There was little in my stomach and what was there was trying to come up. Warm hands grasped my shoulders.

"Deep breaths. You're okay," Brack said with quiet authority.

I tried to inhale. There was no air. And he lied. Nothing would ever be okay again.

Dead.

I struggled to get out of bed while mumbling, "Toilet, I- please."

An ugly plastic, curved, pink hospital bowl appeared under my chin as I heaved. It did little good; nothing came up and I couldn't catch my breath.

"Breathe in through your nose and hold it as I countone- two- three." Brack's commanding voice penetrated my thoughts. He sounded like he spoke through a funnel. Something in his instructions had me paying attention and doing what he said.

"Now out through your mouthone- two- three."

It took several minutes for the roar to fade to a small whoosh. The heat from one of his hands rested against the base of my neck. Then I felt his fingers in my hair tilting my head back.

"You're okay. You suffer these often?"

It took a second before the question registered. "These?"

"Panic attacks."

I'd never panicked in my life or had any type of an attack for that matter. Tears began streaming down my face. Crying was something else I rarely did. There's no crying in tennis, or so my coach drilled into me from a very young age. Thanks to Tom Hanks' famous baseball line, I'd heard the phrase entirely too often.

I stared into Brack's dark lenses and saw my reflection. His hand left my back and he slowly removed his glasses.

Hell. I didn't think I could breathe again.

His eyes were crystal blue. No, green. I sucked in a breath as the colors captivated me. They were both. One eye blue and the other green. He wiped tears from my cheek with one finger as I stared in amazement.

"Can I put my glasses back on?" Another slight grin came with the question. No he wasn't model material good looking, but his eyes were stunning.

"Why would you cover those?" God, they were beautiful.

A rosy tinge crept into his cheeks. I smiled slightly. Brack was embarrassed about the most striking eyes I'd ever seen. Then, I remembered the man who died because of me. "Who was he?" I asked.

Brack misunderstood. "I'm hoping you can give me some additional clues so my people can figure that out." All business, he slid his glasses back over his eyes.

"No- the man." My breath hitched. "The man who saved my life."

He nodded his chin to the folder I'd dropped beside me. "All the information is in the there."

I grabbed it and went through the pages until I reached the picture of a man I didn't recognize. Written below the picture was the name William Leonard Johnston, age seventy-two. His address showed the same street as my father's. I looked up. "This tells me nothing."

Brack moved closer and perched his hip on the side of my bed. "He was walking his dog and apparently interrupted your kidnapping."

I suddenly remembered it barking. It was a stupid question, but I couldn't help asking. "What about the dog?"

"Your stalker shot them both."

More tears escaped. I'd never owned a dog. Hell, I never even knew William Leonard Johnston existed. He saved my life. A man and his dog dead because of me. "I've never seen my stalker. I didn't see him after he ran into me with the van. I told the police that." At least I thought I had. I vaguely remembered a detective asking a few questions. My father ushered him out of the room after I provided a few bleary detailsthe van was white and I never saw the man's face, but I did recognize his voice. I would never forget that voice.

My stalker began bothering me a little over a year ago. He liked to call my cell phone. I would ask the prerequisite questions, "Who is this? How did you get this number?" He ignored me and said I was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. He always told me he was a huge fan. After a few weeks, I changed my cell number because his calls became more frequent and creepier. Two weeks of respite later, he called my new number. That freaked me out and I reported it to the police. It didn't stop him. My stalker liked to identify the clothes I wore on particular days and made comments on them. "You need to embrace modesty in all things. I don't like when you show off your legs in public." Everything he said was extremely disturbing. Unfortunately, the police couldn't trace the disposable phones he used.

When his calls came through to my third cell number, the police asked me to question him as much as possible. "What's your name? Do I know you from somewhere?" He told me I should call him Ty. That really gave me the creeps because all I could think of was "tie," as in tie up. Ty didn't like my clothes or my friends. He obviously followed them too and told me to stay away from "That slut Meagan." My apartment was next to Meagan's. When my hectic, competitive schedule allowed, we sometimes hung out and went to clubs together.

The gifts started appearing shortly after that particular warning. He always boxed them prettily, but what they held was not so pretty. One had a recently severed rabbit's foot with pieces of sinew and flesh hanging from it. "For luck," the card read. He sent me clothes too; his idea of modest clothes in drab colors.

I came back to the present and realized Brack waited patiently for me to continue. "I recognized his voice. That's it."

Now that I knew what lay behind his dark glasses, his regard had me fidgeting uncomfortably. I needed to see his eyes again. I also knew I was selfish. A man died and all I wanted to do was look into a beautiful pair of eyes and escape my horrific life.

The sound of a throat clearing had me looking toward the doorway. My father stood there. He wasn't nearly the size of Brack, but his sheer presence was larger than anyone I'd ever known. Brack turned that way too. When most men would have jumped up and stood at attention, Brack remained sitting on my bed without a care in the world.

"Senator Stradmore," he acknowledged with another of his regal head nods so at odds with his unkempt appearance.

I watched my father take in the scene. His lips tightened just a bit, but other than that, he was all politician. "Mr. Jacobs."

Brack slowly gained his feet and stepped toward my father with his hand out. "Good to see you, sir."

My father took the proffered hand, though his eyes were on me. Looking a mess for a good looking man was one thing. Appearing anything less than perfect for my father was entirely another. He expected perfection in everything. People might wonder why I loved such a difficult man so much, but that was easy. As hard-shelled as my father appeared, he had a weakness for his only child.

My mother died of cancer when I was five. The young senator from Texas took on the responsibility of raising me on his own. He hired nannies and tutors to assist me traveling back and forth between Texas and Washington, DC. My nanny and tutor traveled with us. But no matter how busy he was, I sat on his lap once a day, even when I was entirely too big, and he read to me. If we had a quiet evening at our home in Washington, DC, or Texas, the story could last an hour or more. He read me the classics with voice changes and sound effects. I lived for the soothing twang of his Texas drawl. It still comforted me when I heard it. Even now when it held censure.

"I see you're feeling better." He walked past Brack like he no longer existed and moved closer to the bed.

With my father, you didn't beat around the bush. "Much better. Why didn't you tell me that man died saving my life?"

He bent over and kissed my temple. "There was plenty of time for that after you healed." I smelled his aftershave. Remembrance of times spent learning everything from riding a bicycle to driving my first car had my eyes welling again. For someone who didn't cry, I was having a very bad day. My father perched on my bed the same way Brack had. He folded me into his arms and brought me against his chest. Somehow he knew I needed a good cry, and instead of the senator, I got Daddy.

My father handed me a tissue when my crying spree slowed. I glanced over his shoulder and noticed Brack. Most men ran from female tears, but Brack seemed to take his job seriously. It shouldn't have embarrassed me to appear human, but it did. His presence also forced me to gain control of my emotions.

I gave my father a trembling smile. "While I have you both here, this would be a good time to discuss why my other detail is no longer in charge."

I could see the change in my dad's eyes when his senator persona took over. "Mr. Jacobs is the best and he won't put up with your shit." He stopped for a moment to turn and look at Brack. "I didn't expect to find you cozying up to my daughter, though."

Brack was all business. "Your daughter and I will be working as a team and in close proximity. Expect to see us shoulder to shoulder for the foreseeable future."