Explosive Attraction - By Lena Diaz Page 0,21
started coughing violently. Rafe grabbed the cup of ice chips sitting on the table next to the bed and handed them to his boss.
After swallowing a mouthful of ice, Buresh glared at Rafe. “Detective Jake Young,” he said, “is one of us. No way is he involved in this mess. As soon as Dr. Steele is discharged, you get her out of here. I don’t want any arguments. You’re both banged up and need the rest, so you might as well keep her close so you can protect her. Leave the investigating to someone else. When you’re all rested up, get your butt back into the station to work with a sketch artist. And after that, I want you—and Jake—in my office. We’ll get to the bottom of this timeline problem. And I guaran-freaking-tee he’s not involved.”
“You don’t really believe you’ll be back in the office anytime soon, do you?”
“I may look like hell, and feel like hell, but other than losing some blood, I’m fine. The bomber didn’t cut anything vital. Whether the doctors want to let me go tomorrow or not, I’m going.” His mouth flattened into a hard line. “I need to be a part of this investigation. I have to look at Daniels’s widow and tell her I did everything I could to find her husband’s killer.”
* * *
“WAKE UP, SLEEPYHEAD.”
Darby frowned at the deep voice intruding into her sleep. She mumbled a protest and threw her arm over her eyes to block out the bright light that flickered on overhead.
“I let you sleep as long as I could.” A hand gently shook her.
She slapped the hand off her shoulder and blinked her eyes open.
When she saw who was bothering her, she groaned and closed her eyes again. Detective Rafe Morgan. She hadn’t seen him since waking up from her so-called trance in an examining room in the E.R. He’d insisted on a psychiatric consult, in spite of her embarrassed pleading with him to just let it go. She didn’t need another mental health professional to tell her what she already knew.
Dark, tight places terrified her.
“Nap time is over.” Rafe shook her shoulder, his touch gentle in spite of the way he’d barked out his order.
Darby let out an exasperated breath and opened her eyes again. The clock on the wall behind him showed her how late, or rather early, it was. “Good grief. It’s five in the morning.”
“We should have left an hour ago.” He plopped a small suitcase on the foot of the bed and pitched a tan plastic bag next to it, one of those disposable bags with the name of a local grocery store written across it.
Realizing her tormentor wasn’t going to leave her alone, she sat up, grabbed the plastic bag and looked inside. White cotton slacks, a dark button-up blouse...a bra and panties. Her face flushed hot. “What’s this?”
“I had your assistant go to your house and pack you some things. She said the grocery bag has what you need to change here in the hospital. Everything else is in the suitcase. You’ve got five minutes.”
He turned to go, and she realized he’d already changed his clothes. His hospital gown was gone. In its place was a pair of faded jeans and a muscle-hugging forest-green T-shirt. And he was sporting another ominous-looking gun again, holstered against his hip.
“Wait,” she called out as he pulled the door open.
He paused and looked at her expectantly.
She pressed the buttons on the bed, raising herself into a sitting position. “What’s going on?” She glanced toward the door, her body tensing. “Is...is there someone out there? Is that why we have to leave right now?”
The look on his face softened. He let the door close and strode back to her bed. “You’re safe. Plenty of cops this time. But I want you out of here before the sun comes up, just in case the bomber’s watching the hospital. I’m betting he might be asleep right now, so this is the best time to go.”
Hearing the bomber might be watching the hospital had her pulse leaping in her throat. The selfish part of her wanted to jump up right now and get as far away as she could. But that wasn’t right, not when she could tell Rafe wasn’t anywhere near recovered from their ordeal in the marsh.
The corners of his eyes were tight with strain, and his face seemed pale beneath his tan. Even though the stubborn man was obviously trying to hide that he