She raised a hand to her head, and her fingers came away sticky with blood.

Celia pulled her out of the dark room. Where were they? It resembled some kind of vacant warehouse. Her mother paused at the doorway then pulled Faith into the large open area. The rough concrete abraded her bare feet as she stumbled along behind her mother.

When they reached the back, Celia opened a battered door and shoved Faith into the night.

“The alleyway leads out to a street. You have to go. He’ll be here any minute. I love you.”

With that, she shut the door, leaving Faith alone and shivering in the humid alleyway.

She clutched her arms around her midsection and started toward a distant streetlight. Dizzy, disoriented and in pain, she started to run, the memory of her captor shooting Mick and Gray vivid in her memory. He would kill her. Of that she had no doubt.

Her feet pounded the broken cement of the narrow alleyway. Trash, rotten food and God knew what else squished beneath her toes. She tripped as she neared the end and went sprawling. She cried out despite her best effort not to, but pain knifed through her body as she went crashing to the pavement.

In desperation, she dragged herself up and started running again. When she reached the end, she ran onto the street and looked left and right. God, it was empty. No cars, no lights other than what lined the street. It was an older section of town, and what businesses might be located on the street had long since closed for the day.

She chose a direction and ran. Her breath tore from her throat in painful bursts. Her surroundings blurred and passed with dizzying sickness. It felt as though someone had shoved a knife right through the back of her head.

One block. Two. She continued on until she feared passing out. When she’d gone approximately three blocks, she tripped again and went down, her hands flying out to break her fall. She landed face-first on the hard, broken street.

Tears flooded her eyes as she gasped for breath. Pain rendered her immobile. She couldn’t force herself back up. She struggled to her knees and looked down at her torn, bleeding palms.

As she glanced behind her, she was blinded by a bright light. She threw up her arm in a protective measure to shield her eyes as she tried to scramble up and flee.

“Ma’am, ma’am, are you okay?”

She strained to see who was talking to her. The light shifted, and she could see the outline of a man walking her way. She whimpered and threw herself the rest of the way up, prepared to run for her life.

“Houston Police. I’m here to offer assistance.”

She froze then looked down, and for the first time saw what he was seeing. Her clothes were torn and bloodied. Her hair hung around her face in disarray.

As he approached, he shone the light down and farther away from her. His expression was guarded, but he viewed her with concern.

“Ma’am, are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

His voice was soft and reassuring, like he was afraid she’d run. His hand touched her shoulder, and a shudder worked through her.

He turned the light toward her face again, and she flinched away from the glare. “Ma’am, are you Faith Malone?” There was excitement in his voice.

“Y-yes.” Her voice cracked and she tried again. “Yes, I’m Faith Malone.”

“We’ve been looking for you. God almighty, how did you escape?” His voice was all business now, and he picked up the mic to his radio.

She listened as he excitedly called in their location and requested an ambulance. Then he turned his attention back to her.

“Ma’am, can you tell me what happened? How did you come to be out here?”

“He’s back there,” she croaked.

The policeman whirled around, drawing his weapon.

“At a warehouse,” she said. “We were at a warehouse. A few blocks back. My mother…she helped me escape. You have to go back for her. She’s in danger. He’s holding her too. She helped me.”

As she finished, she started to sink with exhaustion. The policeman caught her before she landed back on the street.

“Easy,” he murmured. “You’re going to be okay now. An ambulance is on the way.”

As he held her, he radioed for backup and relayed what Faith had told him about the warehouse and her mother. The rest was a dim blur. She was cognizant of his arms around her and the comforting words he murmured, but little else. She closed her eyes, wanting to escape her reality, even if for a little while. She heard the distant sound of sirens, and then she heard no more.

CHAPTER 38

Gray fought against the effects of the painkillers he’d taken. They’d dulled the pain, but he was drowsy as hell. He stood up, ignoring the renewed agony the movement caused. He paced the small confines of the office, about to go out of his mind with worry.

When Pop’s cell phone rang, they all jumped. Pop snatched it up and stuck it to his ear. Gray, Micah, Connor and Nathan all stopped and leaned forward in interest.

“Where?” he heard Pop ask. Then, “Thank God. We’ll be right there.”

Pop closed the phone and closed his eyes. His hands shook as he laid the phone down.

“They found her,” he reported. “They’re taking her to the hospital now.”

Gray exploded forward. “Hospital? Is she hurt? Where did they find her? Was Samuels taken in?”

Pop held up his hand. “Slow down, son. I know you’re worried. We all are. I don’t know much. That was dispatch. An on-duty cop found her down in the warehouse district. Apparently she was able to escape Samuels, and she was running. She’s hurt. I don’t know how bad. The dispatcher said the cop stayed with her until the ambulance arrived and that Faith supplied them information on Samuels’s whereabouts. That’s all I have.”

“Let’s go then,” Gray said in a strained voice. “I need to see her.”

Pop nodded. “I’ll drive you.”

Gray stood in the doorway of Faith’s room, unable to tear his gaze from her. She was asleep in the hospital bed, her face so fragile looking. Her forehead was creased, even in her sleep, and he worried about what nightmares she faced in her dreams.

A large bandage adorned her head, and she wore smaller ones on her hands and knees. Even her feet were bandaged.

A comforting hand clasped his shoulder, and he looked behind him to see Pop standing there.

“What did the doctor say?” Gray asked in a weary voice.

