Page 105 of Reluctantly His

The only sound was the storm raging outside.

That must have been what woke me.

I took a few deep breaths, calming my heart rate, and the machine stopped beeping all on its own.

The rain pelted the windows, and a flash of lightning lit up my room.

It’s just a storm. No reason to worry.

I lay back down on the thin mattress, resting my head on the pillow Olivia had brought me because, according to her, thin hospital pillows were the devil’s invention.

Thunder rolled through the air again, a loud crack of pressure.

I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come.

Another flash of lightening and another crack of thunder, but there was something else.

A different noise like a shuffling, and then the creak of my door opening.

Probably a nurse coming to take more blood or check on the monitor.

Or Reid coming back in.

He had been by my side constantly, even when I asked for some time to think, he’d propped his feet on my bed and said I had all the room I needed for thought.

It took some convincing, but eventually, he’d left to shower and change. Still, I knew he wouldn’t stay away long, preferring to sleep in the chair next to my bed.

I sat up, prepared to greet whoever had come into my room when a black canvas bag was forced over my head. The monitor started screeching as I clawed at the hands holding the bag tight around my neck.

“Shut that thing off,” a gruff and slightly accented voice said, before my IV was ripped out and the sensors taken off my body.

Hands grabbed at my arms and legs and hauled me off the bed.

I fought with everything I had, kicking and punching out, but it wasn’t enough.

My bare feet hit solid muscle, and soon I was put in some kind of chair and strapped down.

“Reid!” I screamed, silenced only when something slammed across my face. Blood filled my mouth as my body jerked, flooding me with pain from my gunshot wounds.

“That is the last time you ever fucking say his name,” a cold British voice sneered. “You will learn your place, one way or another.”

My head swam. It took me a second to realize we were moving. The chair I was in was being rolled out of the hospital.

“Where are you taking me?” My words were slurred, my stomach ached, and something hot and thick ran down my arm from where the IV had been ripped from my vein.

“Where you belong,” that voice said.

I knew that voice, but I couldn’t place it.

My eyelids were heavy, my ears were ringing, and I had to fight to stay awake.

“Is she really worth all this trouble?” one of the voices asked.

“No, but her father’s fortune is,” the familiar British voice answered. “We need to hurry. This is the first time she has been without her bodyguard. He is probably on his way back.”

“The dumb bitch opened her legs, and now he thinks he has a claim to her.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not afraid of a rent-a-cop.”