Voices.

"Mild traumatic brain injury, several stitches, no broken bones, but a badly bruised hip. The CT showed no significant swelling of the brain, but until she's fully conscious we won't know if there is lasting damage. Brain injuries are tricky and we want to be optimistic, but we just don't know yet."

A squeeze to my hand preceded my father's voice filling the room. "I'm having a neurosurgeon flown in from Johns Hopkins. We aren't taking any chances."

Yep, that's my dad. Always the best of everything for his only child. I tried to form words. That didn't work, so I tried to form just one. No luck. My hand lay limp within his. I focused and finally my fingers did what I wanted them to. His warm hand gently squeezed mine back.

Another burning pain traveled through my head and the world went dark again.

***

"Take this IV out now. The next person who pushes that bedpan beneath my ass will be wearing it. I can walk six feet to the bathroom to pee." God, I sounded like a bitch. I'd been grouchy since my father and medical staff woke me in the middle of the night to secretly whisk me away to a private hospital.

Someplace deemed safe that the madman couldn't find me.

My middle aged nurse, dressed in unappealing yellow scrubs with teddy bears better suited for the children's-ward, wasn't the least intimidated. "The doctor hasn't changed his orders and I can't allow you out of bed." Before I snapped her head off for the "allow" comment, she continued, "You'll see him this afternoon and maybe he'll give his consent."

Her sing-song voice had me contemplating the removal of her hair by the roots. I slammed back against the pillows and winced when my head made contact. It didn't increase my headache, but it did burn where my stitches were. I took a deep breath and refused, in a very juvenile manner, to look at the nurse. Her shoes made a soft patter noise as she left the room.

One of my ever-present security guards, I'd dubbed this one Tweedle Dee, looked inside before quickly turning away. I'm sure he didn't want a piece of my temper either.

I peered at the white tape holding the IV to my arm and without another thought, unwrapped it and jerked the needle out. I used the gauze beneath the tape to apply pressure until it stopped bleeding. I was done with this shit. I swung my legs off the bed two minutes later. The room spun, so I gave myself a moment. I was walking to the damn bathroom if it killed me.

A noise drew my gaze to the door. Tweedle Dee's eyes were huge as he dialed his cell phone and placed it to his ear. He could go ahead and call my father. I was sitting on a toilet seat to piss if it was the last thing I ever did. I stood up, swayed, and clenched the side of the bed.

"Ah, no Miss Stradmore, you're going to fall," he insisted as he ran into the room, his urgent call forgotten.

I slapped his hand away. "Touch me and I'll file charges. I would suggest you clear a path or I'm going through you."

"But-"

"Move away and let the- lady- pass."

Tweedle Dee spun around and pulled his gun at the same time to face the new voice in the room.

I looked at the door and- holy shit. I wasn't sure if a gun would stop this guy. The man standing in the doorway was intimidating just by size alone. He filled the door's frame, leaving less than an inch above his head. I was tall, but would be looking up at him if we were closer. Aviators covered his eyes and accented his square jaw, which sported dusty stubble. The graze of stubble emphasized his wide full lips that had me licking my parched ones. His light brown hair with sun streaks was too long for my tastes, his skin too tanned. The combination added a sense of ocean wildness to his untamed appearance. An untucked t-shirt molded his upper body, and well-worn jeans hugged his large thighs. He appeared totally unfazed by the gun pointing at his chest.

"Name's Brack." His deep baritone filled the room again.

My guard released a heavy breath. "I'll need to see identification, sir."

The man slowly reached to his back pocket and came out with a wallet. "Heading your way," he said as he tossed it to the guard. He stayed where he was until Tweedle Dee took a quick glance down and lowered his weapon.

I actually shivered when Goliath spoke again. "You can go now; you're officially relieved of duty."

Tweedle Dee couldn't get out of my way quickly enough. Tweedle Dumbhis brawny frame meant he couldn't have brains toomoved out of the doorway, entered the room and made it half the size it was the moment before. It killed me that I couldn't see his eyes behind the dark glasses. "Look, I don't know who the hell you are, but I'm going to pee on the floor if I don't get into the bathroom."

He gave a partial wave to the door that caused his shirt to pull up from his waist. I could see a holstered gun on his hip, though my eyes went immediately back to the outline of his muscular chest. "No one's stopping you," he retorted, startling me from my ridiculous thought of feeling those muscles up close and personal.

