Page 12 of Desire Me
“Have you contacted hospitals? Maybe something happened to her?”
Saint rubbed his eyes hard. “I’d considered it.” Hell, he’d done more than consider it. That was the next step on his list.
“Let me ask you this,” King said, his thoughtful tone sending tension through Saint’s muscles. “I get it: you felt drawn to her enough to take her to your private sanctuary.” King knew exactly how much attraction would have to be present for Saint to allow a woman to enter his home. “You can’t easily forget her, a definite first for you. But…have you considered the possibility that it’s the fact that she left without saying a word, that you can’t find her, that makes her so unforgettable?”
Saint planted his elbows on the arms of his chair and brought his clasped hands to his mouth. He couldn’t ignore King’s point. Was that it? What if his friend was right?
“I mean,” King continued, “why her? Why this woman out of all the women you’ve met, or even slept with?”
“Why Charlotte?”
The words were instinctive but still shocked him. Was he thinking Rae was to him what Charlotte was to King? Impossible.
King considered the question, though, seeming unfazed. “Why? Because Charlotte is…”
“Charlotte.” The perfect fit for King, better than any other woman he’d met.
“Exactly.” His friend sighed, the point sinking home. “But you don’t know Rae. Who she is, what she thinks. How can you know her well enough to be this drawn to her?”
“How long did you need to know Charlotte?”
King’s smile was wry.
“I know Rae. I might not know her name or specifics, but I know her—and in more than just the Biblical sense. I don’t know where that will go after I see her again, but something in my gut will not let this go. I have to find her.”
“And if she snuck out because she just didn’t want anything more?”
Saint shrugged, though his reaction to his friend’s words was anything but casual. “Then I’ll walk away. But I need to hear it from her.”
King stared at him for a long time. Finally he gave a sharp nod. “All right. I agree, you at least need to find her.” He jerked his chin toward the computer. “I’ll help, okay? Tonight.”
Saint started to protest, but King cut him off.
“You need to focus. If you can’t do that with this hanging over your head, either take the day off”—he stood, reached for the heavy watch on his wrist, and began unstrapping it—“or come with me. You’ll pay attention if I have you on the mat, that’s for sure.”
The tightness in Saint’s chest eased the slightest bit. He stood as well. “Are you saying you can take me in a fight? Because we both know that’s a fucking lie.”
King headed for the door. “It isn’t a lie if I can prove it.”
Saint snorted, pausing in the hallway to close and lock his office door. “You can’t prove anything. Besides, you know you don’t want to go home to Charlotte with your pretty-boy face marked up.”
“You think I’m a pretty boy?” King threw kissing sounds over his shoulder. “I’m more than just a pretty face.”
“You better hope so.” Adrenaline began to race through his veins. A fight was just what he needed right now, the chance to focus completely on something other than Rae and his search. To clear his mind and face the problem from a fresh angle later, with his best friend helping. Gratitude mixed with anticipation.
King began a slow jog toward the gym, chuckling. “I don’t hope so; I know so.”
“You don’t know nothin’, bro.” Saint sped up too. Tonight they’d find something; he knew it. For now, King had a target on his face, and Saint was ready for target practice.
Chapter Seven
Leah Marrone took the elevator from the ER to the ICU after her shift was over. She didn’t normally do this. She didn’t allow herself a personal interest in the patients she treated. Her home life and the secrets she kept were complicated enough; her compassion could stretch to treating people, but not to involvement in their private problems.
And yet this patient drew her whether she wanted them to or not.
That morning six days ago, she’d been finishing an overnight shift she’d taken for a friend. Her mind had been on hurrying home, fixing breakfast for her six-year-old daughter, Brooke, and the man who’d recently become so important to both of them. Remi Agozi was staying at Leah’s house to take care of Brooke until Leah arrived home. Just thinking about him brought a tingle to her spine, and she’d been hoping for a discreet hour, the two of them and a bed, alone, before Leah cooked and sent Brooke off to school.
That was when the radio at the nurses’ station squawked with an incoming emergency. Female, late twenties. Hit-and-run downtown. Head trauma, patient unconscious. Probably a good thing considering the pain she’d be in if she weren’t. Leah had watched too many patients scream through the agony of their injuries before her staff could help lessen the pain. Sometimes the unconscious ones were a blessing.
