Page 23

A ray of sun danced over Clara’s eyelids, making her scrunch them and groan as she rolled to her side.

She frowned at the dull ache between her thighs. At the hard, warm body beneath her chest.

Then she remembered.

A breath slipped from her lips as everything from the previous night came back to her. Finding Scarlett. Waking in the middle of the night. Holden.

The arm around her suddenly felt hot and heavy, the heart beating beneath her cheek loud.

Her heart started to thump. Nervous thumps that made her rib cage rattle.

He was awake. Did he know she was awake?

“Morning, honey.”

She wrinkled her nose. Yep. He knew.

Slowly, she forced her head up to see Holden’s intense hazel gaze on her, his day-old stubble looking ridiculously sexy. “Morning. Have you been awake for long?”

“Long enough to watch the sun rise through the curtains.”

A small weight lifted from her chest. Because a part of her had wondered if he’d leave before morning came around. If he’d feel the magnitude of what they’d done and run from it.

But he was here.

He slid a lock of hair from her face. “How are you feeling?”

Her skin tingled where his finger grazed. “Good. Last night was nice.”

“Nice?”

Whoops . “Better than nice. Definitely better.”

“You mean I made your first time un-fucking-believable?”

He was joking, but she didn’t even crack a grin. “Yeah. You did.”

His hand slid up and down her side. “I could touch your curves all day and never tire of them.”

A rush of warmth spread over her skin. “You know, I went through a period where I hated my body.”

“How could that possibly be true?”

“I felt like my body betrayed me by getting sick.”

There was a small tightening of his eyes. “What changed?”

“I realized it wanted to heal as much as I did. That we were on the same side, fighting the same disease.”

“Your body fought with you.” He set a soft kiss on her forehead.

She smiled, but the smile slipped when some of that old fear slipped back in. “Holden…I need to know what last night was for you. Did you sleep with me just because what happened with Scarlett scared you? Or did it mean more to you? Because it meant more to me.”

Something flickered in his eyes, a hesitation…a fear. Then he blinked and it was gone. “It meant something to me too.”

“You’re not going to pull away from me, are you?” A million fears came alive in her belly at the possibility. Because the longer she was with him, the deeper she’d fall, and the more it would hurt if he ran.

For a second, he didn’t say anything, and his face was so unreadable that the fear simmered and rippled inside her.

Maybe now wasn’t the best time for this conversation. Her heart was too vulnerable after last night.

She started to get up, but he snagged an arm around her waist and tugged her back down before rolling them. “I’m not going anywhere, Clara.”

He was everywhere. Over her. Around her. He was all she could see or feel.

“Promise me,” she whispered.

“I promise.”

His words were whispers, but he looked so deeply into her eyes that she believed him.

Relief had air rushing out of her lungs.

Then he kissed her. A slow, gentle kiss that made the last wisps of fear slip away. His tongue tangled with hers, his hand slipping down her body, heating her skin.

She was just wrapping a leg around his waist when an alarm went off.

Her eyes flashed open. “What’s the time?”

“Hm…not sure.” His mouth moved down her neck.

“I set it for seven thirty. I have a client at eight.”

“I agree with Jess. You should cancel.”

She wanted to. But she couldn’t do that to her client. They booked because they needed her. Whether it was for their mental health or physical, every appointment was important.

She pushed at his chest. “I need to get up.”

He nipped her neck. “Reschedule.”

“No.” She pushed again. “You need to go.”

He laughed as he lifted his head, but not his body. “If you think I’m leaving you alone in this house, you’re out of your mind.”

“Holden…I don’t need you babysitting me all day, and I’m sure you have things you planned to do today.”

“I’ll cancel.”

“No, you will not. I’ll lock the doors and only let my clients in. I’m not in any danger. I wasn’t writing an article on the hospital. I don’t know anything about what’s going on there.”

Her heart gave a sad kick at the memory. At the possibility that someone she knew had hurt Scarlett.

She shook her head. She couldn’t think about that right now.

“Clara—”

“I’m seeing my client, and you’re doing whatever you planned to do today. Okay?”

His jaw clicked. “If I leave, I expect hourly updates from you. And I’m returning this afternoon.”

“Are you coming to watch out for me or to be with me?”

He lowered his mouth, hovering it over hers. “I’m coming because I care about you.”

Then he kissed her again, and the alarm was suddenly the last thing she could think about.

Cool morning air sliced over Holden’s skin as he ran, the rhythmic pounding of his shoes against the earth competing with the sounds of the mountain around him. His breathing came out in sharp bursts, his chest tight. But that tightness wasn’t from exhaustion.

It was Clara.

Memories of the previous night played over in his head. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers. The sounds she’d made when he touched her.

He tightened his fists and forced himself to move faster.

One night with her and he was already craving another. Needing her with this new intensity…new desperation. And he didn’t want to be afraid of it. He wanted to love her without letting the fear of losing her rule him.

In every other aspect of his life, he could be fearless…so why not this one?

Branches snapped beneath his stride, the chill of the morning biting the back of his throat.

Waking up this morning with her in his arms had felt right. He needed to be strong enough to keep her.

He reached his house and the second he stepped inside, he texted her.

Holden: Hey. Are you still okay?

When she didn’t reply immediately, he had to physically stop himself from calling. She was probably with a client. If he needed to wait, he needed to wait.

But fuck, he was worried. Her roommate was dead. The back door lock had been broken and someone had murdered her.

Yeah, he’d replaced the lock last night, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

He took a quick shower, then called Jesse.

He picked up after a couple of rings. “Holden.”

