"I told you, I don't remember." Pride and a paper-thin bravado braced her shoulders. "Even if I did, this isn't your business or problem."
"Are you sure you don't want me to call your mother? She's going to find out eventually."
"And maybe we'll have a few more answers by then. I would like to get through—" she sucked in two shaky breaths "—the doctor's exam first."
She might not want his help, but he wasn't leaving her alone. He would protect her until she could take care of herself again.
He turned back to the SP. "She needs to leave. Now. Can't you see she's about to pass out? Who the hell knows what happened here but it's clear she was assaulted and needs treatment."
"Major, we're just doing our job and the investigator still needs to question her."
"He can do that at the hospital." He let all his anger seep steel into his words. "If she's been abused in any way and you've kept a traumatized woman sitting here alone—"
"We're moving things along as quickly as we can, Major, without compromising the crime scene."
"Is she being detained?"
"No, sir."
"Then she's ready to leave for the E.R." He slid an arm around her shoulders and eased her to her feet trying not to remember the last time he'd touched her this way or how many times he'd been tempted to put his hands on her body again.
His only defense had been distance. And now it looked as if he wouldn't be leaving her side anytime soon.
Chapter 2
Nikki tugged a surgical scrub shirt over her head and stifled a wince at the lack of underwear since all her clothes had been bagged for evidence. As if she didn't already feel exposed enough today.
At least the E.R. held more answers for her than her still-foggy head. She'd pulled it together enough during the police escort over to call in sick at school. Truth be told, she did feel sick, heartsick and body sore.
Paper crackled under her as she gingerly slid off the gurney, her toes hitting cold tile. Not as much of a shock as it could have been since she already felt chilled to her soul.
Bracing a hand on the cabinet full of gauzes, tongue depressors and latex gloves, she tugged on the surgical pants and knotted the tie before sliding her feet into the flimsy hospital slippers the nurse had given her. For the first time in her life she was grateful she could go braless. She could have sent Carson to her place to pick something up, but he wouldn't leave the hospital and she really didn't want him rooting through her underwear drawer.
What a silly thought. Except her brain seemed to hitch on the oddest details as if to fill empty space left by missing memories. At least the doctor reassured her it didn't appear that she'd had sex or been raped. She shuddered.
Any bruising stayed confined to her arms and ribs and Gary had been wearing his pants—even if they'd been around his ankles. All signs indicated if she'd killed him, she'd done so before penetration.
Her stomach cramped at the thought she could have taken a life, even in self-defense. She couldn't live with having killed someone, anyone, and to have known that person... Would she spend the rest of her life wondering what she could have done differently?
Or worse yet, never know.
Had she struggled and thrown him off? Or hit him with something? She was strong enough to do it after years of training on her university soccer team. She squeezed her eyes shut tight against tears so close to the surface, as if maybe she could find the memories from the night before glistening behind her eyes.
But nothing.
The shrink the E.R. had sent down for a consultation couldn't offer definitive answers, but he did say the memories could trickle back once her mind had a chance to adjust to the trauma of what happened.
Distraction. She needed a distraction and normalcy. She snagged her cell phone from the rolling tray and settled into a steel-back chair rather than the exam gurney that held too many invasive memories. The message symbol flashed on the LCD screen. No surprise. She clicked through the numbers. Two from friends and then her mother's number—four times. She wouldn't be able to hold her off much longer and she certainly didn't want her mom to panic.>What an odd thing to notice, but then she had reason to be in shock. Her wounded eyes seemed so much older than her twenty-three years right now, a dangerous thought for him to have since their twelve-year age difference helped him keep his distance.
He stroked his freshly bare upper lip. "That's what I get for shaving on the fly when I was running late." Because his few hours at home during the night had been filled with thoughts of running into Nikki outside Beachcombers on her way in to meet up with another man. "What happened here?"
She shrugged, the blanket slipping farther. "Gary is dead." Her voice was low, overly calm but thready, a thin substitute for her normally husky and—God help him—sultry tones. "You probably already know that."
"How?"
"We're not sure. Sometime during the night he hit his head."
Hit his head? Drunk and stumbling around in the room? Possible. Yet something was still... off. "I'm sorry this had to happen to you. What can I do to help? Tell me and I'll do my damnedest to make it happen."