“Bastard hit her on the head with the butt of a pistol. She has a concussion. But otherwise she was unharmed. The cuts and scrapes she suffered were from her escape. Doc says he wants to watch her overnight, and if she does well, she can go home tomorrow.”

Gray closed his eyes as sweet relief poured over him. “Thank God,” he whispered.

“Son, you need to get some rest. You’re not doing anyone any good here. You can see her tomorrow.”

Gray shook his head. “I won’t leave her. I can’t.”

“You have two choices, son. You can get your ass home and get some rest on your own, or I’ll have those boys cart you out of here forcibly.” He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder to where Nathan, Connor and Micah stood in the hallway. “It’s up to you.”

Gray cursed long and hard under his breath.

“I doubt she’ll even wake up,” Pop said. “They gave her something for pain, and well, she’s never been able to handle it. Hell, once she went to the dentist and he prescribed a mild painkiller. She was out cold for twelve hours straight.”

Micah walked up to where Pop was standing. “Come on, Gray. I’ll drive you home. We’ll come back up in the morning so you can see her.”

Gray sighed in defeat. “Give me a minute.”

He turned and walked over to Faith’s bed and stared down at her for a long moment. He reached out his free hand and brushed his fingers softly over her cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I love you.” He bent and pressed his lips to hers, inhaling her sweet scent. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I swear.”

Reluctantly, he turned and trudged toward the door where Micah waited. He looked at Pop and Connor, who had moved inside the doorway. “Is someone staying with her? I don’t want her to be alone.”

Pop nodded. “We’ll be here. You go get some rest. You’ll do her a whole lot more good when you can hold your head up.”

Gray looked him square in the eye. “I love your daughter. I want you to know that.”

Pop’s expression softened. “I know you do.”

Gray turned and slowly, painfully made his way down the hall. Micah caught up to him. “You can crash at my place tonight. You shouldn’t be alone with your injuries.”

Gray nodded, too tired to argue. “I wasn’t out there when the news came in. Did they catch Samuels?”

“Yeah, they got him,” Micah said grimly.

“I want to kill the son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, me too,” Micah said.

“What about her mother?” Gray asked. “Pop said something about her helping Faith escape.”

“Last I heard, they were questioning her. I don’t know if they’ve decided what her involvement has been yet or not.”

Gray nodded. “No matter what, it’s only going to upset Faith in the end.”

“Yeah, it sucks.”

They walked out of the emergency room exit and headed toward Micah’s truck. It was only a few hours until daylight, and he needed about twenty-four hours of sleep.

When he climbed into the cab, he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.

Micah got in and started the engine. He put it in reverse but didn’t back up. Gray looked over to see him staring at him.

“What?”

Micah paused. “What are you going to do, man? I mean about your job? Are you going to go back now that it’s all over?”

Gray tensed. Over. The man who had killed Alex, killed Mick and had hurt Faith was in custody. For all practical purposes, his time here was up. He had a while until his official leave was over. A month ago, he would have said he had no reason to stay. But now he had absolutely nothing left for him in Dallas.

“I can’t go back,” he said, the decision settling over him, the first thing that had made him feel good in two days.

Micah nodded. “I hoped you’d say that. Faith’s a good woman. You fit in well here. We could use you on a permanent basis.”

“I’m not so sure Pop will feel that way,” Gray said. “But whether I work for him or do something else, I can’t leave Faith.”

“I hear you. It’ll work out.”

Gray hoped so. He still had to face Faith. He was just thankful she was alive and well, and he had the opportunity to make her see how much he loved her.

CHAPTER 39

Faith woke feeling like she had a mouth full of cotton. She blinked, trying to remember where she was, but it was dark. She was really starting to hate the dark. A whimper worked its way out of her throat as she shifted, trying to get her bearings.

“Faith, are you okay?” Connor asked.

“Light,” she rasped out. “Turn it on, please.”

She heard him fumble around in the dark, and then soft light flooded the room. She winced and blinked, covering her eyes with her hand.

The bed dipped, and when she moved her hand, she saw Connor leaning over her, concern etched on his face. “How are you, honey?”

She licked her lips and pondered that question for a while. “I think I’m okay. Connor…is Gray…is he dead?” she asked fearfully.

“Oh God, no, honey. He’s fine. We sent him home because he took a bullet in the shoulder, and he’s been running around like mad. Left the hospital against medical advice and has been generally raising hell.”

She sagged against the bed in relief. “I saw him go down. That man shot him. I thought he was dead.” A tear slid down her cheek, and she closed her eyes to the horrible memory.

Connor laid a hand over her forehead. “Don’t get yourself worked up, Faith. He’s fine. I’m more worried about you.”

So much had happened. Even without the head injury, her head would be spinning.

“What the hell is the light doing on?” Pop demanded from the doorway.

She looked up to see him holding two cups of coffee. He looked tired and haggard. Worry had carved deep lines on his face, and she felt terrible that she had been the cause of it.

It hit her like a ton of bricks. Everything that had happened had been because of her. She closed her eyes, and in that moment wished she could just go to sleep and wake up somewhere else.

Pop’s rough hand curled around hers. She opened tear-filled eyes to see him standing by the bed.

“You scared ten years off me, girl,” he said gruffly. “And I don’t know what’s currently going through that pretty head of yours, but I assure you I won’t like or agree with it.”

“Everything’s such a mess,” she whispered. “I just want to go home.”