Strong And Sexy

“Maybe if I call the hospital back and tell them I’m her husband-”

Brody choked and nearly drove them off the road.

“Jesus, Brody.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been rendered stupid by the H-word that so easily flew from your lips.”

“Just drive.”

“Noah’s right,” he muttered, watching the road. “You are far gone.”

“Oh yeah? And how does he know?”

“He said he recognized the signs.”

“What signs?”

“The insanity, for one.”

Shayne glanced at the speedometer. “You’re driving like an old lady. Can you get it out of first fucking gear?”

“Old lady?”

“Seriously. Try second gear. Just for the hell of it, try third.”

“What’s going on, Shayne?”

“What’s going on? Dani’s in the hospital, and no one will tell me why. That’s what’s going on!”

When they finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, Shayne jumped out.

“Shayne, wait.”

“What?”

“Just sex. Remember that.”

Shayne rolled his eyes and ran through the double doors, going directly to the front desk.

A woman in scrubs stood there looking more than slightly harassed. She had a receiver to one ear, a radio to the other, and was eyeing a stack of charts in front of her, where the phone was lit up like a Christmas tree. She was barking orders at someone behind her; 211 was to get a sponge bath and 243 needed blood work. Someone in 316 needed a death certificate signed.

Which nearly gave Shayne a coronary.

“Dani Peterson?” he said. “I need-”

“Hang on.” She tried to switch the top chart to the bottom of her stack and the entire pile tumbled out of her hands to her already cluster-fucked desk. “Oh, perfect.”

“Dani Peterson?” he asked again.

“Hold on a second, I’m swamped.”

“Dani Peterson.”

When she glanced at him, he lowered his voice. “It’s an emergency.”

“You’re in a hospital. Everything is an emergency.” But whether it was the look on his face or her own humanity kicking in, she sighed in acceptance. “Okay. So you’re Danny Peterson?”

“No.” He willed himself to breathe, and also to access his patience, which he usually had in abundance, but it’d flown south for the winter. “Dani Peterson’s here. I got a call about an accident, and I need to see her. Where is she?”

The nurse leaned over the keyboard and typed something. “Looks like the fourth cubicle on the left-hey,” she called as he began running-“you can’t go in there unless you’re family!”

Shayne whipped open the curtain for the fourth cubicle on the left, but it was empty.

Except for the blood drops on the pillow.

His heart stopped. Just plain stopped.

“Ouch. Ouch.”

At the sound of Dani’s voice, Shayne’s knees nearly gave out, but he moved around the bed.

She was on her knees on the floor, holding her head.

“Jesus.” He dropped to his knees too, and reached for her.

“No,” she whispered, very carefully not moving a single inch. “Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me.”

“Dani-”

“Oh, God. And don’t talk. Please…” With the care of the very inebriated, or from someone in bone-deep pain, she let out a careful breath. “Is my head still on? Because I think it’s falling off.”

“Where the hell is the doctor?”

“They’re inundated right now. Some big traffic accident.” She pulled a wad of towels away from her head, which came away red. “Oh, boy.”

Jesus. As gently as he could, he pushed the compress back to her head and brushed her hair from her face. Pain made her eyes glassy, and he leaned in and touched his lips to her temple. “What happened?”

“Complicated.”

Someone had hurt her, that was clear. The sheer amount of violence that was coursing through him shocked him. And told him something he already knew. Not just sex.

He’d deal with that later.

“I have to…get into this gown.” She swallowed hard. “But if I move, I’m going to throw up.”

“I’ll help you.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you, but I was scared, and-”

“Shh.” He reached for her, scooped her up.

She managed a sound that might have been a pain-tinged laugh, but let him set her on the bed. He grabbed the hospital gown and unfolded it.

“You’ve taken my clothes off twice now. Is three times going to be the charm, I wonder?”

“Charm?”

“The last time.”

“Why?”

A sad smile twisted her lips.

“Dani? Why would it be the last?”

She’d closed her eyes and looked far too pale. “I figure you’re either beginning to panic or at least feeling the need to hightail it away from me.”

“Dani.” He pulled off her shoes. She was shaking. Shock? God.

“Don’t worry, I’ll understand either way.”

Would she? Because he wouldn’t. “Dani, stop. We can talk about us later. What happened to you?”

“Honest. You can go, I’ll be fine.”

She’d be fine? She had a dent in her head, blood pouring out of it, but she’d be fine. Who the hell could walk away from her in this condition?

And why did she think he would?

Chapter 18

A uniformed cop stuck his head around the curtain of the cubicle. “Dani Peterson?”

Shayne looked at him. “Can I help you?”

“Who are you?”

“Dani’s husband.”

Dani twitched, then at the movement, held her head and groaned.

“We need to ask her a few questions,” the cop said, then looked at Dani. “You told one of the night keepers that you saw a dead body.”

A dead body? What the hell? Shayne looked at her, saw the wince cross her face.

“Yes,” she whispered. “That’s right.”

“She’s injured,” Shayne said, feeling extremely tense. “This can wait.”

“It’ll only take a moment.” The cop looked determined. “Ms. Peterson? Where was this dead body?”

“It was in the closet of my office,” Dani said quietly. “I don’t know if it was the same one as before.”