarded expression, and he knew that she had begun to relax. “Okay, Sierra. Tell me about the East River.”
“There’s a park in Brooklyn where you can look across the river at the Manhattan skyline. And you can see the Statue of Liberty.”
Most people chose a more secluded version of beauty, but he was coming to realize that she was unique. “Imagine you’re there. Overhead is a beautiful sky.”
“At sunset,” she said. “The air is soft and pink. Then the city begins to light up. It’s magical.”
“Feel the breeze off the water. Hear the gulls and the lapping of the waves. Close your eyes and see it.”
She nodded. Her lips formed a gentle smile.
“Now relax,” he said. “Start with your toes and your feet. Allow those muscles to release. Now your calves. Your thighs.”
“Feels good.” A soft moan escaped her lips.
“Relax your hips and your buttocks.”
Trevor glanced down at her full, sexy hips. Even in the shapeless garment, her hourglass figure enticed him. He longed to touch her, to hold her lush body against his.
