Holiday Havoc (2 page)

Lauren studied him as he worked to release her ankle. He was exceptionally handsome with his windblown, thick, dark auburn hair shorn close to his ears, and his strong jaw shadowed by a late-day beard.

Snap out of it, Lauren.
He wasn't Prince Charming and she wasn't a damsel in distress. She stifled a scoff. Okay, maybe she was in distress—or more likely hypothermia—but this was no fairy tale. She'd stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago.

Her eyes met Sean's raised brow. “It's getting dark,” she said inanely.

The sun had disappeared over the horizon and dusk was rapidly turning into night. The roar of the waves echoed across the shore. Normally, Lauren loved the beach at night. She'd found that was the time when she felt most connected to God. Being attacked and then trapped in a tide pool had put a damper on things, however.

“Lauren?”

“Yes?”

Sean moved behind her. “I need you to relax. I'm going to try pulling you out.”

Lauren breathed in deep and tried to quell the tremors running through her body, but the cold stiffening her limbs thwarted her efforts. Sean's hand slid beneath her shoulders without hesitation and fitted her against his chest. She didn't have time to react to his warmth before he tugged her backward hard. Pain shot up her leg. She gritted her teeth to keep from screaming.

Then, to her amazement and relief, her foot popped loose from its rocky prison, minus her tennis shoe.

“I'm free. Oh, thank you,” she cried. “Thank you so much.”

He helped her to a full sitting position, then knelt beside her feet. Her right foot had swollen like a balloon. With a light touch he ran his hands over her foot, ankle and up her calf. “I can't tell if it's broken. Thankfully, your pant leg protected the skin. We'd better get you to the hospital.”

She recoiled at the idea and her stomach turned. “Do I have to go?”

“Yes, you have to.” Sean unexpectedly scooped her up in his arms, making her heart jump. “Now, just relax.”

“I really, really hate hospitals,” she said, wishing she could make him understand just how much she loathed the sights, the sounds and especially the antiseptic smells. “I'd rather wait and go to my doctor's office tomorrow.”

Sean shook his head. “You need to be looked at tonight.”

She thought up an excuse. “But the hospital is so far away.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Seaside is only ten miles. We'll call the police from my truck on the way.”

“I really don't want to go.” Hospitals equaled pain, torturous and agonizing pain. From the moment she'd awakened in one after the Nightmare to the day she'd been released, all she'd known was pain. Her follow-up appointments were always at her doctor's office, never at the hospital. The thought of returning to one, even for a minor injury, made her heart race. On some level she knew she was being irrational. She needed to have her ankle looked at. But still… She shuddered.

One side of his mouth quirked. “I'll stay with you.”

She could either make a big stink or accept his kindness. Right now, she was too worn out to argue. The one thing she knew was that she didn't want to be alone. But could she trust him? “Promise?”

“Promise.”

As he carried her across the sand, she couldn't resist snuggling into the cocoon of his arms. For this moment, she needed to trust him. She really didn't have any other option. She was at this man's mercy. Praying she wasn't making a mistake, she laid her cheek against his broad chest. The rapid cadence of his heartbeat lulled her senses. He'd stay with her. He'd promised. She closed her eyes, allowing herself this one moment of comfort.

Because she knew the pain of how easily promises were broken.

 

The harsh, white overhead lights of the exam room brought back bad memories of month upon excruciating month Lauren had spent in Torrance Memorial Burn Center. Grafting, physical therapy and unending pain. Fear nagged at the edges of her mind, threatening
to bring back the Nightmare. She closed her eyes and forced herself to stay in the moment.

She sat on the exam table with her throbbing leg propped up, waiting for the doctor to arrive. Ten minutes ago, the nurse had chased Sean out so she could help Lauren change out of her soaked sweatpants and into a gown. Now a thin blanket lay draped over her bare legs and, though dry, the light material did little to keep her warm. A chill prickled her skin, but she knew it was only partially triggered by the room's temperature.

Sean had called 911 on the way to the hospital. The police would be here any minute to take her statement. What would she tell them? They'd think she was crazy if she suggested the possibility that Adrian was here in Cannon Beach. She knew that couldn't be true. Surely Detective Jarvis would have warned her if Adrian had been released from prison.

A squeaking noise echoed in the room seconds before the curtain was yanked aside. An orderly wearing blue scrubs pushed a wheelchair with a wobbly wheel into the room. He was slender with bushy hair and a thick beard that covered his lips. His smile revealed chipped teeth.

“Doc Allen says you're to come down to radiology,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Not comfortable with the guy and wanting to see her own physician, who was on call, she asked, “Where's Dr. Sorensen?”

