Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | Beautiful Stranger

Beautiful Stranger
Kerry Connor
He could always spot a woman in distress, and the beautiful stranger hiding in Dr. Josh Bennett's trunk obviously needed help. Claire Preston claimed she had come to him because she was out of options and on the run from a killer. Now, the doctor who always played by the rules, but never let a woman get too close, desperately wanted to wipe away the fear he saw in the vulnerable beauty's eyes.Josh knew getting Claire to let down her barriers and tell him the truth about her past was crucial to their survival. But how far was he willing to go to protect her if it might mean jeopardizing his vow of "first, do no harm"?


She smiled up at him with relief, with gratitude, and his heart gave a sharp tug in his chest.
He’d known that what had been done to her was diabolical. He’d never imagined just how incredibly cruel it had been. It verged on evil.
Then Claire’s eyes widened slightly, as though just noticing how close he was. In that instant, something changed between them, a noticeable thickening of the air. Josh felt her closeness that keenly, even as part of him recognized she wasn’t nearly close enough.
All it took was a glimpse of her sweet, soft mouth to send a charge through him.
How could any man resist?

Kerry Connor
Beautiful Stranger


To my grandmother, for all the Intrigues.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A lifelong mystery reader, Kerry Connor first discovered romantic suspense by reading Harlequin Intrigue books and is thrilled to be writing for the line. Kerry lives and writes in Southern California.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue

CAST OF CHARACTERS
Claire Preston—Locked away in a mental institution with no idea how or why she’d come to be there, she had no choice but to escape to get some answers.
Josh Bennett—The doctor couldn’t turn away a woman in need of his help.
Milton Vaughn—The family attorney is in charge of Claire’s inheritance until she turns thirty-five, and may not be willing to turn over control easily.
Gerald Preston—The uncle who felt he should rightfully control the family business.
Dinah Preston—Gerald’s wife had always suspected Claire would cause the family embarrassment.
Thad Preston—Claire’s cousin cared more about spending money than earning it.
Dr. Walter Emmons—The head of the Shady Point mental health facility had his price.
Karen Tate—Claire considered her assistant her friend. Had she made a mistake?
Ahmed Al-Saeed—Finding Claire was his mission, and nothing would stop him from fulfilling it.

Chapter One
Today was the day. She was finally going to escape this hellhole.
A heady mixture of adrenaline and fear rushed through her veins. Adrenaline because the day was finally here after three long months of waiting and planning. Fear because she knew this was her only chance. If she failed, she would be trapped here forever. Her life would effectively be over.
The thought sent another blast of anxiety through her, but Claire Preston allowed her body to betray none of her turbulent emotions. The breathing exercises and years of yoga she’d practiced helped her keep her heartbeat steady. Her eyes remained fixed on an empty space on the lawn in front of her. She didn’t move a muscle, other than a slight bob of her head to relieve the growing crick in her neck. Even that could easily be viewed as an unconscious twitch by anyone who might be looking. There was absolutely nothing that might lead anyone to think she was anything more than what she appeared to be.
Just another patient at the Thornwood mental health facility, so drugged out of her mind she didn’t even know who she was anymore.
Except Claire did know. Just as she knew the only way that would continue to be the case was if no one else was aware of that fact.
Voices drifted toward her as people passed by on the edges of the lawn, none of them paying her any mind. Late afternoon sunlight poured down over the veranda where one of the nurses had parked and abandoned her. Claire felt none of its warmth. She’d felt nothing but a bone-chilling cold from the moment she’d woken up in this place and found herself living her worst nightmare.
More than once she’d wondered if this was really happening or if it was all in her head. She didn’t know what would be worse, being sane and locked up in a mental institution, or figuring out this was a hallucination and she really was crazy after all.
It hadn’t taken her long to determine this was all too real. Nightmares didn’t last this long.
But no more. It was time for this nightmare to end.
The voices finally faded from earshot. She waited and listened closely for the sound of anyone else approaching. Hearing nothing, she lifted her head slightly and scanned the area.
The lawn stretched before her, lush and green, seeming to go on forever. She had to fight the urge to bolt, to lunge out of the chair and make a break for it as fast as her legs could carry her.
Not yet. But soon.
A flicker of movement in the corner of her vision drew her eye. It was a man, walking toward her on the path bordering the lawn. The sunshine at his back, he seemed to rise out of the horizon. Dismissing him, she quickly looked away, only to find her attention drawn back for some reason a moment later.
More details became visible the closer he came. He was a stranger. She recognized that much. She’d never seen him before.
The sunlight caught his dark blond hair, burnishing it with a golden glow. He had the big, brawny body of an athlete, with broad shoulders and biceps that filled the contours of the dark suit he wore. His long, confident stride, not quite a swagger, but close, told of a man at complete ease with himself. It was the kind of effortless confidence she’d always envied, even resented maybe. Even from a distance, she could see the slight smile on his face. He had a nice face. Friendly. Open. Incredibly good-looking.
He moved like some kind of conquering hero, every inch the hale, hearty knight in complete command of himself and his world. No one would ever accuse this man of being insane.
He looked like someone who could help her. Someone she could trust.
She didn’t know where the thought came from. Something painful twisted in her chest at the very idea. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought that about another human being, if ever.
She tried to dismiss it. Instead, a burst of longing seized her, so fierce and unexpected she lost control of her heartbeat for a moment. For just a second, she allowed herself the foolish fantasy that the knight had come to save the princess trapped in a tower, before forcing herself to face cold, hard reality.
No white knight was going to step out of a fairy tale and save her.
No one ever had and no one ever would.
This princess was going to have to save herself.

SOMEONE WAS WATCHING HIM.
Josh Bennett was halfway to the building when the unmistakable feeling swept over him. The main building of the Thornwood psychiatric hospital featured a multitude of windows overlooking the back lawn. He scanned them with a quick glance, but didn’t see anyone looking out at him.
Still, the feeling persisted. A whisper of unease slid down his spine.
Trying to shake it off, he continued toward the building.
Then he saw her.
She was sitting on the deck overlooking the lawn. The robe she was wearing left little doubt that she was a patient. She must be the one who was watching him.
The explanation came as something of a relief. He’d felt uneasy ever since he’d arrived at Thornwood. Then again, many people probably were when it came to mental hospitals, regardless of their own sanity, especially one as imposing as this one. The century-old building was massive and grim, sprawling atop a small hill like some kind of crouching beast. Even in broad daylight on a bright, cloudless afternoon, an air of gloom hung over it.
He’d never considered himself easily spooked, but this place was enough to get to him. As a result, he’d likely been placing more importance on his previously unseen watcher than was necessary. He had to smile at his own foolishness.
As he walked closer, Josh couldn’t help but notice that the woman was almost absurdly beautiful. He might have believed she was a statue carved by a great artist. Her face was that flawless. High cheekbones. A straight little nose. A ripe, full mouth. Dark brown hair brushed the tops of her shoulders, a few flyaway strands fluttering in the breeze.
Yet there was an aura of sadness around her as she sat there, alone and seemingly abandoned on the veranda. He wondered why she was here, what she was being treated for.
It was only when he’d almost reached the building that he saw what he’d been unable to from the distance. There was no expression on that beautiful face. Her eyes stared blankly in front of her.
Sympathy twisted his gut. She appeared completely unaware of her surroundings, lost in a world of her own. Evidently she hadn’t been staring at him after all.
He was about to look away when her eyes suddenly shifted and caught his.
