Page 11 of Legacy of Danger
He pressed a meaty palm to the wall near her head. The thick scent of greasy male clogged her nose. His other arm rose on the other side of her.
Hauling air in and out of her lungs, she whipped her head from side to side. She gulped.Oh no. Her vision blurred at the edges and her head swam. Mariah so did not do confinement in any physical form. Not after... Damn it, she needed to step away from this situation before her flashbacks took over.
No help? No problem. She'd get out of this mess herself.
If only she didn't have a severe allergy to personal confrontation. She could assert herself if a patient's life was at risk, but any other situation? Not her comfort zone at all. But enough was enough. She peered down the hallway. No one in sight; all the nurses must be in morning report. Great.
She tried a test duck, but he slid that hand down next to her shoulder and blocked her exit. Then he smiled, the curl of his damp lips triggering a rush of bile up her esophagus. Too familiar. Too much like before.
The hospital linoleum beneath her feet shifted into plywood in her mind's eye as her memories turned this unpleasant situation into a past horror. She was stuck in that room all over again.
Air. She couldn't get enough air into her tight lungs.
No more nice doctor.
"Mr. Brand, I need to go see patients. Thank you for the offer, but I'm not interested." She forced herself to meet his too-avid leer. Damn it, she'd need a shower to wash away the taint of his gaze all over her. "At all. Ever." Her voice rose, the words coming out clipped and salty. "And do let me know if you'd like the answer provided in smaller words or interpretive dance. I'll do whatever is necessary to get the point across."
"Not possible." A red stain crawled up his neck and face.
As she slid under his big arms, she got a weird tingle over her skin.
Safety. Like a cocoon.
God, how she wished. She peered around. A stairwell, an empty public restroom, and the dead end of a long hall. No safe haven here.
"Okay. We're done here." She edged farther away from Wyatt.
In a burst of movement, the coffee mug flew out of her hand with a crash. A painful pinch on her upper arm, and suddenly she stopped flush against the wall. Air left her in a coughing whoosh, and her pulse skidded out of control. His face loomed inches away.
What the hell? This gorilla had actually put a hand on her.
"I'm not good at taking 'no' for an answer, Mariah. We'd be so great together. Give us a chance." He gripped her arm; her past and present slammed together in nasty juxtaposition. "You saying that you're too good for me?"
Her ears buzzed. This entire situation was surreal. Couldn't be happening. "No. No, I—" She should scream. She should run. She shouldn't freeze like this. Like she did before... before. She opened her mouth. No sound came out.
His fingers dug into her bicep. Tears burned her eyelids. "Then I don't see what there is to discuss," he said. "Unless maybe you like the chase or making the man work for it. Or maybe you like rough stuff? Okay. I can play that game, little teaser." He raised his empty hand.
And just like in that nightmare from long ago, she flinched away.
A low growl nearby, and the hairs stood on her arms as a large man entered her tunneled field of vision, sucking up the light behind Wyatt.
Vaughn Taggart slid in front of her and wrapped his hand around Wyatt's wrist until the man let go of Mariah. Then Vaughn walked, one big man pushing another back, step by slow step. Wyatt gave a guttural grunt as his eyes widened, then narrowed.
"This is none of your business, Taggart," Wyatt spat, leaning forward but going nowhere.
Vaughn radiated strength and confidence out of the back seams of his form-fitting gray Henley shirt and faded jeans that stretched over his muscled thighs. He did the best impression of an impassable obstacle she'd ever seen. His stance widened, almost like a fighter at the beginning of her brother's MMA bouts, and then he took another step forward, forcing Wyatt to shuffle backward or fall on his ass.
Good.
"Have a nice day, Wyatt." Even though Vaughn's tone remained low and calm, its intense power rolled through her bones. She actually sagged against the wall.
"But, I was only—" the jerk sputtered.
Vaughn continued to hang onto Wyatt's wrist. To a casual observer, the grip was light and easy. The tell? Tight sinews and blanched knuckles as Vaughn clamped down on those bones. "She doesn't want to talk to you."
Hello? She's right here and can hear you. But maybe now wasn't the time to interrupt the glory of Vaughn Taggart bullying the bully.
"How would you know?" Wyatt seethed, trying to pull away.
