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No matter. She didn’t smile. She didn’t even nod. As far as he could tell, she might not even have heard him.
“So,” he said in that same brisk voice, “let’s get you settled. I’ll put your stuff away in one of the draw—” Crap! He was an idiot. “—in the closet. Then we’ll o
rder something to eat. How’s that sound?”
Still nothing.
“What would you like? Breakfast? Early lunch? What’s that ridiculous word for it? Brunch. What jerk came up with a word like that? Sounds like something you’d plan for a party of three-year-olds.” Silence. “Coffee, then. And we don’t even have to wait for room service. There’s this little tray—see it over there? It’s got everything we need. A coffeepot. Little packets of coffee. Containers of cream and sugar and—” And now he was babbling. Chay took a long breath, then puffed it out. “Honey. Look, I know this isn’t easy, but—”
“Why?” She spoke in a shaky whisper. “Why would someone do these things to me?”
Good question, he thought grimly. Hell, she was the shrink. If she couldn’t figure it out, how could he? Although the truth was, he didn’t care about the why. It was the who that mattered.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But we’re going to find out.”
“Whoever it is, he is sick.”
The twenty-first century excuse for everything. For war. For torture. For abusing puppies and mugging old ladies. People were sick. Maybe so, but what had become of responsibility?
But he knew better than to argue with her. Not at a time like this.
“Sick or not, baby, we need to figure out who might want to hurt you.”
She looked at him as he walked towards her. “I have tried. And tried. I cannot think of anyone who would want to—to frighten me like this.”
They’d moved beyond the frighten stage. Chay could sense it. The crazy who’d been satisfied with scaring Bianca at a distance was changing the rules. Whoever it was needed to get closer to her, and he’d moved the game up a notch.
What Chay had to do was stop the game and make sure the guy would never play it again.
Bur for now—for now, all that mattered was getting his Bianca back.
The question was, how?
The answer was instinctive.
Chay gathered her gently in his arms.
“You’re safe now,” he said softly. “You’re safe with me.”
A quick little dip of her head. It was a start.
He drew her even closer, stroked her cheek, dropped kisses on her hair.
“Tomorrow we’ll come up with a plan.”
“We will?”
He nodded. “Yes. I have some ideas already.”
Ideas he’d bet she’d veto, but he was the guy with the final vote.
“You do?”
“I do.” He tilted her face up, smiled into her eyes. “But we’re not going to talk about that now. I’m too tired.” He turned his smile into a grin. “For some reason, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
For a second or two, she didn’t respond. Then she offered a hesitant smile and he felt as if he’d won the lottery.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
