6

The emergency room light went out and I was through the door before anyone else in that hallway even moved.

My mother was lying on the bed with tubes in her arms and her face the color of old paper. Her eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell in small, shallow breaths. The doctor was pulling off his gloves and talking to the nurse in that low, careful voice they use when things almost went very wrong.

"She stabilized," the doctor said, turning to me. "It was close, Miss Clarke. Her blood pressure dropped dangerously low. We managed to bring her back, but I want her monitored closely for the next forty eight hours."

"How close?" My voice was steady but my hands were ice cold.

He paused. That pause told me everything his mouth didn't want to say. "Close enough that we need to have a longer conversation about her care plan. But not tonight. Tonight she needs rest."

I nodded. I sat in the hard plastic chair next to her bed and held her thin hand. Her fingers were cold and light, like holding something that could blow away. I watched her breathe. I counted every rise of her chest like each one was borrowed time.

The nurse came in. We got her settled back in the ward. Sophie stood in the doorway the whole time, quiet for once in her life, her arms crossed and her eyes watching me instead of my mother. I stayed until the monitors beeped steady and the color came back to her lips.

Only then did I let myself breathe. One long, shaking breath that emptied my whole body.

I walked into the corridor and leaned against the cold wall. My legs were filled with sand. My skull pounded. I closed my eyes and the last several days crashed down on me all at once. Derek. Ethan. My father's study. The mud puddle. The emergency room light. One disaster on top of another with no air between them.

The nurse from billing appeared at the end of the hallway. She walked toward me with a clipboard and the face of a woman who hated her job tonight.

"Miss Clarke, I'm sorry to bring this up right now." She held the clipboard out. "The emergency treatment tonight added significant costs. Your mother's account is short again."

I took the clipboard. The number at the bottom made my stomach drop straight through the floor. "How much time do I have?"

"Forty eight hours. After that we'll have to discuss alternative arrangements."

Alternative arrangements. That was hospital talk for letting my mother die slower and with less dignity. I handed the clipboard back and my jaw was so tight my teeth ached.

Sophie watched the whole exchange from three feet away. When the nurse left, she stepped closer.

"How bad?"

"Bad enough." I rubbed my face with both hands. My brain was already spinning through every option I had left. Then it landed on one. "Marcus Vaughn still owes me money."

Sophie's face changed immediately. "Viv, no."

"He borrowed sixty thousand dollars from me eight months ago." I pushed off the wall. "He swore on his dead mother he would pay it back. He hasn't returned a single call in three months."

"Marcus Vaughn runs his little empire out of a nightclub filled with men who think women are furniture." Sophie grabbed my arm. "You are not going alone."

"Then come with me."

She stared at me for a long second. Then she let out a hard breath through her nose. "Fine. But if anyone touches me I am going to rearrange their face."

"I would expect nothing less."

We drove to the club in Sophie's car. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and glanced at me every thirty seconds like I might change my mind. I wasn't going to change my mind. My mother needed that money and Marcus had been dodging me long enough.

The nightclub was loud enough to shake my bones. Bass thumped through the floor straight up into my teeth. Colored lights swept across the crowd in long lazy circles.

"Where is he?" Sophie shouted over the music.

"VIP section. Back corner." I pushed through the bodies, Sophie right behind me.

We found Marcus at a round booth surrounded by bottles and two women who looked bored out of their minds. He was a thick man with a gold watch and a smile that never reached his eyes. When he saw me coming his smile dropped like a stone.

"Vivian." He spread his hands wide on the table. "What a surprise."

"It shouldn't be." I stopped right in front of his booth. "I've called you fourteen times in three months. You ignored every single one."

"I've been busy." He picked up his glass and took a slow sip. "You know how it is."

"I know you owe me sixty thousand dollars." I kept my voice flat and level. "And I know you've been spending money in this club every weekend like a man who doesn't have debts."

His face went hard. The fake warmth disappeared. "Lower your voice, Vivian."

"Give me my money, Marcus. Tonight."

He leaned back in the booth and looked at me the way a man looks at a fly buzzing near his food. Annoyed. Barely interested. "You'll get it when I have it. Now sit down or leave. You're embarrassing yourself."

"I'm embarrassing myself?" My blood was running hot now. "You begged me for that loan. You sat in my apartment and told me your business was going under. You almost cried. And now you're telling me to sit down?"

"Things change." He waved one hand in the air like he was brushing away smoke. "Come back next month."

"My mother is in a hospital bed right now." My voice didn't crack. I wouldn't let it. "She almost died tonight. I need that money and you know it."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Guilt, maybe. Or just discomfort. He looked at the two women next to him, then back at me. "I said next month. Now get out of my section before I have someone remove you."

Sophie stepped forward. "Try it."

Marcus looked at her like she was a small dog barking at a truck. "Who brought the chihuahua?"

"Call me that again." Sophie smiled with her teeth. "Please."

I put my hand on Sophie's arm. "We're leaving." My stomach was sick with rage but I knew a dead end when I saw one. Marcus wasn't paying tonight. He wasn't paying next month either. The money was gone.

We turned toward the exit. We were almost out. Almost free.

Three men stepped into our path. Big. Wide. Unhurried. They stood the way men stand when they have never once in their lives faced a single consequence. The tallest one looked at Sophie first, then at me. His eyes crawled down my body like something sticky and wet.

"Leaving already?" His smile was slow and ugly. "Marcus said you two were causing trouble."

"Move," Sophie said flatly.

"That's not very friendly." He took a step closer. "Maybe you should apologize to our friend back there."

Sophie's hand shot sideways. She grabbed a bottle off the nearest table, cracked it hard against the edge, and pointed the jagged end straight at his face. "Maybe you should back up before I redecorate yours."

The leader laughed. Big and careless. He moved closer.

Sophie didn't wait. The broken glass caught his arm in one fast clean swipe. A bright red line opened across his skin. Blood dripped onto the floor.

His laugh stopped dead.

"You crazy little bitch!" He grabbed his arm, staring at the blood with pure shock.

His friends rushed forward. Sophie shoved me hard toward the exit. Too hard. Way too hard. The force sent me stumbling backward and my temple cracked against the sharp edge of the bar counter. A white flash of pain exploded behind my eyes.

The room tilted sideways. The music warped into something slow and underwater. My legs turned to liquid beneath me. I stumbled backward reaching for something solid and my back hit a chest. Arms caught me. Big arms. Steady arms. Hands gripped my waist and held me upright.

But the darkness was already coming. It poured in from the edges of my vision like black ink. The last thing I felt was the heat of those hands. The last thing I smelled was cedar and smoke.

Then nothing.

I woke up swinging.

My body jerked upright in one violent motion. My hands flew out in front of me. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I could hear it in my ears. Every defensive instinct I had was firing at once. Strange room. Strange bed. Strange sheets.

The room was dim. Expensive. A hotel room by the look of the heavy curtains and spotless furniture. My shoes were placed neatly at the foot of the bed. My jacket was folded on the nightstand.

"Awake?"

The voice came from the sofa across the room. Low. Calm. Completely unbothered.

I turned my head slowly.

Ethan sat on the sofa with one ankle resting on his knee. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows. His dark eyes watched me with that same unreadable expression that made my stomach flip and my skin go hot.

My breath caught hard in my throat. My fingers gripped the sheets.

"Mr. Blackwell?"