Page 24

Then she made her laugh after nearly being killed.

I’m beginning to understand why Anya dragged her into this house.

What I don’t understand is my own reaction to her.

I noticed her the second I walked through the doorway.

At first, I see only an unfamiliar woman sitting in my home, blood at her temple and suspicion all over her face, but then she turns toward me and those dark eyes meet mine with absolutely no recognition in them.

She simply studies me as though I’m another strange detail in a day already filled with too many of them.

Then she stands.

Her face drains of color.

And she falls directly into my arms.

I remember the feel of her waist beneath my hand more clearly than I should. I remember the faint scent of something citrus beneath the blood and antiseptic. I remember thinking, absurdly, that she’s beautiful even though there is nothing polished about her.

Her dark hair is tangled, her cheek is scraped, one sleeve of her jacket is torn, and her white sneaker is streaked with dirt.

Nothing about her should command my attention.

Yet I keep looking at her.

“She needs imaging,” Levin says, bringing my attention back to him. “I’m concerned about the hip, and given the head injury, I want a CT as well rather than relying on an examination here.”

“Then arrange whatever you need and take her immediately.”

“I already have transport waiting.”

“I’m going too,” Anya says.

“No, you are not.”

She turns toward me with a look that tells me she has every intention of making this difficult. “I have to go because she doesn’t know anybody, and when she wakes up she might be scared.”

“She is an adult woman, Anya, and Kirill will accompany her, while you are staying here because you were nearly run over less than an hour ago and I have no intention of allowing you out of my sight tonight.”

“But she got hurt because she saved me.”

“I’m aware of that,” I say.

“So she shouldn’t have to wake up alone.”

There are moments when my daughter resembles her mother so closely that the memory catches me without warning.

This is one of them.

The stubborn chin.

The complete certainty that whatever argument she’s making is morally superior to mine.

I look toward Elle again. “I will make sure she is not alone,” I say. “And you can visit her later. Just not today.”

Anya studies me suspiciously. “You promise?”

“Yes.”