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How long had it been since anyone had taken care of her in any way? Her mom had died when she was eleven and her sister Holly was thirteen. Holly had tried her best to protect Hannah, to keep her safe from the horrors of being the daughters of a sex offender in their Columbus home. Holly had taken the brunt of her father's attention and bouts of rage, all to protect her younger sister, but she'd been gone for years now, making Hannah the caregiver.
So standing there, naked, waiting for Dylan to warm the water, checking to make sure it was the perfect temperature, a strange feeling of being home washed over her. Strange because she wasn't even sure where home was anymore. Memories from the last few weeks closed in, threatening to overwhelm her again.
Sensing her mood change, he reached to pull her forward into the steady stream of water. She felt instantly better when the water sluiced off her body as if it were washing away the horrors of the last twenty-four hours.
Dylan pulled her hand to the rail on the wall. "Hold on here while I take my shirt off. I'm gonna help you get washed up."
She was grateful when he stopped at just his shirt. Hannah tried not to stare at his lean, muscular chest, and the flexing eagle tattooed on his right bicep as he reached for a washcloth and lathered it up.
Dylan worked silently to wash her from head to toe. She should have been embarrassed at his close inspection of her body, but she wasn't. It was as if he were washing away the pain Jake had inflicted, and it was cathartic. When he turned her so her hair was under the spray, he left her long enough to reach for a small bottle of shampoo the hospital stocked on a small supply shelf.
Their eyes met briefly as he returned. "Close your eyes, baby. I'm gonna wash your hair for you."
She complied, enjoying the feel of his fingers massaging her scalp slowly, thoroughly washing her hair. He returned with conditioner and only once he'd rinsed her hair for the second time did he turn off the water and reach for a stack of nearby towels.
The room wasn't cold, yet she shivered. He took the large bath towel and wrapped it around her first to help warm her while he dried her hair with a second towel. He then dried every inch of her body, slowly... methodically... reverently. Just as he was kneeling to dry her feet, they both jumped as Lukus called their names from the connecting hospital room.
Dylan stood, once again towering almost a foot over her. Her breath caught at the intensity in his eyes. She knew he'd enjoyed helping her as much as she'd liked it, which confused her.
"Looks like we need to get you back into your hospital gown. I don't think you'll want to talk to the police in a towel." His grin was disarming.
"Can't I just get dressed? Lukus brought my clothes, right?"
"Not yet. Not until the doctors give you the green light to leave."
Just before they were ready to head out of the bathroom, Dylan stopped her, slowly pulling a wide-toothed comb through her wet hair until it hung down her back, tangle free.
Their eyes met in the small mirror and she smiled. "Thank you, Dylan. Honestly... for everything."
"No thanks needed. I'm exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I want; taking care of you."
There it was again. Him wanting to take care of her. How tempting it was. Like candy to a kid... drugs to a crack addict... cigarettes to a smoker. Damn, she could get used to being taken care of.
Don't be an idiot. He's just interested because of the investigation. Don't for a minute think this is anything more than that, Hannah, or you're going to get your heart broken.
They emerged from the bathroom, Dylan guiding her back to the bed and helping her climb in, pulling the covers up over her before stepping back to allow the police captain to move in closer.
"I see you're looking much better today, Ms. Martine. You seem rested. Are you ready to talk to me now about your experiences in the warehouse?"
Her voice came out shaky. "Yes, sir."
"Very good. Now, why don't we start at the beginning? How and when did you meet Jake Davenport?"
The next thirty minutes were painful. Only Dylan sitting on the bed beside her and holding her hand, helped her get through the story again of her disastrous time spent at Jake's house the previous Monday night. Had it only been four days since he'd raped her? In some ways it felt like a lifetime ago, so much had happened since.
When the captain pressed her over and over to relive the horrendous events in the basement of the warehouse, Hannah's bravery faltered. She was done dredging up the memories. She was sure she'd shared everything important. She began to shiver and Dylan got angry.
"All right, that's enough. You don't need to keep pressing her."
Lukus jumped in next. "I agree. In fact, the doctor is going to release Hannah today and, now that she's given you her statement, we're going to fly back to Chicago where we can keep her safe until you guys get Davenport behind bars." He turned to address Hannah directly. "I've turned my loft into a veritable fortress. You'll be safe there with Connor and the rest of the people I care so much about."
His words set off alarm bells instead of comforting her. Her heart pounded fast in her chest as she wracked her brain as to why his words upset her. She tried to calm herself, attributing her uneasy feelings to how bossy the men were being with her life considering they had absolutely no authority over her whatsoever.
But that wasn't it.
The men continued to press her, realizing something was wrong, but she pulled into her little shell, closing her eyes and forcing herself to relive her conversations with Jake; remembering every evil word and deed he'd done… until it came to her in a flash of dread.
"Oh my God! The loft! They're all in danger!" she blurted.
