The doors were just sliding shut when Brody thought he heard Tatum's voice again.
This time, he didn't hesitate. He jumped out of the elevator as the doors were closing and paused, listening, but he didn't hear her voice again.
Brody wasn't crazy. He didn't believe he'd imagined it. Adrenaline rushing through him, he walked out of the elevator hall and back toward the main lobby. He stood at the edge, scanning the room.
There weren't many people there. A middle-aged couple walking through in black tie clothes. A family with a couple of snoozing toddlers and weary-looking parents. A businessman who looked like he'd found a new friend for the night.
No Tatum.
Scowling, Brody walked over to the reception desk. "Excuse me."
A clean-cut guy about his age looked up from the computer. When he saw Brody, he straightened up. "Mr. Hart. I'm sorry about the disturbance. I assure you, we safeguard your privacy."
He frowned. "What disturbance?"
"The woman—"
Tension shot through Brody. "What woman?"
The front desk attendant glanced toward his left. "She said you knew her, but we are escorting her out—"
"Shit." Brody sprinted around the corner and almost ran straight into the hotel manager and two men flanking a tiny figure in a hooded black sweatshirt.
"Tatum!"
She looked up, and Brody's gut went cold when he saw the tears streaking her cheeks. Her eyes were wide, and there was fear and pain etched all over her face. "Brody?" she whispered his name in almost disbelief.
He sprinted over to her. "I'm here, Tatum. I've got you. You're all right, now." He went to gather her in his arms, but she yelped and jerked back.
"My arm," she whispered, holding it to her chest. "I think my wrist is broken."
Fuck. Anger tore through him, a raw, visceral fury. What the fuck had happened to her? He put his arm around her shoulders, tucking her against him carefully, so as not to bump her arm. When he felt her body trembling against his, something inside him snapped.
He levered a hard gaze on the manager. "You were going to kick her out?"
The hotel manager looked horrified. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know you knew her—"
"A woman is in your hotel, desperate, terrified, and crying, with a broken arm, and you're going to throw her out in the fucking street?" He couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice. "It doesn't matter if I knew her or not. Your responsibility as a human being is to take care of people who need help. No matter what. Even if it gets dirt in your fucking hallway."
Tatum put her hand on his chest. "Brody," she whispered. "Get me out of here."
It was the tiniest plea, the faintest whisper, and it got his full attention instantly. All his anger at the manager vanished, and Tatum became his entire world. He yanked his coat off and wrapped it gently around her shoulders. "Let's go."
He kept her shielded against his body as he helped her through the lobby. "I'll drive you to the hospital—"
"No!" She jerked and pulled back. "We need to get out of town. I can't go to the hospital."
He ground his jaw. "You said your arm is broken—"
"He'll find me at the hospital. We need to leave town. Now. Is your truck here?"
He swore. "He, who?" It was all Brody could do to keep his voice calm. "The man who broke your arm?" Simply saying the words made Brody want to hunt him down right then.
"I don't know. Please. I just need to get out of here. It won't take long. People are already taking pictures."
He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the mom of the little family was holding up her phone, as were a couple others. "Shit. Let's go up to my room. I need to grab my stuff."
"How long will it take?"
"Five minutes. Tops." He guided her toward the elevators.
"Okay, but no longer."
"It won't be longer." He punched the elevator button, and it opened immediately, still on the ground floor from when he'd called it before.
He guided her inside, swiped his keycard for the penthouse, and then pulled the woman he'd missed for fifteen years into his arms.
Chapter Six
Tatum didn't push him away.
She said nothing, but she pressed her face into his chest, her breath heaving as she tried to control her sobs.
Brody had a thousand questions, and emotions roiled through him, but he shoved them all aside and focused on the woman in his arms.
He kissed the top of her head and gently stroked her hair, even while he kept his other arm tight around her waist. "It's all right, Tatum," he whispered. "Breathe, baby, breathe. I'm here now."
She still didn't say anything, and she was trembling.
Anger built inside Brody again, a need to go after whoever had scared her and hurt her, but again, he forced it aside, knowing that his first job, his only job right now, was to help Tatum.
The elevator door slid open, and he used his keycard to open the penthouse. "This is my room. Let's go."
She nodded and ducked past him. Her shoulders were hunched, and it was clear from the way she was holding her arm that it was painful. "You want to sit while I pack?"
"No. I'm too antsy to sit. Do you have ibuprofen? Water?"
He nodded and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "The ibuprofen is in the bedroom." There was a time where he would have given his soul to have Tatum in his bedroom, but right now, that was so far off the table.
He put his hand on her back and guided her into his bedroom. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, clutching the water bottle, while he grabbed the medicine. "How many?"
"The whole bottle, please."
He laughed softly and shook out three for her. "Where did you get the sweatshirt?"
"I found it on the floor of the stadium. I was trying to disguise myself."
"Want something that smells better?"
She managed a laugh. "Yeah, actually, that would be great." She looked up at him, her big brown eyes wide with pain. "I need help to get this off, I think."
"Sure." He helped her get her right arm out of the sleeve, and then gently tugged the dirty garment over her head. She was still wearing her tight, sparkly outfit from the concert. "You look fantastic, but how about some sweats? I have some with drawstrings we should be able to tighten enough that they stay up."
She looked down at her pants. "There's no way I can get these off with one hand."
Brody tried for a neutral tone. "I've seen you naked before. I'm fine with it if you are."
Her cheeks turned pink, but she shrugged. "Emergency situations call for emergency actions. Disrobe me, my minion."
He laughed and walked behind her to unzip the top. It fell away, revealing her bare back, the hourglass curve of her waist and hips. He sucked in his breath as he carefully slid the strap over her right arm.
Tatum met his gaze as she let him grasp her left upper arm and lift it enough to carefully lift the strap over her wrist. He somehow managed to keep his gaze on her wrist, and not her breasts. "It's swelling."