by Cynthia Eden
“Her brother brought her here. And when they walked through the door, she still had stitches in her wrist from when she’d tried to kill herself.”
Ana rubbed her chest. Her heart was aching.
“They can’t afford any other care, Ms. Young,” the counselor told her. “We’re a government-funded facility, experimental in many respects.”
Because criminals and innocent victims were so close?
Only I’m not supposed to think of them as criminals. The people here—people like Forrest were found not guilty and sentenced to therapy here.
“Dr. Summers tries to innovate with her treatments,” he continued, his voice very cautious. “Sometimes she has great success. Sometimes, she doesn’t.”
“Was Forrest a success?”
His gaze dipped to Chassity. “I’d say no.”
Curious, Ana’s focus shifted back to the other woman. Chassity had tucked her chin low against her chest and the long curtain of her hair covered most of her face. “How long has she been here?”
“Three months.”
“She seems calm.” Quiet.
“I can’t discuss her care. I told you—”
Her brows climbed. “Come on, don’t stop now.” Because there was something there . . . she could see it in the guy’s body language. He’d tensed up and when he looked at Chassity, guilt kept flashing on his face.
“Chassity had a backslide. There was an . . . incident. That’s all I can say.” His lips thinned.
An incident? Now she was definitely suspicious. Because hadn’t Forrest Hutchins been put in the quiet room because of an incident with another patient?
Had that patient been Chassity?
“Dr. Mitchell!”
Uh-oh. Ana recognized the sharp voice of Dr. Summers.
“I need to speak with you, immediately,” Dr. Summers ordered.
Dr. Mitchell hurried toward her. And Ana used that opportunity to sidle toward the table. She didn’t want to get too close. The last thing she intended to do was stress these patients more but if they knew something . . . if they had seen the killer . . .
It stood to reason that the patients who had more free rein in the facility might have noticed someone with Forrest. Someone who’d stuck out in their minds.
Someone who might have been doing some suspicious shit.
Henry grabbed his chair and scooted it farther away from her, moving so that his scar was totally hidden from her sight.
Ana’s heart ached as she stared at him. “I like your circles,” she murmured to Charles.
A faint smile curved his lips.
She slipped to the side a bit, looking to see Chassity’s drawing. Chassity was using a red marker and she was . . .
It looks like a river of blood.
But it couldn’t be. Right? “What are you drawing?” Ana asked her.
Chassity’s fingers stilled. She peeked up at Ana. Her pale blue eyes seemed to see right through Ana.
“She shouldn’t be talking to the patients!” Dr. Summers snapped to Dr. Mitchell. “Get her out of here, now!”
Maybe you should have gotten me out when you came in. Instead, you were too busy chewing out the other doc.
Chassity was still staring at Ana. “My fault,” Chassity whispered.
“What was your fault?”
“The blood.” She looked down at her wrist, at the raised scars there. Then she turned her gaze to Ana. “You have a scar, too.”
Dr. Mitchell was hurrying toward her.
But, at Chassity’s words, Henry swung around and looked at Ana. His gaze flew over her face, and his eyes narrowed on her mouth. Then he seemed to dismiss her—
“I have plenty of scars,” Ana said softly. “More than I like to count.”
Henry’s eyes widened.
Dr. Mitchell’s hand closed around Ana’s shoulder. “You need to go.” His voice was low. “I said too much,” he mumbled. “I’m in such damn trouble—”
“Summers won’t be here long,” Ana whispered back. “So don’t worry about her. Worry about them.” Her gaze slid back to the little group. She wanted to connect with them. She wanted to connect so desperately. Her instincts were screaming at her. Something was happening here, with them.
“Escort her out!” Dr. Summers barked.
Chassity flinched.
Charles stopped drawing his circles.
Ana glared at the doc. “Watch your voice. They need tranquility.” Then she jerked away from Mitchell and started stalking toward Dr. Summers.
“I may not have control here much longer,” Summers said, “but while I do, I want you away from my patients.”