“Do you know anything about Scarlett’s cause of death yet?”

“No. And we won’t for a couple weeks. There were no signs of physical trauma, so we need to wait for the toxicology report.”

Holden’s back teeth ground together as he headed to the kitchen for a bottle of water.

“But I did get that background check on Scarlett.”

Holden paused. “And?”

“Her real name was Rosie Thorpe. She used to be an investigative journalist and did a lot of undercover work, but she crossed the line of ethics too many times and burned all her bridges, so according to her old bosses, no one would hire her.”

“If she couldn’t publish any of her findings at any legitimate newspaper or magazine, then what was she doing investigating the hospital?”

“My IT person linked her to articles that she blasted on conspiracy and exploitative sites on the internet. She also had her own site under a pseudonym with some serious firewalls. She got good exposure.”

“Shit. It explains the less than ethical methods of getting information from people.”

“Exactly.”

The question still stood…who’d killed her? “I don’t like Clara still being in that house.”

“If you hadn’t offered to stay last night, she wouldn’t have been there. Was she okay?”

Guilt cut through Holden’s chest that Jesse was in the dark about everything that had happened recently between him and Clara. He just needed to tell his best friend. But not over the phone. And he needed to talk to Clara first. “Yeah, she was okay.”

“Good.”

“You’re looking into the hospital staff, aren’t you?”

“We’ve been interviewing the staff this morning, starting with the running club. Briar Winslow was at the bar, then went to Helen Monroe’s house. Malcolm Trundle was at home, but no one can verify that. We’re just heading to Deborah Fuller’s house now.”

Holden straightened. “I want to be there.”

“No. This is a sheriff matter—”

“I don’t fucking care. It involves Clara.”

Jesse growled. “Holden—”

“I’m leaving now.” He hung up, grabbed his shit, and ran to his truck. He wanted to be in on at least one of these interviews. He wanted to hear what Deb had to say, not only about last night but also about the night Scarlett laced the brownies.

When he reached Deb’s house, Jesse pulled up behind him almost at the same time, his deputy, Luke, in the passenger seat.

Jesse climbed out of his car, his jaw set. “You can come in if Deb say it’s okay. If she says no—”

“I’ll go.” But Deb liked him, so that wasn’t happening.

He said a quick hello to Luke before moving to the front door, not missing Jesse’s exaggerated huff.

When Deb opened the door, she gasped. “Oh my…am I in trouble?”

Jesse shook his head. “No, ma’am, but we were hoping we could ask you some questions.”

“Oh, yes, sure.”

Jesse shot him a glare. “Holden Forbes is invested in this case and would like to listen to your interview. But say the word, and we’ll send him away.”

Holden gave the older woman a kind smile. “Hi, Deb. I hope that’s okay.”

She returned his smile. “Of course. I don’t have anything to hide.”

Jesse sighed before stepping inside, Holden and Luke following.

“Have a seat,” Deb said, gesturing toward the round dining table. “Can I get coffee for anyone?”

“No, thank you.” Jesse sat and waited for everyone else to take a seat before asking his first question. “Deb, I need to know where you were last night between the hours of eight and midnight.”

“Last night?” An orange cat jumped onto her lap. “I was here.”

“Can anyone corroborate that?”

“Well, Biscuit can, but unless someone speaks cat…” She laughed, but when no one joined her, the laugh died off. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“Not at this stage,” Luke said.

Jesse leaned forward. “A few nights ago, did you have drinks with Scarlett Calloway?”

“Yes. She came here, and so did Malcolm, Briar, and Helen.”

“Do you remember much about that night, Deb?” Holden asked, receiving a warning look from Jesse for the question.

“Oh, yes, it was a great evening.” She blushed. “I’m afraid we all drank far too much.”

“Did you eat some of Scarlett’s brownies?” Jesse asked.

“I did! They were divine. I actually need to get the recipe from her.”

Jesse’s brows rose. “Are you aware that she laced them with marijuana?”

Deb gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, no. She wouldn’t do that.”

“She would, and she did,” Holden pushed.

“Oh my.” She started petting her cat, her hand shaking.

“Do you remember much of what was said that evening?” Jesse asked. “Any conversations that might have upset anyone? Many conversations about the hospital?”

“The hospital? No. We try not to talk about work when we’re away from it. We talked about the weather and the brownies. Helen made these meatballs that we all obsessed over. Briar spoke a bit about work, but she tends to do that. She complains a lot.”

“It’s the same as the others said,” Jesse told him quietly.

“Will Scarlett be in trouble?” Deb asked.

There was a small pause before Jesse answered. “Scarlett is dead, ma’am.”

She paled, and it was a moment before she spoke again. “Dead? What do you mean? What happened?”

“We’re not sure yet,” he answered. “We’re just gathering information at this stage. Can you tell me how things have been at the hospital?”

“The hospital?”

“There’ve been patients getting sick, haven’t there?” Jesse asked.

“You know about that?” When Jesse nodded, she continued, “Well…yes, but the hospital administration said we’re not allowed to talk about it while they’re investigating things.”

“Now I’m investigating things,” Jesse said. “And I’d like you to tell me what’s been happening.”

She took a deep breath. “Well…Lauren Tabs died of heart failure after rotator cuff surgery. It shook everyone, because no one knew what happened. Since then, perfectly healthy patients have been randomly getting sick, everything from respiratory depression to seizures, but no one knows why.”

“Is there anything connecting the patients?” Holden asked. “Rooms? Medications? Procedures?”

“There’s only one thing connecting them,” Deb said quietly. “Malcolm’s their doctor.”