a boyfriend. That would be a complication he definitely didn’t need.
It was a damned quagmire and right now he couldn’t see his way out of it. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Julie, who had only been an innocent victim in all this.
He hadn’t slept at all through the night. If it wasn’t a nurse coming in to check Julie’s vitals that kept sleep at bay, it was Julie softly calling his name to make sure he was still with her.
Checking his watch, he quickly downed the last of his coffee. He needed to get back to her room. She’d be anxiously waiting for him.
And she was waiting for him. Perched on the edge of the bed and dressed in the jeans and sleeveless blue blouse she’d been in when she’d crashed her car, she held papers in her hand and her IV had been removed.
She stood at the sight of him, her smile filled with relief. “I’m free to go. I just have to wait for a nurse to bring in a wheelchair.”
Once again he was struck by her beauty. Even with her beautiful blue eyes telegraphing a simmering panic, she was stunning. Her long, dark hair was slightly tousled. Her nose was straight and her lips were just full enough to tempt a man. If she didn’t have a man in her life, he’d wonder why.
“Nick?”
She pulled him from his wayward thoughts.
“I need to use your cell phone to call for a taxi,” he said.
“Of course.” She dug in the purse next to her on the bed and withdrew the phone. “Want me to grab your hoodie?”
“No!” The word snapped out of him. He smiled quickly. “I’ll get it. You just sit right there on the bed until your ride appears.”
That was all he needed...for her to grab his sweatshirt and the gun and other items to fall out into the open.
He made the call for a taxi, his nerves once again tightening his gut.
“Here we are,” a nurse named Nancy said as she pushed a wheelchair into the room. “First-class transportation for the patient.”
“This really isn’t necessary,” Julie said.
“Hospital protocol,” Nancy replied cheerfully. “No matter how you come in, you always go out in a wheelchair.”
Within twenty minutes they were getting into a taxi that would take them to her house. “I hope you can be patient with me,” she said once they were under way. “I’m going to have a million questions for you.” She grabbed his hand and held tight.
He tried not to remember the last time a woman had held his hand, but the memory exploded in his mind. Debbie...broken and stabbed on the marble entry floor of a vacant mansion...the odor of her blood rife in the air. Her eyes glazed as she fought to maintain consciousness. He’d fallen to her side despite the police officers attempting to keep him away.
That moment was etched deeply in his brain...the grief and the outrage, the disbelief and the overwhelming rage. He’d knelt beside her and had grasped her hand. “Debbie, who did this? Who did this to you, baby?” he’d cried.
“Winthrop.” The name whispered from her just before she coughed up a mouthful of blood. Her fingers suddenly tightened around his. “Be happy,” she’d said and then she was gone, forever stolen from him by an act of despicable inhumanity.
“...happy to be home.” Julie’s voice yanked him out of the nightmare of his past as the cab pulled to a halt in front of an attractive two-story house at the back end of a cul-de-sac.
She released his hand to get into her purse and pay the driver.
They both got out and the taxi pulled away.
Nick followed her to the front door, his chest tight with tension. Once they were inside, his lies would continue because he didn’t know what else to do.
He couldn’t very well confess to her the truth: that he’d used her and her accident because he’d been in the neighborhood to commit a murder and needed a fast alibi. His biggest concern now was getting his car off the residential street where it didn’t belong.
She opened the front door and he followed her into an entry hall with a black-and-gray-tiled floor. She dropped her keys in a basket on a small table and then took a step into what he assumed was the living area. And gasped.
A white-brick fireplace graced one wall. A black-leather sofa sat between two glass-topped end tables. The glass coffee table held a centerpiece that showcased red and bright yellow flowers. The furnishings were modern and tasteful, but the reason for her gasp was instantly evident.
The remnants of a floor lamp lay on the floor, the white-glass globe nothing more than glittering shards against the tiled floor. A large red candle also lay on the floor in front of the shattered glass of a painting on the wall.
She turned to look at Nick, her expression one of stunned surprise. “You said we fought...” Her voice trailed off.
He improvised. “We were both very angry. I broke the lamp and you threw the candle at the painting.”
Somebody had fought in this room. Of course, he had no idea what had happened in her living room the night before. She was so vulnerable without her memories. Now he wondered if somehow Julie was in danger.
What or who had she been running from last night?
* * *
THE BROKEN LAMP and the shattered glass from the painting horrified her. She’d never been a fighter and rarely lost her temper. At least she remembered that about herself from a year ago. What had happened in the past ten months that had turned her into a woman who would throw a candle at a beautiful painting? Who apparently didn’t have any control over her emotions?
Nick looked at the mess, grimaced and then gazed at her. “Let’s get all this cleaned up.” He set his hoodie down on one of the living room chairs.
She got a broom and dustpan from the utility room just off the kitchen and then returned to the living room where Nick had righted the floor lamp.
“This isn’t who we are,” he said as they worked on the cleanup. “We’ve both been under some stress and this was the first time something like this has ever happened between us.”
His words made her feel somewhat better, but they did nothing to staunch a faint, simmering fear that had been inside her since she’d regained consciousness in the ambulance.
She knew instinctively the fear didn’t come from being around Nick. Rather, strangely, he was a comfort, a solid anchor in a sea that had become alien.
They worked silently until all of the glass had been cleaned up. “I think I need to check out the whole house to orient myself,” she said as she dumped the last of the glass into the trash bin.
“That sounds like a good idea,” he replied. “I’ll come with you.”
She smiled gratefully. “I appreciate it.”
Thankfully the downstairs was exactly as she remembered it to be. Her hand slid up the oak banister and with each