“Blood . . .” The whisper came from behind Ana. The one word sent chills over her spine. She looked back.
Chassity had risen to her feet. Her hands were at her sides.
“There was so much blood . . . he came in . . . and he hurt me.”
Dr. Mitchell blanched.
Ana stiffened. “Who hurt you?”
Chassity pulled up her hair, dragging it across her face, as if . . . as if she were hiding behind it. “The handsome man. They said he was bad.” She pointed to Dr. Mitchell. To Dr. Summers. “And when he hurt me, I knew they were right.”
Oh, God, no, don’t be what I think.
“They locked him up. And now he’s gone for good.” Chassity started to hum. “He won’t ever hurt anyone again.” Then she sat back down at the table and she picked up her crayon.
Ana focused on Dr. Summers. Dark suspicions swirled in her mind. “We need to talk,” Ana said. “Outside.” Her hands were shaking. Fury pumped through her.
Without a word, Dr. Summers turned on her heel and headed out of the community room. Ana followed, her blood nearly boiling. As soon as they cleared that room—
Ana grabbed the doctor, probably way harder than necessary but she’d just realized that Dr. Summers had fed her and Cash plenty of bullshit. “The handsome man . . . tell me that wasn’t Forrest Hutchins.”
Dr. Summers had gone deathly pale.
“You said he was in the quiet room because of an incident.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Cash approaching.
“H-he did have an incident.”
“Ana?” Cash called. “Ana, what in the hell are you doing?”
Okay, so maybe it looked as if she’d shoved the good doctor up against the wall. So what? She had.
“She lied to us, Cash.” Ana tried to breathe, nice and easy, to get her rage under control. Only she didn’t feel controlled. “Forrest was in that quiet room because he’d attacked another patient. Dr. Summers was trying to cover that shit up.”
Dr. Summers stared back at her with bulging eyes. “It was one lapse! We were trying to give him more freedom as a test! I had no idea he’d target another patient—”
“No idea?” Ana threw back. “He was a murderer! And you thought some touchy-feely crap was going to fix him?” She looked up, her gaze rising so that she was looking through the glass wall of the community room. Dr. Mitchell had his hand on Chassity’s shoulder. “Did you even tell her family about what the hell happened to that poor woman while she was under your care?”
Dr. Summers flinched. “We haven’t been able to reach her brother. We’ve tried again and again, but with no luck.”
Cash swore. “Then I suggest you keep trying. Or better yet, we’ll make sure your replacement handles things. An attack should have been reported immediately and you know that.”
But Dr. Summers shook her head. “Really? That’s what you’re going to say to me?” And her mask fell away. Sadness glinted in her eyes. “Forrest Hutchins wasn’t sent to jail after he killed five people. His family was too powerful. They have far too much wealth for him to ever see the inside of a prison.” Bitter laughter spilled from her. “So do you really think anything at all was going to happen to him if word got out that he’d roughed up some broken girl?”
Some broken girl. Ana’s gaze jerked to Chassity. I was like her, once.
And the doctor was looking incredibly suspicious right then. “Definitely looked to me,” Ana murmured, “like Forrest Hutchins got exactly what someone believed he deserved.”
Cash gave a grim nod. “He was punished plenty, all right.”
“No!” Dr. Summers frantically shook her head. “That wasn’t what I meant!”
“Sure would be easy to make sure no one saw Forrest’s abduction from the quiet room,” Cash continued, “if the head of the facility was the one who’d done that abducting. After all, you knew where every security camera was placed at River View. Just as you’d be one of the few here who knew about the old rooms down below. I mean, you were here when the place was remodeled, right?”
Dr. Summers was starting to sweat. “I want a lawyer.”
“Good idea,” Cash said. “Very, very good idea.”
Chapter Ten
“Do you think she did it?” Ana asked when they finally left the psychiatric hospital and took refuge for the night at their motel. They were supposed to head out for their trip to the FBI headquarters in D.C. tomorrow, a trip she wasn’t anticipating. “Because if she did, I don’t think the whole material witness bit really needs to apply to me much longer.”