A jolt of awareness surged through him, as though a charge of pure electricity had passed between them through their locked gazes. Her eyes widened slightly, seeming surprised to have made contact with his. And for one heart-stopping moment, he saw something burning in her fevered gaze, a raw emotion he knew too well.
Fear.
No. More like pure terror.
Then, just as suddenly as they’d met his, her eyes seemed to lose focus and slowly rolled away.
The moment couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, a brief enough time that he almost had to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing. The pounding of his heart and the tension strumming through him told him he hadn’t. No imaginary moment could have caused such a visceral reaction.
He stood frozen, waiting to see what she would do next, wondering if he should go over and try to talk to her. If she needed help, there might be something he could do.
As he watched, her lips parted slightly.
He held his breath.
A bead of saliva slid out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin. She made no move to wipe it away.
He exhaled sharply. The woman clearly wasn’t conscious of her surroundings. He must have imagined whatever he’d thought he’d seen in her eyes.
Still, he couldn’t leave her sitting there with drool on her face. There didn’t appear to be any nurses or orderlies around. He could at least do that for her.
He took a step toward her.
“Bennett! You made it!”
Josh looked up to see Dr. Aaron Harris striding through the doors of the facility toward him. Josh eased his expression into a practiced smile. “Barely. For a while there I wasn’t sure they were going to let me onto the grounds.”
Aaron matched his grin and extended his hand. “Let me guess. You’re still driving that beat-up old wreck. How much duct tape does it take to hold that thing together these days?”
“Three rolls just about covers it,” he quipped. He wondered idly what Aaron would think if he knew what Josh really drove most of the time. The other man probably wouldn’t even believe it.
Aaron shook his head. “That’s why we have to get you out of that city hospital. You’re never going to make any real money working in the E.R.”
“Believe it or not, some people actually think there are more important things in life than getting rich and spending money.”
He might have imagined it, but for a second it seemed like the warmth in Aaron’s smile cooled slightly. “Same old Josh. Still trying to save the world, huh? Did that trouble in the E.R. have anything to do with that?”
Josh gritted his teeth, but kept his smile intact. The story of an E.R. doc slugging a patient’s husband in front of her had gotten enough play in the media that there probably wasn’t a single person in the Philadelphia area who hadn’t heard about it, especially when the husband in question had run crying to a lawyer.
The usual fury coiled in the pit of his stomach at the thought of that bastard. The man should be in jail, but Josh was the one facing a mess of trouble, on a forced leave of absence while the hospital decided what to do with him.
Rather than say any of that, he simply shrugged. “Oh, you know how it goes. Stressful environment, emotions running high. Things like that are bound to happen every once in a while.”
“Happily, I don’t. Dr. Emmons has done such a terrific job creating a peaceful environment for the patients here that it’s a great working environment for the staff as well. Beats the E.R. hands down.”
Dr. Walter Emmons, Josh knew from his research in preparation for this meeting, was the highly respected psychiatrist who ran Thornwood. “I have to admit, I was surprised when you called. We both know I’m not a psychiatrist.”
“Of course. But most of our patients are long-term residents who require care beyond their mental needs. With your experiences in emergency medicine, I doubt there’s too much we could throw at you that would surprise you. I think you’d be a valued member of our team.” Aaron shook his head. “Listen to me ramble on. Come on. Let me show you around.”
Josh felt the strain of keeping his smile in place, but Aaron didn’t seem to notice. No one ever did. With a polite nod, he followed him into the building.
As they walked, Aaron launched into a recitation of the wonders of Thornwood. Josh listened with half an ear. He already knew he had no intention of taking the job. He’d only come at Beth’s urging. She’d told him he was in no position to turn down any job offers out of hand when he might be in need of a new one fairly soon. Faced with that logic, he hadn’t been able to say no.
The job certainly seemed to suit Aaron. Josh hadn’t seen his old classmate since back in med school, but it didn’t look like he’d changed much. Still effortlessly smooth, still dressed to the nines. Josh wouldn’t be surprised if Aaron’s shirt had cost more than his entire outfit. Aaron had always been a little too slick for Josh’s tastes, but it seemed to work for him. Back in school, they’d been on friendly terms, but never particularly close. The last he’d heard about him were rumblings of some sort of trouble he’d gotten into at the hospital in Chicago where he’d done his residency. Busy with his own life, Josh hadn’t paid much attention at the time. Whatever the trouble might have been, it seemed like Aaron had landed on his feet.
And now he was the one with a job opportunity for an old classmate in trouble of his own. But Josh wasn’t looking for a cushy job where he could get paid well for doing little. He could tell he’d be bored out of his mind working somewhere like this.
Not to mention the place gave him the creeps.
The uneasy feeling had only increased when they’d stepped inside. An unsettling sensation slid across his skin. He suppressed a shudder.
He couldn’t quite explain the feeling, especially when the inside was less forbidding than the exterior. Though the building obviously showed its age, the facilities appeared well maintained. The first floor featured high ceilings and all those windows that let in the sunlight and made the space feel open and airy. The tiled floors beneath their feet gleamed. The formerly state-run hospital had been taken over by a private corporation a decade earlier, with the state now paying it to house patients who had nowhere else to go. From all appearances, the company that now owned Thornwood was doing a bang-up job, as well as pulling in a decent enough profit that they could still pay Aaron a better salary than a city hospital could.
But despite the tranquil surface, the atmosphere was charged with something else. Bad vibes, Josh thought. For one thing, it was eerily quiet—not in a peaceful way, but a distinctly unnatural one. Odd for a hospital. Other than Aaron prattling on beside him, the building resounded with silence.
They passed a television lounge where several patients stared glassily, only a few at the actual TV, its volume set to a barely intelligible murmur. Each of them appeared as lost in their own minds as the woman he’d seen on his way in.
The woman.
The thought of her brought the terrified look in her eyes back to him. Aaron had appeared and pulled him away before he’d had a chance to try to speak to her. Now he wished he’d had just a few seconds to do so, to confirm for himself at least that everything was all right with her.
He glanced back just before they turned a corner.
It was too late. She was already out of view.

“OKAY. THAT’S ENOUGH SUN for one day.”
It took every ounce of willpower Claire possessed not to jump at the sound of that low, cruel voice in her ear. It helped that she’d known it was coming. She didn’t have to see Jerry Hobbs to know he was nearby. She’d become so attuned to the orderly’s presence her skin always began to crawl whenever he was around.
This time, though, his presence was a good thing. She’d been waiting impatiently all afternoon, not to mention the three months prior.
The time was finally here. Her pulse might have jumped if she didn’t have it firmly under control.
As usual, he leaned too close, the scent of cheap, sickeningly sweet cologne washing over her, and murmured directly in her ear. Her immediate instinct was to lean away from him. She managed not to.
This is it. This is the last time.
A few seconds later, he wheeled her off the veranda toward her room.
None of the staff she’d encountered at Thornwood had much of a bedside manner, but Hobbs was the worst. He hauled her in and out of bed and the wheelchair as carelessly as he would handle a laundry bag. The bruises on her arms and torso were proof enough of that.
If the injuries he’d inflicted had been solely the result of carelessness, it would have been bad enough. But Claire suspected that wasn’t the case. One time when he’d grabbed her wrist, she’d sensed him watching her face as he’d slowly squeezed with greater and greater force. She’d wondered if he was testing her, trying to see if she would reveal her deception if he hurt her. She hadn’t, somehow managing to keep from reacting to the pain. Only when he’d left had she cradled her aching wrist to her side and let out the whimper of agony she’d managed to swallow. A brief moment, but a telling one. He liked inflicting pain. And at least one instance when the back of his hand had rubbed against her breast had lingered too long to be an accident.
