The tabloid crumpled in my hand. “I got your ‘boy’ right here, Eddie.”

“Temper, temper. I’m only speaking truth, is all. Your brother’s a loon; your daddy was a drunk. Then there’s that airhead sister of yours.” His lips stretched into a crooked grin. “But as I recall, her brain wasn’t her best asset.”

Close to losing my shit, I crammed the tabloid into my pillowcase. Eddie’s crude remarks about Bev had spawned our last disagreement.

“Did I poke a button?” Eddie asked in mock innocence. He nudged my shoulder again. “Speaking of poking, you do any of that fancy dancin’ for your butt buddies during shower time?”

SHANNON

____________________________

I had just claimed a payphone outside the cafeteria when I heard the scream—a woman’s. The crash that followed jarred me like a lightning bolt.

Two security guards charged down the corridor soon afterward; the ensuing breeze ruffled my bangs. While their faces looked familiar, their names escaped me. All I knew was they were related to Eddie Gray.

The duo raced around the corner yelling into their walkie-talkies. Static drowned out most of what they'd said, but one word was unmistakable: Dawson.

Before I realized it, I was hobbling after them, bruised hip, sore leg, and all. The noise led me to the lobby and what I saw froze my blood. The two guards had pinned Trace to the wall while Eddie punched him in the ribs.

I evaluated the situation in a glance.

At least sixty people looked on, but no one moved to stop the beating. The men were transfixed, the women frightened. All seemed caught up in the moment, like spectators at a prizefight.

Time slipped back, and I was at the plaza again. What are you waiting for? Trace didn’t hesitate when he saw the Jeep.

I sighed and crossed myself. “God help me.”

Weaving through the crowd, I reluctantly limped my way over to Eddie. Getting there wasn’t easy—it was standing room only. People were rooted in place, unwilling to give any leeway, which was absolute murder on my leg.

The shouts, whistles, and catcalls grew louder the closer I got. Half a minute went by before I reached them.

“Stop it,” I finally said, catching my breath. “That’ll be enough!”

The noise level dropped and everyone turned in my direction.

Eddie shot me a dismissive look while the guards held Trace. “Why don’t you go back to terrorizing my daddy instead of sticking your nose in here?”

He was talking about my calls to Sheriff Gray, calls the old cuss had yet to return. “That’s none of your business.”

“And this is none of yours.” To his men he barked, “Gimme some cuffs.”

But Trace had other ideas. Seconds later, Eddie had a thick wad of spit oozing down his sweaty forehead.

Before Eddie could retaliate, I blurted the first thing that popped into my mind. “Touch him again and you’ll have a pink slip within the hour.”

Eddie rounded on me, chest heaving. He angrily wiped the spit from his fat face. “What’d you say?”

“My uncle is chairman of the Bradford Group—the same philanthropic organization that saved this hospital from financial ruin two years ago. And I’ve a seat on the board of directors.” I levered my chin. “Contract or not, Gray Security can be replaced in a heartbeat.”

“Why, you little bit—”

Eddie cut his own words short and stared beyond me, his eyes wide with dread. I glanced over my shoulder only to see Eddie’s wife elbowing her way through the mob. A frizzy-haired brunette with bad skin and bushy eyebrows, Dee Dee Gray worked part-time in the hospital-billing department. She’d had a baby in her belly for five of the six years they were married.

“Get back,” she yelled at Eddie, parking her pregnant body between us.

“But, honey, she threatened my job!”

Dee Dee glowered at me. “Typical. You Bradfords are all alike, throwing your weight around and everything.”

“If anyone abused power, your husband did.” I fired a look at Eddie. “So do me a favor and don’t force my hand.”

Eddie glared at Trace who’d since wilted against the wall. “It don’t matter anyway. Dawson violated parole when he threw his first punch.”

“I never touched your sorry ass,” Trace barked.

Eddie’s bloated face turned a frightening shade of red. “You jumped up and kicked me when I tried to make a citizen’s arrest. That’s assault in my book.”

“And of course you did nothing to provoke him,” I said, keeping my voice low. When the ape smirked, I realized that had been his intention all along. “I don’t make idle threats, Edward. You want to keep your job? Let it go.”

Ignoring his crude response, I glared at the other two guards. They knew the score. Walk away or risk scouring the want ads. The choice was theirs and they made the right one.

“Come on.” Dee Dee tugged Eddie along. He slung a murderous glower at me, then grudgingly followed his wife.

My attention swept to Trace who sat slumped on the floor, hugging his ribs and coughing. Broken glass crunched beneath my boots as I stooped next to him. I could almost feel the crowd’s reproving eyes searing me, but even I had to question my own actions. Not one to abuse the power behind my name, I hated the threats I’d had to make, but I couldn’t think about that now. There would be time enough to fall apart later.

Trace didn’t recoil once I cupped his face. The day’s growth rasped my palm. He had a split lip and an almond-sized knot under one eye. God only knew what his chin looked like beneath that bandage. “Are you okay?”

He coughed out a “Yeah.”

“Why were you fighting with Eddie?”

“We’ve got…issues.”

“Issues?”

“Yeah.”

My concern deepened. “How’s your chin?”

“It’s nothin’,” he said while time took another breather.

Just like at the plaza, our gazes held. He searched my eyes with a thoroughness that gave me pause. His stare felt invasive, as if he was trying to peel away my protective layers. I trembled inside. A question that had plagued me for months centered my thoughts. Was his the last face Mother saw?

“Trace.” I swallowed. “There’s something I need to—”

“Why?”

I blinked. “Pardon?”

His brows flickered in question. “Why’d you help me?”

A horn blasted outside the hospital, the noise invading the surreal cocoon that encircled us. I looked up to see a yellow cab idling beside the curb.

“There’s my ride,” Trace said.

The spell was broken.

I anchored my shoulder under his and wrapped an arm around him. The contact made me shiver. He must’ve felt it too, because he tossed a bemused glance my way. His stomach muscles rippled beneath my fingers while he fought for balance. He was so close his heat branded me and his scent tugged me back to the past. He smelled the same as before. Like Ivory soap and man.

The cabby rode the horn.

“Wait,” I breathed. “You need a doctor.”

He limped away. “Forget it. I’m gone.”

Cradling a hand to his ribs, he scooped up his belongings and headed for the exit. Wind rushed the lobby once the automatic doors slammed back. It blew the flaps of his jacket open, but he didn’t button up. A heaviness squeezed my chest when he winced as he eased into the cab. It was insane. I was actually worried about him. Oh, God, was I losing my mind?

I was about to slink away when the taxi pulled off, but the brake lights flashed twice. The vehicle backed up and lurched to a stop. Muffled shouts followed and the door flew open with Trace tearing out of the cab.

Pain must have stabbed him because he winced again, then yelled a litany of four, five, and six-letter-words. The cabby barked a choice word in answer, then flipped him the bird and roared off. Obviously, the man recognized him and decided he posed a danger.

I watched Trace’s shoulders fall, like all the fight had been sucked out of him, and compassion welled in my heart. As if in a trance, I stepped through the automatic doors, closing the distance between us. Tall as a god, he towered over me. His shadow blocked what little sunlight squeezed past the clouds.