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them to Dan. "I appreciate your help." |
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Franklin took the keys from Chris's outstretched palm and then stared directly into his eyes. "I'd do anything for D.J. She's had a tough life. I won't stand for her being hurt anymore." Though the words had been said without malice, the warning remained clear. |
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Chris nodded an acknowledgment. "Neither will I." |
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The doctor peered at him for a second more; then, obviously deciding Chris meant what he said, Franklin left to take care of the car. |
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Chris stood alone in a stranger's house. He stared at the door separating him from D.J., and he wondered. |
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She'd asked for him. Odd. Why would his name be the one she spoke upon returning to consciousness? Why not the name of her childhood friend? Or, in her drug-induced disorientation, maybe her ex-husband? Or her father? |
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She desired him; that she couldn't hide. She didn't attempt to deny those feelings, even though he denied his own. What lay between them was strong. Its force drew him forward, toward the door, enticed him into the room and forced him to stand at her side. |
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Dan did his job well. The last time Chris had seen D.J. she'd been sticky with blood, and pale as the clean, white sheet that covered her now. Besides digging out the bullet, stitching the hole, and bandaging her shoulder, the good doctor had taken the time to wash the gore from D.J.'s body and clothe her in a flannel shirtone of the doctor's own, from |
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