“I asked to be checked out days ago,” she replied. “And they were going to let me go until you talked them into keeping me. My leaving isn’t a death wish. It’s a preservation of my sanity.”
“In your attempt to preserve your sanity, did it slip your mind that it’s not safe for you to be walking around alone?” he countered.
“I live here. I need to be able to cross the street without a bodyguard.”
“Someone just tried to run you down, Nadine.”
“Accidents happen.”
His mouth set in a flat line for a second before he answered. “You really think that was an accident?”
Her heart fluttered nervously, but she brushed it off. “Of course.”
“It’s the middle of the night. The spot where you crossed was well lit. There were no other cars, no other people and no reason for whoever that was to come tearing through like that. Think about it for just a second.”
She swallowed. She’d been so wrapped up in her escape that she hadn’t been paying much attention to what was happening around her. Had she even noticed the car before it zoomed past? Would she have seen it at all if it weren’t for Anderson? And if she had seen it, would it have been too late?
And what about the most important question? added a pushy little voice in her head. Is Anderson right? Was the swipe in my direction purposeful?
Now that he’d put the idea forward, she couldn’t deny that it was a possibility. She’d seen what Jesse Garibaldi’s men—or one of them, anyway—was capable of. Her brother’s death was proof of the ruthlessness. And that didn’t even factor in the pipe bomb and fire that had killed her father and scarred her for life.
Unconsciously, she lifted her fingers and ran them over the puckered marks that followed the curve of her cheek. And unexpectedly, Anderson’s hand joined hers. She was too surprised to pull away. Even when he tipped her face up so that their eyes locked again, she didn’t move. Or maybe she couldn’t.
“Now that you’re thinking about it,” he said softly, “and you see that it might be true, do you understand why I might think you’re putting yourself in danger by running out like that?”
Nadine drew a breath. It annoyed her that he was right. It got her back up just enough that she couldn’t help but shake her head, and the motion dislodged Anderson’s grip. For a second, his hand hung in the air. Then he dropped it and shook his head, too.
“No?” he said. “Really? You can’t even acknowledge that staying here might be safer for you?”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re right or not,” she replied. “What matters is that I’m being treated like an incompetent invalid. I’m the one who found Garibaldi’s underground storage unit. Didn’t your partner tell you that?”
“Of course he did. Brayden told me—and the others—everything before he and Reggie left for Mexico.” He shot her a look as he said it.
She refused to be embarrassed. When “everything” happened, Nadine hadn’t known that Brayden Maxwell was an undercover detective searching for Jesse Garibaldi. All she’d been sure of was that Reggie Frost—a waitress at the local diner—had witnessed her brother Tyler’s murder. Nadine had just been protecting herself. So, yes. “Everything” might’ve included knocking Anderson’s friend on the head, a little bit of breaking and entering, and a small run-in with Reggie. But it also meant she’d kept her identity a secret, eluded a trained professional and only come forward because she wanted to.
Her reply came out strong. “So if you know everything, then why am I being kept tied to a bed in a hospital?”
He scratched at his chin, his face showing his frustration clearly. “Look, Nadine...”
“Yes, Detective?” There was more than a hint of sarcasm in her reply.
“It’s just plain safer for you to be in one spot.”
“My apartment is one spot.”
“Your apartment is also private.”
“Isn’t that better?”
“No. The hosp—care center, I mean, is full of people around the clock. Approaching you there would be a dangerous move for Garibaldi.” He spit out the man’s name with a grimace, then added, “We know that he doesn’t want to expose himself publicly, so staying here...”
“But for how long, Anderson? There are only fifteen long-term rooms here, and if I had to guess, I’d say you can only talk the doctors into believing I’m more injured than I am for another few days at most. And after that, you can’t expect me to just hide. The school is waiting for me to come back. People will start to talk. It’s not like it’s a secret that I’m here. You’re protecting me and exposing me at the same time.”
He had a funny look on his face, and she had a feeling he might’ve missed everything she’d just said.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”
“Is there something you’d rather be called? You don’t look like much of an Andy, but if that’s what you want...”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You’ve been calling me ‘detective’ for a week.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not when anyone can hear.”
“No,” he agreed. “When anyone can hear, you don’t call me anything at all.”
“We’re getting off topic.”
“You’re right. We are. We need to be talking about you going back upstairs.”
“No. We need to talk about the fact that I’m going home.”
“You can’t go home, Nadine. Garibaldi’s men could be watching your apartment. Waiting for a wrong move.”
Fear made her shiver. “I don’t want to stay here.”
He lifted his hand again, reached it toward his face, then dropped it to his side instead. “First, let’s go back upstairs. If you really think you can’t stay here, I’ll call the team. I’ll see what they say. We’ll find a solution. I promise.”
“You promise?” she echoed doubtfully.
“Do you think I like the idea of living my life on a bench outside your room? ’Cause I really don’t. I can’t get any further in my case if I’m playing watchdog. And I’d really like to build on what Brayden found out about Garibaldi.”
“So go work on it, then.”
“And leave you unprotected? I don’t think so. That’s not how I work. Whether you think so or not, keeping you alive is more important to me than making progress on the case.”
Another snarky reply popped into Nadine’s mind, but a trickle of conscience kept her from saying it aloud. She’d been right when she’d surmised that the detective had things he’d rather be doing. But she hadn’t really considered it in terms of a sacrifice on her behalf.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go back up. But I don’t want the IV. And I want to know that you’re going to keep that promise.”
His face cleared, a charming smile making an appearance. “I will.”
“Don’t be smug.”
“I’ll try not to be.”
“That