Ghostwalker 03 - Night Game

you.”

    She looked at her broken arm, at the new cast, unmarred by the rain and water of the bayou. “I suppose you’re going to tell me Lily did this.”

    “She had to check to make certain there was no infection from the alligator bite. You’re on strong antibiotics and painkillers, but with the cast getting wet—”

    “Where’s Peter Whitney?” she demanded, cutting him off.

    “I have no idea. I’ve brought you to a facility where Lily can treat the cancer and we can guard you from Peter Whitney, if, in fact, he’s still alive and is trying to take you back.
    Peter Whitney has nothing to do with this—or with me. I brought you here because it was the only way to keep you alive.”

    “That’s not your decision to make.” She was holding on by a thread, rocking back and forth to try to soothe the pain. How could he have taken away her free will?

    “It is my decision, Flame. It should have been. I love you and…”

    “Damn you to hell for even saying that.” She jerked the cloth from her face and for the first time forced herself to look at him. It was a terrible mistake. He didn’t look like the devil. He looked like the man she loved with his dark wavy hair and his impossible eyes.
    His sinful mouth and perfect body. Instead of the anger and rage she so desperately needed, she broke down.

    The storm inside her body took over and she heard a long wail of grief break free. It tore through her insides and escaped before she could contain it. Flame buried her face in the pillow in an attempt to muffle the sound of her sobbing. She’d given him something so precious. Not her body, or even her love, but she trusted him. She didn’t want to see shadows in his eyes, or a face ravaged by worry. She wanted to hate him the way he deserved to be hated.

    The bed shook with her sobs. The room shook. Gator stood against the wall listening to her crying as if he’d not just broken her heart, but ripped it out of her body. He’d destroyed her. There was no way to comfort her, nothing he could find to say that she would understand. He sank into the small armchair he’d set by the door and covered his face with his hands. He’d expected anger, rage, an emotion he could cope with, but she was killing him with her grief. And it was grief. Her grief was destroying him.

    He felt her pain as if it were his own. He’d done the right thing, taken the only avenue available to him. His chest tightened and his throat ached. Tears burned in his eyes. He’d done this to her. He’d made the decision to save her life, knowing he’d probably lose her, but he hadn’t considered the consequences beyond that. He thought he could bear losing her as long as he knew she was alive, but he couldn’t bear being the one to cause her such pain.

    Flame felt a hand on her shoulder. Her first reaction was to shrug it off, but the hand was soft and thin, the scent strong of lavender. The hand stroked back her hair and a soft voice murmured comforting words. “There, there, cher . It will be all right. I’m here now.
    We’ll make it all right.”

    “Nonny?” Was she hallucinating? She turned her head to see the little old lady standing beside her bed, her eyes filled with concern. “You can’t be here.” She tried to get the words out between the tearing sobs. Her breathing was so ragged, her throat so sore, she could barely get the words out. Worse, she was going to be sick again.

    Flame groped blindly for the tray, vomiting over and over until she had the dry heaves.
    Nonny took the tray from her and pushed the wet washcloth into her hand. Somewhere in the room, Raoul watched and that knowledge only added to her humiliation. How could he do this to her?

    Nonny was back, slipping an arm around her and taking the cloth, replacing it with a glass of water. “This will pass, Flame. Lily said you might be sick.”

    Flame fought to control the wild weeping. She’d learned a long time ago it didn’t do any good. It only gave her a headache and made her angry with herself for giving Whitney the satisfaction of getting to her. Now it was Raoul. Another sob escaped. How could he have done it?

    I had no choice.

    Flame closed her eyes, ashamed of her lack of control. The intensity of her emotions was so strong she was connecting with him. She made an effort to pull herself together. Control. Discipline. Patience . She repeated it over and over until she calmed the wild storm enough to sip the water and gain a