“Multiple times,” he confirmed grimly. “And I know how aware you are of your surroundings, even in a busy hospital. So yeah, he’s good.”

  “A professional.”

  Remi nodded sharply.

  “But why here? You said he’s been back multiple times.”

  “And he’s definitely found her. He wandered the hospital a couple days to find a terminal he could break into without being noticed, but he finally found and accessed her files this morning. My guess?” His gut clenched. “Her hit-and-run wasn’t an accident. This guy”—he tapped the rim of the phone—“either did it or was involved somehow.”

  He could see the wheels turning as Leah considered all the angles herself. “We’re the closest hospital to the accident site.”

  “Yes. Likely he’s been looking for confirmation that she was dead, but now that he knows she has survived…”

  Leah fumbled the phone into his lap even as she jerked on the door handle. “We have to get upstairs.”

  He tightened his grip on her hand, threading his fingers between hers to hold her in place. “We will, Leah, I promise. But she’s not in immediate danger. At least, not tonight.”

  “Why?”

  Her impatient tone was all Leah—find the problem and fix it ASAP.

  “Because her amnesia is clearly documented,” he assured her.

  “Do you think he’ll wait to see if she gets her memory back?”

  “Hell no.” If Remi’d had a target with amnesia, he wouldn’t have gambled on the chance that would ever change. “But it does mean he has time.”

  Leah thought about that a minute. “He has time to be careful, you mean. Cover his tracks.”

  “And he’s very good at doing that.”

  “Then how do we protect her? She’s finally starting to make short-term memories again—she recognized me at lunch today—but that doesn’t mean she’s going to trust me when I tell her all this.” She waved vaguely toward the now-blank phone screen in his lap. “How do we keep her safe?”

  His heart swelled at the question. For Leah, there was no thought of herself. Now that this guy knew his target’s location and had access to the network, he was equally capable of hacking security cameras to keep an eye on her. In fact, that was the most likely reason he hadn’t made an appearance on the ICU ward. That would only change if and when he came to finish his job. But in the meantime he was likely watching every move in and out of Jane Doe’s room—including Leah’s frequent visits. Remi had no intention of letting the threat stand, either against their Jane Doe or his woman.

  “Eli and I have a plan.” As he outlined it, the worry lines around Leah’s eyes eased. But when he finished, they returned.

  “He knows her identity, then?”

  “Probably.” Some hit men didn’t require more than a name and location; they simply did the job and walked away with the money. He and his brothers had never worked that way. “The only way to find out is to take him alive. He’s our best bet of discovering not only who she is, but what she’s mixed up in.”

  “What she’s running from,” Leah corrected him.

  “More than likely.” He gathered Leah against his chest once more, wishing he could ease the strain enveloping her even tighter than before. “We’ll make it happen, Leah, I promise. We’ll take care of her”—and you—“no matter what it takes.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Saint!”

  He glanced up from the monitor and rubbed weary eyes before turning to face King where he stood in the open door to Saint’s office. His friend vibrated with an energy Saint couldn’t pinpoint in his tired state. “Yeah?”

  “I think I’ve got something.”

  The words worked better than an energy shot at bringing him to full alert. Days of staying till the early morning hours at work had wreaked havoc on the both of them, and Saint felt especially guilty that his issues were taking King away from his newfound relationship, but he needed the help. Hell, two of them had barely made a dent in the ground they needed to cover.

  Until now, apparently.

  Thank God.

  King sprinted toward his own office down the hall, his speed underscoring his urgency. This wasn’t an iffy lead, then—his friend had hit on a major clue. Saint’s steps sped up to match as anticipation threw another shot of adrenaline into his bloodstream.

  King was already explaining when Saint rounded the doorway and entered his office.

  “So I got to thinking about all the random ways criminals get caught sometimes.”

