Racing Against the Clock

She had to get out of here. Before Daycon’s goons came back. Before the police showed up. Before Dr. Handsome returned and started demanding answers. She knew he hadn’t believed her when she’d lied about not knowing her own name. She had seen the suspicion in his dark eyes, had heard the doubt echo in the richly resonant tones that matched his cautious demeanor. She lied to protect him, to keep him from getting any more involved with her than he already was.

And any minute he would be back, wanting to take her to surgery. Hannah couldn’t allow that to happen. If she succumbed to anesthesia she would be too vulnerable.

What a predicament.

She had no money, no identification and no clothes. Plus, she had a movie-star handsome doctor who made her pulse race and wanted to slice her open. To top it all off, she was starving.

As if to illustrate the point, her stomach growled.

“Forget food. Get moving, Hannah,” she whispered.

First things first. She had to focus, had to find where the hospital staff had stashed her clothes. She took a hesitant step toward the cabinet below the shiny stainless-steel sink in the corner. Her leg seemed to be working fine. Fractured indeed. Dr. Handsome had better learn how to read X rays. Thankfully for her, his diagnosis left a lot to be desired.

Reassured that everything was in proper working order, she stalked over to the sink and rummaged beneath it. Betadine wash. Antiseptic hand soap. Scrub brushes. Nothing that looked like her beige car coat, navy-blue jumper, black penny loafers and white-lace cotton blouse.

Hurry, you’ve got to get out of here before that studly doctor comes back.

She shut the cabinet door and closing the back of her immodest hospital gown with two fingers, moved across the floor to investigate the other side of the room.

There was a brown paper sack on the floor wedged behind a chair, beneath a heavy metal supply rack.

Aha. This looked promising.

Hannah bent over and touched the sack with her fingertips, but her arms were too short to reach it. The sack slid farther against the wall.

Shoot.

She settled herself onto her knees in the chair and leaned over the back, allowing the tail of her gown to flap as she strained to extend her arm. She was concentrating so hard on reaching her coveted prize that she didn’t hear the door whisper open, but the next sound drew her attention.

A throat being cleared.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dr. Tyler Fresno demanded.

Chapter 2

Her head came up. Her eyes were wide and scared, but Tyler could not get the image of that round little fanny from his mind. When he had walked through the door and spotted the woman bending over the back of that chair, the thin cotton hospital gown draping loosely around her legs and revealing her naked backside, his initial response had been utterly masculine and not at all professional.

Physical passion, hot, hard and more powerful than anything Tyler had experienced in the past six years kicked him solidly in the gut. He had no business entertaining these thoughts. None whatsoever. Yet there they were.

Jane Doe scurried to her feet and spun around, a red stain coloring her cheeks. “I was just trying to find my things,” she said, fumbling to close her gown and hide her nudity.

Immediately contrite, he was embarrassed at his overt sexual desire.

Then surprise ambushed him as he realized what she had been doing. The woman should not be able to stand on that leg, much less kneel in the seat of a chair. The pain would be too great.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he demanded, stalking toward her.

She backed up, her chest rising and falling so rapidly he couldn’t stop himself from noticing the swell of her firm, unfettered breasts beneath that skimpy gown.

He shifted his stare to her right leg. The limb supported her without even trembling. Impossible! Confused, Tyler shook his head. The intern must have been wrong about the hairline fracture.

Jane Doe squared her shoulders, raised her head and took a stand. “I’m leaving the hospital against medical advice. Please, get me my clothes.”

“No,” he said.

“You can’t hold me here against my will. I know my rights as a patient.”

“The police are outside. They want to talk to you.”

Her color paled and she looked stricken. “The police? Why would they want to speak to me?”

“About the accident. They’re saying that someone tried to run you off the road.”

“No.” She forced a laugh. “Where did they get that idea?”

“Eyewitnesses.” She was clearly afraid of the police. Why? Was she in some kind of trouble?

Tyler sank his hands on his hips and studied her face. The look of desperation in her eyes sliced him deep. He’d seen a similar expression before. In his own mirror. He remembered what it was like to feel utterly desperate and completely out of control.

