Chapter 1 #2
To Kate, it felt almost like a dream. A collection of hazy memories that made no sense.
A feeling of fear, and then of pain. Panic.
Pain. Over and over, a cacophony of darkness.
Menacing voices. Threats. Ripping fabric.
Pain. Pleas—her voice, frantic, terrified.
Someone else’s voice, strong and commanding, impossible to ignore.
Big arms, skin on skin, relief. A sense of safety.
Of thinking she was going to be okay. The smell of leather and new car, of pine and soap; bright lights passing in a blur, soft upholstery, and the reassuring thrum of an engine.
Exhausting.
It seeped through her body, so her eyes were impossibly heavy and her head seemed to want to loll forward.
“Stay with me.” It was that voice again. Deep and throaty, and despite its strength, comforting. She nodded, then winced. Her head was awful. She lifted a hand to relieve the ache; her fingers were sticky. She looked down at them, frowning. Jam. Red. Sticky.
“I’m bleeding,” she said, after the dots finally connected. “In your car.” She closed her eyes; it hurt too much to look at anything. “I’m sorry.”
Silence.
And then, darkness.
All he could think, as he carried her into the elevator and swiped the fob for his penthouse was that he wouldn’t fail her. He knew nothing about this woman, except that she’d been attacked. That she’d been vulnerable. But that didn’t matter. He would save her, because someone had to.
The doors opened directly into the double-height living area of his penthouse apartment, views of Central Park, and the high rises that bordered it, glistening in the distance.
He carried her to the sofa, rather than a bedroom, placing her down.
Her eyes flickered open; a good sign. He’d treated concussions before.
His mother had suffered enough at his father’s hands.
“What’s your name?” he asked, hating the sight of the blood that had matted in the woman’s pale blonde hair.
Her eyes, moss green and round, blinked up at him. “Where am I?”
“My place.”
“Not a hospital?”
“No.” Her insistence in avoiding an ambulance, or the police, couldn’t help but spark curiosity. If it were just the medical situation, he’d have put it down to the cost. But the police?
She nodded, then winced. “Kate.” Her voice emerged hoarse and her throat shifted visibly as she swallowed. “My name is Kate. And you are?”
“Roman.” He crouched down beside her, so she didn’t have to angle her face towards his. “Do you know where you are?”
Her lips tightened into a small smile. “Not a hospital.”
He didn’t smile back. “City?”
A flicker of concern and then, “New York.”
“Do you know what happened tonight?”
Her skin paled. “I was attacked.”
A metallic taste filled his mouth and anger was like a sharpened blade in his belly. “Yes.”
“They were—if you hadn’t been there—”
“I know.” He tried to brush away her comment. He didn’t want to think about what they’d clearly been intending. The sight of her bloodied head was bad enough. “What happened?”
“I was walking home.” She spoke haltingly, as though answering required fierce concentration. “I was distracted; I got lost. I took a wrong turn, and my phone—oh. My phone. Where’s my phone?” she looked around, panic on her face. “Oh, my bag!”
She moved to stand and his hands reflexively shifted towards her, wrapping around her arms with easy confidence and strength, holding her still. She startled, eyes jerking to his, big and pale, and loaded with emotions.
“Garrett will bring your things.”
“Garrett?”
“The man who met us at the alley. You can trust him.”
She focused her gaze on a point over Roman’s shoulder. “I don’t trust anyone, and tonight just proves why that is.”
He actually agreed with that philosophy, but there was something so wrong about her wearing that cynicism.
It was somehow discordant with who she was.
His instincts, finely honed by a lifetime of having to read people and situations, told him that cynicism was not her natural state.
Something had happened to make her feel it, though, and tonight hadn’t helped.
“Where’s home?”
Her gaze shifted back to his. “I—”
“I don’t mean Australia,” he said, when her voice trailed off into nothing. “Where were you walking to tonight?”
“I’m—staying at a hostel,” she admitted. “While I find something more permanent.”
Dark emotions tightened inside of him. Grace had gone from hostel to hostel, then to the streets, and he’d never known. He’d thought she was travelling. Happy. He’d failed her so badly.
“Where?”
He hadn’t meant to sound so scathing, but he couldn’t help it.
She shook her head once. “Does it matter?”
Roman stood, surprised by the depth of his concern for this woman he didn’t know. Only, it wasn’t really about her, he realised. It was Grace, and all the ways he’d failed her, that made him want to fix things for Kate, somehow.
Before he could work out how to put that into words, a knock sounded, and a moment later, Garrett strode in, holding—as Roman had promised—a small, black handbag.
“Police have taken them into custody.”
“No. No police,” Kate groaned, sparking more curiosity.
He turned to face her. “Why not?”
She looked up at him, face pinched. I don’t trust anyone. Not even him.
He glanced at Garrett. “Check her out,” he ordered, before leaving the room.
When he returned a few moments later, with a warm, moist flannel, Garrett was shining a light in her eyes.
“She’s okay,” he surmised. “Good to observe her for twenty-four hours or so, just in case, but it looks like she was lucky.”
“Lucky?” Kate responded, lips flattened into a grimace.
“It could have been worse,” Roman agreed, moving to her side and crouching down once more. Ever so gently, he pressed the flannel to her bloodied face.
She grimaced visibly. “I can do it.”
He was tempted to argue, but there was such an inner strength to her statement, a fierce defiance, that he knew she would fight him to the death.
“Does it hurt anywhere else, Kate?” he asked instead.
She hesitated, a mutinous expression crossing her delicate features.
“Kate?” His tone was sharper than intended.
“My ankle,” she bit out, glancing downwards.
He followed the direction of her eyes, but Garrett was already there, moving his hands clinically. As he flexed her ankle, she yelped.
“Sorry.” Garrett’s voice was gruff and Roman tightened perceptibly.
“Careful.” His tone was sharp, a warning in the two syllables.
“Could be a fracture, or a bad sprain.”
“Well, which is it?” he asked.
“Can’t say for sure without an x-ray.”
“No,” Kate said quickly.
Roman ground his teeth. Curiosity grew. She was clearly in hiding from the authorities.
“We can do it anonymously, if necessary,” he said. Her eyes shifted to his, emotions in their depths.
“You don’t have to do this. I’m grateful for your help—”
His eyes bore into hers, intention in every line of his body.
“Can she eat?” he asked, turning his attention to Garrett.
“If she feels like it.”
“What about drinking?”
“Water’s fine. No alcohol or caffeine.”
Roman nodded once. “What else?”
“Just keep an eye on her. If she vomits, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll reassess in the morning.”
That got Kate’s attention. “In the morning?”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
“I’m not staying here overnight.”
Roman’s patience was wearing thin. There was independence, and then, there was stupidity. “Where else would you like to go?” he asked, crossing his arms and levelling his gaze at her. “You can’t walk, you may be concussed.”
“He just said I was fine.”
“He said you seem okay right now. You need monitoring.”
He could see panic in her face. He expelled a frustrated breath.
“Listen,” he crouched down once more, ignoring the protective surge inside his body. “I’m offering you a safe place to sleep, and medical care that’s outside of the hospital system. You’d be a fool to walk away after what you’ve been through.”
She stared up at him, a plea in her eyes that he somehow instinctively understood.
“It’s okay,” he reiterated. “You’re safe.”
And he meant that, with all his heart. He only wished he could have given the same thing to his sister when she’d needed it most.