The Stranger

The force of the explosion hurled them across the wet road. Aria felt searing heat against her back an instant before pain tore through her body. She slammed onto the asphalt, palms scraping raw against the rough surface. For several long seconds only a high-pitched ringing filled her ears.

Rain hammered down without mercy. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Am I still alive?

She forced air into her lungs, breathing in and out until the world stopped spinning. Then she turned her head toward the man lying beside her.

He did not move. Blood mixed with rainwater and streamed down the side of his face.

Aria could not tell if he was breathing. “No. No. You cannot die.”

She crawled across the soaked ground, rain-soaked hair clinging to her cheeks. Her trembling fingers pressed against the side of his neck. Relief flooded her when she felt a strong, steady pulse.

“Good. The pulse is strong.”

Her entire body shook, not from the cold but from the nearness of death. She had almost died tonight. Yet she had pulled this stranger free. She swallowed hard and forced her mind into professional mode.

“Head trauma. Possible concussion. Bruised ribs. Deep cuts on the arm. He needs a hospital.”

His eyelids fluttered open for a moment, then closed again. “No hospital,” he muttered in a low voice.

Aria frowned. “You were in a crash and barely survived an explosion.”

“No hospital,” he repeated. His hand closed around her wrist with surprising strength.

The power in his grip startled her. “You have a head injury. There could be internal bleeding. You need a full examination.”

“I am fine,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You are far from fine,” she shot back. “I am taking you to the hospital.”

“No.” His tone turned harder.

“Why?” She could not understand the refusal.

He stayed silent for a moment, jaw tight. “I simply cannot.”

Aria let out a frustrated breath. “If you will not be honest with me, I cannot help you properly.”

“That crash,” he said, voice rough, “was no accident. Someone tried to kill me.” His eyes opened fully and locked onto hers, sharp and piercing even through the pain. “I cannot walk into a hospital.”

Rain fell harder. Aria stared at him for a long moment while her thoughts raced. She did not know this man, and every word he spoke carried the scent of danger.

She hesitated, weighing the risk of leaving him alone on the roadside. One truth stood clear. If she walked away, he would die. As a doctor she could not abandon him.

She groaned under her breath.

“All right. Fine. I will take you to my apartment.” She dragged him upright and guided him toward her car.

Thirty minutes later they reached her building. Getting him out of the vehicle and into the elevator tested every ounce of her strength. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and solid with muscle beneath the soaked fabric of his clothes. Each time he leaned on her she nearly lost her balance. He was heavy, and the power in his frame was impossible to ignore.

“We are almost there,” she said as the elevator doors slid shut.

Inside her apartment she led him to the sofa.

“Stay still,” she ordered.

His eyes opened a fraction and swept across the unfamiliar room while she hurried away. Moments later she returned with a first-aid kit.

“Relax. I am going to treat the wounds.” She knelt in front of him. “The antiseptic will sting, but try to endure it.”

She cut away the blood-soaked shirt with careful movements. The moment his torso came into view she drew in a sharp breath.

He is striking.

The thought rose unbidden. She could not stop her eyes from tracing the defined chest, the sculpted shoulders, the hard lines of his abdomen that tightened with each careful breath.

Her mind wandered as her fingers moved. She cleaned the wounds with deliberate care, her touch lingering longer than necessary along the ridges of muscle. Rainwater still clung to his skin and slid down the hard planes of his body. Something restless stirred low in her stomach.

Focus, Aria, she ordered herself.

Heat rose in her cheeks. How could she entertain such thoughts about an injured man who could barely stay conscious?

She pressed sterile gauze against a cut near his ribs. Her fingertips brushed warm, firm skin and stayed a moment too long.

What are you doing? a sharp voice demanded inside her head.

She pulled her hand back at once and forced her attention onto the injuries alone.

He hissed when the antiseptic touched the cut on his temple.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

He watched her through half-lidded eyes while she stitched the deep gash on his arm. Her hands moved with practiced precision.

“You are a doctor?” he asked. His voice was deep and rough.

“Yes.”

“Lucky me.”

She finished the bandaging and looked up. Now she noticed the rest of him more clearly. Sharp jawline. Straight nose. Faint stubble along his cheeks. He was the kind of man who turned heads without effort.

“What is your name?” she asked.

He tensed. A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes and vanished just as quickly.

“My name?” He pressed his fingers hard against his forehead. “What is my name? I… I do not remember.”

Aria froze, caught between confusion and alarm. “You do not remember your own name?”

“I…” He rubbed his temples with greater force. “I do not know.”

Doubt crept in. She folded her arms. “That is strange. You were very clear about one thing earlier. You refused the hospital. You said someone tried to kill you.”

Suspicion sharpened inside her. She studied him carefully. “How can you remember that and forget everything else?”

He went still at the edge in her voice. His eyes opened just enough to gauge her expression, then he squeezed them shut again and let out a low sound of pain.

“I remember driving fast. Someone was following me. Then… damn. My head feels like it is splitting open.”

Aria’s body went rigid. “How bad is the pain?”

“It feels as if something is tearing through my skull.” He drew a sharp breath.

Her own pulse jumped.

Sudden severe headache. Possible subdural hematoma. That could explain the memory loss.

“We are going to the hospital,” she said at once.

“No.” The refusal came too quickly.

She raised an eyebrow. “Even now you refuse? Do you understand how serious this could be? You might be bleeding inside your skull.”

“I cannot go,” he said, voice firm.

Aria threw her hands up in frustration. “You could die without proper care.”

“I will die for certain if I set foot in a hospital,” he answered.

“What?” She stared at him in disbelief.

“If someone wants me dead, they will come the moment they learn I am there,” he explained. “I cannot let anyone discover where I am. Please…”

His eyes met hers, open and pleading for the first time. “Let me stay here until I remember who I am.”

Aria’s heart beat hard against her ribs. Every instinct warned her that danger clung to this man like a second skin. Yet the thought of turning him out into the night while he bled and suffered felt impossible.

She had already saved him once. Walking away now would feel like leaving him to die a second time.

Still, the risk of keeping him here settled cold and heavy in her chest.

What have I brought into my home?