Page 17 of Nowhere to Hide

“You saved me.” Her voice was little more than a raspy whisper.

I took her hand, the skin cool. “Shh.”

She licked her lips. “What’s your name?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She tried to clear her throat, but it turned into a racking cough. I glanced around and found a cup with little pink pitcher.

“Shh.” I tipped it to her mouth and let a few drops slip inside. She lifted her head to drink deeper and I tried to pull it back, but her hand came around my wrist to hold me still.

Not so weak after all.

When she was finished I set the cup down, but she didn’t let go of my wrist.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m Cilla—Priscilla if I’m in trouble.”

I grinned. “Locke.”

Her lids slid down and a small smile teased the corners of her lips. “Locke. Safe and sound,” she whispered.

Something inside of me didn’t want to let her go, which prompted me to gently slip my hand free. “Yes, you’re safe now.”

“‘Kay.” Her breathing evened out with a small sigh. “Thanks, Safety Locke.”

“Hell,” I muttered.

See. She needs you.

And that was the problem. I was no good for anyone.

CHAPTER 4

CILLA

Sleeping in a hospital sucked.

Especially when someone poked at me every two hours or so. At least I was pretty sure it was two hours. Time didn’t have a whole lot of meaning in this place and every time I woke, my heart hammered out of my chest, and I couldn’t remember where I was.

They swapped bags on the IV stand near the head of my bed. Thankfully, they took off the connectors to the big monitor sometime after the sun rose. Now it was just the ever-present rolling cart with a different nurse each time. They took my temperature and used the stupid cuff of destruction on my arm for blood pressure. I didn’t know how they got a correct reading with my fear response on max.

But I must have passed somehow since they did their checklist with a bored, performative smile. They checked my eyes and asked me questions about where I was, who the president was, and what year it was.

It had been a little difficult to think, but evidently I’d answered correctly because they left me alone only to repeat the process a few times through the night.

In between the nightmares.

Disjointed and dark. The scent of water, the flash of pain, and long stretches of nothing followed by an intense pressure. Two men. The faces kept morphing over one another.

I wasn’t sure which was which.

I vaguely remembered someone in my room in between the doctors.

It was hazy and undefined.