Beautiful Stranger

He wondered who exactly she expected him to talk to, and why discretion was such an issue. Was she going to spin a story too easily proven false if he shared it with anyone else?

Still, he wanted to know what she was going to say. Confidentiality didn’t seem too much to ask for, if he could help it. He just hoped she didn’t force him to make a liar of himself. “All right.”

She took a deep breath, as though gathering strength. “My name is Claire Preston. My family owns Preston Aeronautics and Defense. You may not have heard of it, but we’re a private defense contractor that provides services to the government and the armed forces. It’s a multi-billion-dollar corporation. Tomorrow is my thirty-fifth birthday. At that time I’m supposed to take control of the company. Only it appears that someone wanted to ensure that didn’t happen. That’s why I needed to get out of Thornwood now, before it’s too late to do something about it. I’m just hoping it’s not too late already.”

The words came out in a rush, then stopped abruptly as though she figured she’d said too much. Once she stopped, she simply lifted her chin and stood there, watching him.

Josh could only stare back at her. He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to a story that outlandish. Bribery? Billion-dollar corporations? A conspiracy hatched by an unknown “someone” against her? It was the stuff of paranoid delusions, created by an unstable mind.

Yet the eyes that met his were clear and focused. She’d related her story calmly and concisely, her voice unwavering. Whatever the veracity of her tale, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she believed it to be true.

But then, he’d spoken the truth to Aaron that afternoon—he wasn’t a psychiatrist. All he had were his instincts to tell him whether or not to believe her, instincts he was no longer certain he could trust.

He could either believe she was the victim of a conspiracy or simply a mental patient who belonged in the institution to which she’d been committed.

And Josh had the sad feeling that in this case the more likely answer was the correct one.

HE DIDN’T BELIEVE HER.

His expression hadn’t changed. He had that patient, pleasant look on his face that revealed nothing of his thoughts. She could tell all the same.

Claire swallowed a groan of frustration and forced herself to take the deep breath he’d suggested earlier. She couldn’t afford to lose her composure. Her only hope of getting this man on her side was to come across as sane and rational as she knew she was.

If only she hadn’t fallen asleep and lost her grip, tumbling back against the side of the trunk when he’d come to a stop. But it had been a long drive, and once the initial adrenaline rush of her escape had worn off, she’d felt the damned fatigue dragging at her. Even now, it pulled at her. Her body trembled, from exhaustion, tension and perhaps the lack of drugs her body was used to receiving by now.

Her stomach twisted with anxiety. Every moment she stood here was another moment she was wasting not getting away. She had to agree with him—it wouldn’t take the people at Thornwood long to discover that she was missing. Even now they could be on their way, ready to reclaim her, while she was making the mistake of confiding in this man.

She’d probably said too much. But after four months of speaking to no one, having to keep all this bottled up inside, her story seemed to come out on its own, a raging torrent that couldn’t be stopped.

For all the good it had done her.

“You think I sound paranoid,” she said knowingly. “And maybe I do. But like they say, it’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.”

From the impassive look on his face, he wasn’t ready to concede even that point to her.

She saw in his eyes that there was another option. That she really was mentally unbalanced, making up stories of persecution that bore no resemblance to reality.

Trying to think of another way out, she raised a hand to push back her hair.

“What’s that?”

She met his gaze, then followed it where he was looking. Her unconscious gesture had caused her sleeve to slide down, revealing her wrist.

Heat flooded her cheeks. Embarrassed, she quickly lowered her arm, pulling the sleeve all the way over her fingers. “It’s nothing.”

He finally set the wrench down on the floor just behind him and slowly moved closer, reaching out to offer her his hand. “May I see? I’m a doctor. I promise I’ll be careful.”

It was the gentleness in his voice that broke her. It was so different from the cool indifference and sneering cruelty she’d heard the past few months from the Thornwood staff. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to her so kindly. Maybe never.

His face matched his voice. His blue eyes were warm with sympathy. The corners of his mouth tilted ever-so-slightly upward in a compassionate smile. Part of her wondered if this was his doctor face, the practiced expression that conveyed just the right note of caring and made his patients feel at ease. The rest of her couldn’t help responding to it. It seemed so genuine. He seemed so genuine. Up close, she could see the faint beginnings of laugh lines worn into the skin around the corners of his eyes, while not a single line marred his brow. All of which told her this was a man who smiled a lot. Could it be that this wasn’t an act, that this was who he really was? Despite her better judgment, she found herself wanting to believe it, as the band of tightness in her chest eased slightly. Her initial impression of him returned in full force, that this was someone she could trust, someone who could help her.

Almost against her will, she found herself lifting her hand and placing it in his.

His fingers were large and surprisingly soft, his touch gentle. A doctor’s hands. She stared at a spot on the far wall as he carefully pushed back the sleeve to bare her forearm. She didn’t need to look. She knew what was there. Four long bruises on her wrist, with a shorter corresponding one underneath where Hobbs had grabbed her arm roughly a few days ago. There was another one farther up by the elbow that wasn’t as dark. It was already starting to heal. She silently underwent his scrutiny as he pored over one arm, then the other. She knew what was there, too. More of the same.

“Who did this to you?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “An orderly. Not exactly the best care money can buy, huh?”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“Who would I tell? I’m crazy, remember? No one would have believed me. I know how they would have handled it. The squeaky wheel gets an armful of tranquilizers. Problem solved.”

“What about visitors? Didn’t anyone notice when they came to see you?”

“Nobody ever came to see me,” she said flatly.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, no doubt torn between following up with the questions that answer raised and all the others he must have.

When he did speak, his tone was even gentler. “So you just took it and let them hurt you?”

She met his stare head-on. “I did what I had to do to survive.”

“How bad did it get?”

She looked away again. “Just the bruises. It didn’t go any further.”

“Are you sure? You said you were drugged quite a bit of the time.”

She opened her mouth to deny it, only to stop short. Horror washed over her. She would know if someone had touched her, or worse, while she was out of it, right? Surely her body would let her know.

But as she thought of all those occasions she’d lost time, all the gaps in her memory, all she felt was doubt.

She swallowed hard, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

Josh lapsed into silence again, and she fought the urge to check his expression to see what he was thinking. She didn’t want his pity, even if that was what it took for him to let her go. She’d spent too much of her life trying to prove she was strong enough, as tough and as smart and as normal as everyone else, to want this man to see her as a victim.

“Come on. Let’s go inside.”

Claire jerked her head up in surprise. Whatever she’d expected him to say, that hadn’t been it. “Are you letting me go?”

“No.”

Her wariness returned. “Are you going to call Thornwood?”

He stared at her for a long moment that left her holding her breath. Then he sighed and shook his head. “No. I won’t call them.”

She suspected there was an unspoken yet at the end of that sentence. Rather than push her luck, she’d take what she could get. There would be time later to argue the rest.