After Yvette had died he’d gone off the deep end, drinking too much and isolating himself. Six weeks after her death, he’d taken off for Big Bend National Park and walked into the desert without any supplies, determined to stay there until he died. Three days later, dehydrated and malnourished, he’d become delusional and staggered into an illegal immigrant’s camp. The man could have left him for dead. He’d taken a great risk, but he had stayed with Tyler and nursed him back to health. If a considerate stranger hadn’t given him sanctuary during that grim time in his life, he would not have survived.

Did Jane Doe need that kind of help from him now?

Yeah, like you’re capable of giving it. When was the last time you altruistically did anything for anyone? his cynical voice taunted.

After Yvette’s death, he had become so accomplished at shutting off his own feelings that his concerns for his patients never extended beyond their surgical recovery time. What mattered to Tyler was that he performed their operations to the best of his ability. After that, it was out of his hands. He hadn’t cared about their family life or spiritual well-being. He hadn’t bothered with learning how they got around at home or if they had someone to cook and clean for them while they recovered. That was the job of social workers and nurses, not surgeons.

He was too rusty. His do-gooder instincts were flabby and out of shape. He should just get someone from social services to come consult on her case so he could wash his hands of everything but her medical condition.

Inside his head, he heard Yvette click her tongue that way she had when she was disappointed in him. He could almost feel her disapproving frown burning the back of his head.

Angrily, he shrugged off the sensation. Dammit! He had no reason to feel guilty. He hadn’t asked for this assignment. He wasn’t this woman’s savior. Nor was she even asking him to be. He didn’t want to get involved.

I’m my brother’s keeper. Yvette’s motto—his own old motto before he’d lost touch with his humanity—echoed in his ears.

Ah, hell.

“No one forced me off the road,” Jane Doe denied. “The eyewitnesses are mistaken. It was wet and getting dark. I was driving too fast. My car hydroplaned and flipped.”

“You can remember the accident but you can’t remember your name?”

She shrugged.

He swept his gaze over her body, befuddled at the suddenness of her physical transformation. A short time ago she had been immobile, barely conscious. Her face had been lacerated and her blood pressure low. She had come into contact with an unknown chemical that was quite possibly toxic and she had acute upper-right quadrant pain. Now, she presented the picture of health. Her pasty color had been replaced by a lively pink sheen. Blond hair that had been damp and matted with blood now hung soft and luxuriant down her back. Plus, she was placing full weight on the bone that supposedly had a hairline fracture.

Something didn’t jive. He had seen Olympic athletes that hadn’t looked as good.

Then he remembered the results of the woman’s blood work. The low white blood cell count, the elevated platelets, the numerous lymphocytes. She didn’t look like an advanced cancer victim, either. Tyler narrowed his eyes and stroked his chin as he contemplated the evidence.

Maybe the chemicals she’d absorbed through her skin during the accident had altered her blood values, mutating her cells in some bizarre manner that resembled cancer. It was possible, although rare, to see such a change so quickly after exposure, but then again nothing about this woman seemed normal or predictable.

He had to get to the bottom of this anomaly. He had to find out how she could go from obtunded to robust in the span of half an hour.

What exactly had been in those vials?

“Get back on the gurney,” Tyler commanded, pointing a finger at the stretcher.

Jane Doe raised her chin and glared at him defiantly. “No.”

“I will not allow you to leave this hospital until I’ve examined you.”

“You can’t stop me.” Her blue eyes flashed fire.

He folded his arms over his chest and moved to block the doorway. “Maybe not, but the police can. Shall I call them?”

“This is an outrage.” She frowned. “It’s blackmail.”

“Sit,” he commanded again and pointed at the bed. This time, she obeyed.

Jane Doe scooted herself up onto the gurney but instead of lying down, she stayed sitting on the edge, her feet dangling inches above the floor. She looked like a disgruntled kid forced to eat her broccoli before being allowed to have chocolate cake.

“Has it occurred to you that something isn’t quite kosher here?” Tyler asked, stepping closer to the stretcher.