“He'll be along.” The orderly gestured. “Let's get you into the chair.”

He reached for her. She automatically shrank back, but he was quicker. His meaty, latex-encased hand closed over her arm in a firm grip as he steadied her while she
maneuvered into the wheelchair, keeping her weight off her injured leg. When he released her, she rubbed her arm where she was sure she'd have marks from his fingers. “I want to see the nurse.”

“She's busy.” He wheeled her out of the exam room, past the empty nurses' station, festively decorated with garlands and little stockings strung across a short desk wall bearing the names of the staff members.

Forcing back her anxiety, Lauren hung on tight to the chair arms. The orderly wheeled her down a dimly lit corridor and then through swinging doors into a room with an X-ray machine and a table.

“Where's the technician?” she asked, surveying the empty room as unease coiled low in her belly. She didn't see anyone in the technician's booth. There was another closed door at the other end of the room with a name plate for the radiologist. No light seeped from beneath the crack under the door. Where was everyone?

The orderly's bushy eyebrows drew together. “He should be here.” With a sigh, he pushed the chair toward the middle of the room and locked the wheels. “I'll go see if I can round him up,” he said and strode out, leaving Lauren alone.

Agitation slithered across the nape of her neck. A whisper of noise from behind her jump-started her pulse. Twisting at the waist, she tried to see who'd entered. “Hello?”

No one answered. The lights blinked out, throwing the room into pitch-darkness.

What was going on?

Her mouth went dry with fear.

Terrified and feeling trapped, Lauren tried to get up, but her ankle wouldn't bear weight and the footrest on
the wheelchair kept her from simply bailing out of the chair and crawling to the door.

Determined to escape, she bent over the side of the chair and fumbled with the wheel locks. The musky scent of a man's cologne filled her head, making her world spin with horror. She knew that smell. Her heart slammed against her ribs. But it couldn't be!

Panic built in her chest as she gripped the wheels and struggled to turn the chair. Someone had hold of the handles! The chair jerked backward.

A scream tore from her.

T
he sound of feet pounding on linoleum echoed in the room as Lauren's scream died away in the dark. The door crashed open and the overhead lights came back on. Dr. Sorensen, Sean and two uniformed police officers rushed inside. Relief infused her, making her more conscious of the ache in her ankle.

“What's wrong?” Sean asked as he knelt beside the wheelchair, concern etched on his face.

Shaking with fear, she gripped his hand, thankful for his presence. “After the orderly left, someone else came in.”

Adrian was here.
Terror knotted her stomach, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. How many times before had she thought the same thing, only to be told he hadn't been there? The therapist she saw had said she suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and her paranoia was a symptom. And this was what was happening now. She was being paranoid, imagining things. She had to be.

“No one came out,” one of the officers commented.

The older of the two officers, a man with graying hair and a definite paunch, went to the technician's booth and peered inside. “No one here.”

He walked to the other end of the room and tried to open the door to the radiologist's office. “It's locked.”

Lauren gripped Sean's hands tighter as she fought to control her dread. “I tried to wheel myself out but someone had hold of the handles. I could feel him behind me.”
I could smell him.

Stark memories of her attacker shuddered through her, making her shake violently.

No, no. Adrian couldn't be here. He was locked up for good in Southern California. Her imagination was just running wild again.

“You couldn't move the chair because the wheels are locked,” Dr. Sorensen said.

“No. I'd unlocked them.” Hadn't she?

She saw the glance the two officers exchanged. They thought she was nuts. Maybe she was. The police in L.A. had certainly come to the conclusion she was.

“I need to make a phone call,” she said. Calling Detective Jarvis was the only way to put her mind at ease. He'd been nothing but patient with her all the other times she'd panicked, thinking Adrian was around every corner, in each dark shadow.

“Okay, okay. Let's get this done first,” Sean said in a placating voice.

Clearly he was humoring her, and she didn't blame him. She knew she sounded like she was off her rocker. But someone
had
been here. She was sure of it.

Sean glanced up at the officers. “Can you wait to take her statement until after the X-rays?”

“Sure,” the older officer said. “We'll wait outside.”

Standing, Sean said, “Doctor, can we hurry this along?”

“Of course.” Dr. Sorensen pushed the chair forward. “We'll be as quick as possible.”

They weren't quick enough, as far as Lauren was concerned. And all the movement only aggravated her injury. She wanted to get away from here, away from this horrible place and back to her cottage where she could call Detective Jarvis and finally feel safe again.

When the X-ray was complete, the officers took her statement about the attack on the beach.

“You didn't get a good look at his face?” Officer Devon asked. He was a beefy man with a ruddy complexion and kind eyes.

