“Viper took someone from you? And you think he killed her?” Rayne repeats bristling with electric tension. I wait a beat for her to speak again, to take away this moment of truth. If she follows pattern, she’ll ask some goddamned irrelevant question that will steer this conversation down a safer path. But no. Now, she sits, all prim and proper, lips pursed. For once, she manages to keep her mouth shut. She’s forcing me to answer.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say.

Displeasure marches across her face and she makes no attempt to hide it. “Oh, so it’s okay for me to bare my eternal soul to you, but you can keep your secrets hidden, is that it?” Belligerence wars with disbelief as she stares me down. “I’m so sick of you men and your goddamned double standards.”

“Works for me.” I take a few steps in the direction of my computer lab. Coral, my orange-striped tabby, comes bounding down the tunnel, stops, takes one look at Rayne, and jumps onto her lap, purring like a jackhammer going off.

Rayne cuddles Coral and murmurs endearing things into her sleek coat. “You’re so cute. Just the cuddliest thing. Yes, aren’t you?” She manages to scoop Coral up onto her shoulder with her good arm and wanders after me.

“Well, just so you know, it doesn’t work for me. I’m not telling you one more goddamned thing until you tell me about Savannah.”

I heave a huge internal sigh and turn to face her great wall of determination. Though she’s driving me crazy, I’m happy they didn’t manage to beat this spark out of her. What made her hang on when others—Savannah—could not?” My need to know inches just above my mission to block everyone out. “Okay. But then you’ve got to tell me the whole sordid story, as you called it, about your, er, ES.”

“Fuck, do you remember everything?”

“Pretty much.” I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. Nobody but Sasha dares talk to me like this. And here is this little one blasting off in my face, reminding me of one of the baby dragons in my collection—snorting out all kinds of harmless steam as if it gives her protection or something. I cross the room, take my stash from its hidey-hole, and slide it on the table.

“Help yourself.” I pluck Coral from Rayne’s arms and sit beside her on the couch. Like Rayne, I bury my nose in Coral’s fur, letting her warmth seep through my frozen veins. I need the comfort of Coral’s snarly affection to get through this story. Coral loves attention, but if you aren’t careful, she’ll bite the hand that feeds her—fast and without compunction. Something like Rayne. No wonder they take to each other.

Coral jumps out of my arms and drapes herself across Rayne’s lap. Rayne’s warmth radiates like a wood stove as she turns to face me, legs tucked under her. Wanting. Waiting for me to open up and break the silence.

“Savannah was my fiancée. We met in college. She had everything I thought I wanted—grace, beauty, brains, talent, ambition—I was a little lacking in those areas. She was the perfect match.” I swallow hard as images of Savannah float behind my eyes.

“Everything about us was traditional. We had a perfect life—great careers and true respect for each other. She came from Toronto’s upper-class echelon. I didn’t, but Sunnybrook recruited me to head up their emergency department. I was their McGill University superstar, their prize recruit. That was good enough for her. Savannah landed a nurse practitioner position at one of the community clinics in the Regent Park neighborhood of Toronto. The place was overrun with the seedier side of life.”

“So, why’d she work there, then?” Is that doubt I hear in Rayne’s voice? Like why would a rich brat work in a community clinic?

“Savannah had a plan for us, and she worked on it religiously. She set her sights on me becoming an FRCPC and heading up the ER at Mount Sinai or St. Mike’s.” I get up and light a blunt. I need fortification to continue this story.

“What the hell is an FRCPC?”

“A Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada. That’s about the highest distinction you can get.”

“And what did you want?”

I take a huge haul. Rayne is an insightful little thing, and I have to work hard to block her out. I make a silent vow: I’ll use her to find out all she knows about Viper and get rid of her. After I fuck her. Shit. I do not need this kind of trouble in my life, that’s for damn sure. She sits there looking directly at me, expectantly. My throat feels on the dry side, and I look around for something within reach. My gaze catches hers on its circuit, and she still looks expectant . . . with a pinch of irritation glimmering at the edges. Focused, like a laser.