“What do you mean?”

“Your leg. It should be causing you terrible pain.”

He could explain away her irregular lab values in the face of renewed health, and it was within the realm of possibility that her spleen had stopped bleeding on its own without surgical intervention. But he could not, no matter how hard he tried, come up with an explanation for why she could bear weight on her fractured leg.

“I’ll tell you what’s not kosher,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Your diagnosis. Admit your mistake, Doctor. You were wrong about the fracture. Obviously, my leg is not broken.”

“Let’s check the film.”

He stepped to where her X rays were clipped to a fluorescent, wall-mounted box and switched on the backlight. The bulb flickered a minute, then illuminated the view of her right-upper leg.

“See that,” he said, pointing to the thin dark line that ran almost the entire length of her long bone. “That’s what we call a capillary fracture. The mildest fracture, but a fracture nonetheless. You should be in considerable pain.”

“It simply isn’t my X ray,” she denied.

“It’s got your name on it.”

“And what name is that?”

“Jane Doe.”

“Yes. A name you give all unknown female patients. Correct?”

“There have been no other Jane Does admitted tonight,” Tyler replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” But her statement caused him momentary doubt. Could it be true?

“Then someone mislabeled the X ray,” she insisted. “You’ve got me mixed up with another patient. That’s all there is to it.”

“I want to X ray your leg again.”

“No need. It’s fine. You saw me walking on it.”

“Appease me.”

“I see no point. Clearly if I can bear weight on the leg it can’t be fractured.”

She had a valid argument. Their gazes caught and he couldn’t help but feel a flare of heat low in his belly. Her eyes were sharp, intelligent. Nothing got by this one.

“You still can’t remember your name?” he asked, flicking off the light under her X ray and coming back to stand beside her.

“No.”

“I want to check your neurological signs.”

“All right.”

At least she hadn’t fought him on this. He removed a penlight from his pocket and flashed it in first one pupil and then the other. Equal and reactive.

“Do you know what day it is?” he asked, testing to see if she was oriented to time and place.

“Thursday. November, the seventh,” she replied.

He nodded. “And where are you at?”

“St. Madeline’s Hospital in Houston, Texas.”

“Here,” he said. “Squeeze my hands.”

She stared at him. “What for?”

“So I can check your grip.”

“Is this really necessary?”

“I don’t bite.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

Why was she so reluctant to touch him? He wriggled his fingers. “Come on.”

Slowly, she took his fingers in her hands and squeezed.

“Harder,” he said.

Her hands were soft and warm and fit perfectly in his. Delicate and feminine hands. She smelled nice, too. Like sunflowers.

“How’s that?” she asked, squeezing with all her might.

“Good.” He met her challenging glare and swallowed back his awkwardness.

“Sure you don’t want it harder?” Her voice held a note of sharp sarcasm. Her stare was disconcertingly intense. His gut knotted.

“That’s fine. You can let go now.”

She released his hands and although Tyler was relieved, he felt vaguely dissatisfied.

“Lie down,” he said. “I want to examine your abdomen again.”

“May I leave after this?”

“Perhaps.” Boy, was she a tough cookie. He had to admire her doggedness.

Sighing, she stretched out on the gurney, crossed her legs at the ankle and propped the back of her head in her palms.

He moved to her side and palpated her spleen. “Is that tender?”

“No.”

“You wouldn’t be lying simply to get out of here, would you?” he asked.

“I’m not above fudging the truth in order to get dismissed,” she admitted and Tyler suppressed a smile at her honesty. “But I’m sincere. It really doesn’t hurt.”

When he had examined her previously she’d had marked guarding of the area and had moaned in pain. Now, she seemed unaffected by his probing. Weird. Her spleen must have stopped bleeding spontaneously. He’d never seen it happen, but he’d heard it was possible. He took her blood pressure—116/78. Textbook normal.

“I really think you should be admitted for observation,” Tyler said. “We don’t know for sure that your spleen isn’t still leaking. What happens if you get down the road a few hours and start hemorrhaging internally?”

“Guess that’s a chance I’ve got to take.” She shrugged.

