Killian.
The last thing she remembered was sitting in Killian’s driveway, arguing with the world’s most frustrating man.
A car.
Portia.
Pain.
Lots and lots of pain.
She gasped at the remembered pain. The memories flooded back and she curled in on herself as she relived it. The beeping intensified.
Portia fucking Tremaine had hit Dizzie with her car. On purpose.
Dizzie sat up, ignoring the jaw-clenching pain. She was breathing hard by the time she managed and the incessant beeping was driving her insane.
She focused on the room. Medical equipment surrounded the bed. Some had big screens with bold numbers and lines and more data than she could focus on right now. Others had wires that led to the bed or to other machines.
Her heart monitor was the cause of the damn beeping. Every movement or moment of panic set the damn thing off.
The Tremaine logo—a caduceus with a cross bar to form a “T”—was attached to every surface in the room. She glanced down at the gown she wore. The logo was emblazoned on the chest.
Okay, she was in a Tremaine hospital, presumably in Tremaine custody. If she stayed here, her life could be counted in hours rather than days.
Dizzie looked down at the medical bracelet on her wrist. She had to get out of here. The beeping started again.
She swung her leg over the side of the bed. A wave of pain washed over her and she collapsed back onto the bed.
A nurse in a traditional white uniform bustled into the room. Her badge, complete with a big, bold Tremaine logo, indicated her name was Betty.
“Good, you’re awake.” She was cheery and chirpy. A combination made particularly annoying by the spinning room.
“What happened?” Dizzie croaked.
With that annoying blend of efficiency and cheerfulness, the nurse hurried over to her bedside, a glass of water with a straw in her hand.
“You were in a motorcycle accident.” She handed Dizzie a pain pill then held the straw to her lips. “You weren’t wearing a helmet, so you’re incredibly lucky that you weren’t hurt worse. The doctors were able to set the breaks and the nanomeds have worked their magic. You’ve been very well taken care of.”
Concern passed over Betty’s face. A flicker, then it was gone.
What was Betty hiding? Her mind leapt to the worst-case scenario. “Am I going to die?” Dizzie’s heart clenched. The monitor raced again.
“Oh no,” she laughed. “You’re going to be fine.” There it was again, something in her tone that said she wasn’t telling Dizzie the whole story.
“I’ll tell the doctor that you’re awake. And Mr. St. John. He’s been quite worried. Pacing the halls and keeping everyone but medical staff away from you.”
She bustled out the door, leaving Dizzie alone with her fears. Maybe she wasn’t dying, but what else could it be?
Killian would tell her. Right? Whatever was wrong with her, she wanted to know. Even if it meant that Tremaine Security was waiting to drag her away.
Dizzie sat on the bed, clicking her nails together. She wanted to move, but the first attempt made her rethink that option. She hated waiting.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long.
Killian slipped into her room. Dressed in scrubs, he looked tired. His beard scruff was heavier and he looked more casual than she’d ever seen him. So different…but she liked it.
When he sat on the edge of her bed, his thigh brushed hers.