The nurses must have noticed her injuries, but Hobbs was still around. She suspected no one had reported him. Maybe they were looking out for each other. Maybe they were afraid of him. Maybe they just didn’t care.
As they made their way to her room on the second floor, she carefully glanced at her surroundings to get a sense of how many people were around. The halls were mostly deserted, something that would only help her.
Finally they arrived at her room. Hobbs wheeled her inside, closing the door behind them with a noticeable click.
Keeping her body utterly still, Claire tensed inwardly, ready for her moment.
For months she’d had no choice but to sit there and take it, knowing she couldn’t break the charade.
Not today.
Never again.
He stopped in front of the chair and reached for her.
Before he had a chance to wrap his slimy fingers around her arm, she reached up and caught his wrist in midair.
His shocked eyes met hers.
She didn’t say a word. Her other hand was already arcing toward his face.
The heel of her hand made direct contact with his nose. She felt the bone break with a satisfying crunch. Almost simultaneously, her foot kicked out and caught him in the crotch before he had a chance to scream. Releasing his wrist as he doubled over, she lashed out again, sending her fist straight into his stomach. One last punch crashed into his jaw.
He crumpled into a heap, his head smacking against the floor with a thud.
Just to make sure he was unconscious, she nudged him with her foot.
His chest rose and fell, but otherwise he didn’t move.
Triumph swelled within her. It had taken a while before she could use them, but those self-defense classes had come in handy after all.
She shot a nervous glance back at the door to see if anyone had noticed through the window what had happened. The attack couldn’t have lasted more than five seconds. Had anyone seen?
There was nobody at the window, no sounds of an alarm being raised in the corridor.
Taking that as a sign she was in the clear, she wasted no time lunging from the chair. For a second her head swam and her legs wobbled beneath her. She spent only a few precious seconds waiting for them to steady, then started moving again, reaching for Hobbs. Hopefully if she kept moving, her momentum would keep her on her feet. She was going to need all the help she could get. It was already painfully clear her body wasn’t responding as quickly or strongly as it had before she wound up here.
Grabbing Hobbs under his arms, she dragged him to the bed. Her muscles quivered under the strain. Luckily, he wasn’t much taller than she was, so his limp form wasn’t too hard to handle. When she got to the bed, she pushed the sheets back. Taking one deep breath, she girded her strength and heaved him onto the bed with every last bit of power she had. Somehow she managed to get him onto the mattress.
Unclipping his security badge from his belt, she turned his head toward the wall and pulled the sheets up over him. No one should check on her for at least another half an hour. If they didn’t look too closely, this could buy her even more time, depending on how long it took Hobbs to wake up. What she wouldn’t give for some of the drugs they’d been plying her with, just to be sure.
Darting for the door, Claire carefully checked the hall through the window. It was still quiet, with no one in sight. She slowly eased the door open, and with one last check, slipped out into the corridor.
There was a stairway five doors down from her room. Claire quickly made her way to it, keeping her head turning and her eyes moving both in front of and behind her. There were no security cameras in this hallway, so at least she didn’t have to worry about that. No one had appeared in either direction by the time she made it to the stairwell. She checked it, too, before entering. Neither seeing nor hearing anyone, she slipped inside.
She took the stairs two at a time. This was where things got dicey. She had never been on the first floor on this side of the building. She only had a vague idea of what was there, but it was enough to know it was where she wanted to be.
Not for the first time she wished she could make her escape at night. Except that she had no idea of the layout of the grounds or whether Thornwood was surrounded by any kind of security fence along the far perimeter. She’d tried to keep her strength up and her muscles primed by moving around in her room at night, long after lights-out, but she doubted she had the stamina for any kind of long-distance run, even if she could manage to get over a fence. Judging from the way her body was already responding just from knocking out Hobbs and hauling him onto the bed, she wouldn’t last long on her feet.
Her best chance of getting off the grounds was to catch a ride, and during the day it was more likely a vehicle would be leaving. She knew from listening to the sounds outside her window that the loading dock was somewhere nearby. Every Monday for the last three months a truck had made a delivery around this time. If she could get down to the dock and sneak onto the departing truck before anyone noticed she was gone, she’d have a fast way out of here.
She just had to hope Hobbs hadn’t waited too long to retrieve her. Every second she’d spent out on that veranda had seemed like an eternity. They’d only started taking her outside in the last few weeks. She didn’t know why they bothered, but the change in the schedule had thrown off her plans enough she’d had to wait a few days longer than expected.
Reaching the first floor, she yanked the door open and shot a quick glance in either direction. Seeing no one, she burst out into the corridor, easing the door shut behind her. Her best guess was that the loading dock was to the right, so she headed in that direction, sending up a prayer that she’d chosen correctly.
She moved quickly but quietly, her slippered feet silent on the linoleum. The fluorescent lights flickered unsteadily, casting shadows on the sickly green walls. She swallowed her nervousness and kept moving.
After turning two more corners, Claire found herself facing a set of double doors at the end of another corridor. The faint rumble of a large engine emanating from behind them was unmistakable.
Hurrying to them, she pressed her ear against the doors to try to detect any voices or footsteps inside. Hearing none, she waved Hobbs’s pass in front of the security scanner. The lock released with an audible click. With painstaking slowness, she cracked the door open a fraction and peeked inside.
And watched with stunned horror as a truck, no doubt the one she’d been hoping to catch, pulled away from the dock.
There was no time to lament this turn of events. Staring into the open space, she quickly considered her options. Despite this setback, they hadn’t changed much. She still needed to catch a ride out of here.
Maybe another truck would pull in immediately afterward to take the last one’s place. Doubtful, but a possibility. Otherwise, she would need to find a car. Either way, cutting through the loading dock was the best and fastest way to get outside.
Silence hung in the large, empty space. The far end of the room was wide open, filling it with fading sunlight. Ninety feet and she’d be outdoors. Poking her head through the opening, she looked to see if anyone was around. It appeared deserted. She eased through the doorway and took one last look around the room from ceiling to floor, just to be certain. Still nothing.
As sure as she could be, she dashed across the room, moving on the balls of her feet to minimize the sound. At the end of the dock she raced down a few short steps to ground level, burst around the corner and threw her back against the wall. Relief barely penetrated. Now that she was outside, she felt even more exposed. She had to find cover.
There was a parking lot a short distance away, across the driveway and a short stretch of lawn to her left. The rows of cars gleamed in the sunlight, each offering a possible escape. The sight practically called to her.
She started in that direction, crouching down and staying near the building so no one looking out a window could see her. Within seconds she reached a spot that gave her a straight shot to the parking lot. She drew in a shuddery breath and checked in every direction.
And ran.
It couldn’t have lasted more than thirty seconds, but the mad dash to the parking lot seemed like a thousand times longer. By the time she crashed to the pavement between two cars it felt like her heart had pounded through her chest.
Her breathing coming in short, rapid gasps, she slowly counted to ten, waiting for the sounds of running feet or raised voices, any sign that she’d been seen. None came. Even if someone had seen her and notified security, there wouldn’t be any immediate sign for her to know. She had to keep moving. First and foremost, she needed to find a car that would get her out of here ASAP.
Rising to her haunches, she quickly poked her head up just enough to see through the window of the car she was hiding behind and looked around.
Then she saw him, a familiar figure appearing out of the horizon just as he had the first time, now heading toward the parking lot.
It was the man she’d seen before. Hobbs must have left her sitting on the veranda for an eternity if the newcomer had conducted his business and was just now leaving.
