than the man’s baseball cap. He thought the guy had on a dark colored heavy coat and boots, but wasn’t a hundred-percent sure.
The figure slipped between The Candy Caper and John’s General Store. Cal heard the roar of an engine, but by the time he got around the corner, man and vehicle were gone, taillights fading in the distance. In the dark behind the buildings, he couldn’t even get a make on the car or a license plate.
Cal slapped his thigh in frustration as he stopped to catch his breath even as his brain started processing the events.
A sick woman—whose name he still didn’t know—in a bus station. A frightened plea for help. A stranger lurking outside the medical building where the woman was receiving care.
Who was he? An ex-husband or a boyfriend?
Had Cal found himself in the middle of a domestic violence situation?
His jaw tightened as he stared in the direction of the long-gone taillights as another woman’s pleas echoed in his ears. Another woman he’d failed.
If this new stranger he and his mother had taken under their wing needed help, Cal would do everything in his power to make sure she received protection and care for as long as she needed it. And from whomever she was scared of.
Dylan gave a disgusted grunt and turned to walk the three blocks back to the clinic.
When he entered the door, his mother greeted him with a worried look. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“What made you think you needed to go check on things outside?”
Not wanting her to worry, Cal shook his head. “Just a feeling. But everything’s all right.” He changed the subject. “How’s our patient? Have you heard anything?”
“Not yet. I’m worried she might need—”
Dylan opened the door and Cal pounced. “How is she?”
“She’s sick.” The doctor’s brow furrowed. “I suspect strep and the flu.” He held up two capped tubes. “I took some cultures, so we’ll know something in a few minutes after I get them processed.”
Dylan walked into the lab and began the process that would read the cultures. Cal followed on his heels. “Did she wake up? Why did she faint?”
As Dylan washed his hands, he looked over his shoulder at Cal. “Yes, she woke up. I talked to her a bit, but she’s not making much sense. Talking about someone being after her?” Dylan lifted a brow. “Do you have any idea what that’s related to?”
“I might. In the bus station she seemed scared, then before she passed out she said, ‘Don’t let him get me.’”
Dylan frowned. “That doesn’t sound so good.”
“Exactly.” He hardened his jaw.
His friend gave him a knowing look. He knew exactly what Cal meant. “Well, I gave her something for the fever, so it’s coming down. She’s worn out and pretty dehydrated. As for your second question as to why she fainted, I think that was probably due to a combination of things.”
“So, does she need to be in a hospital?”
“Nah.” Dylan dried his hands on the towel. “Like I said, she’s a little dehydrated, but if someone will make sure she gets proper rest and care, she’ll be good as new in a few days. I can even come out there in a couple of days to check her over.”
Cal thought about the man he’d just chased. If he was after the sick woman, he was going to have to go through Cal to get to her.
And Cal wasn’t an easy man to go through.
TWO
Abby blinked at the sunlight streaming in through the window to her left. Awareness came to her slowly, almost as though she were slogging through a fog. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the opposite wall where a collection of weapons hung on display.
Knives, guns, rifles, a slingshot?
And a Christmas tree on a small table in the corner of the room. Multicolored lights twinkled in a repeating pattern.
Where in the world was she?
Turning her head, she squinted to take in the rest of her surroundings.
“Ah, so you’re awake now?”
The voice with the soft Irish accent made her start. The smell of chicken broth made her stomach rumble. Abby felt a surge of fear, but in light of the yellow curtains, cream-colored walls and the very pregnant woman staring down at her, she managed to swallow that fear and ask, “What happened? Where am I?”
Bits and pieces of the past few days flitted through her mind. A woman helping her to the bathroom. A cool cloth placed on her forehead. Sipping some broth. A shot? Yes, she definitely remembered the shot.
She looked at the woman in front of her and decided she looked familiar, but she wasn’t the one she’d seen in her dreams.
Or was it all real?
“I’m Fiona Whitley. You’re in my home in our small basement apartment. My mom and my brother, Cal, rescued you when you passed out at the bus station.”
“Passed out!” Abby sat up and regretted the quick action when the room spun. Closing her eyes, she waited. When she opened them, things had settled, but she still felt as weak as a newborn. “When was that?”
“On Tuesday. Today’s Friday. Your fever finally broke yesterday. You’ve had a nasty case of the flu and strep throat. Dr. Seabrook came by and gave you some fluids by IV. After that, you seemed to start improving hourly.”
Abby remembered her self-diagnosis in the bus station. And with that memory came the vision of the man who’d been following her. “Oh, no,” she whispered.
The pretty woman with the red curls and green eyes frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Did she dare burden her? Abby looked around the cozy apartment and realized she couldn’t just blurt out she thought someone was following her.
A person who had evil intentions toward her. “Has … um … anyone been looking for me? Asking about me?”
“Not that I know of.” Fiona gave her a wry smile. “We live on a large ranch, not exactly a hub of excitement and information. Fortunately, we have all of the modern conveniences. Do you have someone you’d like me to call?”
“No!” At Fiona’s start, Abby softened her tone. “No. No one.”
“But surely someone’s missed you by now.” Fiona sat on the bed beside Abby. “We found your phone in your purse, but the battery’s missing.”
“I took it out.” She remembered thinking that somehow her whereabouts could be traced through the phone’s location, so she’d pulled the battery out and sewn it and her driver’s license—and the flash drive—into the leg of a pair of her jeans. An extreme measure maybe, but she just wanted to disappear. She didn’t want to be Abby O’Sullivan for as long as it took to find a slice of peace and put her life back together.
A guilty look flashed across Fiona’s face. “We went through your things trying to find out who you are.”
“My things?” At first she was alarmed, then calmed. She hadn’t had very much. “That’s all right.” They wouldn’t have found her identification. A fact that was probably weighing on the pretty woman’s mind. Abby said, “I’m Abby. Abby … um … Harris.” She picked at the comforter as she gathered her strength. “Thanks so much for taking care of me.” Her eyes landed on the woman’s belly. “I sure hope you don’t get sick.”
“Mom didn’t want me near you, either,” Fiona admitted with a small laugh. “She used to be a nurse and insisted on doing most of the caring for you. And Dylan