Page 27 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

“This will only take a minute.” A different woman’s authoritative voice.

Familiar?

Maybe. But he couldn’t place it.

The door to his room flew open, nearly hitting the wall.

“Now, wait a minute—” The nurse called from somewhere down the hallway. “You can’t just barge in there!”

But she had.

This tall woman hesitated for just a second, then marched over to his bed.

Did he know her?

“James.” She spit out his name as if the very sound of it burned her tongue. And she sure looked like she knew him. And probably hated him. “Where is she?”

“What? Who’re you?”

She hesitated, but her dark eyes sparked. “Are you for real?” She glared at him. “You’re not seriously going to play that game with me.”

“Do I know you?” He pushed on the button to raise the head of his bed.

She made a sound of disbelief. “Do you know me?” she repeated with more than a little contempt. “Save it, okay? Don’t try any of that amnesia BS on me. It won’t work.”

“Look, lady—”

“Lady?” She rolled those expressive eyes, and her lips tightened. And in that second, he had a flash of memory. He did know her. He remembered her face, the glint of intelligence in her eyes, the crest of her cheekbones, and her quick dimple when she smiled. And then there was the anger . . .

“What did you do to her?” Her lips were flat against her teeth. “If you did anything to hurt her, I swear I’ll—”

“Stop!” Nurse Rictor swept into the room. “You need to leave,” she ordered in a take-no-prisoners voice. “Now.”

“You’ll do what?” James demanded of the visitor, his head finally level with hers.

“You can’t threaten a patient,” the nurse said, but the woman didn’t budge. Her dark hair was wound into a messy bun at the base of her neck, her face slightly flushed, skin taut over high cheekbones. In jeans and a coat cinched tightly around her waist, she was mad as hell. But there was something in her expression, an emotion that didn’t quite match her fury.

Fear?

Complicity?

Something wasn’t right here, he sensed. His memory might be elusive, but he’d always prided himself on his ability to read people, and with this woman, something was definitely off. “Who are you, and why the hell are you threatening me?”

“Ms. Travers.” Rictor interjected her voice a little more calmly as she attempted to take control. “If you’ll just wait until Mr. Cahill has seen the doctor—”

“I want to hear what she has to say,” James cut in. Ms. Travers? But not the woman he remembered attacking him.

“Where’s Megan?” she demanded.

“Who are you?”

Something dark crossed behind her eyes, an emotion beyond her anger. “You seriously don’t remember me.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Save it. And I don’t think you’ve been sorry in your life.”

The nurse let out a frustrated sigh. “Ms. Travers—”

---