Page 17 of Ghost

No tattoos that he could spot.Not even a birthmark.Maybe he’d find something beneath her bra and shorts.After taking another sip of much-needed caffeine, he set down his cup on the workbench and switched off the fans.

She didn’t move.

He stopped near the plastic.Her hair, now dry, frizzed around her head.Crouching next to her, he pressed his fingers to the inside of her wrist.Dammit, he shouldn’t have left her so long.Especially with a head injury.

He stilled as he timed her pulse.It was there.Thready and faint, but there.

He gave himself a mental kick in the ass.Now what?She was probably battling hypothermia and a concussion.He wouldn’t get any coherent words from her now.Placing one hand on her shoulder, he shook her gently.“Anna.”

She didn’t move.Only her shallow breathing told him she was alive.He rattled her again, this time more insistently.“Anna, wake up,” he boomed.

Her flesh tensed beneath his skin.She whimpered and curled herself tighter.

Finding her chin, he gently drew her face away from her knees.“Anna, open your eyes, dammit.”

Slight tremors shook her body.At least that was some kind of reaction.

His hand smoothed up and down her arm involuntarily.Her skin was so cold and dry his chest constricted.Her long, dark eyelashes fanned over her ivory cheeks.He couldn’t see the color of her lips due to the silver duct tape, but the sight of her vulnerability struck him.

He’d never done anything like this before.Never captured a woman.Never inflicted torture on one...at least not the kind they didn’t beg for.

Disgust filled him.

Damn, she looked young and so damn innocent.Why the hell did she have to come for me?

He’d had every intention of killing her.Eventually.But not like this.Not without getting what he needed, and not slowly and painfully for Christ’s sake.

As if she sensed his angst, her lashes fluttered.Dazed, distant eyes found his face before her eyelids slammed shut as if simply looking at him drained her.

He stalked out of the shop and to the cabin.He grabbed a quilt from the couch, which he tossed in the dryer on high.In the kitchen, he snatched another mug from the cupboard and filled it with hot coffee.He dropped in a spoonful of sugar—hopefully that’d wake her up a little—and got the quilt from the dryer.Bundling the material into a tight ball, he marched back to the shop with the coffee in his other hand.

Placing the cup on the workbench, he slid his attention to her.Pressure mounted in his chest.She still hadn’t moved.

An emotion he couldn’t explain, a heat beneath his collar that he’d never felt before, clenched his jaw.If he’d found her like this, banged up and half frozen, he’d kill the bastard responsible.

The bastard was him.

Inhaling a self-loathing breath, he draped the quilt over her.Covering her up stomped out only a fraction of his guilt.

***

Warmth.

Oh god, she was finally warm.

She thought of the gratitude she’d felt toward Alexei for welcoming her into the warm SUV with blankets and hot chocolate.She’d wanted to cry.

Please don’t send me to the mountains again...

“Anna.”A male voice punched her into awareness.“Anna, or whatever the fuck your real name is, open your eyes.”The command made her shudder.

Blinking, she fought the current of sleep rushing over her.Fear knocked her heart into her ribcage as she took in the plastic sheet beneath her cheek.She lay on hard cement, but something warm and soft covered her from head to toe.

Where am I?

She struggled to bring forth the events that’d led her to this moment but came up empty.Her gaze located two large industrial fans that were thankfully off.Between them was a folding chair.And booted feet.

A lump formed in her throat.