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It’s Tamara.
She’s sprawled on the floor at my feet. She flings her hands up in fear when I bend down to reach for her. Her nose is bleeding and there’s a mark on her cheek
“Stop!” she cries out.
“Who hurt you?” I shout, furious. “Who did this to you?”
She scoots back away from me, hugging herself. “You did! Are you back now? I was yelling your name and you didn’t answer me.”
I look around wildly, struggling to orient myself. “How did you get in here?”
“I came in here to sleep with you. When I lay down, you were having a nightmare, and I tried to wake you up. You went crazy.”
Oh God. I could have killed her. “Fuck! I’m sorry, Tamara—I’m really sorry. I was having a nightmare. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
The fear in her eyes fades a little. “I know you didn’t. It was like you couldn’t even see me.”
“Why did you come in here?”
“I get scared at night, being alone.” Her face puckers in misery. “Remember how I never used to remember my dreams? Ever since your brother took me, I remember them. I just wanted to sleep with you. I thought I’d feel safer.”
Self-hatred roils up inside me.I am such a useless failure. She needs me, and I can’t be there for her. I swore I’d protect her, and I almost killed her.
I’ve never felt self-doubt before, but now it consumes me.
I reach down and hold my hand out to help her up. She winces as she slowly climbs to her feet. “Careful. I think my ribs are broken.”
“Fuck. I am so sorry, Tamara.” I gather her in my arms very, very gently and slowly, and carry her over to my desk chair, which has wheels.
I make a quick call on my intercom. “Meet me in the clinic.”
Then I roll her in the chair through the house until we reach a mini-clinic that I have set up. She looks around in surprise. “This is like a surgical suite.”
“Yes. I’m taking absolutely no chances, and I don’t want anyone to have to leave the property for any reason until my brother’s either dead or in prison.”
One of my bodyguards comes running in. Dr. Miller. He was a trauma surgeon in the army. I pay a fuck-ton of money to have him on my payroll, standing by.
First he palpates her ribs, making her suck in painful breaths. I resist the urge to kill him for hurting her. I don’t have the time; it would take me at least a couple of days to hire somebody new. Then I carry her over to my portable X-ray machine, and he snaps pictures of her.
“You have your own X-ray machine?” she says in amazement as he leaves to develop the film. “Aren’t they like a million bucks?”
“Nah, you can get the smaller portable ones brand-new for like sixteen grand. I built this one myself. It’s not hard.”
She manages a smile. “You think of everything.”
I grab her hand and wrap it in mine. “I’m sorry.”
“You said that like six times already.” She brushes her hair out of her eyes, wincing in pain. “I don’t want your apologies. I just want you to be honest with me. Let me in. If you had told me that I couldn’t sleep with you because you were having nightmares and you were afraid you’d attack me, it would have spared a lot of hurt feelings these last few weeks.” I can see the reproach in her chocolate-brown eyes, and it stabs into me and twists. “And I wouldn’t have tried to come into your room if I’d known.”
I’m going to lose her if I’m not careful. Or hurt her really badly. I won’t let that happen.
“You’re right. I’ll talk to you. I’ll tell you anything that you want to know.” Will talking be enough to make her stay?
I feel a new kind of fear chewing at me.
The doctor comes back in, holding the X-rays. He shows them to us.
“She has a hairline fracture,” he tells me, pointing at the dark line on her rib. “We don’t tape up the ribs in cases like this. It increases the risk of pneumonia. Bedrest for the next few days, painkillers as necessary, and she’s going to need to take it easy for the next six weeks. No more sparring.”
