Duty To Protect. Beth Cornelison

      A brush with death.

      A chill skimmed down Riley’s spine as he jabbed the elevator button. He hadn’t realized until he saw Ginny again today how deeply her near miss still affected him. If he’d thought he’d put the surge of memories and emotion to bed yesterday at the fire scene, he’d been wrong. What’s worse, his emotions were so close to the surface that Ginny had picked up on his edginess.

      And why wouldn’t she? She was a counselor. Her job was all about reading people and dealing with emotions.

      The knot in Riley’s gut cinched a bit tighter. Before he came back tomorrow to take Ginny home from the hospital, he definitely had to get some perspective, lock those memories of his failure with Jodi away where they’d be safe.

      But he also couldn’t repeat the mistakes he’d made with Erin.

      He pinched the bridge of his nose as the internal push-pull of responsibilities battled inside him.

      He stepped on the elevator and drew a deep breath. Reining in his emotions should be easy enough. The crisis had passed. And he felt better about Ginny after seeing her.

      She had color back in her cheeks. The soot and grime had been washed from her pale blond hair, and the spark of humor and vitality had returned to her sky-blue eyes.

      He’d meant it when he said she looked good. Except for a few scratches and the cast on her arm, she looked every bit the sultry siren who’d spent the last several weeks tempting him with come-hither glances and witty flirtation.

      Which brought him back to the X-rated fantasy images….

       Whew!

      Riley dragged a hand over his jaw. He figured he and 3C could have a whole lot of steamy fun together…if he could keep the raw memories of Jodi’s death in the back recesses of his mind where they belonged. Where he could manage them. Where Ginny couldn’t find them.

      After Riley left, Ginny closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into her pillow with a satisfied sigh. Though his surprise visit had lifted her spirits, all her talking and the effort to hide her physical discomfort left her exhausted.

      In her mind, she replayed their conversation, every glance and each touch. She analyzed the visit with fresh perspective, looking for red flags she may have missed. This time she wouldn’t be fooled, wouldn’t be so blind. A dull pang settled in her chest for her previous naïveté with men.

      She must have dozed off shortly after that, because the next time she opened her eyes, her room was much darker, the sky outside her window was tinged with the shadows of twilight.

      The scuff of feet beside her bed alerted her to someone’s presence.

      She turned her head, expecting to find her mother.

      Instead, a hand clamped tightly over her nose and mouth.

      Panic surged up in her throat.

      She blinked hard, trying to focus in the darkness on her attacker.

      Red hair. Pale face. Dark eyes.

      Walt Compton.

      “Where is she?” he growled. The sour scent of liquor tainted his breath.

      Ginny clawed with her left hand at Walt’s fingers. Even if he hadn’t had his palm clamped over her mouth, her voice was too hoarse to scream for help.

      “You told her to leave me. I know it was you! Now where did you hide her?” His fingers dug deeper into her cheeks.

      Ginny gave up trying to pry Walt’s iron grip from her mouth and fumbled in the covers for the nurse call button. But her frantic groping sent the cord slithering to the floor. Ginny’s heart sank.

      With her emergency call button out of reach and her voice too weak to yell for help…

      “Annie would have never left me if not for you! Now tell me where she is, or I’ll—”

      “Time to check your blood pressure, Ms. W—”

      As the nurse breezed into the room, Annie’s husband whirled around, releasing Ginny. He shoved the nurse out of his way as he raced out the doorway and down the hospital corridor.

      “What the—? Who was that?” The stunned woman caught her balance and pressed a hand to her chest.

      Ginny gasped for air, despite the oxygen tubes at her nose. Fear compressed her lungs. Chills skittered over her skin. “Call security! Stop him!”

      The nurse darted out, yelling to someone in the hall. “Get security! Which way did he go?”

      Ginny sucked in a few more calming breaths. The scent of stale liquor hung in the air. Annie had said her husband became more violent when he drank. A common enough problem in the troublesome world of domestic disputes.

      Ginny shuddered and sent up a prayer, hoping that Annie and her children were safe at the women’s shelter. She realized, too, that she’d never gotten in touch with the court liaison to get a restraining order arranged for Annie against her husband.

      She groped left-handed for the bedside phone and used her thumb to dial the courthouse. As she waited for someone to answer, she mentally replayed the desperate husband’s attack, a fresh jolt of adrenaline sending shock waves through her.

      The man was dangerous, desperate, unpredictable. And if he’d come after her once, he could easily do so again.

      Ginny swallowed the dark taste of dread.

      The man had tried to kill her, had tried to kill Annie, and had torched the women’s center. The police were already looking for Walt Compton. They had plenty of reason to arrest and hold him when he was found. A restraining order was a moot point.

      Ginny pressed the hook and put the phone down.

      The best thing she could do until Walt was captured was protect her client, protect herself. And pray the authorities found Annie’s husband. Soon.

      Chapter 3

      “Mom, I’ll be fine. Stop worrying!” Riley heard Ginny say just as he reached her hospital room the next morning.

      He stopped at the door, surveyed the scene and was immediately reminded of the role she had asked him to play today. Buffer.

      Ginny sat in a wheelchair, dressed in street clothes, ready to go home, while her mother literally hovered over her. Hannah draped a thin blanket around Ginny’s shoulders, which Ginny quickly shrugged off.

      “Mom, it’s seventy-five degrees outside. I don’t need to be swaddled up like a newborn.” Ginny had recovered most of her voice, but it still held a faint rasp.

      Hannah sighed. “It’s a mother’s job to worry. And I’d just feel better if you had another layer of protection from this guy. Can’t the police station a guard at your door or something?”

      Ginny groaned. “I don’t need a guard. I—”

      Riley rapped lightly on the door.

      When Ginny spotted him standing at the door, a smile lit her face. Then, as if inspiration had just struck, she turned to her mother and waved a hand toward him. “I…have Riley just down the hall. If there’s trouble, I can call him. Right, Riley?”

      Was it wrong that he found the smoke-induced huskiness of her voice sexy as hell? Probably. But when he got around 3C, she scrambled his thoughts and turned everything topsy-turvy for him.

      Riley shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and sucked in a deep breath to tamp down his runaway libido. He’d learned yesterday how easily Ginny could pick up on his moods and read his thoughts. He had to do a better job of staying in control of his reactions when he was around her.

      “Riley?” Ginny prompted when he didn’t answer her after several seconds.

      “Um…sure. Whatever you need.” He wasn’t