Goldilocks Forever

Chapter 16

Santa Monica, California

February 2006

Anna's arm ached, a sting where the needle of the IV sat in her vein, her skin pulled taut with medical tape. She followed clear plastic tubing with her eyes to the bag with a translucent liquid hanging from a post. She winced as she tried to sit up. The excessively puffy down comforter and the fluffiness of the pillows restrained her and made it difficult for her to move. She grunted with exertion as she scooted back toward the wooden frame of the bed.

Once sitting, she turned her attention toward the IV. She winced as she peeled off the tape holding it in place and pulled lightly on the needle.

"Don't."

She startled and turned toward the voice. Sabian sat in a plush chair at the side of the bed. "What is this?"

"Intravenous hydration and nutrition."

"You're feeding me through a tube?" Her breath came quicker, hotter.

"Either you eat, or you die. It's very simple." His gaze upon her reminded her of the few times she and her sister had landed in the principal's office during their school years.

She looked down at her arm and saw no hint of the previous night's cruelty. "What happened? Why did you cut me?" Her words were laced with irritation.

"We had to be certain."

"Did you inject me with something?"

"No."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I felt it."

"You fainted from exhaustion brought on by malnutrition and dehydration. There was no need to inject you with anything but the IV."

She stared at him, and ignoring the pain, ripped the IV out of her arm and tossed the needle and tubing to the side. Sabian's eyes widened and his jaw clenched. The bag of fluids jostled from its hook. Blood oozed from her arm. She gulped back the pain.

"I'm fine." Anna swung her legs to the opposite side of the bed, away from him. Her movements created a cool breeze over her bare skin. She wasn't wearing pants. Heat rose on her cheeks.

At the edge of the bed, her feet dangled, not even touching the floor. Someone had placed her boots neatly in front of a dresser. She scanned the rest of the room for her jeans. The white-painted furniture and beveled vanity mirror contained fine feminine details. A bouquet of lavender was perched in a crystal vase on the table next to her. She did not smell lavender, though, but jasmine.

Casey. She'd recognize it anywhere. On the dresser was one of the telltale candles.

"Why are you here, Anastasia?"

"Call me Anna."

"Very well," he said. "Answer my question."

Anna sucked in a silent breath. Her shoulders and chest rose imperceptibly.

"Did you come to kill me?"

"No!" She sighed deeper, audibly, as if the words pained her. "I came to ask for your help."

"Turn and look at me when you speak."

She looked at him over her shoulder.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" His tone was even but his severe glare bore down on her. "You came here with a gun and you expect me to believe your motives were innocent?"

The horrible feeling of being misunderstood—dangerously misunderstood—chilled her. She drew the comforter closer to her body. "It would be stupid of me to come here without a way to defend myself."