Chapter 6
Camryn stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body, tucking the end between her breasts. Her hair waved over her shoulders and dripped water onto her skin, making her miss the scorching shower even more. Steam clouded the bathroom, and when she opened the door the hall was consumed by a cloud of warm mist. A hot shower had been just what she needed. A break from worrying about the sexy, abused patient. She sighed. Before leaving the parking lot she’d examined the darkness, looking—hoping?—to find Brooks. Where would he go? Would he have withdrawal symptoms soon? She should have given him a ride somewhere, at least made sure he had a decent meal. If they mentioned his dead body on the twelve o’clock news, she’d feel horrible.
She padded to the bedroom. Maybe she’d go for a drive. Surely he hadn’t gone far yet. She needed food, but that would have to wait. Her stomach churned like a turbulent ocean. She wouldn’t be able to keep a bite down. She’d make a tea to go, to tide her over. When she got back, she had to pack her bag. She couldn’t stay here. Jen would wake up in the morning and all hell would break loose. Dr. Leonetti would know she’d helped Brooks escape. She’d face serious charges if she didn’t get out of dodge.
She stepped into lilac-colored pajama shorts and a white tank top. In the kitchen, she filled the kettle with fresh water then placed it on the burner, turning it on. She reached into the cupboard, pulled down a travel mug, and dropped a tea bag in.
Creak
She froze and turned her gaze toward the hallway leading to the back door. The screen door needed oil, and had she cared about it being quiet, she’d have greased it. She rubbed her palm on the material covering her abdomen and creeped toward the door. She stopped and stared at the unmoving wooden backdoor.
Just the wind. She’d have to latch the door so it wouldn’t squeak.
A soft rustle stopped her in her tracks. Her pulse raced in her ears, making it harder to train her senses on the door. She lowered her gaze to the gold-finished handle as it turned back, and then forth.
She snapped her head toward the kitchen. Her feet stuck to the spot as if she’d grown roots. She needed a weapon. She had a gun in her bedroom, but she wouldn’t have time to retrieve and load it. The flimsy door jerked.
Someone’s trying to get in.
Her legs vibrated with the need to take flight. She swung her gaze to the hall closet behind the back door.
Inside was a baseball bat that had belonged to the previous renter. The door handle moved more feverishly. Indignation built inside her. If Isaac had found her and was breaking into her house, she wouldn’t be forgiving. He’d tried to kill her once, and she’d been unarmed. Her mind instantly went to the not-yet-healed scar above her breast. No. That wasn’t going to happen again. She reached into the back of the closet, and her hand circled the baseball bat’s smooth wood handle. The fact that she had to do this after the ordeal at work made her blood boil even more. Could it be someone from the lab? No. They wouldn’t have gotten to her so quickly, and surely they would have tried calling if they needed to speak to her.
Damn the old back door for not having a peephole. She flicked on the light and the rattling stopped. Holding the bat in her hand, she unlocked the door and yanked it open. Then, gripping the bat in both hands, she swung. It stopped midair as if it’d hit a brick wall. She stared at the hand holding the thickest part of the bat.
Her breath left her lungs.
Pale-green scrubs filled her vision. The short-sleeved shirt tapered to a familiar trim waist. The tattooed-covered skin made his identity undeniable. She gripped the handle until the skin on her knuckles threatened to crack. “W-What are you doing here?” Fear froze her arms in position.
He lifted a shoulder. A hesitant grin moved the edge of his mouth. “Hey.”
She hiked up her eyebrows. “Hey?” She jerked the bat, and he let go without fight. She flattened her palm against her breastbone, searing the thin material of her tank in place and reminding her she wore no bra to conceal the outlines of her nipples. Indignation warred with the heat of embarrassment. “What the hell are you doing here? You followed me? You’re trying to break into my house?” Her voice rose with each question.
He lowered his gaze to the threshold. She followed his line of vision, and her gaze stopped on his bare feet. A torrent of pity filled her.
“Yes, I followed you. Only because I need help.” The last sentence was spoken an octave lower, as if it pained him to admit he needed assistance.
She lowered her palm to the inside of the door. Part of her wanted to tell him to go away. When the hospital came looking for him, they’d bring the police. No one would believe his story. She sure as hell wouldn’t have if she hadn’t witnessed his living conditions and the twelfth floor.
The problem was, she couldn’t go to the cops. If she was registered in the system as a witness to a crime, Isaac would find her. Even though he wasn’t a police officer anymore, he still had connections.
She wet her lips. The kettle whistled, and the screaming sound made her jump.