She felt a surge of excitement. Great timing. He would be the perfect person to catch a ride with. He wasn’t a shrink and he didn’t work here. Combined with the fact that he was leaving, that just about made him her favorite person in the world at the moment.
He was still far enough away that she should be able to get to his car long before he did. She remembered what the other doctor had said to him. He drove a beat-up old wreck.
It didn’t take her long to spot the sedan. The back window bore a parking sticker from Center City General in downtown Philadelphia, no doubt the hospital where the other doctor said this one worked. The car had to be a couple of decades old, its paint faded and chipped. Not exactly a car she would have thought belonged to a doctor, but maybe he was paying off med-school bills, especially if he worked at a low-paying city hospital.
Unlike most of the cars in the lot, it was unlikely this one was equipped with any kind of alarm. Heck, its owner probably wouldn’t even feel the need to lock it.
For the first time in four long months her lips curved into a smile.
Maybe the knight could come to her rescue after all.
And the best part was, he didn’t even have to know.

Chapter Two
He’d sold his soul to the devil.
Dr. Walter Emmons had suspected as much for some time now, ever since the day he’d admitted Claire Preston to Thornwood for a considerable fee above the norm.
Staring into the dead eyes of the man standing before him erased what little doubt remained in his mind.
“How long has she been gone?” his visitor demanded.
“At least an hour. That’s when the orderly took her back to her room. He was found about fifteen minutes later, and I was immediately notified.” And when the first search produced no results, he’d made the decision to contact the man who’d paid him to keep her here, figuring it would be far worse to have him learn about her disappearance some other way, like having her turn up on his doorstep without warning.
Thirty minutes later, despite his assurances that the situation was under control, this man had arrived at Thornwood at the other’s behest. And Walter Emmons wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
The man was tall, well over six feet, and lean, with dark olive skin and black hair cut close to the scalp. But it was the eyes Emmons couldn’t look away from, no matter how much he wanted to. They seemed to be all pupil, two glowing black orbs that focused unerringly on his face and seemed to burn right through him. He didn’t think the man had blinked once since he’d arrived.
His clinical side kicked in, and he knew without a doubt this man should be a patient in a facility like this, not responsible for tracking one down.
“How did this happen?” the man, who hadn’t introduced himself other than to say who’d sent him, demanded.
“I don’t know. I’ve been monitoring her medication closely—” a lie “—and every indication was that she was in a catatonic state.” Every indication being the reports from his staff he’d relied on so foolishly. He’d been assured that Claire Preston was unaware of her surroundings, her mind broken. Clearly, she’d managed to fool them all.
“What are you doing about finding her?”
“I have people checking the grounds and the building in case she’s still here. I’ve also had security review the surveillance tapes from the gate. Only three vehicles left the premises in the time span between when she was last seen and when her disappearance was discovered. We’ve already contacted two of the drivers, and neither has seen her. We’re still trying to get in touch with the third driver. If she somehow managed to sneak out in a car, it must have been with him.”
“Give me the address. I will go there.”
Emmons blanched. “We don’t know for sure that she escaped with the third driver. We’re still trying to contact him.”
“And in the meantime, she may be getting farther away. You said if she escaped it must have been with him. Were you wrong about that as well?”
“No, I—”
“Then give me the address.” He practically spat the words.
Emmons swallowed hard. “At least let me send a team with you. This man is a doctor. He may be reluctant to send her off with anyone other than authorized Thornwood personnel.”
The man appeared to consider this. After a brief pause, he signaled his agreement with a sharp nod of his head.
Emmons reached for the phone. “Even if she’s not with the third driver, rest assured, we will find her.”
A trace of scorn flashed across the man’s face. “The same way you could be trusted to keep her here?”
“I made it clear from the beginning this is not a high-security facility.”
“You also accepted money to ensure she would remain here. And you failed.”
Emmons felt his face burn. Suddenly the mountain of gambling debts he was struggling to cover didn’t seem like such a problem, only because it paled in comparison to the one literally staring him in the face at the moment.
He should have never let things get this far. He should have talked to a colleague about his addiction. He should have thought twice before digging himself into a hole of debt he had no hope of ever climbing out of.
He should have done a great many things. Except one.
“I never should have agreed to this,” he muttered as he started dialing.
“But you did,” the man said, his tone pitiless. “There is no turning back from it now.”
No, there wasn’t, Emmons thought. And now that this man had entered his life, he couldn’t escape the terrifying feeling that his true problems were only just beginning.

THE THUMP WAS HIS first indication something was wrong.
After completing the long drive from Thornwood back home, Josh pulled into his garage, more than ready to change out of his suit and grab some food. He stepped on the brake. The car lurched to a stop.
And a definitive thump resounded from the trunk.
He froze, his weariness after the long day forgotten. An uneasy suspicion raised the hair at the back of his neck.
The trunk was supposed to be empty. The thump indicated it wasn’t. Something was in there, something fairly sizeable from the sound of it.
Had someone put something in the trunk? He couldn’t imagine why. An animal might have climbed in, except he didn’t know how any creature would have managed it.
That left a person. He hadn’t stepped away from the car when he’d stopped for gas on the way back. The only place where he could have picked up a stowaway was Thornwood.
Josh quickly considered his options. Sitting in the car wasn’t one of them. It occurred to him that anything—or anyone—in the trunk could get into the car through the backseat, and vice versa, which was the only way anyone could have gained access to the trunk in the first place. He’d already sat there long enough to raise suspicions in the mind of any unwanted passenger that he was onto them.
He shifted the vehicle into park and shut off the engine, then hit the remote control to close the garage door before climbing out of the car. If there was someone in the trunk, particularly someone from Thornwood, he didn’t want them to get away. He was in enough trouble without setting a mental patient loose.
Once outside the car, he flipped the switch next to the kitchen door to keep the garage light on, not about to have it go out and leave him in the dark with whomever might be in there. He reached for the heavy wrench he’d left sitting next to the step after working on the leaky kitchen sink. The weight of it felt good in his hand. There was no telling if he’d need it, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.
He moved to the back of the vehicle. Lifting the wrench above his head, he braced himself, then slid the key in the lock and threw the trunk open.
A pair of familiar brown eyes—wide and gaping with familiar terror—stared back at him.
He barely had time to react to his discovery when the woman lunged forward. Getting out of the trunk wasn’t exactly the easiest proposition with her body practically curled into the fetal position. She somehow managed it, albeit without much grace, heaving herself out of the enclosed space and landing on the floor in front of him.
He took a step back out of her way, but didn’t stop her. He hadn’t wanted anybody in his trunk to begin with. He wasn’t going to argue with her vacating it.
Once on her own two feet, she stood before him, her chest heaving, her body tense and fidgety. Her eyes darted every which way, clearly seeking an escape. He saw the moment she realized that, with the garage door closed, the only exits were the two doors in the near back corner of the garage—one leading outside, one into the house—and he was standing between her and the door.
Her eyes narrowed a fraction as her gaze shot up and down his body. Probably gauging her chances of rushing him and getting around him. From the way her lips thinned and she swallowed hard, she must have decided they weren’t good.
“Calm down,” he said in his most soothing tone, the one that had been known to settle down even the most terrified child in the E.R. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
In response, her eyes flicked to the wrench he still held aloft.
He slowly lowered it to his side, keeping himself on alert to defend himself if necessary. Not that he would probably need the wrench for that. Viewing her in a standing position for the first time, he could see that she was no more than five-six at the most, and thin. He had more than half a foot and a hundred pounds on her, easy. But he knew nothing about this woman or why she’d been at Thornwood, or what she was capable of. After all, the last time he’d seen her, she’d seemed completely unaware of her surroundings, with drool running down her face.
