Finding the Lost
Page 12

She was trembling. Pale. That stone-hard confidence he’d seen earlier was gone now, leaving her looking shattered and afraid. Paul wanted to drag her into his arms, but he didn’t dare touch her. He had to remember that she was only cooperating with him because he’d offered to pay her.
“I’m not leaving you,” he told her. He didn’t think she was in any shape to drive safely. Besides, whatever this was, he wanted to be there for her. Just in case she needed help. He worked for free. “Let me drive you.”
“No, thanks. You can stay here if you want. I don’t care. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She yanked a paper towel off the roll and scrubbed at her wet eyes.
“Anything I can do?” asked Madoc, looking a little too hopeful for Paul’s peace of mind.
“Have you seen my keys?”
“Sorry.”
Without anything else to do to help her, Paul started looking for her keys, too. “Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”
“I appreciate the thought, but there’s nothing you can do but get out of my way so I can find my damn keys.” Her voice caught on a sob, which she tried, and failed, to hide.
Paul couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to comfort her. Help her. Something.
He took her by the arm to turn her around, and the second his palm touched her skin he was swamped with feelings of physical pleasure. He sucked in his breath against the force of it. His body tingled. Sang with joy. Every cell inside him was doing a happy little dance that made him want to bust out in laughter. So much of his life had been spent in pain that he’d forgotten what it was like to live without it.
Andra’s blue eyes widened and she stared at him in shock. Her pupils dilated and her gaze lowered to his mouth.
And then it hit him—a surge of lust that crashed into him and swept him along for the ride. His body hardened so fast it hurt, but even that hurt was a kind of pleasure. His skin grew warm and his blood swelled in his veins. His mouth watered for a taste of her, and his fingers tightened against her skin, seeking closer contact.
Her lips parted as she drew in a startled breath, and he knew he had to kiss her. He was going to force her to open her mouth and let him taste her, and he wasn’t going to stop there. He was going to lay her out on the floor and taste every swath of smooth skin, every sweet hollow and curve. He was going to strip her bare and make her his in the most basic, primitive way he knew.
Mine, his soul screamed, and he knew that if he moved even one inch toward her lips, he’d be lost—unable to stop no matter what she wanted, no matter what emergency she had to deal with. Nothing else in her life could possibly be more important than his need for her.
And that truth poured over him like icy water, dousing his lust until it was only a smoldering pile of longing.
With careful motions, Paul loosened his grasp on Andra and moved his hand away. Losing contact with her left him burning and stinging all over, but he rejoiced in that pain. It meant there was hope—hope that Andra was the woman who could save him.
Now Paul was the one who was shaking.
Andra rubbed her hands over the place where he’d held her shoulders and looked at him with a mix of confusion and fear. “Never again,” she told him. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
Not fucking likely, but he kept his mouth prudently shut and continued his search for her keys. He found them hiding under the lid of an open pizza box and dangled them in front of her. “You’re in no shape to drive. At least let me take you wherever you’re going.”
She hesitated and he could sense her indecision, so he went in for the kill. “Whatever it is, you can’t fix it if you crash on the way there.”
When her shoulders slumped, he knew he’d won. “Fine,” she said. “But if you don’t drive fast enough, I’m throwing you out of my truck.”
Chapter 6
Andra leaped out of the truck as soon as they reached the psychiatric hospital, leaving Paul to find a place to park. The staff at the front desk must have known she was on her way, because they were waiting for her with a visitor badge as soon as she slammed through the front door.
The smells of disinfectant and sorrow clung to the walls of this place, but it was better than the rest of the mental hospitals she’d seen. They charged an arm and a leg for Nika to stay here, but at least they took good care of her. Andra showed up randomly every couple of weeks in addition to her normal weekly visits, and never once in eight years had she seen any signs of mistreatment of the patients. They were clean and resting as calmly as they were able, considering.
Melanie met Andra in the hall outside Nika’s room. She was somewhere in her late forties with smooth, dark skin and huge eyes. The woman never smiled, but she conveyed comfort with the smallest touch of her pudgy hand.
“I didn’t know what else to do but call you,” said Melanie. “My last shift was only two days ago, but I swear she wasn’t so thin then. And no one else seems to see it. None of the doctors listen when I tell them she needs to be put on a feeding tube. It’s like they don’t even see that she’s wasting away.”
Andra knew that Nika had a tendency to go days without eating, but it never lasted. The doctors said it would be more harmful to force her than to let her get hungry enough that her body’s needs overcame her mind’s imaginary fears.
Andra reached for the door, but Melanie stopped her. “We had to restrain her today. She hasn’t had enough to drink, and we had to give her an IV to keep her hydrated. She kept pulling it out.”
