Chapter 6

The next afternoon, Caroline sat in the back of a cab, staring blankly out the window. The pale sunlight filtered through the glass towers of the financial district, doing nothing to warm her. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through her bruised ribs, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow, numb feeling in her chest.

She reached up and touched the gauze on her neck. The cut throbbed beneath the bandage. She had cleaned up as best she could the night before, washing the blood off her skin and trying to smooth down her tangled hair. But she still looked like a wreck. Her eyes were hollow, her face pale, and no amount of cold water could erase the shadows under her eyes.

She had barely slept in two days. The adrenaline crash had left her shaky and drained, making her limbs feel heavy and her brain foggy.

The cab pulled up in front of a sleek, modern building in the financial district. Caroline paid the driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The cafe was on the ground floor, a trendy spot with exposed brick and expensive coffee.

She pushed open the glass door, the bell chiming overhead. The smell of roasted beans and pastry filled the air. It was a stark contrast to the sterile, blood-scented air of the hospital.

She spotted Preston immediately. He was sitting at a table near the window, surrounded by three other men in identical suits. They were all laughing, their ties loosened, drinks in hand.

Caroline walked over, her feet dragging. She felt like she was moving through water.

"Ah, the wanderer returns," Preston announced as she approached. He didn't stand up. He didn't pull out a chair. He just gestured to the empty seat across from him with his coffee cup. "Gentlemen, this is the nurse I was telling you about. The one with the commitment issues."

His friends snickered, eyeing Caroline with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

Caroline sat down. The chair was hard, the seat uncomfortable. She looked at Preston, waiting for him to say something.

"Well?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Don't you have something to say to me?"

"I'm sorry," Caroline said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. "For leaving the other night."

"Yes, you are," Preston said, leaning back in his chair. "You know, Caroline, I had to pay the bill. The whole bill. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me?"

"I left money," Caroline said, her voice flat.

"Fifty dollars," Preston scoffed. "That barely covered your drinks. I had to cover the rest. And the tip." He shook his head. "It's fine. I should have known better than to date a girl who works for tips."

One of his friends snorted. "Maybe she can take your blood pressure, Preston. You look a little stressed."

"Very funny," Preston said, but he was smiling. He turned back to Caroline. "So, what's the excuse today? Or are you just going to fall asleep at the table again?"

Caroline blinked. "What?"

"You heard me," Preston said, his smile fading. "You've been yawning since you sat down. It's rude. I'm trying to have a conversation with you, and you're acting like you'd rather be somewhere else."

Caroline rubbed her eyes. She was so tired. The noise in the cafe was too loud, the lights too bright. She just wanted to close her eyes for a second.

"Maybe we should do this another time," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"No," Preston said, slamming his hand on the table. The coffee cups rattled. "We do this now. You wanted a second chance, you got it. The least you can do is pretend to be interested."

Caroline stared at him. He was serious. He actually thought his little coffee date was more important than whatever she was going through.

"I was attacked yesterday," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Preston paused. "What?"

"At the hospital," Caroline continued, her voice hollow. "A man tried to kill my patient. He held a scalpel to my throat. I was pushed down a flight of stairs."

The table went silent. Preston's friends exchanged uncomfortable glances. Preston stared at her, his mouth slightly open.

Then he laughed.

It was a short, sharp sound, completely devoid of humor. "Wow," he said, shaking his head. "That's a new one. I've heard some crazy excuses to get out of a date, but 'I was pushed down the stairs'? That's creative, Caroline. Really."

"It's not an excuse," Caroline said, her hands clenching into fists under the table. "It's the truth."

"Sure it is," Preston said, rolling his eyes. "And I'm the President. Look, if you didn't want to see me, you could have just said so. You didn't have to invent some ridiculous story."

"It's not ridiculous," Caroline insisted. She reached up and pulled the gauze off her neck, revealing the angry red cut and the bruise that had formed around it. "Look."

Preston's eyes flicked to her neck. For a second, he looked taken aback. Then his expression hardened. "That could be from anything. You probably just scratched yourself shaving." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a hiss. "I'm not an idiot, Caroline. Don't treat me like one."

Caroline stared at him. She had never hated anyone more in her entire life. She had just shown him a wound from a near-death experience, and he was calling her a liar.

She was done.

She stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You're right, Preston. You're not an idiot. You're just a narcissistic, self-centered jerk who can't see past his own ego."

Preston's face turned red. "How dare you-"

"No, how dare you," Caroline shot back. "I came here because my mother made me. I apologized because I was trying to keep the peace. But I am done. I am done pretending that you are anything other than a spoiled child in an expensive suit."

She turned to walk away, but Preston grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.

"You're not going anywhere," he snarled. "Not until I say we're done."

"Let go of me," Caroline said, trying to pull her arm free. His grip was tight, bruising.

"Hey!"

The voice was like a gunshot. It cut through the noise of the cafe, silencing everyone.

Caroline turned. Jarrod Romero was standing in the doorway. He was wearing civilian clothes-dark jeans and a black sweater-but he looked more intimidating than he had in uniform. His face was pale, his jaw set in a hard line, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead despite the cafe's air conditioning. His right arm was in a heavy black sling, held tight against his chest. He walked toward them, his stride purposeful. The crowd parted for him, people shrinking back from the raw power radiating off him.

Preston dropped Caroline's arm, stepping back. "Who the hell are you?"

Romero ignored him. He stopped in front of Caroline, his gray eyes sweeping over her face, then down to her arm where Preston had grabbed her. A red mark was already forming on her skin.

He looked back at Preston. The look in his eyes was lethal.

"Take your hands off her," Romero said, his voice quiet and deadly. "Or I will remove them for you."

Preston paled, but he tried to bluster. "This is a private conversation, man. Back off."

Romero took a step forward, getting into Preston's space. He was a full head taller, and he used every inch of that height to loom over the other man. "I don't repeat myself."

Preston swallowed hard. He looked at Romero's sling, then at the cold fury in his eyes, and seemed to decide that his pride wasn't worth a broken bone. He took a step back, raising his hands in surrender.

"Whatever, man. She's not worth it anyway." He turned to his friends. "Let's get out of here."

They scrambled to gather their things, eager to escape the tension. Preston shot Caroline one last, venomous look before storming out of the cafe.

Caroline stood there, her heart pounding. She looked up at Romero, completely at a loss for words.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He didn't answer immediately. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and slapped it on the table.

"For the coffee," he said. Then he turned and walked toward the door, pausing to look back at her. "Come on."

Caroline hesitated for only a second. Then she followed him out into the night.