Only that brief moment when their eyes met had indicated she was lucid—and scared. The fear was still there, along with a fierce determination, and this time there was no doubting she was fully cognizant. He suspected if he dropped the wrench, she’d be on him in a heartbeat, scratching and clawing and kneeing, in her desperation to get away. He would defend himself if he had to, but he really didn’t want to hurt her.
He tried the soothing tone again. “Take it easy. Let’s both take a breath and see if we can’t talk for a second.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she shot back. Her voice was hoarse as though from disuse, yet calm despite her obvious tension. “Look, you don’t have to get involved. Just let me go and you can forget you even saw me.”
“It’s not that simple. I have to believe it’s not going to take the folks back at Thornwood long to figure out that you’re gone and, when they don’t find you on the grounds, start contacting anyone who left at roughly the time you disappeared.”
“All you have to do is tell them you don’t know anything about me, and you’re off the hook.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
A knowing gleam entered her straightforward gaze, and her mouth twisted with bitterness. “Because you don’t want to be held responsible for letting a crazy person loose on the streets, right?”
“Are you crazy?” he said mildly.
He carefully watched her reaction. There was none of the anger or outrage he might have expected, merely what seemed like resignation. Interesting. “No.” She lifted her hand against the skepticism she must have anticipated would greet the comment. “I know that’s probably what all the mental patients say. But I’m not.”
“All right,” he said, privately reserving judgment. “I’m Josh, by the way. Josh Bennett. And you are?” he prodded when she said nothing.
She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes considering. He didn’t know what she saw, but he suspected he hadn’t been examined this thoroughly on his last credit check.
“Claire,” she said finally.
She didn’t elaborate further. He figured it wasn’t worth pushing the point. “Okay, Claire. Why don’t you tell me why you were at Thornwood?”
She sighed, the sound so full of weariness it tugged at something inside him. “I don’t know. Four months ago I woke up there with no idea how I’d gotten there. This Dr. Emmons told me I’d suffered a mental breakdown. He didn’t get into specifics, saying there was time for that later, and when I demanded answers, he just gave me this patronizing look, like I was a misbehaving child.” She arched a brow, her expression turning wry. “Or a crazy person, I suppose. He just said they would take good care of me.” She practically snorted at that. “The next thing I knew, they were sticking a needle in my arm and I was knocked out.”
“What about the next time you saw him? Did he tell you more then?”
“I never saw him again. I was in and out of consciousness for the first month—out of it, mostly. Anytime anyone noticed that I was aware again, they’d bring out the needles. It didn’t take me long to figure out if I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in a drug-induced haze, I couldn’t let them know when the drugs wore off.”
“So when I saw you sitting on the veranda this afternoon, you were pretending, with the drooling and all?”
She hesitated before answering, as if not sure how much to admit. “I have been for the past few months. Not all the time. They were still drugging me, of course, though I think they were lowering the dosage. Or maybe I was getting used to the drugs. Either way, I gradually started to be more aware. I just never let them see when I wasn’t out of it anymore.”
“And no one on staff noticed that you were pretending for, what, three months?”
In spite of his best efforts, he couldn’t quite keep the disbelief out of his voice. It was clear she hadn’t failed to notice.
“As long as I wasn’t causing trouble, no one paid too much attention to me. I was never examined by a doctor while I was conscious, and it was obvious the nurses and orderlies were only there to cash a check. They did what was necessary to provide a basic level of care, but otherwise none of them gave me a second glance. I was basically invisible.”
He couldn’t help frowning. The image she painted wasn’t the same Thornwood he’d heard wonderful things about, or the one he’d visited that afternoon. The place seemed a marvel of efficiency.
But that feeling he’d had when he was there, that something was somehow off about the place, nagged at him in a way that couldn’t be attributed to a forbidding exterior. It wouldn’t be the first case of something being too perfect to be believed, or at the very least, not all it seemed.
“Even so, you wouldn’t have been admitted for no reason.”
“But maybe for the right price.”
“What are you saying? That they were paid to admit you?”
“And keep me there. Think about it. Why else would they fail to explain exactly why I’d been brought there? Why keep me drugged for months rather than offer any kind of therapy or professional treatment?”
“But who would do that? And why?”
She paused, her gaze sharpening. “Can I trust you to keep this conversation between the two of us?”
“You mean doctor/patient privilege? I’m not your doctor.”
“Nor do I want you to be. I just want to know you won’t repeat what I’m going to tell you.”
He wondered who exactly she expected him to talk to, and why discretion was such an issue. Was she going to spin a story too easily proven false if he shared it with anyone else?
Still, he wanted to know what she was going to say. Confidentiality didn’t seem too much to ask for, if he could help it. He just hoped she didn’t force him to make a liar of himself. “All right.”
She took a deep breath, as though gathering strength. “My name is Claire Preston. My family owns Preston Aeronautics and Defense. You may not have heard of it, but we’re a private defense contractor that provides services to the government and the armed forces. It’s a multi-billion-dollar corporation. Tomorrow is my thirty-fifth birthday. At that time I’m supposed to take control of the company. Only it appears that someone wanted to ensure that didn’t happen. That’s why I needed to get out of Thornwood now, before it’s too late to do something about it. I’m just hoping it’s not too late already.”
The words came out in a rush, then stopped abruptly as though she figured she’d said too much. Once she stopped, she simply lifted her chin and stood there, watching him.
Josh could only stare back at her. He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to a story that outlandish. Bribery? Billion-dollar corporations? A conspiracy hatched by an unknown “someone” against her? It was the stuff of paranoid delusions, created by an unstable mind.
Yet the eyes that met his were clear and focused. She’d related her story calmly and concisely, her voice unwavering. Whatever the veracity of her tale, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she believed it to be true.
But then, he’d spoken the truth to Aaron that afternoon—he wasn’t a psychiatrist. All he had were his instincts to tell him whether or not to believe her, instincts he was no longer certain he could trust.
He could either believe she was the victim of a conspiracy or simply a mental patient who belonged in the institution to which she’d been committed.
And Josh had the sad feeling that in this case the more likely answer was the correct one.

HE DIDN’T BELIEVE HER.
His expression hadn’t changed. He had that patient, pleasant look on his face that revealed nothing of his thoughts. She could tell all the same.
Claire swallowed a groan of frustration and forced herself to take the deep breath he’d suggested earlier. She couldn’t afford to lose her composure. Her only hope of getting this man on her side was to come across as sane and rational as she knew she was.
If only she hadn’t fallen asleep and lost her grip, tumbling back against the side of the trunk when he’d come to a stop. But it had been a long drive, and once the initial adrenaline rush of her escape had worn off, she’d felt the damned fatigue dragging at her. Even now, it pulled at her. Her body trembled, from exhaustion, tension and perhaps the lack of drugs her body was used to receiving by now.
Her stomach twisted with anxiety. Every moment she stood here was another moment she was wasting not getting away. She had to agree with him—it wouldn’t take the people at Thornwood long to discover that she was missing. Even now they could be on their way, ready to reclaim her, while she was making the mistake of confiding in this man.
She’d probably said too much. But after four months of speaking to no one, having to keep all this bottled up inside, her story seemed to come out on its own, a raging torrent that couldn’t be stopped.
For all the good it had done her.
“You think I sound paranoid,” she said knowingly. “And maybe I do. But like they say, it’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.”
From the impassive look on his face, he wasn’t ready to concede even that point to her.
She saw in his eyes that there was another option. That she really was mentally unbalanced, making up stories of persecution that bore no resemblance to reality.
