Page 99 of To Have and to Hold

“Emme?”

I shifted onto my back, eyes peeping open. The hospital room was shrouded with dim light at my request. Not too dark—never that, never again—but not too debilitating, either. It put the figure over my bed in soft, golden detail. “Spence. I’ve been asking for you.”

“I’ve been out in the waiting room.” He dragged a chair over to the side of my bed and sat down. “Your nurse is no joke.”

I ventured a grin. “She also functions as a bouncer. I mean it. She works part-time.”

The nurse, Latrice, held the firm countenance of a pro but also patted my hand and played off my focus onto light topics of conversation when I was being examined. As they scraped under my fingernails, I learned about her work, her nephew’s schooling, her passion for dirty martinis. Every discussion led away from my throat being bandaged, my reactionary pupils, the combs against my skin searching for forensic evidence, the questions about any penetration.

“I believe that.” He met my smile, but it faded at the edges. “I’m glad.”

I attempted to loosen the catch in his voice. “I should let you in on a secret. The kidnapping was all a ploy to get you to talk to me again.”

Spence’s head fell forward. “Emme, I…”

“Shh.” I gripped his hand that he’d settled loosely on the bed. “We don’t have to do this.”

“When I was told you went missing, I lost it. I couldn’t believe who they were talking about. You.” He raised his head. “That feeling was…”

“Would be the same if our roles had been reversed,” I finished. “Utter distortion. Emptiness.”

“Yes.” He motioned with his chin to the cast on my arm. “But what are feelings when what you endured is so much worse.”

“Not all,” I said quietly. I waited, making sure I had his full attention. “There was one thing that kept me going and made me think I could actually survive. That I wouldn’t die in that room or surrender to that man.”

His brows lowered.

“Your annoying voice.”

Spence’s resultant guffaw was sweet music.

“I’m serious,” I said. “‘Solve the problem, Emme. Look for the flaws in people and in the rooms they live in.’ All that crap I remembered from our…from when we were together.” I squeezed his hand as his fingers curled around mine. “I kept him talking. I used what I had in that room to protect myself.”

“Is that what happened to his face?”

I nodded. “Gum, a metal bucket, batteries, and polyetherine.”

“Poly…” His expression went slack. “You are one impressive lady MacGyver.”

“Who was he? The man that took me?” I asked.

Spencer released my hand. “His name is—was, Dexter Abrams. District Attorney.” He paused. “My boss.”

“What?” I stared straight ahead as the shockwave hit. “I knew I recognized him from somewhere, but why would he—why me? Was it because of…of my relationship with you?”

“No. It wasn’t a connection to me.” He fisted his hand on top of my sheet. I knew that gesture.

“Spence. Tell me. If anything, I’d rather hear it from you than anyone else.”

“Do you remember meeting him?” Spence asked instead.

I also recognized that tactic. “Vaguely. At a gala I helped organize a few months ago, I think. I was so sure I nailed him as a client, but he walked away. I assumed I made zero impression on him.” I added dully, “Little did I know.”

“It wasn’t obsession. Well, not in the usual sense. Meeting you that one time didn’t set off some kind of dormant fetish that had to be satisfied. This was a cancer Abrams was nursing for years. Because of your father.”

Pause. “My dad?”

“He and Abrams go way back. They went to law school together. Abrams—”

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