He turned toward her. They were just inside her room, a room that connected to his. They’d barely spoken during the drive back to the motel. She knew he had to be bone weary because she sure was. Crashing seemed like a great idea to Ana.
“I think Dr. Summers had the opportunity to kill Forrest. I think she makes a very compelling suspect.”
“And I hear a large but in there,” Ana said, putting her hand on her hip.
“But I don’t see how she could have gotten to Bernie, not yet, anyway. My team is digging through her life now, checking her travel for the last few weeks, and seeing if there is any crossover between her and Bernie Tate.”
His team. Right. She’d seen several FBI agents on the scene that day, looking all crisp and business-like in their suits, while she’d still been wearing her faded jeans and her favorite jacket. Which one of these is not like the other?
“And I still need you, Ana,” he said, voice deepening. “The executive assistant director wants you brought in for questioning. That hasn’t changed.”
“When you say things like that, it makes me feel a whole lot less like a partner and more like a criminal.”
His jaw tightened.
“Does your precious executive assistant director also plan on having a big, heart-to-heart chat with Dr. Summers?” And her lawyer?
“Yes. She’s supposed to go in tomorrow, too.”
Her hand slipped away from her hip. “Then I’ll be making that trip, too. Because I really want to see how that goes down.” She stepped toward him. “But beyond tomorrow, I’m not promising anything. I’m not about to give up my life so that I can blindly go into federal custody for some extended period of time. You want to tap my phone? Go right ahead. You want to pick my brain—you want the shrinks at the FBI to try and get inside my mind? Go ahead. But I’m not, not going to be held captive again. Not by anyone. Even the FBI.” Even my lover.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t mean—it wouldn’t be like—”
“You don’t know what it’s like.” If possible, she was suddenly even wearier. “You have no idea what it’s like to be taken from your home. Tied up. Tortured. You don’t know what it’s like to think you’re dying while you stare into your brother’s eyes and see his helpless rage.” She rubbed her arms and paced toward the bed. “It gave me issues.” Again, her bitter laughter slipped out. “So many issues I’ll never get through them all. I can’t trust worth shit, not with anyone other than Asher. I can’t let down my guard with a lover—with any of them. I can’t look at someone and not search for the monster that’s hidden inside.”
Silence. Heavy, thick, uncomfortable. I totally know how to stop a man dead in his tracks.
“What do you see when you look at me?” Cash asked her.
His question surprised her. Ana glanced over her shoulder. She looked at him. Hard. Deep.
He strode toward her, but stopped a few inches away, his body carefully not touching hers. “What do you see when you look at me?” Cash asked again.
“Surface,” she barely whispered that word. “An FBI agent. The guy tracking the criminals. The guy trying to stop the darkness in the world.”
His lips tightened.
“Surfaces lie,” Ana added, sad about that truth. “And your eyes sometimes give you away.” It was his eyes that had tempted her to be with him. “The secrets in your eyes show me that you are as screwed up as I am.” She saw his nostrils flare, a telling giveaway that she’d just hit the nail right on the head. “You carry plenty of secrets, don’t you, Cash? You think you might be up to sharing those secrets with me one day?”
His hand rose, as if he would touch her, but then his fingers clenched as his hand fisted. “I think you’ve been hurt enough, and the last thing I ever want to do is add to your pain.”
“Add to my pain?” Her eyes widened. “Cash, you haven’t. You’ve always been—” She broke off, aware that she’d nearly said the wrong thing. My release. But he had been. She lost herself in his arms, in a way that she didn’t, couldn’t with other lovers. Maybe it was because of the pain she sensed in him, a deep well of hell that matched what she carried inside herself.
If she’d been a different woman, she might have fallen for the sexy agent the first time she met him. Fallen hard and not been able to walk away.
But he scared me then. And he still scares me now.
“I’ve made so many mistakes,” Cash said. The shadows in his eyes deepened. “There are things I wish I could change.” He turned around and started marching toward the door. “I can’t make those mistakes again.”