Trying to think of another way out, she raised a hand to push back her hair.
“What’s that?”
She met his gaze, then followed it where he was looking. Her unconscious gesture had caused her sleeve to slide down, revealing her wrist.
Heat flooded her cheeks. Embarrassed, she quickly lowered her arm, pulling the sleeve all the way over her fingers. “It’s nothing.”
He finally set the wrench down on the floor just behind him and slowly moved closer, reaching out to offer her his hand. “May I see? I’m a doctor. I promise I’ll be careful.”
It was the gentleness in his voice that broke her. It was so different from the cool indifference and sneering cruelty she’d heard the past few months from the Thornwood staff. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to her so kindly. Maybe never.
His face matched his voice. His blue eyes were warm with sympathy. The corners of his mouth tilted ever-so-slightly upward in a compassionate smile. Part of her wondered if this was his doctor face, the practiced expression that conveyed just the right note of caring and made his patients feel at ease. The rest of her couldn’t help responding to it. It seemed so genuine. He seemed so genuine. Up close, she could see the faint beginnings of laugh lines worn into the skin around the corners of his eyes, while not a single line marred his brow. All of which told her this was a man who smiled a lot. Could it be that this wasn’t an act, that this was who he really was? Despite her better judgment, she found herself wanting to believe it, as the band of tightness in her chest eased slightly. Her initial impression of him returned in full force, that this was someone she could trust, someone who could help her.
Almost against her will, she found herself lifting her hand and placing it in his.
His fingers were large and surprisingly soft, his touch gentle. A doctor’s hands. She stared at a spot on the far wall as he carefully pushed back the sleeve to bare her forearm. She didn’t need to look. She knew what was there. Four long bruises on her wrist, with a shorter corresponding one underneath where Hobbs had grabbed her arm roughly a few days ago. There was another one farther up by the elbow that wasn’t as dark. It was already starting to heal. She silently underwent his scrutiny as he pored over one arm, then the other. She knew what was there, too. More of the same.
“Who did this to you?”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “An orderly. Not exactly the best care money can buy, huh?”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“Who would I tell? I’m crazy, remember? No one would have believed me. I know how they would have handled it. The squeaky wheel gets an armful of tranquilizers. Problem solved.”
“What about visitors? Didn’t anyone notice when they came to see you?”
“Nobody ever came to see me,” she said flatly.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, no doubt torn between following up with the questions that answer raised and all the others he must have.
When he did speak, his tone was even gentler. “So you just took it and let them hurt you?”
She met his stare head-on. “I did what I had to do to survive.”
“How bad did it get?”
She looked away again. “Just the bruises. It didn’t go any further.”
“Are you sure? You said you were drugged quite a bit of the time.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, only to stop short. Horror washed over her. She would know if someone had touched her, or worse, while she was out of it, right? Surely her body would let her know.
But as she thought of all those occasions she’d lost time, all the gaps in her memory, all she felt was doubt.
She swallowed hard, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
Josh lapsed into silence again, and she fought the urge to check his expression to see what he was thinking. She didn’t want his pity, even if that was what it took for him to let her go. She’d spent too much of her life trying to prove she was strong enough, as tough and as smart and as normal as everyone else, to want this man to see her as a victim.
“Come on. Let’s go inside.”
Claire jerked her head up in surprise. Whatever she’d expected him to say, that hadn’t been it. “Are you letting me go?”
“No.”
Her wariness returned. “Are you going to call Thornwood?”
He stared at her for a long moment that left her holding her breath. Then he sighed and shook his head. “No. I won’t call them.”
She suspected there was an unspoken yet at the end of that sentence. Rather than push her luck, she’d take what she could get. There would be time later to argue the rest.
He was already moving away, toward the door that seemed to lead into the house, apparently leaving her to follow. “Let me see if I can find you something to wear. And are you hungry?”
“Actually I’d kill to use the bathroom.”
“No problem. And you can clean up if you like.”
She answered without thinking. “A shower would be heaven.”
She didn’t know why she’d said that. It was true, of course. Even though she was free of Thornwood, she wasn’t free of its smell. The sterile scent clung to her body, reminding her with every breath she took. Not to mention she’d been lying in a trunk for more than an hour. After enduring the humiliation of sponge baths all this time, standing under the spray of a shower and washing herself, scrubbing the residue of Thornwood off her, seemed like a dream.
But what she needed was to get out of here. Now that he’d let his guard down, maybe she could make a break for it.
Except she’d already come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t be able to fight him if he tried to stop her. He was too big, and she was too regrettably weak after four months of the drugs. She hated this feeling. She’d never been this weak in her life, never let herself be, and now here she was, everything she’d never wanted to be.
“I’ll get you some towels,” he was saying. He had opened the door and was holding it for her.
Whatever she was going to do, it wouldn’t involve staying in the garage. Straightening her shoulders, she closed the distance between them and walked into the house.
The door led into a small kitchen, neat and sparsely furnished. “The bathroom’s down here,” he said. Moving past her, he led the way down a hall to the left. Framed photographs lined the walls. Curious in spite of herself, she found herself checking the pictures as they passed by. There were photos of Josh posing with an older couple who must be his parents, with groups of guys she imagined were buddies of his, with children who could be nieces and nephews. As would be expected from pictures deemed suitable for framing and displaying, everyone looked happy. In each, Josh’s smile shone like a beacon, its warmth as palpable as it was in person.
She couldn’t help notice they were all group shots, with no personal one-on-one photos with a wife or girlfriend. Not that it mattered, of course.
He stopped at the bathroom and turned the light on, then opened the next door, which turned out to be a closet. Pulling out a few towels, he handed them to her. “Help yourself to whatever you need. I’ll get you some clothes and leave them here outside the door for when you’re ready for them.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice sounding suspiciously husky to her ears. She started to walk into the bathroom, then hesitated, turning back. “You’re really not—”
“I’m not going to call Thornwood,” he said firmly. “I promise.”
Trusting him was a risk, but one she would have to take. Now that she thought about it, there was no way she could go running around in her hospital gown and robe. It was a surefire way to get stopped by the police, and she didn’t need that. If he provided her with some normal clothes, she’d be much better off when she did get away from him and out on her own. Plus there was the little fact that she didn’t know where they were. Within driving distance of Thornwood, but that covered a lot of ground.
With a tight nod, she ducked her head and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
The room was small but clean. Setting the towel on the countertop next to the sink, she found herself facing her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t help but stare. It had been four months since she’d looked at herself. Her face was a little thinner, but not too much so. Her hair hung limply to her shoulders. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes.
It was the eyes themselves she couldn’t ignore. Her face was frozen in a familiar mask, cool, refined, revealing nothing. That detachment didn’t reach her eyes. There was a vulnerability there she wasn’t used to seeing, along with something just as foreign.
Fear.
Suddenly, staring into her own eyes and the undeniable proof they offered of her ordeal, something inside her cracked. All the emotions she’d suppressed, all the anger she’d squelched, all the fear she’d held at bay, came rushing to the surface. A sob tore itself from her throat. She slapped the palm of her hand over her mouth to cover the sound of it and all the ones that followed, the wrenching cries that seemed to rip themselves painfully from someplace deep inside. Her other hand fumbled to turn on the faucet, then gripped the edge of the sink as she did her best to stay on her feet. She couldn’t fall apart completely. There was no time. She might be away from Thornwood, but she wasn’t clear yet.
Never show weakness.
Her father’s words, the mantra she’d taken as her own, echoed in the back of her mind.