  “Uh-huh.” They’d certainly lucked onto intel in the least likely ways in some of their own cases. “We’re not looking for a criminal, though.” At least he prayed not. They might only have shared a few hours together, but he’d touched more than Rae’s body—her soul had been pure fire. He was more than familiar with the taint of evil that accompanied the worst members of society, and Rae hadn’t set off those alarm bells.

  “Same principle applies,” King said, gripping his monitor. He swiveled it toward Saint, and as he got a full view of the image displayed there, Saint froze. The sight was like a kick to the gut, such a surprise that he literally choked.

  “Rae.”

  Her face was firmly fixed in his mind, right alongside the rest of her. And there was no doubt that’s who he was looking at. She just didn’t look the same. Bile rose at the back of his throat. One side of her face, from forehead to jaw, was covered in purple bruises and thick, bloody scrapes. Road rash. Her thick, dark hair was tangled on the white pillow she lay on, and he could see a shaved patch near her temple. Bandages speckled her head, face, and neck.

  “She’s not—” He stopped, cleared his throat, but the words that escaped were still full of gravel. “She’s not dead.”

  “No! God, no.”

  He closed his eyes, his entire body slumping in relief. “What happened?”

  King’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder, and he squeezed down. “Just breathe, brother. She’s gonna be okay.”

  He wanted to believe that, but Christ… A prickle struck the backs of his eyes as he blinked them open. “What happened?” he asked again, his voice slightly less Wolverine at his worst.

  “She was the victim of a hit-and-run a couple of blocks up from your apartment.”

  She’d been hit by a fucking car? And he’d been asleep, blissfully unaware that the woman he’d shared what felt like the deepest night of his life with could have died?

  Questions raced through his mind, piling up on each other like cartoon train cars forced to an abrupt stop. Only one of them mattered. “Where is she?”

  “Fulton County Memorial.”

  One more. “You said she was going to be okay?”

  “She is, but—”

  He didn’t care about a but; he was already on his way out the door. A quick stop at his office to lock up, and by the time he was striding for the elevators, King was by his side, keys in hand. Saint glanced at them as he punched the down button.

  “I know you’re anxious to get there, but I’m driving.”

  A quick denial died on his lips when King held up a hand.

  “We’ve already got one accident. I’m not risking another. I’m driving.”

  “She was hit by a fucking car. That’s no accident.” Just imagining the agony she must have gone through, how close she’d come to dying—how close he’d come to losing her—had rage boiling in his chest.

  King followed him into the elevator. “We don’t know that. I haven’t had time to access the police report yet, only hospital records.”

  They would find out, but right now, seeing her was most important. And right alongside the rage was an anticipation that made him feel sick. He shouldn’t be desperate to get his hands on her, hell, to just lay eyes on her when she was in pain. The fact that she was still in the hospital eight days later told him her injuries had been severe. All he’d seen was her face; what about the rest of her. Broken bones? Surgery? What had she gone through while he’d been stuck in the dark, frantically searching for her?

  Would she even want to see him now, after almost dying minutes after leaving his apartment? After spending the night with him? Would she let him touch her again?

  The fact that she’d snuck away from him knocked at the door of his brain, but he refused to let the reminder in. He had his second chance now, and he was grabbing it with both hands—and he wasn’t letting go until Rae forced him to.

  He’d convince her. The night they’d shared had been too powerful for anything else.

  His hand went to the crucifix that dangled around his neck, the metal thick and reassuring even through the barrier of his shirt. It had been his grandmother’s, passed down to him as the only son in his family. He’d worn it since his eighteenth birthday, and though he sometimes doubted the validity of a God—one couldn’t help but doubt with all the hate he witnessed in his job—still the roots of his family’s religion comforted him. A prayer passed like breath from his lips as the elevator doors opened to the garage and the two of them rushed toward King’s car.

  His teammate might have insisted on driving, but he didn’t take his time. Ten minutes and they were pulling into one of the hospital’s parking garages.