“She hates to be restrained,” said Andra. Anger burned in her chest, a welcome relief from the constant grief she felt for her sister.
“I know, honey, but it was for her own good. She kept hurting herself, tearing open her veins. We got the bleeding stopped, but we can’t take any more chances. She’s already so weak. I’m not sure she’d be able to fight off an infection right now.”
Melanie was right. Poor Nika was so delusional that they had to do whatever was necessary to protect her. Keep her safe.
In the back of Andra’s mind, she wondered if keeping Nika alive wasn’t just a cruel form of torture. Maybe it would be kinder to let her go. Let her slip away from the fear and misery that were her life.
If Andra had been a stronger person, maybe she would have done just that. But she wasn’t. She was weak and selfish. She’d already let one sister die. She couldn’t let that happen to the other one. She needed Nika to live.
Andra put her hand on the door and prayed for strength.
Melanie gave Andra a quick hug. “You need to know that there’s some blood on her gown. We normally would have changed her, but it caused her so much distress that we just let her be. Fresh clothes can wait for a few hours.”
Andra nodded and opened the door to Nika’s room.
She’d seen Nika in distress before, but nothing could have prepared her for the wild look of fear in her sister’s eyes. She was fighting against the restraints that held her in the hospital bed. Angry purple bruises marred her arms where the IVs had been ripped out. Her white nightgown was splattered with drops of blood, and the woman beneath the gown had become dangerously thinner than she’d been only four days ago. Her face was gaunt, her pale blue eyes sunken and fever-bright with terror. She cried fat tears that soaked the white hair at her temples.
Andra bit back a wail of grief. Poor Nika. So lost in her own world of nightmares. Nothing Andra had done had ever helped.
Andra swallowed her tears and went to her sister.
Paul saw Logan and Madoc pull into the parking lot behind him. Madoc was driving, and Paul went to his window. “You coming in?”
Logan was in the back, covered up to prevent the last few rays of sunlight from touching his skin. “Where are we?” he asked.
“Twin Oaks Hospital.”
“That’s a psychiatric facility,” said Logan.
“Great. Andra’s in there with a bunch of crazies.” Paul really didn’t care for the notion, and itched to get back to her side, where he could keep her safe.
“Any idea why we’re here?” asked Madoc.
“None. She wouldn’t say a thing on the drive over. Except to tell me to drive faster.”
“I think I’ll leave this to you, man. I’m more likely to scare the people in there than anything.”
“Okay. Sit tight. I’ll call you when I know what’s going on.”
It took a little fast-talking to convince the woman at the front desk to let him enter the mental hospital, but Paul managed to win his way inside. A burly orderly es corted him to the room where Andra had gone, and he silently slipped inside.
Andra sat beside the bed holding the hand of a frail young woman with striking white hair. The woman thrashed on the bed, fighting the restraints that held her in place. A series of pitiful moans filled the room, echoing off the stark walls.
“It’s okay, Nika,” soothed Andra, stroking the woman’s pale hair back from her forehead. “I’m here now. You’re going to be okay.”
Slowly, Nika began to calm down, though whether it was from Andra’s words or sheer exhaustion, Paul had no idea.
As soon as Nika relaxed and saw Andra was there, the glazed look of fear faded from the woman’s delicate features. She was maybe twenty, and though her hair was white where Andra’s was brown, there was no mistaking the family resemblance in their faces. They had the same full lips, high cheekbones, and bright blue eyes—like a clear winter sky. Nika was much thinner than Andra, even to the point of being gaunt, and it gave her a fragile, ethereal appearance that contrasted harshly with Andra’s healthy strength.
Paul itched to know the relationship between them, but didn’t dare ask. He felt desperation in the room—a subtle thrumming of frantic energy that did not dissipate. It was coming from Nika, almost as if she had fought her way through her insanity because Andra was here. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.
“Andra?” asked the younger woman. Her voice was raw from screaming and faint with fatigue.
“I’m here, Nika. Right here.”
Nika’s body went limp, and she stopped trying to fight the restraints. “Please make them let me go. I can’t stand being chained down.”
“You’re not chained down, honey. They put these restraints on you to keep you from pulling out the IV.”
“I won’t pull it out. I promise.” Tears welled in Nika’s eyes as they pleaded for freedom.
Andra looked at the nurse who was standing unobtrusively in the corner of the room. “I’m letting her up,” she told the nurse.
“It’s not a good idea,” said the nurse.
Andra ignored the advice and started to unfasten the restraints around Nika’s arms. “She’s not fighting anymore, and I can’t stand to see her like this.”
As soon as Nika was free, she sat up and grabbed Andra around the neck in a fierce hug. She looked small next to Andra. Almost childlike. “I’m so glad you’re here. I tried to call out to you, but you couldn’t hear me,” said Nika.