Brooks lowered his gaze to the bat. “Do you always answer the door with a weapon?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Only when visitors come to my back door at night.”
He chuckled. The low, gruff sound tickled her senses. “Can I come in?”
“You mean since you couldn’t bust open the lock?”
He tipped his chin. “I could have busted that cheap lock in a second. I knocked about five minutes ago, then tried the door handle.” A somber look took over his face. “Do you want me to leave?”
Tension strangled her insides. No. She didn’t want him to leave. She was a helper to a fault. Blame it on her nursing background or whatever, but she liked to help people in need. Brooks was in need, and in danger. He must have knocked while she was in the shower. Without a doubt he could have broken the door down with one thump of his shoulder, so the fact that he’d tried the knob meant this wasn’t a total invasion.
“No,” she said, her voice small, before she could stop the word. Dang it. She sucked in a breath and stepped back, opening the door wider so he could enter. She needed to change into something decent, then give him the ride she’d intended to offer him if she found him. “Wait here. I need to change.”
He stood in the small laundry room/mudroom and folded his arms over his chest. “Take your time.” His low drawl was way too sexy for someone so ruthless.
Get a grip.
She turned on her heel, pulled the yelling kettle off the burner, then went to her bedroom. The townhouse was a perfect size, but now, with him less than twenty feet away and only a kitchen and a bedroom door separating them, it felt tiny. She stared at the door. Why didn’t the thing have a frickin lock? She stripped off the shorts and tank, hopped into the pair of jeans she’d worn that morning, and threw on a thick pullover sweater. She didn’t put on a bra because who had time for that when a dude with serious issues was waiting at her door.
She stepped out and hurried for the mudroom. He stood where she’d left him, his gaze dark and the smile lingering on his mouth soft and patient.
“Do you want a tea or something?”
He tilted his head. “Coffee would be great. I haven’t had that in...” He pressed his lips together and shook his head.
She motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen. Curiosity pulled at her brain. The smart thing to do would be to not ask questions unless they were simple—like, would you prefer to go to the bus station or the train station? But she’d never been good at making rational decisions where other people’s needs were concerned.
She pulled down two white mugs from the cupboard. “I only have instant coffee. Sorry. I’m more of a tea drinker.”
He raised one hand, his arms still across his chest. “I’m in no position to complain.”
She added a scoop of instant coffee to the mug then poured boiling water in.
“Cream?”
“Black is good.” He accepted the coffee.
She poured hot water into the other mug, took the tea bag out of the travel mug, and dunked it in the water.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, glancing at the travel mug.
She dragged her top teeth over her bottom lip. He was awfully observant for someone who’d been drugged and sedated for a month. “Um. Yeah. I was going to go for a drive before you showed up.” She peeked up at him.
Interest sparked his eyes. “It’s pretty late for a drive.”
She sucked in her cheeks to avoid smiling but failed. “I was hoping to find you so I could offer you a ride somewhere.”
He nodded slowly then took a swig of his coffee. His hand trembled. Her senses spiked.
She put down her mug. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”
A muscle jumped at his temple. “I’m fine.”
She moved forward, stopping just before she stepped on his toes. Goodness he was large. Standing this close to him gave her shivers. If he were a violent man, it wouldn’t take him much effort to overpower her. Despite that warning in her head, her body responded positively to the heat radiating off his torso. His biceps bulged under the too-tight short-sleeved shirt, making her ache to run her palm over the muscles.
She cleared her throat. “You’re experiencing withdrawal?”
His jaw turned to downright stone. “Soon.” He shifted his gaze to the clock on the stove. “I shouldn’t stay long. I need to get somewhere I can ride it out.”
Her heart pattered in her chest. Withdrawals were intense. She’d seen her fair share. It might be too much for his body, to stop cold turkey. This was a drug she knew nothing about. “Have you been off it for a long time before?”
He gave one shake of his head. “Not for long. Just enough to suffer before they injected me again.”
She flipped through options as if her mind were a Rolodex in the wind. He shouldn’t be alone. She couldn’t have him here. He couldn’t go to a hospital. Not when they’d be searching for him. “You can’t stay here. Neither can I. They’ll be looking for me, too.”
“If they find you, they’ll kill you.”
Her windpipe constricted. It wasn’t fair. Now she had to be on the run—again. She moved closer, resting her hand on his elbow. She shouldn’t touch him. Shouldn’t get so close. But part of her needed to show him he wasn’t alone and that she wasn’t afraid. “Let me take you to a hotel. You can deal with the withdrawal and, when that’s settled, call your family.”