  “What floor is she on?” Saint asked as they stepped onto another elevator. King pushed a button, but Saint didn’t really care about the details of where they were going as long as they got there ASAP.

  “She’s in a step-down unit from the ICU.”

  “So she’s improving.”

  “The doctors’ notes seem to indicate she is.”

  There was an odd note in King’s voice, but Saint couldn’t concentrate enough to bring it into focus. His heart was banging against his ribs, in his throat, his breath ragged in his ears. And holy fuck, his palms were sweaty. Rae was waiting at the other end of this elevator ride—he’d see her again, touch her, kiss her if she’d let him. He swiped his palms along the thighs of his fatigues and squeezed his eyes shut just as a ding announced their arrival.

  Here we go.

  The corridor was blazing white, the sound of their footsteps on the hard tile cold. Saint swallowed against a dry throat as he followed King through the halls, grateful his teammate seemed to know where he was going. Grateful visiting hours hadn’t ended yet, though they were cutting it close. The hush of coming bedtime was settling over the floor, and Saint could feel the anticipation of rest in the sleepy atmosphere despite the bright lights. Nurses were focused on paperwork at their stations rather than rushing from room to room. King asked a blue-eyed blonde for directions once they reached the step-down unit gave them an impatient glance before lingering, a spark of interest flashing across her face. King gave her his trademark grin, the one that made him look like a movie star instead of a killer, and the woman melted. Saint rolled his eyes and shifted on his feet as he waited for her to direct them to Rae’s room. Her words didn’t register in Saint’s ears, just the pointing of her finger and King’s steps starting up again.

  Almost there. His fingers went again to his chest and the crucifix hanging below his shirt.

  King rounded a corner near the back of the unit. Two steps behind, Saint registered the sudden stiffening of his friend’s shoulders just before his gaze swept the hall, noting a man already halfway down the corridor. Baseball cap. Black clothing. Boots. Tall, lean in a wiry way. But none of that was too suspicious. It was something in the way he moved that caught Saint’s attention, and probably King’s too. The man was too quiet, cautiously easing his way along rather than striding purposefully, and when he came to the door he’d been approaching and turned as if to enter, Saint could see a hand sliding into the dark jacket the man wore, reaching for something Saint couldn’t see.

  Every muscle tightened as his gut screamed a warning. King’s footsteps were already silent, a trade habit Saint had also fallen into. As if by unspoken agreement, both of them automatically flowed to the opposite side of the corridor, out of the man’s peripheral vision should he glance behind him. The air stilled around them, holding its breath as they advanced.

  Without warning, the door the man faced flew back. A dark, heavy blur shoved out, right into the man King and Saint were tracking. He fell back but managed to stay on his feet by flipping sideways to slip some of the weight barreling into him. As he turned, his gaze met Saint’s. Dark. Deadly.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Rae’s room?” Saint rasped, just loud enough for King to hear. King’s sharp nod was all he needed before rushing forward, one hand going for the weapon holstered beneath his arm inside his jacket.

  King was right there with him.

  Shouts rang out up ahead as the two men wrestled in the hallway. Their target managed to extricate himself before they reached him, turned on his heel, and ran for all he was worth. The bear of a man that had slammed out of Rae’s room gave pursuit.

  Saint’s steps slowed as he came even with Rae’s door. The warrior part of him demanded he follow the threat, eliminate it at all costs, but it was the man part of him, the part screaming to protect the woman he’d searched so hard for, that held him back. King seemed to sense his hesitation.

  “Stay!” he shouted as he raced down the hall after the other two men. Saint gave them one last glance before pushing through the heavy door standing between him and Rae.

  And coming face-to-face with the business end of a very serious gun.

  Chapter Ten

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The voice was feminine, but not the female he’d been expecting to hear. Saint raised his hands out to his sides slowly, too focused on the gleaming black steel practically bumping his nose to figure out who the speaker was. He only knew who he wanted to speak to. “Rae?”

  “Rae?”

