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CHAPTER 3
Evan
After a nightof restless and sporadic sleep, I greeted Dr. Inez at my front door at precisely 0630 hours. She talked with Kerri, who was dressed in light blue scrubs and white clogs for her own shift in the ER, about their patient. Together, they checked on Red, who stirred and chatted but didn’t seem totally there. Satisfied with Red’s recovery, Dr. Inez repeated the instructions to me for the day, then left for the hospital.
“Are you going to be okay here alone with her?” Kerri asked me.
“The prognosis sounds good, so I think I can manage giving her water and light meals. But thanks for worrying.”
“At this point, I’m more worried about the way you look at her than her medical status.” Kerri shook her head, but didn’t say more. She kissed my cheek and headed off to work.
Over the next hour, I made myself some breakfast, did my own half-assed internet search on concussions, and took frequent trips down the hallway to peek in through the cracked bedroom door, waiting for Red to fully wake up, as Dr. Inez had predicted she would do soon. Just before 0800, I found Red sitting up in bed, taking in her surroundings. I knocked lightly on the partially opened door, then stepped into my bedroom.
“Sleeping beauty awakes.” I didn’t know why I said that. The woman didn’t know me from Adam, and it sounded like I was hitting on her.
“Mr... Sorry, TJ didn’t tell me your name.”
The worst of her concussion had passed, but she was still convinced I knew someone named TJ. “How are you feeling? You sustained a concussion last night. The doctor left an hour ago, after she pronounced you out of the woods, but...”
She touched her head, her face, her pulse. “I concur with the doctor’s assessment.”
“Good to know, Dr. Bond. Is that really your name?” That didn’t come out much better than sleeping beauty, but I couldn’t shake the suspicion that her business card and website and preliminary information Bennet had dug up were an elaborate ruse.
She shifted on the bed, looking uncomfortable. “Yes. Why would TJ lie to you about my name?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. She watched my movements, then held my gaze. I didn’t want to look away. Time for a new tack before her hooded blue eyes and parted pink lips drove me to reveal every secret I’d ever had. She was the one who owed me answers.
“All right then. Nice to meet you, Dr. Bond. Evan Prescott. Call me Evan.”
“Please, call me Samantha.” She smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you, Evan. Thank you for getting to me so quickly after TJ contacted you.”
“You’re welcome, but...” I sighed and dropped into the chair that had been my bed for the night. “First things first, who were those men who attacked you? And why the hell didn’t you run from them when you had the chance?”
She recoiled ever so slightly and frowned. “I think we should let TJ decide how much he can tell you. Have you heard from him today? Is he coming here, or sending someone else from the team?”
Now there was a team? In so many ways, Samantha seemed unharmed, until she slipped back into her own alternate reality. “That’s it. I’m calling the doc back. You’re obviously not fine.”
“What?” She sat up straight, turned a shade of gray, and blinked a few times. “Oof. I’ll admit I’m not 100 percent, but I don’t know what you’re seeing. Maybe you should give me a mirror.”
“A mirror? Listen, Red—and I’m calling you that because despite what Google says about your existence, I’m not sure I believe it—you’re not well. Like I told you several times last night, I don’t know anyone named TJ. I have no idea why you keep talking about this heat agency, and no one sent me for you.”
Her eyes went wider as I spoke. “Then who the hell are you?”
Her accusing tone made me pissier than it should have. “Sorry I’m not the hero you expected, but I am the man who stepped between you and a pistol-whipping thug. And while we’re on that subject, what the hell were you thinking, standing there like an idiot instead of running away after you’d incapacitated him with that kick?”
“I was getting—” She stopped, obviously editing herself. “I didn’t run because I had things under control.”
“Really?” I nearly laughed at that. I decided to take a more authoritative stance instead, as that sometimes worked when I tried to talk sense into my sister. “So if you’d passed out in the arms of the guy holding a gun on you, you think that would have gone well?”
She sat with that thought for a minute, then nodded slowly. “Thank you for catching me instead.”
“I’d say you’re welcome, but I don’t think you are.” Of course she was. Samantha Bond or whoever the hell she was had an open invitation to fall into my arms any time. But saying that would surely give her the wrong impression.
She scowled. “No need to be an asshole about it.”
I was glad she cared enough to be bothered by my statement. I shrugged to assure her the accusation didn’t faze me. “It’s my natural state, or so I’m told.”
“Is that your wife’s assessment?”
