California Moon. Catherine Lanigan

shut the door so we don’t wake Sleeping Beauty.”

      Shannon’s eyes darted to the hall. For the first time while on duty Ben had nodded off. Shannon tried to will him awake. She wondered how it was that Ben, who was sensitive to so many things about her, couldn’t smell her fear.

      John pushed her toward the door. As she closed it, the needle sank deeper.

      “Please,” she pleaded, tears filling her eyes.

      Clamping a huge hand over her mouth, John said, “One more word and it’ll be your last. You got me?”

      Terrified, Shannon nodded carefully.

      “Where are my clothes?”

      “In the closet. I had them cleaned.”

      “Get them.”

      Shannon handed him the dry-cleaned pants and nylon windbreaker. The glass-matted shirt was torn and completely unwearable so he tossed it in the plastic waste can.

      He dressed awkwardly with one arm, still weak from the coma, still keeping the hypodermic plunged in her neck.

      “Careful!” she said when he lost his balance and depressed the plunger slightly. The air bubble had moved to the bottom of the syringe.

      She had to get away from him as fast as possible. The longer she let this nightmare go on, the more power he gained. Time was crucial. “I’m not going to cause any trouble. I swear. I won’t tell anyone where you go when you leave. You’ll have plenty of time to get away….”

      “I’m not leaving you here. You’re going to keep me alive, lady. You got that?”

      Ice-cold fear surfaced in a thin veil of perspiration across her forehead and upper lip. If he saw it, he would know she was totally in his power. It was too soon to tip her hand. She didn’t want him to think he had all the advantages. “What do you mean?”

      He carefully turned her around and held her in a hammerlock while pushing her toward the door. The look in his eyes was so coldly brittle she almost didn’t want to hear his answer. “I’m going to need painkillers, antibiotics and whatever else you’ve been giving me. A two-week supply ought to do it.”

      “But they’re locked up in the pharmaceuticals room.”

      “Where’s the key?”

      She considered lying, a habit she’d turned into an art form over the past few years, but then she thought better of it. Her terror was showing too much. To lie effectively, she needed to be more in control. She would have to find another way to talk him out of his impossible scheme.

      “At the nurses’ station,” she replied flatly.

      “Then that’s where we’re going.”

      He opened the door quietly. Shannon didn’t believe for a second his plan would work. He was insane. He had to be. Didn’t he realize the coma had zapped his strength? All she had to do was wake Ben and he would rescue her. Even a man in top condition would have a difficult time fending off Ben’s obviously well-conditioned body. John was in no condition to fight anyone—not even herself. If she could just get the damn hypodermic out of her neck…

      If. What if? What if Ben doesn’t save me? John’s energy is depleted. He won’t last the hour. Or will he? If only I hadn’t let my emotions and imagination run wild. I wanted John to be Prince Charming.

      They slipped out the door and in two strides John had crossed to the sleeping Ben and delivered a solid punch to his jaw.

      She gasped. “Ben.”

      “I can’t take any chances.” He looked at Ben. “He won’t be coming around for a while, maybe hours,” John said.

      The needle stung as he jerked it out of her neck. Shannon winced, but didn’t take her eyes off the gun he pointed at her.

      John took the gun out of Ben’s shoulder holster, then searched Ben’s pockets for extra clips and put them in his jacket. Cocking back the trigger, he stuck the gun barrel into Shannon’s spine. “Do your job. Save his life.”

      “How?”

      “Drag him into my room and tie him up with that adhesive tape in there.”

      Taking Ben’s legs, she managed to drag him into the room. Following John’s explicit instructions, she tied Ben to the bed legs using gauze and adhesive tape from her metal supply trolley. As she taped his mouth shut, tears filled her eyes.

      If only…I’d gone with you tonight, Ben, none of this would be happening. I’m sorry, Ben. Honest to God. Really sorry.

      When she was finished, John cocked the gun again. “You so much as breathe wrong and I’ll shoot.”

      Shannon swallowed hard. “Okay.”

      “Let’s get the meds.”

      They went to the door and his hold on her weakened.

      “That the nurses’ station up ahead?” he whispered in her ear.

      “Yes.”

      “How did you get to work today?” He jabbed her with the gun barrel. “Did you take the bus or what?”

      “Yeah, the bus.”

      “Liar.” He spat the word like a curse and pressed the gun into her back so hard it hurt.

      “Okay! I drove my car.”

      “That’s more like it. Where are the keys?”

      “In my purse,” she answered. Before he even bothered to ask the next question, she said, “It’s in the drawer to the right of the computer.”

      “Get it. Then how far down this hall to the medicine?”

      “The door next to the stairway exit,” she replied, pointing to the lighted red Exit sign.

      “Just keep your cool.”

      Nodding, Shannon noticed that no one was at the nurses’ station. They’d been severely shorthanded that afternoon and tonight was worse. As the only other RN still in good health, Chelsea had been forced to take on another shift. John was safer than he knew.

      “Make it quick,” he demanded as they reached the station.

      Shannon grabbed her purse, then withdrew the pharmaceuticals-room key from Nancy’s personal drawer.

      He snatched the purse from her.

      “What?” She stared at him.

      He rifled quickly through the bag. “Just checking.”

      “For what?”

      “Mace. Pepper spray.”

      She shook her head. “I don’t have any.”

      “Let’s go.”

      They hurried down the hall, but just as they reached the pharmaceuticals-room door, Shannon heard Chelsea’s voice coming from next door. “I’ll get you some cranberry juice, Mrs. Raymond.”

      Shannon fumbled with the key.

      Hissing, John warned, “Don’t try to be a hero.” He pressed the gun solidly into her back for emphasis.

      Shannon’s mouth had never been so dry. She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear fell onto her shaking hand as she finally inserted the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

      Just as Chelsea turned into the hall, Shannon and John slipped quietly into the pharmaceuticals room. Hearing Chelsea’s rubber-soled shoes slap against the linoleum as she walked past, Shannon finally expelled a sigh of relief.

      “Get plenty of painkillers.”

      “Okay,” she said, stuffing the bottles into her purse. When she finished, she nodded at him.

      There’s