“No. He wore a hat and a scarf so only his eyes were visible. He had dark eyes.” Just like Adrian. She had to contact Detective Jarvis. Should she ask them to call the LAPD? “Could you…?”

The older officer's dark eyebrows rose. “Yes?”

Deciding she couldn't handle appearing foolish in front of Sean, she resolved to make the call in private once she arrived home. That way she wouldn't have to explain the details or find out in a public venue that she was truly letting paranoia get the better of her, again. “Could you follow us to my house?” she improvised.

The two officers exchanged a glance before nodding. Officer Devon asked, “Do you have someone who can stay with you? Or somewhere else you can stay for a few days while we search for this guy?”

Lauren bit her lip. Her mother was in Los Angeles and Lauren didn't have any friends here. She shook her head.

“We'll see about getting you some protection then,” the older man, Officer Kay, said before they retreated.

That made her feel infinitely better. Maybe she
wouldn't have to call Detective Jarvis after all. He'd just tell her the same thing he always had. This way, she could have people around to make her feel safe without having to disturb him again.

Sean wheeled her back to the exam room. His presence gave her a measure of peace. Fortunately, the X-ray showed her ankle wasn't broken. She'd suffered only a bad sprain and some nasty bruises. She took some pain medication as the doctor wrapped a hard, molded plastic splint and a bandage around her ankle and part of her calf. A nurse came in and helped her into blue surgical pants so she could leave the hospital. In her lap, she held a bag containing her wet sweatpants.

“So, I can count on you, Mr. Matthews?” Dr. Sorensen talked over Lauren's head to Sean as the two men rejoined her in the exam room.

“Yes, of course.”

Lauren had heard the slight hint of reservation in Sean's voice. She shifted uncomfortably in the wheelchair to peer up at him while keeping her bound leg propped up. A gymnast she wasn't. “Count on him for what?” she asked.

She didn't like that they'd apparently discussed her outside the exam room.

Dr. Sorensen flashed a patient smile. “Mr. Matthews has agreed to help you out for the next few days while you stay off that ankle.”

A rock dropped in the pit of her stomach and her gaze flew to Sean's guarded expression. He'd kept his promise to stay with her at the hospital, but he obviously wasn't happy to be asked to tend to her further. A reluctant Good Samaritan for sure.

How could she blame him? Why would he want
to help a stranger? Especially someone as hideous as her. Sure, covered up she looked normal. But Sean had already glimpsed some of the horrible scars that made her look and feel ugly. He'd be repulsed if he saw the rest. Just like Greg had been. Her former fiancé had taken one look and turned green. He'd tried to hide his repulsion at first. Tried to stay positive, but when the doctors had finally declared she was as healed as she would be, Greg had bailed. All of his promises turned to dust in the wake of his exit out of her life.

Even her friends' visits had dwindled to the point where she knew the relationships hadn't been deep. Not deep enough to withstand her ugliness.

And Sean probably thought she was a little nuts as well, after the way she'd acted in the X-ray room.

Besides, depending on him would only set her up for more heartache. She couldn't depend on anyone.

“I don't even know him,” she told the doctor. “Besides, the police officer said they'd provide protection.”

“I know Sean's family. They're good people. And the officers will still do their part,” Dr. Sorensen said in a firm tone, “but you're going to need some care, since you're not going to be very ambulatory for at least a few days.”

Familiar protective barriers went up all around her heart and her mind. Her gaze shifted to Sean. “I don't need your pity any more than I need your help.”

Sean arched an eyebrow. “How does my helping you constitute pity?”

She frowned, struggling for a logical answer and just as quickly gave up finding one. “It just does.”

Amusement entered Sean's clear blue eyes. “Are you always so stubborn?”

“Are you always so annoying?” she countered, even as she realized how awful she sounded. She was tired, freaked out and ready to just be alone in her own space with the doors tightly locked and a police car outside.

He grinned. Lauren's breath caught in her throat. He definitely belonged in a fairy tale, not her nightmare. What was he doing dashing into her dark corner?

Dr. Sorensen's chuckle reminded her to let out the air she'd trapped in her chest.

“I'll let you two work this out. Lauren, I expect to see you back here in a few days.”

“I'll make sure she comes,” Sean said.

Surprised by the determination in Sean's voice, Lauren stared.

Dr. Sorensen excused himself and walked out.

Lauren forced herself to focus. This was her ordeal and she'd go it alone, just as she had all along. “I don't need your help.”

“You have a friend we can call?”

She pressed her lips together, hating to admit that she'd kept to herself since coming to Oregon. It was better that way. Safer. The silence stretched and she knew she had to give some sort of answer. “I don't know very many people here.”