Gradually, with practiced efficiency, she pulled herself together, regaining that touted Preston reserve. She inhaled slowly and deeply, remembering her breathing exercises, until the face that stared back at her was tranquil once more, the eyes revealing nothing.
On the other side of the door was a man who momentarily held her fate in his hands. She didn’t like the feeling. More important, she wasn’t about to cede control that easily. She hadn’t gone through all this just to wind up back at Thornwood.
And the man outside or anyone else who tried to stop her would find out just how hard she was willing to fight to prevent that from happening.

Chapter Three
Josh quickly ducked into his bedroom and retrieved a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist. They’d obviously be big on her, but they were all he had that might come close to fitting. He took them back to the bathroom. “I’m setting the clothes out here,” he called.
He heard the water running, but she didn’t say anything. Figuring she’d already done more talking than she’d wanted for the moment, he left the clothes in front of the door and moved away.
He’d offered her food, but that would mean going into the kitchen down the hall, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be that far away. He still wouldn’t put it past her to try to run. He didn’t know where she was going to go when it didn’t look like she had any money or ID on her, but obviously she hadn’t planned to let that stop her. He doubted it would now.
Instead, he stepped into the living room where he’d be able to hear the bathroom door open when she came out. He didn’t bother sitting, knowing there was no point. He wouldn’t be able to remain still. He had too much angry energy pounding through his system, too many questions demanding answers.
The memory of the marks on her arms, the knowledge that someone had hurt her, burned through him. Fury roiled in his gut as he thought of what she’d been subjected to. Anyone who would hurt a woman was bad enough, but hurting a seemingly helpless patient who’d been entrusted to their care was unspeakable.
Her story seemed so implausible. How could no one have noticed her injuries? Or had they really not cared? And the idea that she’d simply endured it for three months to preserve her ability to escape…That seemed to indicate either incredible strength or extreme deviousness.
Or desperation, he allowed.
He didn’t know how much of her story to believe. The conspiracy theory she’d spun was either too far-fetched to be true, or too far-fetched not to be. But he couldn’t deny the evidence of her mistreatment.
The phone rang, breaking into his thoughts. Somehow he knew who it was before he checked the caller ID and saw the number on the screen. After all, he’d predicted it to Claire not long before.
Thornwood.
He hesitated before answering it. He didn’t know if he was ready to admit that she was with him, or to commit to lying and saying she wasn’t. It would be better if he decided what he was going to do before making either move, but he was nowhere near that point.
The phone rang again. He could just let it go unanswered.
A third ring. The need for an explanation of Claire’s story and her injuries overrode his caution. He picked it up.
As expected, it was Aaron. “Josh, I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now.”
He realized he’d never bothered to turn his cell phone back on when he left Thornwood, then he’d forgotten it in the car after finding Claire. “Oh?”
“We have a bit of a situation here. One of our patients is missing. It appears she attacked an orderly and took off. There’s no sign of her on the premises, and as near as we can tell, only three vehicles left the grounds between the time she was last seen and when the front gate was alerted to search all departing vehicles. We’ve already checked with the other two, and the drivers said they didn’t see anyone and their trucks were empty. We were wondering if she somehow managed to get into your car and escape when you left.”
Josh zeroed in on the most relevant part of the statement. Claire had attacked an orderly? He felt a moment’s pause before remembering what she’d told him. Maybe the orderly had had it coming.
He knew he had to make his choice, to either conceal Claire’s whereabouts until he figured out how best to help her, or to reveal her presence.
In the end his desire for answers was too great. “She’s here.”
He heard Aaron exhale sharply. “That’s what we figured. A van has already been dispatched to retrieve her. You’re at home, right? They should be there shortly. Do you think you can handle her until they get there? She may be dangerous. The orderly is in pretty rough shape.”
“Maybe he deserved to be.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I said maybe he deserved to be. And by the way, you can tell the van to turn back. She’s not going anywhere until I get an explanation for why she has bruises in varying stages of healing all over her arms, injuries she said an orderly caused.”
From his silence, Josh knew he’d caught Aaron completely off guard. After a long moment, Aaron said, “They’re probably self-inflicted.”
“Unless her hands somehow swelled to twice their normal size, she didn’t leave those bruises on her arms.”
“Then maybe she convinced someone else to do it to make her more sympathetic when she made her escape.”
“That would require some planning. Is there a reason why she would need to escape so badly she’d make such plans ahead of time?”
“She’s a patient in a mental health facility, Josh. Sometimes they don’t want to be here.”
“Aaron, I saw this woman when I first arrived at Thornwood this afternoon. She looked completely unaware of her surroundings, like she could barely lift her head. According to her, she’s been faking her drugged state for months. Yet no one on the staff noticed or thought it was strange that a supposedly catatonic patient had bruises all over her?”
“Obviously there was some kind of oversight—”
“Obviously,” Josh repeated, unable to keep the scorn from his voice. “What the hell kind of operation are you people running there? Because, I have to say, this kind of contradicts the whole spiel about a first-class facility you were feeding me this afternoon.”
“As I said, there must have been some kind of oversight. You can rest assured this will be investigated—”
“What’s her diagnosis?”
The sudden change in topic seemed to have caught Aaron off guard again. “I’m not—”
“You’re telling me that she attacked someone, that she did this to herself, that she had someone else do it, and that she’s devious enough to plot to make herself look sympathetic once she escaped. What exactly is she suffering from that would lead you to believe she’s capable of this behavior?” Aaron’s silence lasted a beat too long. “Do you know anything about this patient, or are you just throwing a bunch of theories around to cover the asses of you and your colleagues?”
Aaron took on a deeply affronted tone. “I’m not personally familiar with her case, but I know Dr. Emmons himself is in charge of her care and he is deeply concerned for her well-being.”
Emmons. That much lined up with her story. “Or deeply concerned with the truth of her treatment at Thornwood not being revealed? Maybe even the reason she’s there in the first place?”
“This is ridiculous. I don’t know what she’s told you—”
“Enough that I’m not about to let her go back there.”
“Josh, the woman needs to be in a psychiatric facility!”
“And you say this as an expert on her condition?”
“I may not know the specifics, but I know she’s mentally ill.”
“And yet, at the moment she sounds a great deal more rational and coherent than you do.”
Aaron’s voice turned cold enough to freeze the phone lines between them. “The decision is not yours to make. A team from Thornwood is already on its way to retrieve her. Make no mistake about it, if you prevent them from doing so in any way, we will contact the authorities and report you for unlawfully removing her from our care. Given your current situation, do you really need that kind of trouble?”
It was just another sign that Aaron had never really known him. If he had, he would know Josh had never responded well to being threatened. He had no trouble matching the frostiness in Aaron’s tone. “Tell me something, Harris. Is that why you called me about the job? Because you thought my situation was so grim I’d be desperate enough to sell out the way you seem to have done?”
The telling silence that echoed across the line was answer enough.
“I figured as much.” He hung up the phone without another word.
“You said you wouldn’t call.”
Josh turned to find Claire standing in the doorway behind him, her hair damp from the shower. Betrayal rang in her voice.
“I didn’t. He called me.”
He read the uncertainty on her face, as though she wasn’t quite sure whether or not to believe him. She was wearing his sweats, virtually swimming in them. He could still see that every line of her body was tense. She looked as wary as a deer that sensed imminent danger, ready to bolt at any moment.
He forced himself to relax his expression into something more reassuring and offered her a smile. “Do you want something to eat?”
“What did he say?”
There was no point in lying. She’d learn the truth soon enough. “They figured out you must have left with me. They’re already on their way.”
As he anticipated, she immediately turned toward the doorway.
