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Bree had reached the end cubicle. With nowhere else to go, she judged David was level with the compartment next to her. Holding her breath, she waited until she heard him move before ducking under the curtain and doubling back the way she had come. She would only get one chance at this. He had a gun. She had a syringe. The odds were not exactly even.

As David swept back the curtain on the final cubicle, Bree sprang at him from behind. Clinging on to his neck with one arm, she brought the syringe around toward his face with her other hand. As he gave a bellow and tried to shake her off, she felt like a kitten hanging on to an enraged bear.

One chance. That’s all.

David squirmed and twisted in fury, trying to grab the syringe from her. It was now or never. Bree sucked in a breath, jabbed the needle into his right eye and depressed the plunger.

Screaming, he fell to his knees, clawing at his face. The gun clattered to the floor and Bree kicked it across the room. Shaking so hard she could barely move, she made it to the door. Staggering into the corridor, she collapsed to her knees and was caught in Shirley’s arms before she hit the floor.

* * *

Rylan didn’t know where he was. All he knew for sure was that every part of him hurt. The worst pain by far was in his right shoulder. It felt like he’d been pinned to the bed by an iron stake. Maybe he had, because there was no way he could move that side of his body.

He was too tired to do more than open his eyes for a few seconds at a time but after a while, he figured he must be in a hospital. Although the room was in near-darkness, the tubes, drips and beeping of monitors were the dead giveaway.

Eventually, he managed to turn his head to the left. Bolts of pure agony shot through him, but it was worth it. The person sitting on the chair next to the bed had fallen asleep, slumping over with her head resting close to his hand. Rylan couldn’t see her face, but he knew those curls. He loved those curls.

Lifting his hand with difficulty, he twisted his fingers in Bree’s hair. A smile touched his lips and he closed his eyes.

When he woke again, the room was brighter and Bree was gone. He frowned. Was it a dream? What had happened after he was shot? Had David been captured or had he escaped?

“Hey, there.” The unfamiliar female voice was overly loud, booming in his ears, and he winced.

Turning his head carefully to the right, he rode the wave of dizziness. The nurse was checking the monitors and recording the results on an electronic tablet.

“Water?” His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. Someone who had sandpaper in place of vocal cords.

She brought him a bottle with a straw and held it to his lips. Although everything in him rebelled at his helplessness, he knew he couldn’t move, and he swallowed the cool liquid gratefully.

“How long?” Just the action of drinking left him feeling weak as a kitten.

“How long have you been here? This is the second day.” She returned to her task. “The doctor will check on you later.”

When she’d gone, he tried to process what she’d just said. Two days? How was that possible? And what had been happening with the investigation while he was lying here? He needed his cell phone, but he couldn’t see any of his personal belongings. Frustrated, he tried to find a call button. Even the slightest movement was torture and left him exhausted. Wearily, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he was in the middle of another dream about Bree. This time she was sitting at the side of the bed, with her headphones on as she checked her cell phone.

“Wish you were real.” He managed to croak out the words.

She started and dropped her phone into her lap. Tears filled her eyes as she removed her headphones. Catching hold of his hand, she lifted it to her cheek. “Oh, Rylan.”

“Don’t be a dream.”

She gave a watery laugh. “Okay, I won’t.”

He blinked hard. She was still there. “Kiss me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She was smiling through her tears.

“Do I have to come to you?” Rylan tried out a growl. The result was more of a whisper.

“Don’t you dare move.” Leaning over, Bree gently pressed her lips to his.

He sighed contentedly. “Worth getting shot for.”

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