Concern kicked him hard in the heart. If she wanted to take that risk, why should he care?

He didn’t care.

Yes, you do.

No, I don’t.

Come on, you’ve got to stop being such a crusty old goat eventually. The contrary voice in his head was pure Yvette, goading him to rise to the occasion. She’d always kept him on his moral toes and since she’d been gone he’d slid far down the slippery slope to indifference.

I don’t, he mentally argued.

Yes, you do. Because once upon a time you were self-destructive and your friends stepped in. Right now this woman needs all the friends she can get. Whether she recognizes it or not.

Okay. Fine. He would try to cajole her into staying. That way, if she refused, he could let her go with a clear conscience.

“Why are you so adamant against spending the night?” Tyler asked. “What could it hurt?”

“I have an aversion to hospitals.” She rubbed her arms and he saw goose bumps rise on her skin. That’s when he realized her chemical burns were gone.

He shook his head, blinked and did a double take. He examined her arms and legs. Not a burn insight.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Your burns have disappeared.” Now that really was strange. He frowned, shoved a hand through his hair and wracked his brain for a plausible explanation. A mistake on the X ray he could buy. Her spleen clotting itself off, while unlikely, wasn’t impossible. But now this?

Tyler felt as if he’d just fallen into The Twilight Zone.

What kind of chemicals had been in those vials? Curiosity gnawed at him. She was a complicated woman with disappearing symptoms. He told himself he needed for her to stay so he could get to the bottom of her odd healing, but in reality he wanted to find out who she really was.

Gently, Tyler drew the sheet around her shoulders to warm her. She shied at his touch as if afraid he might harm her. Her lip trembled and she turned her head away from him.

“Please, bring me a release form and I’ll exonerate you from all responsibility,” she said. “I just want to leave.”

“You think a piece of paper will keep me from worrying about you?” Tyler asked, disturbed because what he’d said was true. No matter how much a stubborn part of him longed to deny it, he cared about Jane Doe.

And that scared the living hell out of him.

“If you’re insistent on leaving can I at least call someone for you?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “I…I don’t remember.”

He saw through her like glass. Whenever she lied, the tip of her nose reddened.

“How do you intend to get home? Your car was totaled in the accident.”

“I’ll walk.”

“Do you even know where home is?”

She didn’t answer.

Tyler clenched his teeth. “You didn’t have any identification on you. The paramedics searched your car but couldn’t find a purse. Do you have any money?”

“Are you offering a loan?” She quirked one eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” Tyler said, reaching for his wallet. A wad of cash should take care of the problem. He needn’t get anymore involved than that. “Except it’s a gift, not a loan.”

“Do you often offer needy patients money, Doctor?”

“No.” He hadn’t ever given money to a patient, but Yvette had. Many times. He’d often joked she was driving them into the poor house with her lost causes. His late wife had been a social worker with a marshmallow heart who’d been unable to resist any stray who showed up on her doorstep. He heard Yvette whispering in his ear, Help her.

“I’m special, then.” Jane Doe’s tone was sardonic but the look in her eyes was one of appreciative surprise.

His chest swelled with an odd emotion he couldn’t name. Their gazes locked and he knew it was true. He couldn’t say why or how but this woman was special to him and not just because she obviously needed him. Without even trying, she touched something deep inside him. Perhaps it was the sarcasm that hinted at her hidden vulnerability; perhaps it was her nervousness, perhaps it was because she looked a bit like Yvette—blond, petite, fragile.

Or perhaps it was his own loneliness that he saw reflected in those soft blue eyes. Peering through those cerulean depths and on past into her troubled soul was like staring into a looking glass.

“Yes,” he admitted. “You are special.”

She ducked her head, denying him further access to those tantalizing eyes.

“Please,” he said, extending five twenty-dollar bills to her. “Take the cash.”

“I can’t accept your money.”

She glanced up and he caught another glimpse into those too wise yet oddly naive eyes and drew in a breath. What he was about to suggest overstepped all boundaries of the doctor-patient relationship but he could not bear the thought of her wandering the streets hungry and alone.

