Warren’s brother was a senator. He had serious pull. There was talk of him going for the nomination during the next election cycle. But none of it mattered. Warren’s political pull wouldn’t make Eve’s pain go away. Nothing could. Alex felt his fists clench. “How long before she’s out of surgery?”
“An hour or so. Sit down, man. It’s going to be a while.” Warren gestured to the chair beside him.
He shook his head. He couldn’t sit. He couldn’t wait. He’d been waiting for days. He couldn’t do it anymore. He pulled out his cell. There was exactly one person who could put him at ease. “I’ll be back. I have to make a call.”
He stepped away. He felt calmer now. Sitting and waiting would only make him crazy. He needed to do something. He dialed a familiar number.
A low voice came over the line. “This is Taggart.”
His best friend. His rock. Ian had flown in the minute Alex called. He’d dropped everything and been in DC before dawn. He’d used his high-level contacts to get Sean a leave of absence as well. Apparently it paid to work for the CIA. Ian kept his connection to the Agency quiet, even from his brother, but Alex knew that Ian worked as a spy. He needed Ian now more than ever. “Ian, I have to find him. I have to bring him in.”
“Did you find Eve?”
“Evans tossed her out of a moving car. She’s alive, but she’s in surgery.” He would know all the gruesome details later. “Ian, you know I have to find him.”
He needed to start making up for his mistakes. He needed to make sure Eve was safe.
“I’ll help you.” Ian’s voice didn’t falter. Like the man himself, it was steady and firm.
His hands stopped shaking as Ian started to talk about his plans. This, at least, was something he could control.
* * * *
Eve opened her eyes. The world was still groggy, hazy.
She stiffened immediately, waiting for the next blow.
“Eve, you’re home. You’re here. It’s Alex. I’m here with you, angel.” Alex’s voice brought her out of the last vestiges of her panic.
How long had she been with Michael Evans? According to the police, it was only a week. Seven days of pain and humiliation. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. It wasn’t so long when compared to a whole life, so how was it those hours felt like an eternity?
She’d been in the hospital for two days. She forced herself to count the time. It brought her back to reality. This was day three, the third day of the rest of her life, and she was home.
“Can I get you anything?” Alex shuffled his papers around. So many papers and phone calls. It was all he did anymore. He shuffled papers around and talked to people on the phone and sat by her bedside.
He wouldn’t get in bed with her. She was too fragile, he claimed. He didn’t want to jostle her in his sleep so he didn’t seem to sleep anymore.
“No.” It was too early for another pain pill. She glanced at the clock. She had an hour’s worth of steadily increasing agony before she could take another one and find some brief moment of relief.
Alex settled back down. He stacked his file folders. “I have a good lead going. There’s a reliable witness who puts him in Memphis six hours ago. Ian is already on the road.”
“I don’t want to talk about Evans.” He only seemed to want to talk about the case. She understood why. He was in control of the case. He could do something about the search for Evans, but couldn’t he see that she needed distance? “I don’t like all these papers and computers around me.”
She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Every piece of paper was another link to the man who raped her. She just wanted some normalcy. Being back in her home actually gave her a sense of comfort. She’d worried it would bring back memories of the initial attack, but all she’d seen was her house in perfect order. From what she understood, Ian and Sean Taggart had made arrangements to put the house back together. Alex’s childhood friends were home on leave from the Army and they were trying their best to make things normal for her again, but Alex kept bringing all those files in. She just wanted a minute where she could fool herself that things were ordinary. Just one moment.
Alex scrambled, pulling the papers off the bed. “I’ll move them to the nightstand. I’m sorry.”
It was a king-sized bed, but more often than not, they ended up cuddled together right in the center so there was always plenty of space.
She moved gingerly, trying not to shift her left arm too much. It ached, a deep throb in her muscles. Every single movement pulled at her as though her skin was now too tight for her body. “It’s late. You should get some sleep. Come to bed.”
He ran a hand through his hair. He looked so much older than he had a week ago, his mouth turning down in a perpetual grimace. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He wouldn’t jostle her. Maybe she would get some sleep if he were in bed with her. “You won’t. There’s plenty of room.”
He shook his head, picking up the papers and holding them to his chest like they were something precious. “I move too much. I would end up next to you.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?” He hadn’t touched her since before the incident, nothing beyond the merest brushing of his hands across her as he settled a blanket around her or helped her out of bed.
He sighed, a heavy sound. “Eve, you flinch when I touch you.”
Because she could still feel Michael Evans violating her. She could still feel his hands slapping at her as he tied her down, feel the knife he’d used to carve her up.
I think you perverts call this knife play. Play. I like to play, too. Tell me something, whore, does your husband play like this?
She shivered.
“You see,” Alex said, turning away. “You can’t even think about it.”
“I wasn’t thinking about you, Alex.” The whole time she’d been in that room Evans had kept her in, all she’d been able to think about was getting home to Alex. He was right there. He was six feet away. Why did it feel like a chasm had opened up between them?
“I can be patient, angel,” Alex said quietly. “It’s going to be okay, but for now it’s probably best that I don’t get into bed with you. You’ve been through so much. I can’t stand the thought of causing you more pain.”