I headed into the room and found her sitting on the table, her head down, her hands clutching at the coat I had put around her.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I said quietly.
She looked up, her eyes clearer of agony, but slightly unfocused due to the pain meds.
“I’m going to pick you up now, okay?”
She didn’t protest, and I carefully lifted her and headed for the elevator and up to my place.
Inside, I strode through the apartment until I got to my bedroom. I walked straight to the bathroom and into the shower. I sat her on the wide seat and stepped back.
“I’m going to remove my coat and turn on the water. When it’s warm, you can sit under the spray for as long as you want.” I rummaged on the shelf. “Here is soap and shampoo. I don’t have conditioner. Sorry. I know women like conditioner. I’ll get you some.”
She stared at me.
“Here’s a toothbrush. Use it and leave it in here. I’ll be on the other side of that wall. I won’t come in here unless you call.” I reached and pulled a towel off the hook. “Wrap yourself in this. I have clean clothes for you when you’re done.” I paused. “Do you understand me?”
She blinked slowly.
“Okay. If you’re dizzy or you need help, tap the wall. I’ll be right there.” I hunched down and pulled my coat off her, lifting her carefully as I did so. “I’ll burn whatever this is you’re wearing.” It was a cross between a shirt and a dress, filthy, torn, thin, and far too short. She had no underwear on beneath it.
She whispered something, and I frowned, leaning closer. “What was that?”
“Sorry,” escaped her lips as she touched my coat.
I stared at her, aghast. “I don’t care about the coat, sweetheart,” I assured her. “I care about getting you clean, comfortable, and fed. You can sleep then, knowing you’re protected.”
I felt her touch my chest, her shaking finger tapping me. I captured her hand, holding it gently. “Yes. I will protect you.”
I stepped back, got the water warm, then stood in front of the stream, making sure all the cold had drained from the pipe before stepping out of the way and letting the water cascade over her. I hit the button so the second showerhead turned on over her, the gentle rain flow surrounding her. She raised her hands, wiping her hair back from her face. Almost every inch of her was covered in bruises or abrasions. She lifted her face, her eyes wide when they met mine, bright with unshed tears.
I left quickly, the sight of her tears somehow more powerful than the vision of her injuries. I grabbed a fresh shirt and sweats, pulling them on, listening in case she needed me. She was in the shower for a long time, but I could hear movement, so I let her be. When I heard the water turn off, I waited. I heard more noises and shuffling, and I peeked in the door. Her back was to me, and she stood at the vanity, her hands clutching the counter, her head bowed. She was swaying on her feet.
“I’m coming in,” I called and hurried over to her. “Let me help,” I murmured.
She gave a barely discernible nod, and I snagged another towel and patted her shoulders and arms dry. I grabbed the shirt I’d gotten for her and slipped it over her head. She struggled but got her arms into the holes. I dabbed at her hair, unsure. Mine was fairly short, and I usually scrubbed it dry and ran a comb through it. Her hair hung to her shoulders, so I doubted that would work. Deciding it could wait, I wrapped my arm around her waist and helped her into the bedroom, sitting her on the edge of the mattress.
I crouched beside her. “Hungry?”
She shook her head.
“Sofia wants lots of liquids in you. Can you drink a little for me?”
I lifted a glass to her lips, and she sipped. It was a protein drink, high in calories. It would help her. She seemed weak and out of it, and I decided not to push her too much. I helped her under the covers and pulled the heated blanket I had added on top. Shivers racked her body, and I patted her arm, feeling awkward and odd.
“Shivering is good. Your body will warm. You can sleep. No one will hurt you.”
I reached for the light, stopping at her sound of distress. I shook my head at my stupidity. She had been locked behind a wall in the dark for God knew how long. Of course she wouldn’t want the light off.
“It’s okay. I’ll leave it on. There’s water here and more of the drink if you want it.” I ran my hand over her head. “I’ll be close. Everything is okay now.”
She sighed, her entire body shuddering with release. Tears streamed down her face, but she made no noise as she cried. I pressed tissues into her hand, something in my chest aching at the sight of her distress.
My reaction to her surprised me. I had seen so much suffering and pain. Helped terrified women and children, even men. Witnessed their fear and relief. But I had learned to cut myself off from feeling it with them. I had to, or I knew I would be ineffectual.
But something about this tiny woman affected me.
I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t like it.
But still, it was there.
“Sleep,” I murmured, stroking her head until her body slumped in slumber.
Yet, the tears didn’t stop.
She slept on and off for a full day. I was never far away, and she never slept for long. She’d awaken crying, screaming, or simply bolt upright in the bed, clutching the covers, looking around in panic. From my chair beside the bed, I would talk to her and soothe her, and she would fall back, succumbing to sleep once again, her body desperate for rest. When I could, I got her to drink some water, even a little of the protein drink, and I made sure to give her pain medication, hoping the medicine would keep her sleepy enough to rest.
Finally, she seemed to drift into a deep sleep, and I left my room. I showered fast, checked with my team, and spoke with Sofia. She informed me she’d be around the next day to check on the woman, and once I grabbed a sandwich, I returned to my room.
She was asleep on her side, for the first time since I placed her in my bed, looking as if she was relaxed. Her hair had dried, a soft honey-red color glowing in the dim light. It was unique and pretty. The unmarred skin I could see was creamy, the bruises she carried dark against the pale. She was rail-thin and tiny—at least a foot shorter than me.
I settled back into the chair, pulling out my gun and placing it in the drawer. It was never far from me, even when I slept. In my line of business, you were always ready. I watched her for a moment, my eyes feeling heavy. I had hardly slept, even before the mission. I never rested much the night before one, and since then, I had been looking after her.
I let my eyes drift shut, deciding thirty minutes would feel good. Maybe then I would try to wake her and get her to eat.
I sighed and let my head fall back.
Just thirty minutes.
A sound woke me, and I snapped awake, sitting upright quickly.
I stared at the woman sitting on my bed. Her honey-red hair tumbled to her shoulders in a chaotic mess. Her green eyes were light and intense, her gaze fixed on me intently.
And the kicker?
My own gun pointed directly at my chest.
Well, well. Things just got interesting.
Chapter Three
Marcus