Diagnosis: Attraction. Rebecca York
gave her a long look as he thought about asking her to take off her halter top and miniskirt. Per his instructions, she wouldn’t be wearing anything under either one, and she could stand in front of him while he ran his hands over her. Then he could pursue a couple of interesting alternatives. Like having her kneel in front of him. Or having her sit with her legs open at the edge of the desk.
Enjoying her services was a tempting prospect, but he had some urgent business to take care of. He flicked his eyes to her face, knowing she was following his thoughts and waiting for him to make a decision. He liked the power he had over her and everyone else who worked for him—either voluntarily or involuntarily. Susanna was one of the latter, of course.
He repressed a sigh. Business before pleasure. “Tell Southwell to come in.”
“Yes, sir.”
As she turned away, he patted her butt, then pulled his chair up to the desk. Moments later one of his best men entered and stood respectfully in front of the desk.
Gary Southwell had been a high-school football star, and Derek had recruited Gary at the end of his senior year because of his bulk and menacing appearance. Since appearance wasn’t enough, Derek had Gary specially trained both in martial arts and on the firing range.
The man was adept at hand-to-hand combat and was an excellent shot. And he was grateful for the good salary he earned, the comfortable accommodations and the women he could shag anytime he wanted. All of that made him loyal to a fault. And anxious to please.
“Do we have a report on the Elizabeth Forester situation? Is she still in the hospital?” Derek asked. His men had been keeping tabs on her for weeks and closing in for the kill when she had wrecked her car, drawing too much attention from witnesses. Derek didn’t like it when his plans went sour.
“She’s still in the hospital,” Southwell answered. “Her physical condition is okay, but they’re keeping her because she’s lost her memory.”
“You think that’s true?”
Southwell shrugged.
“If it is, I wonder if it’s because she’d rather not remember,” Derek mused.
“That could be part of it,” Southwell agreed. “And it’s good for us, isn’t it?”
“At the moment, but how long is that going to last?” Derek Lang asked.
“No way of knowing.”
“If the memory loss were permanent, that would solve our problem. But I don’t want her suddenly remembering why she’s been so busy over the past few weeks and then calling in the cops.”
“She didn’t do it before.”
“Because she knew that was dangerous, but getting hit on the head could have affected her judgment which could make her reckless now.”
Southwell nodded.
“You went to her house after the accident,” Derek said. “Anything I should know about?”
“We tore the place apart and didn’t find anything on paper, but there were computer files with information you wouldn’t want anyone to read.”
Derek sat forward. “And?”
“We took out her hard drive and smashed it.”
“Good. But that’s not enough. We have to shut the woman up for good.”
Southwell waited for instructions.
“I understand why Patterson couldn’t get to her earlier,” Derek said, thinking aloud. “There were too many people around the crash scene, asking her questions, trying to figure out who she was. Wait until the shift change at the hospital. They don’t have as many people on at night.”
“Got it.”
He considered his options. “I don’t want you to take care of her there. I mean, she’s in a hospital, and we could get into trouble with the cause of death. Bring her to me. I’d like to ask her some questions about why she’s been nosing around in my business, starting with what put her on to me in the first place. Maybe I can think of something that will jog her memory.”
“Yes, sir.”
Southwell left, and Derek leaned back in his chair, thinking of the methods he’d use in his basement interrogation room. In the movies, tough guys held out against torture. In reality, everybody ended up spilling their guts. And he was pretty sure that with a woman like Elizabeth Forester, it wouldn’t take long. After he got what he needed, he’d have some fun with her before he killed her.
* * *
ELIZABETH’S HEART LEAPED at the offer from Mrs. Kramer, but she still forced herself to ask, “Are you sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?”
“Of course not, dear.”
“Thank you.”
The woman had just solved one of her biggest problems—by offering a place to stay. But there was still the basic problem, with totally unexpected complications.
She’d been lying in this hospital bed trying to dredge up a memory—any memory—until the man standing across the room had put a hand on her, and everything had changed. At least for the few moments when they’d been touching.
She had a little sliver of herself back, courtesy of Dr. Delano’s touch. Now she recalled the first day of nursery school. Playing field hockey. What had seemed like a college classroom.
Of course there was the little problem of the sexual arousal that had flared between them. His and hers. But she understood that he was a man with high moral standards, and he wasn’t going to let himself get dragged into an inappropriate relationship with a female patient, which was why he’d flat-out refused to touch her again.
He’d opened a door in her mind just a crack and slammed it shut again. She’d alternated between being angry that he wouldn’t help her and wanting to plead with him to give her more of herself back. But she’d understood where he was coming from and had kept from embarrassing herself any further.
Then that nice nurse who had taken care of her earlier had showed up and thrown her a lifeline to deal with her present day-to-day situation.
“I’d be very grateful to stay with you, but I insist on paying you—as soon as I find out who I am. I mean, assuming I’m not indigent or something.”
“You’re too well cared for to be indigent,” the doctor said. “It’s obvious that you were living at least a middle-class lifestyle.”
“Okay.” She looked from him to the nurse, wanting to be absolutely sure the woman had thought through her offer. “You’re certain it’s all right?”
“I’d love the company.”
The doctor left, and the arrangement was settled quickly. Probably the hospital was anxious to get rid of a patient who couldn’t produce an insurance card, even if she was living a middle-class lifestyle.
“I’m going off shift in half an hour,” Mrs. Kramer said. “Once you get dressed, I’ll get a wheelchair and take you down. I can meet you in the waiting area near the elevator.”
Climbing out of bed, Elizabeth stood for a moment holding on to the rail. She’d been lying down too long, and her legs felt rubbery. Or maybe that was the result of having a concussion.
When she felt steadier on her feet, she crossed to the small bathroom and turned on the light. She’d deliberately avoided looking at herself until she was ready. Now she raised her gaze to the mirror and stared at the woman she saw there. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the face that stared back might as well have belonged to a stranger.
Disappointed and unsettled, she stood for a moment, composing herself. Trying not to look in the mirror again, she washed her face at the sink and brushed her teeth with the toothbrush the hospital had provided.