Page 24 of Martyr
I open the door, only pausing to glance back at her.
And that’s when I spot Saint Hart.
The back of him anyway. But who else has his hair, his stature, and histattoos? He wears a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, the former doing nothing to hide the artwork on his arms or neck. His hair is cut short in the back, a fade into a slightly longer top.
“Mr. Laurent?” Dr. Hawthorne murmurs.
I focus on her, then back to Saint—and he’s gone.
Damn it.
I shake my head and step into Lyssa’s room. The flowers on the tables have been changed recently, the water in the glass vases clear and fresh. And she lies in the center of her bed, her hair brushed, her skin clean.
My heart skips.
I go to her side and take her hand in mine. I run my thumb across her knuckles. There’s no change, no flicker of life in her expression—or in her hand. It’s cool and dry, just like every other time I’ve touched her.
And, just like every other time, my stomach knots.
I release her and turn away, satisfied that she hasn’t been left destitute—or, worse, that these other residents have been malicious. Outwardly.
“I want her skin inspected for bruises,” I say. “And her door should be locked.”
Dr. Hawthorne clears her throat. “Only a few of my staff hold keys. That in itself is a safety concern, and not just for Lyssa. For this entire facility. And if something were to happen?—”
A million scenarios flash through my head. A fire, and prone Lyssa trapped with no one there to help her escape. If she choked, if her heart stopped, if she somehow fell from bed or had a seizure…
I can’t compromise that aspect of Lyssa’s care.
I wave her off. “Fine. Let’s discuss other measures, then. In your office.”
I lean down and press a kiss to Lyssa’s forehead, then sweep past her, back into the hallway. I scan it for signs of Saint and continue to do so on the way to the doctor’s office. My gaze absorbs the lack of a computer on her desk. The discreet filing cabinet in the corner.
Paper filing system? I suppose that makes sense to prevent hackers… and they’re on an island. Who’s going to sneak onto the island to rifle through files in a locked office? The sheer number of obstacles in the way…
Plus, it forces would-be thieves to put themselves in physical danger, instead of hiring out to hackers.
It’s smart.
It puts a damper on my plans to get off this islandthenfigure out how Saint ended up here, but alas. I have no doubt an opportunity will present itself at some point during my stay.
Gotta admit, I sort of pictured Saint and Artemis holed up somewhere, scheming…
But Isle of Paradise wasn’t on the radar.
Hmm.
“Mr. Laurent,” Dr. Hawthorne begins.
Almost immediately, her phone chimes twice. It’s followed by a low tone that echoes from the hallway.
She was halfway seated, but now she rises. “I’m so sorry. Can you excuse me for a moment?”
She’s out the door before I can muster a response. I wait a few seconds, then poke my head out the door.
The corridor is empty.
See? Opportunity.
