Run to Me (19 page)

When the time came to let Shea go, a new hell would begin for him. But until that time, Shea would be safe and Ethan would take what heaven he could.

Donald pushed open the door to the infirmary. His shoulders drooped with sadness; grief pervaded every shuffling step he took. His favorite creature had become unreliable. He was heartsick over the decision he had to make. Though he’d already decided to have the animal destroyed after the retrieval of his woman, he’d been teetering with indecision. Destroying such a valuable commodity seemed so wasteful. Now there was no choice; he’d become too volatile to keep.

Lying facedown on the bed, the creature was covered by a white sheet from the shoulders down. His eyes were closed, his handsome face relaxed; green-and-blue bruises covered every exposed inch of his big body. Donald held back a cry of distress at the marring of such perfection.

He noted that the doctors didn’t trust the creature even unconscious and in severe pain: his powerful arms were shackled to metal straps on the floor.

Tentatively, he stroked the animal’s head, his thick, black hair soft and resilient beneath his fingers. How he would miss him. “How is he?”

Dr. Kline grunted as he looked down at his patient. “Your men went too far with him this time.”

Donald’s heart skittered. No, he couldn’t die yet. There was still one more mission he had to perform. “How bad?”

The doctor pulled the sheet away from the man’s back. Donald swallowed a moan. From his shoulders to his buttocks, his skin looked as though someone had taken a meat grinder to him. The once smooth back was now a mass of strips of flesh, thick welts, and angry bruises.

Donald’s stomach flipped over, the meal he’d enjoyed a few minutes ago surging toward his throat. He waved a hand at the doctor. “Cover him. Now.”

The doctor pulled the sheet back up, hiding the hideous sight. “I don’t know if he’ll make it this time.”

Swallowing back bile, Donald said, “He has to … he still has work to do.”

“I’ll do my best, but it could take weeks to get him back to full strength.”

Donald had accepted that the punishment his men had meted out might well delay his plans. When the creature had defied him, his reprimand had taken precedence over other needs. This animal might not be long for this earth, but while he was on it, he would do what he was told. Disobedience could not be tolerated.

“Get him well as fast as you can.”

“I’ll need to cut his dosage in half to keep him weak and docile.”

“That’s fine. Just keep him chained and out of my sight. Once he’s well, we’ll give him a few weeks to get strong again.”

Donald gave one last lingering look to the body on the bed before he turned and walked out the door. Though he’d already made his peace with the fact that the creature would have to be destroyed, it still depressed him. He’d even been thinking about keeping him … perhaps just bringing him out on special occasions. An amusement he could enjoy whenever the mood struck. Now that hope was gone. Not only had he defied an order, he was no longer perfect. Donald’s men had scarred him, and there was no way to make him beautiful again.

Donald stepped into the elevator. Aware that the cameras in the corners would pick up any expression, he glared at the door, his face stoic and hard. Whoever occupied the monitor room would see only a tough, icy exterior. No one could tell that deep inside, he was in terrible emotional distress.

The opulence and splendor of his home brought no comfort or pride as he left the elevator and trudged toward his bedroom suite. He needed solitude. With his kitten still missing and the perfect, beautiful animal he had created now marred and soon to be destroyed, he was depressed and lonely. Killing the bitch who’d failed him hadn’t brought him the joy he’d anticipated. When his creature had refused his order, everything had been ruined.

He sniffed back the tears, determined not to lose control until he was alone. His people didn’t need to see this sensitive side of him. They believed that Donald Rosemount was tough … invincible and deadly. That’s what they needed to believe, the persona he’d perfected. If they realized how tender his heart really was, he’d lose control of them. The more they feared him, the better they performed. When he got to his room, away from curious eyes, he would mourn his loss in private.

Sunshine flooded the homey, comfortable bedroom. Soft, cozy warmth permeated her body as Shea snuggled deeper into the bed. Had she ever felt so safe and content? With almost no memory, it was hard to say, but she couldn’t imagine feeling more secure than she did at this moment.

