his hair. “What I do is important.”
“More important than me.” She’d stood, hands on hips, waiting.
He’d known what she wanted. A commitment. The problem was, he wasn’t ready. And right then, he’d known he would never be with Tanya.
“This is probably for the best,” he’d said, motioning to the bulging trash bag.
Tears flowing, she’d nodded. “Don’t bother to call me if and when you get back.” With that, she had grabbed up the bag and stormed to the door, stopping only long enough to hurl his apartment key at his head.
“Where are my clothes?”
Austin blinked, confused for a moment, he’d been so lost in his thoughts. He focused on the woman in the hospital bed. “You can’t leave. Your husband is on his way.”
Panic filled her expression. She tried to get out of the bed. As he moved to her bedside to stop her, he heard the door open behind him.
Austin turned to see a large stocky man come into the room, followed by the doctor.
“Mrs. Stewart,” the doctor said as he approached her bed. “Your husband is here.”
The stocky man stopped a few feet into the room and stood frowning. For a moment, Austin thought there had been a mistake and that the man didn’t recognize the woman.
But the man wasn’t looking at his wife. He was frowning at Austin. As if the doctor’s words finally jarred him into motion, the man strode to the other side of the bed and quickly took his wife’s hand as he bent to kiss her forehead. “I was so worried about you.”
Austin watched the woman’s expression. She looked terrified, her gaze locking with his in a plea for help.
“Excuse me,” Austin said as he stepped forward. He had no idea what he planned to say, let alone do. But something was wrong here.
“I beg your pardon?” said the alleged husband, turning to look at Austin before swinging his gaze to the doctor with a who the hell is this? expression.
“This is the man who saved your wife’s life,” the doctor said and introduced Austin before getting a page that he was needed elsewhere. He excused himself and hurried out, leaving the three of them alone.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Austin said.
“Marc. Marc Stewart.”
Stewart, Austin thought, remembering the name on the driver’s license in the purse he’d found in the car. “And this woman’s name is Rebecca Stewart?” he asked the husband.
“That’s right,” Marc Stewart answered in a way that dared Austin to challenge him.
As he looked to the woman in the bed, Austin noticed that she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “I’m sorry, but how do we know you’re her husband?”
“Are you serious?” the man demanded, glaring across the bed at him.
“She doesn’t seem to recognize you,” he said, even though what he’d noticed was that the woman seemed terrified of the man.
Marc Stewart gave him the once-over, clearly upset. “She’s had a concussion.”
“Old habits are hard to break,” Austin said as he displayed his badge and ID to the alleged Marc Stewart. “You wouldn’t mind me asking for some identification from you, would you?”
The man looked as if he might have a coronary. At least he’d come to the right place, Austin thought, as the alleged Marc Stewart angrily pulled out his wallet and showed Austin his license.
Marc Andrew Stewart, Austin read. “There was a car seat in the back of the vehicle she was driving. Where is the baby?”
“With my mother.” A blood vessel in the man’s cheek began to throb. “Look Deputy...Cardwell, is it? I appreciate that you supposedly saved my wife’s life, but it’s time for you to butt out.”
Austin told himself he should back off, but the fear in the woman’s eyes wouldn’t let him. “She doesn’t seem to know you and she isn’t wearing a wedding ring.” He didn’t add that the woman seemed terrified and had bruises on her upper arms where someone had gotten rough with her. Not to mention the fact that when he’d told her that her husband was on his way, she’d panicked and tried to leave. Concussion or not, something was wrong with all this.
“I think you should leave,” the man said.
“If you really are her husband, it shouldn’t be hard for you to prove it,” Austin said, holding his ground—well, at least until Marc Stewart had hospital security throw him out, which wouldn’t be long, from the look on the man’s face. The woman in the bed still hadn’t uttered a word.
For a moment, Marc Stewart looked as if he was about to tell him to go to hell. But instead, he dug into his pocket angrily and produced a plain gold band that caught the light as he reached for the woman’s left hand.
“My wife left it by the sink yesterday,” Marc Stewart said by way of explanation. “She always takes it off when she does the dishes. Sometimes she forgets to put it back on.”
Austin thought, given the bruises on the woman’s upper arms, that she had probably thrown the ring at him as she took off yesterday.
When she still didn’t move to take the ring, the man snatched up her hand lying beside her on the bed and slipped the ring on her finger.
Austin watched her look down at the ring. He saw recognition fill her expression just before she began to cry.
Even from where he stood, he could see that the ring, while a little loose, fit close enough. Just as the photo ID in Rebecca Stewart’s purse looked enough like the woman on the bed. He told himself there was nothing more he could do. Clearly she was afraid of this man. But unless she spoke up...
“I guess I’ll leave you with your husband, unless there is something I should know?” Austin asked her.
“Tell the man, Rebecca,” Marc Stewart snapped. “Am I your husband?” He bent down to kiss her cheek. Austin saw him whisper something in her ear.
She closed her eyes, tears leaking from beneath dark lashes.
“We had a little argument and she took off and apparently almost got herself killed,” Marc said. “We both said and did things we regret, isn’t that right, Rebecca? Tell the man, sweetheart.”
Her eyes opened slowly. She took a ragged breath and wiped away the tears with the backs of her hands, the way a little kid would.
“Is that all there is to this?” Austin asked, watching her face. Across from him, he could see Marc gritting his teeth in fury at this interference in his life.
She nodded her head slowly, her gaze going from her husband to Austin. “Thank you, but he’s right. It was just a foolish disagreement. I will be