His expression hardened further. The blues of his eyes were so intense that his gaze made her heart slam against her solar plexus. “I have no family.”
She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop the slew of questions. There had to be someone in his life who cared about him. She studied the length of his body. So big and strong, yet also so lean. “When did you eat last?”
His tension softened a touch. “I don’t know. Not today.”
She pulled her hand away. “They didn’t feed you?”
“They did. If I pleased Leonetti, he rewarded me with a steak dinner. But I’d have rather starved than do what he wanted.” He brushed his fingers over her forearm. The touch sent a shock wave of sensation through her body, further muddling her brain.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “They put out some kind of oatmeal slop for breakfast, and they usually provided another meal to sustain my strength before administering the drug.”
She turned to the fridge. “I don’t have much. I just got the basics earlier and planned to do a bigger trip tomorrow on my day off. I’ve got some leftover soup I made yesterday.” She dipped into the fridge and pulled out a container then turned and bumped into his chest. Her insides tightened.
“I appreciate the offer, but I need to go—now.” The tightness around his mouth told her he was losing his grip. If the withdrawal effects kicked in before he was resting somewhere, they could cripple him.
“I’ll take this.” She grabbed a reusable tote and placed the container in the bottom then grabbed a few more food items and bottles of water and tossed them in.
“You should pack a bag too,” he said, his voice so low she froze.
A shudder raced over her flesh. “I have one.”
His brow quirked with interest. “Good. You won’t be able to come back.”
He was right. God, what had she gotten herself caught up in? She had a go-bag packed and stashed under her bed in the event Isaac found her—or her mom—and she had to leave quickly. Did she really have to run? She shook her head internally. Who was she kidding? She’d watched Brooks inject the head nurse with a sedative and hadn’t reported it. Then she’d helped him escape and had stolen a vial of the drug—
Shoot! She’d completely forgotten about the concoction in her shirt pocket.
She left the tote on the kitchen table, went to her bedroom, and pulled the vial from her scrub shirt, which was dangling on a hanger. Then she grabbed her phone charger, gun, and the five grand in cash she always kept in her top drawer. After pulling the small duffel bag out from under the bed, she tucked the items inside and made her way back to the kitchen.
Brooks sucked back the rest of his coffee and set the mug in the sink then turned to face her. “That was fast.” His sharp gaze slipped over the duffel bag as she stuffed her purse inside.
“We should go.”
He stepped toward her and took the bag from her fingers. His skin had paled since he showed up at her house, making the scruffiness of his jaw that much more apparent. As Brooks turned toward the door, a river of fear caught hold of Cam’s senses. She couldn’t focus on anything but getting him somewhere safe. After that, he was on his own and she’d find somewhere else to plant temporary roots. She jammed her feet into her loafers, scooped up her runners—she could always use a second pair of shoes—and followed him to the door. He held the screen door open while she took out her keys and locked the back door. His form wavered next to her. She looked up as he slumped against the side of the house, his arm bracing his weight.
She gasped and reached for him. The screen door smacked her in the back before shutting. “Are you okay?”
He lifted his head from the crook of his arm. Droplets of sweat had collected on his brow, and his complexion was green. He let out a deep, painful grunt. “It’s starting.”
Panic surged through her. She had to get him out of here. Catching his arm, she led him around the side of the house to her car, which was waiting in the driveway. She hadn’t parked in the garage in case she decided to look for him. Opening the passenger door, she clung to his arm, but his size compared to hers was laughable. If he fell, they were both going down.
He flounced onto the seat and dragged his feet into the footwell. After tossing her bag in the back, Camryn got in the driver’s seat. One glance at Brooks made her cringe. His body barely fit in her snug little car. His knees almost touched his abdomen. He kept one hand splayed on the dash, the other on his stomach. With his head dipped, she couldn’t make out his expression.
“It’s okay. Just hang in there.” She buckled her seatbelt and pulled out of the driveway. “There’s a motel five minutes from here.”
“No,” he said on a gasp. He shook his head vehemently. She coiled closer to the door in case vomit followed. “You need to get us farther. They’ll find us.”
Crap. He was right. There was only one motel in town, so it would surely be the first place they’d check. There were towns thirty minutes away in various directions, but those would be next on their list. “How long can you last?” she said, her tone high enough to break glass.
He pinched his brow. “I’ll manage. Get us as far as you can.”
Camryn struggled to keep her breath even. She needed to exude confidence. She was a nurse, after all. She could handle this.
Armed guards was another story.