I clear my throat. “I would have been happy enough to work out my career at Sunnybrook. I had challenge, the respect of my colleagues, and the opportunity to take emergency medicine to a new level.” I take another pull on the joint.

She rests her chin on her knees, eyes trained on me. It’s a little unsettling that laser focus. I search her eyes for the pity or boredom I’ve seen on the rare occasions I’ve told this story. Those chestnut eyes hold only curiosity.

She holds her hand out for the blunt and takes a long haul. Smoke swirls around her head as she exhales and coughs. She hands it back.

“But she didn’t hear you, or she wouldn’t listen, right? I know the type.”

My jaw goes slack in disbelief. How dare this little shit presume she knows anything about my Savannah. I rein in the protest stamping its angry hooves as it tries to flee from my mouth. How can I slap her down for the honesty I value above all else? Honesty Savannah lacked. I shove that thought right back where it belongs—buried right along with Savannah. “One does not speak ill of the dead” is a mantra for a reason.

I draw in a deep breath as I face the ugly truth. Rayne is right. Savannah paid little heed to any thoughts I might have about my career, or anything else in our lives, for that matter. Why am I just seeing this now? Good thing for her I’m an easy-going guy. I look deep into Rayne’s curious eyes shimmering with a thin, lace curtain of compassion.

“No, she didn’t hear me. But to be fair, I didn’t really care. I figured she’d do her thing, and I’d do mine. I was making my way at Sunnybrook, and that’s all I cared about.”

I hear the “all” question that rockets through her mind, but she wisely keeps it to herself. I kill a couple of minutes with busy tidy-up work at the sink, my specialty when I need to remove myself from the moment. I settle back on the couch to continue the story.

“There’s not much more to tell. She vanished after work one day.” I try to roll back my hunched shoulders, but they remain an immovable pillar of tension. “She’d texted when she was leaving, saying she was going right home, but she wasn’t home when I got there, so I filed a missing person’s report.”

Rayne nods. “And they made you wait the requisite twenty-four hours.”

I give her a wry smile. She certainly spouts bullshit with authority; I have to give her that.

“That’s a myth. There’s no wait time to report a person missing.”

“But, everyone says—”

“That’s just Hollywood bullshit. Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?”

She subsides. Her soft scent reminds me of the beauty, strength, and resilience of nature. I want to run my nose along her neck and drink it in. I want to catch that pouty lower lip between my teeth and tug. I shake my head. Get a grip.

“Yes, by all means.” She waves her hand for me to continue.

“They found her beaten and bleeding out in a motel room.” Liquid fire rages through my gut at the memory. “They rushed her to Sunnybrook. I was the doctor on shift. There was no time to call anyone else in. They’d nicked her heart when they stabbed her. I should have been able to save her.” I bow my head as the lump in my throat chokes off my breath.

She manages to keep her mouth shut for at least three minutes. I can see the gears slip into each notch as they turn behind those striking eyes.

“How long were you together?”

“Three years.” Three years we were each so wrapped up in our careers, we’d barely known each other.

“Doesn’t sound like you really loved her. Did you even know each other? So you canonized her because you feel guilty? How’s that working for you?”

What the fuck! Her questions strike like blows. This little woman goes straight for the carotid. Righteous anger licks through me. How dare this little upstart judge me? How dare she be right?

I bite the inside of my cheek to quell the urge to hit something.

“Who the hell are you to judge me? You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” I cross the large room to the speed bag suspended in the corner and beat it savagely, hands bare, oblivious to the pain shimmering up my arms. Her small hand on my bicep stops me cold.

“Is that my cue to go?”

I grit my teeth. “There’s the door. Be my guest. Viper’s men are waiting for you upstairs. Just tell them you never meant to run away. They’ll be so happy to see you.”

That should shut her up for at least fifteen seconds.