asked, “So why’d you let me into her room when you knew I was suspended?”
She smiled. “Your lieutenant vouched for you and your integrity.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek as guilt flared. But his lieutenant knew about the witch hunt, even though he didn’t entirely believe in it. They’d had to bring in the police after the attempt on Ariel’s life and then when Elena’s daughter had been kidnapped. Both those incidents could have been avoided if Ty had acted faster than Roarke. He couldn’t take the chance of the guy beating him to Irina. Again.
Irina awoke to night. Or at least she assumed it was. No sunshine penetrated the shade and heavy drapes on the window. Not even an artificial light glowed. She could have been enveloped in the blackness of other people’s thoughts, but not a single spark glittered. And the only thoughts in her head were her own, full of fear and frustration.
How long had she slept? Minutes? Hours? Days? With the drugs pumping through the IV into her veins, she had no concept of time. She would have blamed months of malnutrition instead of sedatives for her exhaustion, but she was too desperate to waste time on sleep…unless she was drugged.
She flexed her wrists, her tendons pressing against the straps that pinched her skin. She had to figure out a way to get the psychiatrist to remove the restraints. Whenever she’d spoken last to the young woman, Irina had fought to remain calm even as frustration had nagged at her. She couldn’t waste any more time trying to convince the doctor of her sanity. The killer was coming for her.
Sparks flickered before her eyes, glowing like embers on a dying fire, then his voice spoke inside her head. I have to get the charm before I get any weaker. I have to kill her. And now I know where she is. So close. So helpless…
Goose bumps rose as her skin chilled. Her breath shuddered out of her lungs, but the pressure on her chest didn’t ease. She fought against the panic. She couldn’t give in to hysteria if she hoped to ever have the restraints removed. She dragged in deep breaths through her nose, trying to calm herself.
But a big hand closing over her mouth and nose cut off her breath. Oh God, she’d slept too long. She’d missed her opportunity to escape. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Not anymore.
He’d found her again. And he had her now.
Chapter 3
“Shh…” murmured a deep voice close to her ear, warm breath stirring her hair across her cheek.
Irina thrashed her head on the pillow, trying to shake his hand from her mouth, but he held tight, his palm warm, like his breath, against her lips. She couldn’t open her mouth, couldn’t scream, couldn’t bite. And her arms, bound to the bed, provided her no defense. She was entirely helpless.
Physically.
Mentally she might be able to read his intentions. But she dare not close her eyes, dare not invite the blackness into her mind that already enveloped her body.
“You have to trust me,” he whispered, his voice a soft rasp.
She shivered, her apprehension not lessened even though she knew he wasn’t the man from the alley.
“I’m going to protect you.”
Because he’d failed someone else? He didn’t say anything either aloud or in his head to confirm her suspicion, but instinctively Irina knew that he had. And that failure haunted him, driving him to never fail again. So when he said he’d protect her, he meant it.
“But I have to get you out of here.”
Before Donovan Roarke does.
Her heart clenched. Donovan Roarke. That was the name of the man whose evil thoughts filled her mind, whose evil deeds had traumatized her, damning her to a life of insanity…until this man, his voice whispering inside her head, had pulled her back from the edge. Ty McIntyre.
She jerked her chin up and down in an anxious nod of agreement. She had to get out of the hospital. She knew Roarke was coming for her and she couldn’t get out by herself. She couldn’t even get up from the bed.
“You trust me?” he asked.
She moved her head in another nod, her mouth sliding over his palm. In the silence, his breath audibly caught, and his eyes glowed bright, like a blue beacon in the darkness. She was glad that he couldn’t read her mind, because once he got her out, she intended to run again. From him.
“You have to do what I say. Everything that I say,” he insisted.
While she’d forgotten chunks of her life, even before the past few months, she remembered that she’d never done well at following orders. Maybe that was another reason her adoptive parents hadn’t been able to love her.
“I’m going to take my hand away. If you scream, I won’t be able to get you out of here.” I won’t be able to save you.
Because he’d be in a jail and she’d be here. Alone. At the mercy of a madman.
Come on, Irina, trust me. That last thought, and his hand lifted from her mouth, hovering just an inch away from her lips as he waited for her to scream. While he requested her trust, he didn’t give his.
“I’m not crazy,” she assured him in a soft whisper.
He moved his hand from her face to her wrist and the restraint binding her to the bed. “I know.” I know everything.
And there was so much she didn’t know—about herself, about her sisters, about the witch hunt. But what she wanted most to learn couldn’t wait until he’d set her free. “Who are you?”
“Ty McIntyre.”
She hadn’t forgotten the psychiatrist’s introduction. But his name told her nothing. “Who are you to me?”
Why had his thoughts pushed into her mind before she’d ever met him? What was their connection?
“I’m a friend.”
Pieces of her past were missing, so much she’d forgotten or lost to drugs and alcohol. But if he’d been a friend, she would have remembered him. Ty McIntyre wasn’t the type of man any woman could forget. Instead of screaming Liar! at him, as she had at the killer, she just whispered, “No, you’re not.”
“I’m here for your sisters.” For you.
“You’re working for them?” Donovan Roarke had claimed the same thing.
“They’re friends of mine,” he said. “I’m going to bring you to them, but we have to hurry.”
“Yes.” She expelled a nervous breath. Her sisters were part of that missing past. Only faint memories of them remained, like faded photographs in an old album.
“We have to hurry,” she agreed. “He knows where I am.”
He didn’t doubt her certainty, either aloud or in his head. He just uttered the man’s name with the intensity of a curse. “Roarke.”
“If
