“Your boyfriend?”
She nodded, her gaze still on the small window of the door. “He’ll kill me for coming here, but I knew my arm was broke.”
Joelle stood up and reached for the phone on the wall. “I’ll call security,” she said, keeping her voice calm as she dialed the number, despite the fact that the man’s shouts were growing louder, more enraged. “Probably someone already has,” she said, waiting for the number to ring. “You don’t need to wor—”
The door flew open and a large man stormed into the treatment room, knocking the phone out of Joelle’s hand as he passed her. Her hands moved instinctively to protect her belly.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” the man asked Katarina, who literally cowered on the chair in the corner of the room. The man’s blond hair jutted out from his head in no discernable style, and his eyes had a wild look that made Joelle think he was on something.
“I told them I fell down the stairs,” Katarina said.
“Jess,” Joelle said as calmly as she was able to, “Katarina and I are nearly finished talking. Please wait outside and we’ll be out in a few—”
“What are you, a social worker?” Jess turned to face her. “Jesus, Kat, what have you been telling them? She’s clumsy, that’s all,” he said to Joelle. “Clumsy bitch.” He started toward Katarina again, his hands reaching for the small woman’s shoulders.
Before she had time to think, Joelle moved forward and grabbed his arm.
“Stay away from her,” she said.
He jerked free of her grasp, as though her hands were nothing more than a fly on his arm, and headed for Katarina again.
There were more voices outside the treatment-room door, and Joelle hoped that security had arrived, but it was Liam who came into the room. He opened the door wide as he entered, and Joelle saw Katarina’s chance to escape.
“Katarina, get out!” she said, hoping the young woman could use Liam’s intrusion to slip from the room.
“You don’t go nowhere!” Jess bellowed at the terrified woman. He turned to face Joelle, and she was suddenly looking into the piercing green eyes of a madman.
“And you shut up, you fucking bitch!” Lifting his foot high, he pressed the sole of his boot against Joelle’s belly and plowed her into the wall.
Pain shot through her middle, as though everything inside her, everything that was there to hold her baby in place, was being torn apart. She felt her body slide down the wall until she was crumpled on the floor. She doubled over from the pain, and the world in the treatment room instantly became blurred and surreal. She watched as Liam grabbed Jess by the shoulder, drew back his own arm and punched the wild man in the face, not once, but again and again, until it was hard to know which man was truly out of control. Blood squirted from Jess’s nose and seeped into the spaces between his teeth as Liam—gentle Liam—pounded the man with his fists. Joelle leaned back against the wall and shut her eyes, afraid she was going to be sick. When she looked up again, two security guards were in the room, and Liam was bending over her, crouching down, his arms a wall of protection around her.
She grabbed the fabric of his shirt in her hand.
“The baby,” she said hoarsely.
She felt him reach between them, his hand slipping beneath her shirt to rest, warm and soothing, on the rounded panel of her maternity slacks, and she let her forehead fall against his shoulder.
“You’ll be all right,” he said into her ear. “You’ve
SHE COULD HEAR VOICES. AT FIRST THEY WERE LITTLE MORE THAN a low hum, as if she were listening to a conversation taking place on the other side of a flimsy wall. But gradually, she recognized them. Alan’s voice. And Gabriel’s.
She tried to open her eyes, but the effort seemed too great. She was able, though, to make a sound. Half hum, half grunt. The sound reverberated in her own ears. And the voices stopped.
“Did you hear that?” That was Gabe’s voice. She tried to smile, to reach out for him, but she knew she was succeeding at neither.
“Lisbeth?” Alan’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“Mmm,” she said again.
“Oh, thank God,” Gabriel said, and she felt him—
“Shh!” Alan’s voice was sharp.
“We’d better make sure no one comes in,” Gabriel said.
“I’ll stand by the door,” Alan said. She felt something brush her cheek, then Alan’s lips against her forehead. “Welcome back, Lisbeth,” he whispered.
“Gabe?”
“I’m right here, baby.”
His hand touched the side of her face, and she could smell his aftershave.
“I’m…” She felt herself frowning. Where was she? Not in her bed at home. Thoughts swam through her head, but she couldn’t pin any of them down. “Head hurts,” she said.
