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“Have you found Monroe yet?” she asked the nurse who came in to check on her and take her vitals.
“I’ll ask. Is he your boyfriend?”
It was the most natural thing in the world to go with that. “Yes, and don’t let him scare you when he gets here. Monroe can be a little intimidating, but he’s really a teddy bear.” She wasn’t sure if Monroe would be happy with that description, but it was how she saw him.
Her mind shifted to the kidnapper, who had left her alone except for when he had brought her to his cellar. He had been out of control for what seemed like hours because the man was almost caught leaving with her. He had blamed Mallory for that and took out his anger on her, physically assaulting her, but not sexually.
Thank God for that, but the pain was still there. Her swollen face was still very tender. Her ribs hurt, breathing was painful, and movement had become excruciating until the hospital gave her medication. Now she rested easier, but she wouldn’t rest entirely until Monroe was with her.
Mallory didn’t feel safe anywhere now. She’d laughed at Monroe when he had lectured her on how to keep harm at arm’s length after she had told him about the guy who tried to hit on her during her lunch break. She’d quickly rebuffed the persistent, amorous attempt and had finished her lunch, only telling Monroe as a laugh, but he hadn’t thought it funny at all. And it was cute that he was so protective that he’d overreacted. Mallory had teased him. She wasn’t laughing now.
It was irrational, but she wanted Monroe with every fiber of her being. He was her safe place. The police had called her sister in Arizona, but after Mallory assured her she was okay, her sister allowed her to end the call. Candace was sweet, but she had her own career, had gotten married less than a year ago and was pregnant. Candace didn’t need to worry about her sister.
As Mallory laid in her hospital bed, she couldn’t help but feel on high alert, hypervigilant, waiting for what she had no idea. Even though the police officer assured her they would find her attacker, she couldn’t help but believe that madman was still out there, angry she had slipped away.
Mallory did the best she could to describe where she had come from in the hopes that the cops had helped the other woman in the cellar because she could never get away alone. The woman was so ill, she would have to be carried out. That is if she was still alive. The wife or the woman that the kidnapper referred to as his wife never showed her face. The only way Mallory knew she or someone existed besides the kidnapper was when he left in the vehicle, and there was a woman’s voice calling a dog.
If he had a wife, didn’t she know he had women in his cellar? She had yelled until she was hoarse, her head pounding and her throat raw, but there was no response from anyone. The cellar was likely too insulated by earth and rock.
Mallory had first suspected the wife was the woman who dropped her bag, but she couldn’t be sure they were connected. The woman would have had to have a good makeup job because the old lady didn’t look his age or even close. The man grabbed Mallory as she was getting into her car, parked away from the front.
Oh, Monroe would have a heyday with that tidbit of information. From what Mallory had figured out with Monroe after that first experience with his red paddle, not parking where others could easily see you was a big no-no. Surely he knew that employee parking lots were often like that. But she had a feeling that would not be a sufficient excuse, so she decided not to even try to make it sound okay.
Mallory wished she could have Monroe now. He would take over, and she would be secure in knowing that he would ensure her safety and woe be the man or woman who got between him and what he had claimed. Once again, she demanded to see him.
***
There was a skirmish in the hall, and several male and female voices spoke in that intense, pressured whisper when a person was aggravated but didn’t want to make a scene. Had the kidnapper found her? Her breathing ticked up, and she began to frantically look for a place to hide in the sparse room. Then she heard a familiar deep voice, sandpaper rough and yet calming.
As she relaxed and prepared to climb out of bed to meet him, the door to her room flew open and in strode Monroe in all his over six-foot glory. His voice felt like molten honey in her belly. Sizzling sweet but dangerous.
He stopped dead and stared at her for about ten seconds before he spoke. “Don’t move from that bed, young lady; you’re hurt.”
He wore a determined expression as he advanced. His shoulders released their tension, and his militant look of avenging angel softened. Compassion and relief showed on his face as he ignored the chastising nurse and orderly behind him. His arms reached out to engulf her and stopped when he realized she was on an IV.
“Got you trussed up, huh, sweetheart?” He gingerly wrapped his muscular arms around her when Officer Whitley walked into the room. She could feel the tears in her eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief. Monroe would take care of everything.
“Don’t let go,” she whispered.
“Step away from the woman.” Monroe froze in place.
“He’s Monroe,” said Mallory. “He was hugging me, or he would have if you hadn’t stopped him.” Her voice was unmistakably chastising. Monroe chuckled.
“Monroe?TheMonroe you have been asking for?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
The cop stalled a moment and then said, “I still need to see him. And is there a reason he is supposed to be your friend, but you don’t know his last name?”
Monroe glanced over his shoulder, then straightened to his full height. She could have sworn he broadened his body to create an impressive presence before placing himself squarely between the policeman and Mallory, which appeared to confuse the officer. Monroe was her safe place. She had known it from the moment he had introduced himself to her.
“She knows my last name is Merton but give her some slack. She was likely in shock and scared out of her mind. I would have thought you had some life experience or something to tell you that. I know her last name is Sasse.”
He knew her last name? But how? And now she knew his was Merton. Good thinking, Monroe. She knew he could think on his feet, and because she was hypervigilant, she could see he was as well. But that was Monroe. What else had she missed the few times they had been together at public gatherings? His words even told her it rankled that he was being challenged but impatient to be left alone. He was prior military who now worked security or something like that. She could see why.
Mallory hadn’t known him long, but the time they had spent together and on the phone encouraged her to leave all this mess in his hands while she pieced things back together. She missed their date, the one she had wanted so much with the added expectation of sex with her guy. Now, even though Mallory had the best reasons to have stood him up, she wanted that date. She wanted that promise of skin-to-skin contact.
She wanted him and was so grateful that she hadn’t endured a rape, knowing that would have changed their dynamic, possibly irreparably. She looked up into this man’s eyes as he turned around and lowered his head to hers. He kissed her swollen, cracked lips lightly, almost playfully, but it was a serious kiss. There was no mistaking the intensity displayed on his face and the fleeting touch of concern. And the possession.