Yesterday, after a stop at a grocery store, where Shea had watched Ethan fill two carts with an enormous amount of food, they’d driven for miles, deep into the mountains. When he pulled into a gravel drive at the top of a hill, Shea lost her breath. She thought she’d seen heaven on the drive up, but that had been a mere appetizer.

Ethan’s two-story log home sat on the crest of a giant hill. Wraparound porches, on both levels, overlooked lush valleys filled with enormous trees, wild vegetation, and deep green secrets. Tall and massive, the mountains loomed in the distance, adding a breathtaking majestic beauty. She’d gotten out of the car the moment he’d stopped and just stood there, unable to comprehend such paradise.

As if recognizing her awe, he’d shot her a smile, and her heart had leaped. Unlike any other smile he’d given her, this one went straight through her, infusing every cell with a hot tingle of awareness. She must have given him some kind of indication of her feelings, because his face had darkened with a sensual heat. Her body had responded with a pulsing flush she’d felt to the soles of her feet. Then the oddest thing had happened. Ethan’s eyes had turned cool, his expression once again unreadable.

Inexplicably, Shea had had the overwhelming urge to sit down and cry.

With a gruff “Come on in the house,” Ethan had gently pushed her inside. Though she’d wanted to explore what appeared to be a beautiful home, inside and out, exhaustion had washed over her and she’d stumbled through the doorway. Without a word, Ethan had swept her up into his arms and carried her to a bedroom upstairs. Before he’d settled her on the bed, she’d been asleep.

The sun shining through the huge window told her she’d slept through the night. And as unbelievable as it seemed, she had no recollection of any nightmares. Excitement spiraled through her … she was really getting better.

Shea stretched in the bed, glorying in this new sense of well-being. Pushing herself up, she settled back against the pillows and surveyed the bedroom. Pretty without being feminine. Light green walls created a cool beauty, while exposed wood beams overhead gave it a rustic feel. The old-fashioned oak furniture was a nice contrast to dark hardwood floors and colorful area rugs. Giant windows on two walls gave a glorious view of the outside beauty while allowing the sunshine to cast lights and shadows to highlight the colors inside.

Ethan didn’t seem the type of man to care about decor, but the room reeked of elegant simplicity.

A light tap on her door and Ethan poked his head in. “Morning. Breakfast is ready.”

Her stomach twisted, and the smile trembling on her lips went south. Her appetite since she’d been injected with the drug again had become nonexistent. Whenever food was mentioned, she usually found herself running to the bathroom. Dr. Norton had assured her that this was just her body’s way of ridding itself of the remaining poison in her system. He said the additional drugs had most likely heightened and hastened these symptoms. His assurance that nothing more serious was wrong had reassured her. Unfortunately, the nausea was an unwelcome side effect and would have to work itself out. Until then, she would suffer the consequences.

“Come on, Shea. It’s just a little oatmeal and some toast. Surely you can eat that.”

Knowing she had no choice, since she had to have sustenance, Shea nodded. Glancing down at the jeans and shirt she still wore from yesterday, she said, “Let me change clothes and I’ll be right down.”

Ethan clicked the door closed and fought a deep sense of contentment at seeing Shea in his home. No matter how right it felt, this was a temporary arrangement. She was here until Rosemount was caught. Thinking of her staying any longer than that was not only stupid, it was futile. Despite that warning, the contented feeling lingered.

His head shaking at his stupidity, Ethan ambled down the stairs, stopping midway to take a second to appreciate the new additions to his home. A few days after returning from Mexico, he’d called his builder. Already determined to bring Shea here to help her recover, he’d wanted her to be comfortable. The lack of furniture had never bothered him. He usually came inside only to sleep or eat. But that was him. Shea deserved more.

The builder’s wife was a decorator, and Ethan had given her carte blanche, the only instruction being not to go too froufrou. He liked the results. The woman had shown that she knew a thing or two about understatement. The deep brown leather couches, colorful Indian-weave rugs, and leather recliners placed strategically in front of the giant rock fireplace created a comfortable, inviting atmosphere. Restful and simple.