I pulled air into my lungs while saying a silent prayer that I didn't fall on my face when I moved. After releasing my grasp on the bed, my first step was tentative. The room spun slowly, but it was workable. I took another step and felt the ache in my hip. No, it wasn't broken, but the damn thing hurt. Everything hurt. There was just no way I'd show it in front of this man. And, for the life of me, I didn't know why I cared.

A few more steps and I managed to place my hand on the wall to keep myself upright. He was in front of me, so up until now I hadn't worried about the gaping space at my back that displayed my bare ass. "Would you mind standing outside the door and doing your duty instead of staring at me." I put an extra dose of bitch in my tone and waited for him to leave.

He didn't budge. "The puppy who left will be looking for a new job within the hour, so, yes, I mind. I'll wait right here."

Puppy? The guy who left had whipped out a gun quicker than I could blink. "Look, Mr. Brackass, I know what's required of my detail and he was doing his job."

Those wide lips tightened. "His job was to remain outside the room unless there was a threat inside. You-" his chin cocked up an inch, "are not a threat."

I swayed and leaned a little more into the wall. "I don't understand why he had to remain outside the room and you think you should be inside." I wiped a dirty strand of hair from in front of my face, trying really hard not to cross my legs and do the potty dance. "I would stand here arguing if I didn't need to pee so badly." I clenched my teeth, which hurt my head. "Look, my ass is hanging out and I'd like a small bit of privacy, so back off." I'd reached my limit and so had my bladder.

"I don't mind turning my back. I'll also have clothes delivered. You need to be dressed in something that doesn't display your naked ass if we leave quickly."

This G.I. Giant was unreal. He turned around without having a care that I might kick him in the ass. A wave of dizziness hit me and I knew my foot connecting with his backside was only a fleeting thought. I shuffled inside the small bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. I didn't have time to look into the mirror because my bladder was close to bursting. I sat on the toilet seat and silently sang sweet sighs of bliss in my head. Realizing he could probably hear the long stream of saline-filled pee hitting the toilet water didn't stop me from expelling every drop. I was far past modesty if my bare ass wasn't involved.

I grabbed the sink when I finished and used it to support myself while washing my hands. Glancing up into the mirror, I almost screamed. I wasn't exactly beautiful or God-forbid cute. But, the person who stared back at me gave zombies a run for their money. My blonde shoulder-length hair was bed-head dirty brown and a tangled mess. My face, sun-kissed, was completely bleached of color and there was crust in the corners of my blue eyes. The dark rings under those same eyes emphasized my zombie appearance. I frantically looked around the bathroom. There was nothing in here that would help make me any more presentable. Well, maybe the trashcan over my head. I gave it serious thought and again wondered why the hell I cared. I'd been around other well-built men. Maybe not quite so muscular, but definitely prettier.

I washed my face in the sink, raked my fingers through my greasy hair, and unlocked the door. He faced me with a cell phone to his ear. I lifted my hand and twirled my finger giving him a hint. He took it and turned his back. I hobbled over to the bed and crawled beneath the covers realizing how exhausted I was from a very short trip to the toilet. Twenty-four hours had passed since I came to the new hospital and forty-eight since the attack. I needed a really good meltdown to take the edge off my bad mood. I hadn't trained in two days and though I knew it wouldn't kill me, the win-at-all-costs side of my brain didn't like it.

"Clothes will be here within the hour. Your doctor is on his way." He nodded at the intravenous tubing that no longer connected to my arm. "You'll do what he says."

Even without seeing his eyes, I could feel their heat. This man with his beach boy looks wasn't accustomed to anyone challenging his authority. Too bad I didn't give a shit. Outside of my coach, no one told me what to do and that included my father. Yes, my father tried manipulating me because it was his type A nature. And, I gave in every so often because- well- I loved him. And even he was learning to ask if he wanted my cooperation.

My. Head. Hurt. Conveying the message Goliath needed to hear would work better if I could yell. Damnshrieking like a banshee was out of the question. I pressed my fingers to my temple, lifted my head, and glared. My voice was low and direct, "I know you must think you have some say in what the hell I do or don't do, but you're misinformed." I winced due to the unintentional rise in my voice, but kept going. "My father may have hired you, but I'm firing you." I lifted my hand and made a shooing motion toward the door. "Go on, get your ass out of my room, and give me some peace. Have someone with a better disposition replace you." I carefully rested my head back against the pillow and closed my eyes.

Problem solved.