“Family?”

“Mom lives in Los Angeles. Dad's dead. No siblings.”

A flash of sympathy clouded his eyes. “Will your mother come?”

Yes, which was another problem. Lauren didn't want to have her mother hovering over her. Again. “I'm sure she will.”

“Then you're stuck with me until your mother arrives.
Besides, you've had a traumatic experience tonight—you shouldn't be alone right now.”

Lauren's ankle throbbed and her head ached. The fight drained out of her. He was right. She had had another harrowing experience, even if it had ended well. This time around. “Okay, fine. You can help me. For now.”

He grasped the handles of the wheelchair and began to push her toward the exit. The cheery Christmas decorations did little to elevate Lauren's mood. A shiver of residual fear traipsed over her skin. The strange sensation of being watched slithered along her nerves. She glanced around.

The waiting area was jam-packed with patients, seemingly uninterested in her, while nurses and orderlies bustled about doing their jobs. Everything seemed normal. A passing doctor with a stethoscope hanging around his neck smiled when he caught her eye.

She dropped her gaze to her folded hands. Maybe she was going a little crazy. Maybe she'd imagined the whole episode in the X-ray room. Just like she'd imagined Adrian in the parking lot of the supermarket three years ago, or imagined she'd seen him lurking in the shadows at the library last year. She saw Adrian's face every time she glanced out a darkened window; every time she entered a room she braced herself for his attack. Her therapist said it would take time for her to stop reliving the Nightmare. She'd hoped moving far away from every reminder would be enough. Apparently not.

She peeked up at Sean. Good of him to be so nice about the whole thing, even if he didn't realize what he was letting himself in for by promising to take care of her.

And though he'd been true to his word thus far, Lauren couldn't allow her lonely heart to become attached to him. To anyone.

She couldn't survive being rejected again.

 

On the drive back to Cannon Beach, Sean thought about Lauren's claim that someone had been in radiology with her. First the attack on the beach, then this?

He could understand her paranoia, especially in light of the trauma that Dr. Sorensen had hinted at and that Sean had seen evidence of on her arm. His curiosity was piqued, but he shied away from asking. He was already more involved than he should be. The less he knew the better. Much less emotionally taxing that way. For them both.

But just as he'd been unable to ignore her cries for help on the beach, he found he couldn't stop himself from wanting to help her now. From her insistence that she could go it alone, he had a feeling she didn't want him caring for her any more than he wanted to. She'd sounded a lot like some of the teens he'd dealt with over the years. Wanting so badly to be independent and self-sufficient, they refused to acknowledge the need for others.

The need for God.

He wondered about Lauren's relationship with God. He'd noted she'd called his timing on the beach a blessing. Was her use of the word an indication of her faith or was it just a fitting term that held no significance to her? And if she didn't have faith, would she be open to hearing about God's love for her and His promises for her life?

Sean's stomach dropped. Didn't matter. He wasn't
going down that path. Sean could keep an eye on her until her mother arrived, but he couldn't help her. He couldn't help anyone.

He forced himself to concentrate as Lauren directed him to her cottage. The headlights of the police cruiser reflected in his rearview mirror.

“Sean?”

“Hmm?

“I don't really know you.”

He tilted his head. “No, you don't.”

“Why should I trust you?” Lauren asked, radiating vulnerability in the set of her jaw, the guarded expression in her lovely eyes. “I mean, you could be an ax murderer or a…psychopath, for all I know.”

“I'm not an ax murderer.” He allowed a half smile. “Or a psychopath. I promise.”

“Then who are you?”

His gut tightened. Dr. Sorensen had asked the same question and had seemed satisfied that Sean was Mary Shannon's nephew. Lauren didn't know Aunt Mary, so that response wouldn't work for her. She was asking him a question she had every right to ask, but he didn't know how to answer without looking back at his mistakes. He settled on the present truth. The past was best left buried. “I'm renovating a historic bed-and-breakfast on Maple Street.”

“Shannon's?”

He nodded, not surprised she knew the place. “My aunt Mary owns it.”

Mary had given him a purpose when she'd invited him to come to Cannon Beach, never once asking why he'd needed to leave Portland. She undoubtedly knew
some of the facts, but not all. No one would know the whole truth, save God.

“Okay, that tells me what you do, but not if I should trust you.”

Sean considered her for a moment. The warm moonlight reflected in her amber-colored eyes was so honest and full of curiosity. Her dark hair had clumped together in places as it had dried, reminding him how close to danger she'd been. Returning his gaze to the road, he said, “Search your heart, Lauren. You'll find the answer.”