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They restrained her and tried to strap her to a hard board.
“No!” she screamed, wrenching an arm free and punching some dude in the neck. She got a leg free and kicked a lady in the head. Hattie wasn’t normally violent, unless a man wouldn’t take no for an answer, but she had paid well to learn how to fight and kept herself safe a few times. She didn’t know where she was, but she refused to let them tie her down and take her to some second-rate hospital in a foreign country. People lost kidneys that way.
She fought and cussed and smacked at anyone who got close as they tried to restrain each of her limbs. She managed to headbutt a guy. That was good.
A pinprick in her arm had her cursing and flailing with everything she had. Were her movements slowing down? Her assailants succeeded at securing both arms and legs and then bound her to the hard board. Her eyes closed and everything went fuzzy.
She couldn’t wake up enough to open her eyes. She was so tired, and her head throbbed like nobody’s business. Who was kidnapping her? Could she bribe them? Did they know who she was?
Wait. Would people with a Red Cross symbol kidnap her? Could she still bribe them? Everybody liked money. She’d learned that the easy way. Money seemed to be the only thing most people wanted from her or cared that she had.
Darkness came again, and she couldn’t fight it.
Blinking against the glare of far too bright lights, Hattie’s head felt like it was about to explode. She tried to move, but the only thing she could do was wiggle her fingers and toes. She should be scared, or angry, but somehow she felt groggy and calm.
The bright light made sense to her. This was it. She was dead and in some kind of ‘spirit prison’ looking up to the bright light of heaven. The destination she would never reach. Was that how it worked? She’d be forever tormented because she hadn’t turned to her Savior? She was too fuzzy to remember the Sunday school lesson on the subject.
If only she would’ve chosen the role of saint like her cousin Sadie. Whatever. She hated sleeping in the dirt and patiently helping sick people. Sad little kids with big eyes and nobody loving them. Tears formed in her eyes despite how she fought them. Her stomach turned over just thinking about those neglected children and their puke, diarrhea, sweat, dirt … Couldn’t she just donate more money and save her soul that way?
She heard movement nearby and the warm pressure of a hand against her arm.
“Okay, Heavenly Father,” she muttered, keeping her eyes closed against the light. “I’m here, and I said I was sorry before I died. I know I screwed my life up, but that sorry was heartfelt, can you at least let me see my parents and aunt and uncle before you dole out all the punishment I have coming? Please.”
That was really nice of her to add. She didn’t say please often. She rarely asked anything of anybody. It wasn’t like she didn’t have manners, though—she said you’re welcome a lot, as most people thanked her for paying for everything. “I’m sure the list of my sins is long and detailed, so don’t think I’m expecting any favors from You.”
A manly chuckle made her blink her eyes open again.
“I hate to break it to you, but you didn’t make it to heaven just yet. Perhaps you’ll have time to work on restitution of that long list of sins.” The words were said with the most delicious and lyrical accent known to womankind. Whew. If the man was half as good-looking as his voice, Hattie may have died and gone to a heaven of her own creation.
Her eyes adjusted to the brightness and focused on the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever encountered in her vast travels. The man had skin as naturally-tanned as her own, strikingly handsome and rugged features, an intriguing, almost sarcastic smile, and those blue, blue eyes. She recognized him, but couldn’t place where she’d met him or if he was someone famous. Her head and entire body ached too much to sort out minor details. Mostly her shins and her forehead. Had she hit a tree or a rock wall? Her mind scrambled to remember the details.
“Makes sense,” she said, speaking slowly to not exacerbate the headache. “I’m not headed that direction anyway, so why worry about all those sins? And you are?”
“Dr. Steffan August. Pleased to meet you, Miss …”
“Oh no!” she shrieked. “No, no, no. Oh heck to the no!” Her head exploded with pain, but her fear was more intense.
She tried to scramble up on the bed, but she’d forgotten she was strapped down. She could hardly move her pinky toe.
“Let me out of these,” she screamed, struggling and completely flipping out.
Not Augustine. She couldn’t be in Augustine. Doctor Steffan August was a well-known, too-handsome, and benevolent prince who ran Augustine’s top hospital.
Please no. I haven’t been that evil, Lord!
Dr. August put both of his firm, manly hands on her shoulders and held her gently. “Calm down, or we’ll have to sedate you again.”
They’d sedated her earlier. That was the prick in her arm and why she’d semi-woken but crashed hard again. Maybe she wouldn’t mind sedation. Not thinking or knowing how much trouble she was in right now would be wonderful. If she didn’t wake up in a jail cell. She had to get ahold of her lawyers and have somebody fly here and get her out of here.
Her body stilled under the prince’s touch, almost of its own volition. His touch was stimulating and comforting and … she couldn’t let him get to her like that. She couldn’t fight her way free, so she had to use her brains, her power, her money, her influence, to get the heck out of here.
His touch was distracting her. Making her want to just stare into those beautiful blue eyes and worry about her troubles later. Had he shot some morphine into her veins while she was gazing into his eyes?
Dr. Steffan August. What an appealing man. One of the sought-after princes of Augustine. The ‘doctor prince’ that women flipped out about. She could understand why, but that didn’t mean she could allow herself to be in his power.
“That’s right,” he said, probably referring to her calming down, but his touch was somehow ‘right’ to her.
“It’ll be okay,” he continued. “Please don’t move until we complete the CT scans on your head, neck, and back. I haven’t seen any evidence of broken bones or protrusions, only scratches and future bruises, but with the wreck you had, and how long you were unconscious, I’d like to rule out brain contusion or spinal cord injury before you move.” His lovely accent was as soothing as it was sensual.