He remembered the kind man in the desert who had saved his life when he was at his lowest point. Jane Doe was at that threshold now.

Here’s your opportunity to repay that karmic debt, Yvette’s voice niggled. Not only that, but giving this woman sanctuary is a chance to get the old Tyler back. I miss him. Don’t you?

Tyler clenched his jaw. Why her? Why now? She made him feel something again when he believed he’d lost all ability to feel tender emotions. And he did long to be the man he was before Yvette had died. Concerned, loving, compassionate. He’d forgotten how to be all those things.

This is your chance at redemption.

Offering Jane Doe a place to stay was the right thing to do, even though he feared prolonged proximity to her might alter his fate in ways he never imagined. He needed to do this. In memory of Yvette. In memory of the man he used to be.

“All right.” Tyler pocketed the money. “If you refuse to stay in the hospital and you won’t take my cash then there is only one option left.”

“And that is?”

It was now or never. If he hesitated, he would back out. Tyler took a deep breath and committed himself. “You’ll stay at my secluded beach house on Galveston Island. No one will bother you. You can rest, collect your thoughts and stay until you get your memory back. Is it a deal?”

She had no other choice but to say yes. She couldn’t go back home to Austin. It wasn’t safe. Daycon’s men would be watching her house. And she couldn’t talk to the police. They would make a phone call and discover she was the one responsible for torching Daycon Laboratories. Besides, Daycon was buddies with a rogue CIA operative. He would have no trouble locating her if she didn’t accept help. She had no money for a motel. She needed food and a good night’s sleep before trying to obtain another car so she could get to Marcus in New Mexico. Dr. Fresno’s offer was a gift from heaven.

Hannah gazed into Tyler’s sincere brown eyes and felt guilty for lying to him. But she didn’t know how far she could trust him and as long as she kept her name a secret it offered both of them some small measure of security.

“Why would you do that for me?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Maybe because you’re the most interesting case I’ve ever come across.”

She studied him a moment, trying to figure him out.

“Well?” he asked slanting his head and waiting for her response to his proposal.

“All right,” she agreed.

“There’s just one stipulation.”

Hannah groaned. She should have known there would be a catch. “What is it?”

“You allow me to perform a few more tests.”

Hannah hesitated. She wanted out of this place. Now. The longer she stayed, the more precarious her position became.

“I’ve got to know what happened to you,” Tyler insisted. “Why your spleen stopped bleeding. Why your chemical burns disappeared.”

I could tell you what I think might have happened, Hannah thought, but I don’t fully understand it myself.

Virusall could be responsible for her stunningly quick recovery. How, she did not know for sure, but the experiences she’d had with the drug in the lab indicated anything might be possible. It was a miraculously healing drug but it was also very unstable.

Fear rippled through her, but she pushed her anxiety aside. She didn’t have time to piece together what Virusall might have done to her. Not now.

When she’d accused Tyler of misreading the X rays and confusing her with another patient, she had done it to offer him an explanation. A rational possibility his scientific mind could accept. She couldn’t tell him the truth—that she had concocted a wonder drug proven to eradicate all viruses. She had scarcely believed it herself.

And then there were the horrific side effects that turned ordinary people with type O blood into vicious beasts.

To let Tyler in on her secret would be tantamount to signing his death warrant. If Daycon suspected she told anyone about Virusall, she knew the man would not hesitate to do whatever was necessary to protect himself and his CIA cohort.

She had to get to Marcus before Daycon figured out what she was planning, and she had to get out of this hospital before his henchmen discovered she had not died in the car crash.

“Concerning these tests,” Hannah asked Tyler. “What do you have in mind?”

“X rays, more blood work.”

“How long?”

“Three, four hours tops.”

“Sorry. I can give you an hour. That’s all. Do what you can in that length of time—after that, I’ll be gone.”

“Fair enough.” He surprised her by agreeing.

Cocking her head, she studied him, wondering what his motivation was in opening his house to her. He had told her she was special. What had he meant by that? Was it because her vanishing illness fascinated him? Had someone helped him when he was down and out? Or was there something more?