  There she was. Strangled or not, that voice belonged to his Rae. Gun or not, he turned his head to seek her out, to see as well as hear her. To assure himself he wasn’t just imagining that voice. “Cariño.”

  Her frown formed a vee between the wings of her brows. Saint opened his mouth, the first of a million questions already on his tongue. Only the nudge of a cold muzzle against his cheek kept him quiet.

  “You’re from JCL, aren’t you?” the woman on the other end of the GLOCK asked. “Saint something? We met last month.”

  The turn of his head was cautious. His gaze locked with the blue-eyed blonde who spoke, and the voice and face clicked into place in his mind. “Ms. Marrone?”

  She nodded, still eyeing him warily. Leah Marrone had been one of the clients on a hush-hush flight to Washington, DC, that had included the head of the biggest tech research company in the world, Hacr Technologies, headquartered here in Atlanta. Levi Agozi made even Saint hesitate; he was not someone you wanted to mess with, and his two brothers were the same. They’d worked well together, if babysitting a hotel suite while the Agozis did whatever they needed to do could be called working together. Saint’s team had never asked the purpose of the men’s business, and Agozi never revealed it, which was probably for the best. And yet here was the middle brother’s girlfriend in Rae’s room with a gun.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded more than asked. “What do you have to do with Rae?”

  “Who the hell is Rae?” Leah asked, looking confused.

  She wasn’t the only one. He pointed toward the hospital bed and the woman he’d spent over a week searching for. “Her.”

  A strangled sound came from the bed. Leah glanced at Rae, blanched, and dropped the gun to her side as she hurried across the room. “Don’t pass out on me now, girl.”

  Saint took the opposite side of the narrow hospital bed, careful of the equipment surrounding it. Leah was right—Rae did look like she would pass out any second. The smooth olive tone of her skin, already pale from her injuries, had gone a pasty gray, and her eyes weren’t tracking. He reached for her hand. “Rae?”

  She jerked her hand from his grasp, a whimper escaping. “Don’t touch me!”

  The words were a blow. He snatched his hand back, his gaze rising from her hand to her face, and the fear he read there kicked him in the chest. She snuck away; I knew she might want to forget me. But she’s not just rejecting me, she’s afraid of me. Why, for God’s sake?

  Retreating slowly until his back met the wall, he turned his attention to Leah. “What’s the matter? Is she all right?”

  His words didn’t seem to register with the women. Leah reached for the bed controls, and immediately the head of the mattress went back and Rae’s legs up as the bed adjusted. “Just breathe for me, okay?” Leah was saying. “Breathe deep. In”—she demonstrated, and Saint found himself taking in a deep lungful of air—”and out.” She exhaled and so did Saint. Rae not so much, but she seemed to be trying. Lying now in a reclined position with her legs slightly elevated, she looked less like she would fall out of the bed, but still nowhere near normal. Her dark, hazy eyes were glued to Leah as she struggled to follow the other woman’s directions, her breath shaky as shit and not at all reassuring.

  Saint hugged the wall, his arms tight across his chest, and watched helplessly for long minutes. Finally the gray receded and Rae’s breathing became stronger. Saint, unfortunately, couldn’t stop his body from shivering now that the worst had passed.

  Reaction. It’s just reaction. Rae’s gonna be fine. Get it together, dipshit!

  He straightened, praying his hold on himself hid the worst of the shakes, but he didn’t dare speak as Leah continued to murmur gently to Rae in the bed.

  The hospital room door opened, and with a smoothness that spoke of practice, Leah whipped around and raised the gun simultaneously. Remi Agozi didn’t hesitate, however; he strode in, King behind him, and beelined directly to his girlfriend’s side. Sliding one hand around her waist, he took the gun with the other and pulled her into his embrace.

  “He got away?” Leah asked against his chest, the confident-nurse facade finally cracking enough to let a tremor through.

  “He did.” Remi’s voice was rough with irritation.