He turned toward her. “No.”
Her brows lifted. “I have to go home, Ethan. I can’t hide forever.”
His jaw hardened. “Why don’t you stay with me tonight?”
She was pretty sure her heart nearly shot right out of her chest.
“No sex.” A muscle flexed along the hard line of his jaw. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
Well, damn. The one man she actually wanted and—what, now he was going to treat her with kid gloves? Because of her confession about the rape? Or because she was now sporting a lovely bandage courtesy of her attacker?
“I want to make sure you’re safe. I owe you—”
Again with the owing. At that one word, owe, her temper erupted. Without another word to him, Carly shoved aside the curtain and marched out of the emergency room. She kept her gaze straight ahead, but with her peripheral vision, she could see some of the other patients in the ER. One man was a bloody mess—had he been in a traffic accident? And there was a crying kid to the left. It looked as if he’d broken his leg.
A woman had a long slice along her thigh and—
I’m out of there. She shoved open the emergency room doors and exhaled a hard sigh of relief. Only that relief didn’t exactly last long because she made a beeline for the swinging doors of the hospital’s exit, and when she stepped foot outside the place, FBI Special Agent Victor Monroe appeared.
Did he seriously have nothing better to do than track her?
“You didn’t think you’d just disappear into the night, did you?” he asked her.
She took a step back and hit something—someone. Even before his hands settled around her shoulders, she knew that Ethan was behind her. She knew his smell—that rich, masculine scent. And his touch—she’d be able to recognize his touch anywhere, anytime.
“I’m not disappearing,” she said. She’d already talked to the agent, again and again, while the docs had examined her. “I’m just going home.”
But the agent’s gaze cut up to Ethan’s. “Is she now?”
“That’s what she wants,” Ethan said flatly.
Victor’s expression hardened. “My mistake,” he murmured. “I thought you cared about this one. Guess my intel was wrong.”
Ethan’s hold tightened on her. His fingers were close to her wound, but not touching it, thank goodness. She probably would have freaked if he’d hit that spot with a careless touch. Since the agent was now studying her so intently, she made herself give a light laugh. “I have no idea where that faulty intel is coming from, but obviously Ethan doesn’t care about me.”
Victor glanced at her shoulders. At Ethan’s hands. Slowly, his gaze slid back to her face, then to Ethan’s. “My mistake.” Same words, but his tone had changed now. “I just would have thought that with an imminent threat against you, Ethan would want to make certain you were in a secure location. I highly doubt that your home is a safe place.”
Her palms were starting to sweat. “I have an alarm system.”
“A professional came after you tonight.”
She realized that. The serial killing tools had been a dead giveaway. Not like it had been amateur hour.
“You really think some standard grade alarm will keep him away?” Victor shook his head. “It won’t. But I can keep you safe. The FBI will provide you ample protection.”
Will you still protect me when you realize I killed Quincy Atkins? She exhaled slowly. The pavement was cutting through the bottom of her loaner socks. And she felt far too exposed just wearing those oversized scrubs. “In return for this protection, you expect me to—what?”
“To tell the truth.”
I don’t like the truth. I like to pretend my past doesn’t exist.
Schooling her expression, Carly said, “I don’t have any information that can help you. I don’t know who is after me.”
“He does,” Victor said.
And at that, Ethan moved to Carly’s side. They were just a few feet from the hospital doors, and the light from the hospital poured down on them.
“You know plenty, don’t you, Ethan?” Victor pressed. “You knew she’d be a wanted woman and that’s why you hauled ass up here. My mistake was in believing that it was because you cared about her. Now I get it, though. You’re here because you want to stop her from talking. Why? Because you’re afraid she’ll incriminate you? Afraid that you’ll finally find yourself on the inside of a jail cell for all the twisted shit you’ve—”
“Stop.” The angry snarl tore from Carly.
Victor’s words immediately fell away into silence.
“You don’t know Ethan.” And it was as if a volcano had burst inside of her. She couldn’t contain herself. “You know the stories. The crap his enemies want you to believe. But you don’t know him. He’s more than the lies and the fear. And he’s definitely not the one you should be after right now. You want to lock someone up? Then go find that freak who was trying to toss me into his van. Leave Ethan alone.”
Victor sighed. “Like that, huh?”
Ethan stepped in front of her. “You don’t understand the situation, so let me make things very clear to you, agent. No on hurts Carly. Not you. Not that bastard out there. You hunt him. You hunt him fast. Because if I find him first, there’s not going to be anything left of him for you and your FBI team.”
“Did you just threaten to kill a man?” Victor demanded. “Right in front of an FBI agent’s face?”
Ethan laughed. “Sorry. My bad. I thought you realized I was a psychopath who didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. After all, that is what you were just telling Carly, right?”
Victor’s eyes narrowed.
“Do your job. Find him. Or maybe no one will ever be seeing that asshole again.” Then Ethan took Carly’s hand. He started to lead her forward but a heavy rock pushed into the bottom of
her foot, nearly piercing right through the soft sock, and Ethan immediately bent at her cry. He lifted her into his arms, holding her easily. “Don’t worry, baby,” Ethan assured her softly. “The car’s waiting. We’ll be home soon.”
They’d taken five steps when Victor called out, “Never see him again, huh? Isn’t that what happened to Quincy Atkins? He just disappeared, and no one ever saw him again. Seems like that might just be your MO, Barclay.”
Ethan stopped.
“Don’t,” Carly whispered. “Let’s just go. Take me home, Ethan.”
They’d already moved away from the light, so she couldn’t see Ethan’s expression clearly. She wished that she could—she wanted to read the emotions that might be in his eyes.
After a moment, he kept walking. Unfortunately, Victor followed them. She saw Charles up ahead. He hurriedly opened the car door for her. Ethan bent and carefully put her in the backseat. His hands lingered on her as Victor’s voice drifted in through that open door.
“Psychopath,” he said. “That was your word. Ethan. But now that it’s on the table…Ms. Shay, I hope you know that psychopaths don’t feel much real emotion. They mimic. They show the world what they think others want to see. So if you believe you’re seeing emotions from Ethan, if you think you’ve got him close to you, then you really need to think again. I can help you.”
Ethan’s hand slid over her cheek. “Be right back,” he told her softly.
“Ethan—”
He slid away and a moment later, the car door slammed shut.
She inched forward, desperately trying to overhear the conversation going on outside, but, jeez, what had Ethan done? Totally sound-proofed his car?
***
Ethan smiled as he faced off against Agent Victor Monroe. They were both about the same height, even shared the same build. But that was where their similarities ended. This guy was the true blue agent type. A by-the-book mentality practically reeked from the guy.
He hadn’t met Agent Monroe before seeing the guy in New York, but he’d heard of the man. A guy who was quickly moving up the FBI ranks.