Even if Morgan managed to convince a jury that the prosecution hadn’t proven his guilt, the whole town had already tried and convicted him. He would never be innocent in their eyes unless Tessa’s real killer was caught. Even then, he suspected some people would be forever convinced he’d committed the crime.
An image of Tessa formed in his mind, and physical pain took a backseat. The knife he’d taken in the belly couldn’t compare to the invisible one twisting in his heart.
Tessa.
Dead.
Really, why bother waking up? Why had they saved him? They should have let him bleed to death.
He let his mind sink, welcoming the utter blackness and wishing it smothered him.
A rubber sole squeaked on the floor. He’d been in the hospital a few years before, for an emergency appendectomy. The nurses had been in and out of his room constantly. But this time, they entered his room only when absolutely necessary, and usually their entrance meant something painful was going to happen. He sensed resentment from the hospital staff, but then who would want to take care of a man arrested for a brutal rape and murder?
Thinking of how Tessa had died amplified his grief. How dare he feel sorry for himself when she’d suffered far worse.
He stirred, stretching a leg out. The small movement tensed his severed abdominal muscles and red-hot agony sang through him in a fresh burst of pain. His next breath hurt so much, he tried not to repeat it.
But his stupid body had other ideas. He couldn’t simply stop breathing. He opened his mouth, and his lungs sucked in air. The deeper-than-usual breath causing enough pain that he nearly blacked out.
Unfortunately, he didn’t.
Shit that hurt.
He concentrated on slow and shallow breathing, his focus completely absorbed by minimizing movement and the resulting pain. A few breaths later, he gave up on being unconscious and opened his eyes. Daylight from the window blinded him. He squinted at a blurred figure clad in green scrubs moving around his room.
Nothing unique about that.
He blinked dry eyes a few times, his vision gradually clearing, the figure taking a man’s shape. Gray hair. An older doctor.
The figure picked up a pillow and walked closer. At first Nick thought he was going to make him sit up.
He opened his mouth to say, “I can’t.” But his voice sounded like rusted metal. He swallowed and tried again.
But his words were cut off when the pillow came down on his face. Nick reached for the man, but his arm was tethered by the IV. His free hand grabbed at the man’s shirt and pulled, but he had the strength of a newborn baby.
His lungs burned. The pain in his belly went ballistic.
But soon it would all be over. He gave up, stopped fighting, let go.
And waited for the end.
Chapter Forty
Morgan stepped out of the elevator. She couldn’t wait to tell Nick the DA had dropped the charges against him. She followed the signs to his room and walked inside.
A doctor was on top of Nick. At first, she thought maybe he was administering CPR, but then she saw the pillow over Nick’s face.
Oh my God.
He was trying to kill Nick.
She shook off her shock.
“Hey,” she yelled, grabbing the man by the back of his collar and pulling him off Nick. The man had been focused on smothering Nick, and she took him by surprise. He tumbled backward off the bed and onto the floor. His glasses flew across the room and his dark hair fell off, revealing a blond-and-silver head.
But Morgan had no time to stare at the wig on the floor.
Nick!
She lunged to his bedside.
“Help!” she screamed, hoping her voice would carry to the hallway. “Somebody help me in here.” Without turning her back to the man on the floor, Morgan snatched the pillow from Nick’s face.
Is he breathing?
She jabbed the call button with her forefinger. Come on. The attacker was scrambling to get his feet under his body. Morgan faced him, keeping her own body between him and Nick.
Shock rippled through her as she recognized Nick’s attacker.
Phillip Emerson.
Dressed in scrubs and a lab coat, he stood. His jawline was oddly puffy. He reached into his mouth and pulled out two wads of cotton.
“You bitch.” Emerson pulled a knife from the pocket of his lab coat.
The knife shone in the fluorescent light. Fresh fear washed over Morgan. She glanced around for a weapon or something to use as a shield. She couldn’t run. Nick would be defenseless. But there was nothing between her and Emerson.
Not. A. Damned. Thing.
Morgan couldn’t even reach the curtain that went around the bed. Sweat dripped down her back as her heart kicked into high gear. She had no weapon. No way of protecting herself or Nick.
“What’s wrong?” A nurse hurried through the doorway. Her momentum carried her to the foot of the bed before she realized what was happening and stopped. Her eyes opened wide in shock as she glanced between Emerson and Morgan.
“Get help!” Morgan yelled.
The nurse raced from the room.
Emerson lunged at Morgan. The knife beelined for her midsection. She barely blocked it with the back of her forearm.
But he came at her again. “You destroyed my life.”
Morgan wanted to respond, but her heart was pumping hard enough to make her breathless.
She had nowhere to go that didn’t leave Nick vulnerable. Never had she wished she had her weapon more than right at that moment. Fear turned her belly to ice. But as frightened as she was, she couldn’t run away.
She couldn’t let Emerson kill Nick.
A security guard appeared in the doorway, his weapon drawn and aimed at Emerson. “Stop right there. Put down the knife.”
But the guard’s hands were shaking so badly Morgan almost wished he’d put the gun away. He could just as easily shoot her or Nick as hit Emerson.
Emerson grabbed Morgan by the bicep and pulled her in front of him. Her back slammed into his chest. He put the knife to her throat, forcing her to be his human shield.
“Move out of the way or she’s dead,” he said, tightening his grip on her arm.
Emerson’s breath was hot in her ear, and the acrid scent of panic rose from his skin. He moved sideways, yanking her with him.
The guard kept his gun trained on Morgan and Emerson as they shuffled toward the door. If the guard pulled the trigger, even by accident, he’d hit Morgan.
Emerson pulled her along the floor toward the door. The guard backed up as they neared. What would happen when they reached the corridor? Surely, there were more guards. What would Emerson do when he realized he’d backed himself into a corner and there was no escape?
His forearm was across her windpipe, the blade of the knife kissing the side of her neck. Morgan couldn’t remember whether her jugular vein or carotid artery was on that side, but it didn’t matter. He could kill her by slicing either one.
Chapter Forty-One
Lance raced down the hallway.
An orderly shouted at him. “You can’t go down there. The floor is closed off. There’s a hostage situation.”
Lance ignored him. He skidded around the turn and pulled up short.