feel plenty agitated right now,” Casey muttered as she fiddled with the paper hospital gown that she was wearing. Her clothes had been taken, confiscated as evidence by the authorities. “Thank you for all that you’ve done. Really, thank you. But I want to get out of here, okay? I don’t have nausea, no blurred vision, no memory lapses. I know our president. I know my birthday. I know—”
The curtain on the side of her bed swung back. “You know that you’re causing trouble.”
Her breath left in a quick rush. Josh. “I—I thought you were at the crime scene.” She pulled up her covers—or rather, the thin sheet that was her only cover, other than the paper gown. “How long have you been here?” Had he just been hanging around, eavesdropping on her talk with the doctor? Didn’t he get there was a whole patient privacy issue going on?
He stepped closer to the bed. A line of stubble coated his hard jaw. “Been here long enough to know that you’re pushing yourself too hard.”
“No, I’m not. I let the doctors check me out. I did everything they wanted.” Her shoulders straightened. “Now, I want to go back to my hotel—” But even as she said the words, she stopped. No, she didn’t want to go back to the hotel. She didn’t want to return to that dark room and remember what it had been like when the attacker grabbed her.
“Your room isn’t an option.”
Because a crime scene team was still there? “I’m sure I can get another hotel room.”
His jaw hardened. “What you’re getting is a safe house.”
A what?
“Um, excuse me,” the doctor began.
Josh flashed his ID at her. “FBI. I’m Josh Duvane, and I’ll be seeing to Ms. Quinn’s security.”
“I told you to call me Casey,” she reminded him, again.
He flashed her a hard look.
Fine. Enough of this. Casey shoved back her thin cover. If need be, she’d leave that place in her paper gown. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. She started to rise—
Josh locked his hands around her shoulders and pushed her back down. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Yes, I am going someplace. I’m getting out of here. Because I don’t like hospitals. I don’t like getting poked and prodded, and since nothing is wrong with me, there’s no reason I can’t just walk right out of that door.”
There was more to it than that. She had a very specific reason for not liking hospitals. Once, she’d spent far too much time in a hospital. She’d grown to hate those white walls and the scent of antiseptic. That scent was like death to her.
He glanced at the doctor.
“She needs someone to stay with her,” Dr. Abernathy said. “In case she has any issues—blurred vision, slurred speech, convulsions...”
Oh, yes, that lovely list again. “I’ll bunk with my camerawoman. Katrina can make sure I’m okay.” Speaking of Katrina, the woman was probably freaking out. Casey needed to talk with her immediately but no one had let her have a phone.
Not helpful.
“If I make sure she isn’t alone,” Josh said, his hands still around her shoulders, “will she be able to leave?”
Dr. Abernathy nodded. “Yes, but if she displays any of those symptoms, she has to return to the hospital right away.”
He nodded. “Done.”
Done?
“I’ll get an orderly to help Ms. Quinn to the car,” Dr. Abernathy stated briskly. “Patient pickup is located at the front side of the building—”
“And that side is covered by reporters. I’ll be getting Casey out, don’t worry about that.”
The doctor blinked. “Uh, right. Okay, then. I’ll go prepare the discharge paperwork.” She exited the room. Josh didn’t move.
Casey stared up at him. “Safe house?”
“Yes, it’s a place we put victims or potential witnesses so we can be sure that—”
“I know what a safe house is,” she said. “But since when am I going to one?”
“Since you escaped a killer?”
“Josh—”
“I’m afraid you’re being taken into protective custody for the time being.” His hands slid away from her. He turned and paced toward the door—and he picked up a small duffel bag that she hadn’t even noticed before. “And while you’re under protective custody, I have to ask that you refrain from speaking with reporters.”
“I am a reporter.”
He brought the bag to her. She glanced inside and relief filled her. Clothes. The guy had stopped and picked up some of her clothes. “I could kiss you,” she mumbled.
“If you want...”
Her gaze jerked up to his.
He stared at her. The tension between them mounted. She hadn’t even been thinking when she’d spoken. It had just been an expression but now...
She swallowed. “You’re not...you’re not like other FBI agents, are you?”
“You’ve met a lot of us?”
“My fair share.” She felt too exposed. Being in front of him, just that thin gown covering her skin, made her feel too vulnerable. “Side effect of my job, you know? I tend to cross paths with the authorities a lot.” She was rambling. Casey clamped her lips shut.
His hand lifted and he touched her cheek.
Casey flinched.
“Easy...”
“There is nothing easy about how I feel right now.” Her whole life was out of control.
His gaze was on her cheek. “Does it hurt?”
“The cut or the bruise?” Then she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Josh, get me out of here.”
“It matters.” His voice was rough, his gaze gleaming. “It matters one hell of a lot to me.” He stepped away. “Do you need help changing?”
Help... Ah, him? Seeing her naked? “No, I...have it.”
He pulled the curtain back into place.
“You’re just...standing there?” On the other side of that thin curtain?
“I can’t see you.”
She slid off the bed and dressed—slowly. She didn’t want to fall and have him rushing back in to pick her nearly naked self off the floor. After sliding into the underwear