A chill skated over her. “Am I one of your mistakes?”
He reached for the doorknob, then stopped. “Yes.”
That blow went straight to her heart, not that she’d let him see it. “That’s not what a woman likes to hear. Just for future reference.”
He turned his head, glancing back at her. His eyes glittered. “I wish I hadn’t ever taken you to bed, Ana.”
Why not just start carving out my heart, Cash? Oh, wait, he was.
“Because if I hadn’t been with you, then I wouldn’t know what paradise was like. I wouldn’t know the pleasure—the fucking drive-me-wild pleasure—that I only get with you. I wouldn’t wake up at night, my body in a sweat because I’d been dreaming about you. I wouldn’t tense every time I saw a dark-haired woman walking down the street because for just a split second . . . I thought she might be you.”
Ana took a step toward him.
“I am no good for you,” he muttered darkly. “But I have never wanted anyone more.”
That was . . . not carving out her heart. “I happen to think you’re pretty good.” She didn’t want him to leave. Yes, she wanted to crash, but Ana wanted to crash with him. Right there. In his arms.
It was quickly becoming her favorite place to be.
He’d gone statue still, so she did the moving. This time, she was the one who closed the distance between the two of them. She was the one to reach out and touch him. “I have a lot of dreams.” She winced. “Okay, I actually have a lot of nightmares, if you want the truth.”
His face appeared tortured.
“But sometimes, good dreams slip in. And when they do . . . they’re often about you.” This whole sharing bit was hard for her, but she wanted to try. With him, she wanted more than just two bodies in the night. There was a deeper connection between them, she knew it. Or maybe I just want it. “I don’t let people get close, not as a rule. When they get close, they can be hurt. They can be used against you.”
His brows pulled low. “I don’t kn
ow what—”
“You could be used against me.” That was a stark truth. “I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you, Cash. If someone tried, it would rip me apart.”
And he turned toward her. His hand lifted and this time, his fingers touched her cheek. Such a tender touch. His hand skimmed down until he was holding her jaw in his palm. “Nothing can hurt you.”
If that were only the case. But neither of them were unbreakable, and life was definitely not fair. People were hurt every single day, it was just a fact of life.
His head bent. His lips drew closer to hers.
“I shouldn’t do this,” he said. “Ana, I shouldn’t.”
“You absolutely should.” They both needed this, needed each other. So why hold back?
“Don’t hate me,” Cash whispered and then his mouth took hers. Took hers in a deep, hard kiss. Rough, wild, with an edge of desperation that turned her on. She wanted him to be wild and desperate for her. She wanted to ruin him for all other women. Was that wrong? She didn’t really care, it was just how she felt.
Always look for me. Always want me. Always dream of me.
Her hands locked around his shoulders as she pulled him closer. Her nails sank into his shirt. She wanted that shirt gone. She wanted them on the bed, clawing at each other’s clothes. She wanted the wild release that would come and then . . .
We crash, right into each other. Crash and collapse and start all over again, rising from the ashes.
His hand slid down her body, he caught the edge of her shirt, and his fingers slid underneath it. His touch was hot, electrifying her and—
Someone was pounding on the door. Hard. Hard enough that the wood trembled.
“Ana!”
She pushed against Cash’s chest.
He stilled.
“Ana!” The roar that was her name came again. Only it was a familiar roar. Asher?
Why the hell would her brother be at her door?
He pounded once more. “Open up! The clerk said he saw you come in—and that you weren’t alone. Open the hell up!”
Cash had reached for his holster—
She caught his hand, not about to let him draw his weapon on Asher. “It’s okay. It’s my brother.” Her brother being seriously insane, but still, her brother. She dodged around Cash and fumbled with the lock on the door. Why was Asher there? Sure, Gabe had asked if she needed backup when she’d called to check in with her boss earlier that day, but she’d told him she was good, for the moment. There hadn’t been a need to send in Asher.