He moved to intercept her. “Where are you going to go? You don’t have any money or identification, do you?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m just not going back there.”
“I didn’t say I would let them take you.”
“And how exactly are you going to stop them? You don’t have any authority over me.”
“According to you, neither do they. Legally, at least.”
“That hasn’t stopped them so far.”
“We can go to the police right now and explain how you’re being hurt there. Once they see your injuries, they won’t make you go back.”
“You don’t know that. Besides, Milton has plenty of police connections. I know for a fact he plays golf with the police commissioner.”
Josh frowned, trying to follow her train of thought. “Who’s Milton?”
Impatience flashed across her face. “Milton Vaughn is the current CEO of PAD. My father left him in control after he died.”
“And you think he’s responsible for having you institutionalized?”
“According to my father’s will, Milton is only to remain in charge until I inherit the controlling shares of the company. He’s the only one with a motive to pay someone to have me committed, and he could have told the police anything when Emmons told him I escaped.”
“Maybe he hasn’t had a chance. Maybe Emmons hasn’t told him yet.”
“I can’t take that chance. Even if they don’t send me back to Thornwood, they could ship me off to another mental hospital, and I’m not about to risk that. I know you don’t believe me, and you’re only helping me because of this—” she lifted her arms to demonstrate what she meant “—but I don’t belong in a rubber room somewhere, and the only way I’m going to find out how I ended up in one in the first place is to stay out of any others.”
“It might not be the worst thing to talk to another psychiatrist,” he said carefully. “If you truly aren’t mentally ill, another doctor should be able to recognize that.”
“Do you really think it’s that easy to escape the taint of mental illness once someone’s put that label on you?” She shook her head. “Besides, that isn’t my only reason. I know you don’t believe me, but I can’t afford to have this get out, especially to the press. If someone conspired to have me institutionalized, the media would have a field day with the story. The embarrassment it could cause to the company could be irreparable. I may not be in charge at the moment, but I intend to be in the near future. Even if I didn’t, I have a responsibility to the employees and shareholders to keep this whole ridiculous episode from hurting the company.”
This wasn’t the terrified woman who’d faced off with him in the garage, nor the embarrassed one who’d looked away when he examined her bruises. She’d switched into another gear entirely. Josh couldn’t help looking at her differently and reassessing his opinion of her. Her spine was straight, her shoulders squared, her head held high. Her tone of voice was soft, but firm, with the command of someone used to being in charge. Her claim that she was soon to be the head of an international corporation suddenly was entirely believable. What was hard to believe was that the woman currently standing before him would ever let herself be victimized. Then again, it was easy to imagine this woman doing exactly what she felt she had to do under any circumstances.
Before he could respond, the soft squeal of a braking vehicle sounded from the street out front.
Her bravado faltered slightly, and she paled. “They’re here.”
“Hold on,” he said when it looked like she was on the verge of taking off the way they’d come in. “We don’t know that.” He quickly crossed to the front window and peeked out through the blinds.
A white van had pulled up in front of his house. It was unmarked, but he knew immediately where it was from. He didn’t miss the fact that it completely blocked his driveway. Cutting off any possible escape.
He shook his head. Claire’s conspiracy theories were starting to get to him. He was getting as paranoid as she was.
As he watched, a car pulled up behind the van. A man slowly climbed out of the driver’s seat. The three men exiting the van seemed to expect him, acknowledging his presence. He made no move to join them.
A chill rolled down the back of Josh’s neck. Four men seemed a little excessive for one woman. Did they really think it would take all of them to retrieve her?
It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
It was the man who climbed out of the second vehicle who caught Josh’s attention. He could immediately tell there was something different about this man, the way he carried himself. He held back as the others moved toward the house, his stance watchful, his expression a stony mask.
As Josh watched, the man pushed back the side of his jacket, his hand reflexively checking an object that was briefly exposed in that moment.
The sight propelled Josh into action. He turned away from the window. “We have to get out of here.”
Relief flashed across Claire’s face until she saw his expression. “What’s wrong?”
He was already across the room, herding her toward the hallway with a soft but insistent hand at the small of her back. “Can you think of any reason why they’d have guns?”
“You mean tranquilizer guns?”
“Not unless Smith & Wesson started making those.”
He felt her flinch, but didn’t stop to react, just kept moving. Despite what Aaron had said, he had to believe she wasn’t violent unless provoked. When he’d led her to the bathroom, he’d kept his guard up in case she decided to attack him when his back was turned. She hadn’t. Which made the four men outside seem like overkill.
Or something more sinister.
He could try to turn them away, but he suspected the fourth man was there to ensure they didn’t take no for an answer.
They made it back to the kitchen. She started for the garage. “Not that way,” he told her, motioning to another door. “Through here.”
Grabbing his keys from the counter, he stepped out into the backyard and moved to open the gate. This side of the house wasn’t visible from the front, but something told him he couldn’t count on their visitors not circling the house. They still had to hurry. Once the gate was open, he crossed to where he’d left the Harley. He looked back to find Claire had stopped just outside the door.
“Does that thing even run?” she asked doubtfully.
From the toolbox he’d left out and the various dirty rags around, it was obvious he’d been working on the motorcycle. “I sure hope so. Either way, we’re about to find out.” He climbed onto the bike and raised a brow in question at her. “You coming?”
She didn’t hesitate further, breaching the distance in a few quick strides. Bracing her hand on his shoulder, she swung onto the back of the Harley behind him. Her arms automatically went around his middle.
The sensation of having her so close, her limbs wrapped around him, sent a jolt through him he did his best to ignore. As soon as she was on board, he kicked the engine to life. Sure enough, it gave an encouraging roar that left no doubt of its ability to get them out of there fast.
Seemingly reassured, Claire tightened her grip and leaned close, her breasts tight against his back. Quickly attributing the tremor that quaked through him to the rumble of the bike, he leaned forward and sent them roaring off into the night.

Chapter Four
Ahmed waited until the group from Thornwood drove away, heading back to inform their boss that they were as incompetent as he was, before breaking into the house. It was pathetically simple. The home’s security system wouldn’t keep out a determined child.
Once inside, he slowly made his way through the rooms, searching for any clue to where the doctor might have taken the woman. In truth, this mission was beneath him. He had several men loyal to their cause who were capable of finding one woman.
But few of those devout men would enjoy what they could do once they found her as much as he would.
He allowed himself a moment to savor the burst of anticipation before refocusing on the task at hand. If they had gone to the police, then all was likely lost. He suspected they had not. She was from a wealthy family, connected to a prominent company. She wouldn’t want the attention. At the very least, he had to proceed as though they hadn’t until he knew otherwise.
If she tried contacting her family, he would be informed. The most obvious places she might choose to go were all covered. That left him to learn of the places the doctor might choose for them.
As he searched, he studied the man’s home, gathering an impression of the man who lived here, all the better to understand his quarry. It was clear he lived alone. The house was small, the furnishings basic.
A simple man.
A man who had no idea what he was interfering with.
A man who shouldn’t prove to be much of an adversary.
Pictures lined the walls, displaying a multitude of faces, each of them a possible ally the doctor might turn to. Even if Ahmed was able to identify all of them, the sheer number made it unlikely he would be able to locate the correct one.
Arriving in a home office, he found an address book sitting next to the phone. A quick flip through its pages revealed names, addresses and phone numbers, all meticulously documented. Perhaps the doctor would turn to one of the people listed. He tucked the book into his coat pocket.
He was about to leave the room when a business card tacked to a board above the desk caught his attention. He didn’t question why the man had it. All that mattered was that he did.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/kerry-connor/beautiful-stranger/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.