Page 68 of Storm Warning
Kate glanced around, disoriented, taking in the familiar rattan furniture and potted palms. The hotel lobby. Why was she here?
“I’m so sorry. I think I need to go home.”
“You are not driving. I’ll take you.” Lena stood and eased Kate up, one hand firm on her elbow, guiding her to the door. “Mario, I’m going to drive her back to the suite.”
With a steady hand, she helped Kate into the golf cart, settling her before sliding in behind the wheel. If Mario responded, she didn’t hear it through the ringing in her ears.
Kate staredstraight ahead as they glided through the warm night. The cool breeze, smelling of pine and damp earth and the distant salt of the gulf, chased some cobwebs from her mind. Her cheeks heated again, this time with embarrassment rather than panic. “I’m so sorry, Lena. I freaked out there. I am so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be.” At the suite, Lena slipped out of the cart with practiced grace to help her out. “Don’t you dare move—I don’t want you falling.”
She came around and grasped Kate’s arm with gentle firmness. “Let me help you.” She walked Kate up to the door, took her keys from her trembling fingers, and opened it before leading Kate to a chair, her hand never leaving Kate’s elbow.
“Sit.” Kate sat, the cushion sighing beneath her weight. She was still fuzzy, thoughts moving like molasses, but she recognized an order when she heard one.
“Now, tell me the problem. You said you had a shock. What kind of shock? Do you need help with something?” The soft, melodic tones of Lena’s voice, calm but laced with genuine concern, eased some of the confusion swirling in Kate’s head like a storm cloud.
“There’s nothing you can do, but thanks. I think I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’ll know for sure in the morning.” She stared blankly at the dark wall of glass in front of her, mind drifting again like an untethered boat. The water was out there, on the other side of that glass, invisible in the darkness but present nonetheless, its waves whispering against the shore.
A knock on the door, sharp and urgent, and the cushions next to her shifted. A moment later, Nick was crouched in front of her, his knees on the hardwood floor, his face filling her vision. “Kate?”
With a slow blink, she focused on Nick, noticing the concern etched on his face—deep lines between his brows, his mouth tight, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her chest ache. “Nick? What are you doing here?”
Kate blinked again, her eyes gradually focusing on the familiar furniture, the soft glow of the lamps she’d left on. Her suite’s living room. The throw pillows she’d arranged that morning.
“How did I… I thought I went to the restaurant for dinner?” She frowned, confusion knitting her brows together, her head stuffed with cotton.
Zach strode through the open connecting door, his massive physical presence pulling her attention to him like gravity. The doorway shrank around his broad shoulders. Why was that door open? “Hi, Zach.”
With a soft sigh, Zach kneeled beside Nick, his calloused fingers enveloping her wrist with quiet authority. His hand was warm, steady, his thumb finding her pulse point with practiced ease.
“Hi, Kate. How are you doing tonight?” His tone was gentle, the careful softness you’d use with a cornered animal.
“I don’t know, Zach. I’m confused. I thought I went to the restaurant, but then I was here, and Lena’s here, and Nick came in, and the door is open, and I don’t know why the door’s open.” The words spilled out in a rush, her voice rising with each phrase.
Kate’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion; her thoughts fragmented and scattered like puzzle pieces dumped on a table, refusing to fit together into any coherent picture.
“You’re in shock, honey.” He held her gaze with steady blue eyes even as he spoke to the others. “Nick, find a blanket for her. Lena, can you get a glass of water? Kate, your pulse is racing. I need you to slow it down. Breathe with me, ok?”
Kate nodded, but her hands wouldn’t stop trembling, shaking like leaves in a strong wind. Her breath came shallow and fast, her chest rising and falling in quick, inadequate gasps. Her vision blurred around the edges again, the room going soft and hazy, and the sweat on her forehead was cold and clammy despite the warmth of the room.
“You’re safe,” he said again, softer this time, his voice acomforting rumble. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”
She tried, her breath hitching, swallowing down the rising nausea that clawed at the back of her throat. “I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve had anxiety before, but this feels… different.”
Zach studied her—his eyes sweeping over her face, her posture, cataloging details with clinical precision. Then he paused, his gaze narrowing on her arm, his brows drawing together.
He reached out and turned her left arm to the light, his grip careful but insistent. Near the upper inside, barely noticeable against her pale skin, was a faint, irregular patch of residue, sticky-looking, as if something adhesive had been there.
He brushed his thumb over the spot, his touch feather-light. “Kate, did anyone touch you after you left here? Brush against you? Bump into you?”
Kate blinked, trying to wade through the fog in her brain. “What?”
“I know it sounds strange, but try to remember.” His voice remained patient, coaxing.
She searched her memory, digging through the haze. “Mario—he took my cart. I went inside. Yes, I think so, in the lobby. A man. He muttered ‘sorry’ and kept walking. Why?” A thread of fear wove through her confusion.
Zach ran his finger over the spot again, his jaw tightening minutely. “Because this looks like the remains of a transdermal patch.”