Morning sunlight peeking through mountain mist added a glow to the oak beams. His Tennessee grandfather, the only family member who hadn’t disowned him, had left this chunk of land to Ethan. After leaving LCR, his intent had been to live here in absolute privacy and seclusion. Staying the hell away from people was his gift to the world. The magnificence of the surrounding mountains had been lost on him. Fortunately, his builder had been able to maximize the beauty without forfeiting his client’s privacy. Months had gone by before Ethan had even noticed the view. Shea had noticed it immediately.

Shea.
What was he going to do about her? The feelings he’d forced himself to bury when she and Cole were married had reemerged, stronger and deeper than ever. He wanted her healthy. He wanted her safe. Hell, he just wanted her.

He slammed a mental door. Nothing could happen between them. He’d broken her heart once already. Damned if he’d do it again.

Muscles knotted with renewed tension, he rubbed the back of his neck as he returned to the kitchen. A dark oak pedestal table and four chairs had replaced the rickety old table and chairs he’d purchased at a thrift shop. This one was a bit fancy for him, but he had to admit that it looked a hell of a lot better than the one he’d had before.

He grabbed the pan of oatmeal and poured a large amount into each bowl. A soft, whispering breeze floated across his skin. Ethan twisted to see Shea standing on a small side porch. Perhaps that’s why he’d moved here after all. Shea had always loved the mountains. She’d said that if anyone ever doubted the existence of God, they should come to Tennessee. Even while he’d forced his mind to forget, his heart had remembered. Instead of selling the land, as he could have, he’d chosen to live here. And now, Shea was with him.

Not forever
, his mind whispered.

“Ethan!”

Letting the bowls clatter to the table, Ethan took off running. Stopping with a skid behind her, he snapped, “What?”

Shea turned, tears pooled in her eyes.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Ethan grabbed her up and strode back inside the house. “What’s wrong? Did you see someone?”

She pointed toward the valley. “Deer.”

Ethan peered down to see a doe and her fawn nibbling on vegetation. Relief battled adrenaline. He’d thought Rosemount’s men had come for her. Clenching his jaw to refrain from snarling at her for scaring the hell out of him, he managed to nod instead. “In the evening, just before dusk, there’s about fifteen or so that come out.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He held out his hand. “Come get breakfast and we’ll take a walk around the place.”

She stood on her toes for one last glimpse of the deer. When she turned back to him, her smile was a beautiful glimpse of the old Shea. “I think I’m going to like it here.”

Ignoring how his heart wrenched at her words, he led her to the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table for her. Then he set a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, along with brown sugar and butter.

A frown of uncertainty furrowed her brow. “I don’t remember oatmeal. Do I like it?”

“Yes. It’s what you always ate for breakfast when we weren’t on assignment.” He didn’t mention that she’d also used artificial sweetener and fat-free spray butter. Shea needed all the extra calories she could get.

She added sugar and butter, tasted it, frowned, and then added more.

Satisfied to see her eating, Ethan took a swallow of coffee and approached a subject they had yet to discuss: her safety. “Shea, I want to believe you’re safe here. Rosemount shouldn’t be able to trace me here, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

“Why can’t he trace you here? Don’t you own the land or house?”

“Yes, but under a different name.”

Knowledge touched her eyes. “Your real one.”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what it is?”

Could he? When they were together, he’d kept even that small part of himself from Shea. Not trusting that she wouldn’t delve deeper and discover his secrets. Hell, did his secrets even matter anymore? Once she remembered everything, she would hate him anyway.

“Ethan Andrew Maurice Standifer.”

Because of her memory loss, the Standifer name wouldn’t mean anything to her. To the rest of the country, it meant wealth and power.

Her pretty feminine nose scrunched. “That’s a mouthful. I like Ethan Bishop better.”

“Me, too.”

“Where’s your family?”

“Texas.”

“Do you see them often?”

“No.” Before she could ask why, he said, “Back to Rosemount. There are only two people who know where I live. I trust both of them with my life. More important, I trust them with yours. Thing is, he was able to infiltrate the clinic, so I’m not discounting his ability to somehow find you. You need to be aware at all times. No going off on your own. Wherever you go, I go.”