Kidnapped Hearts by Cait Jarrod Page B

eyes,
relatively small nose, and square jaw with a five o'clock shadow. He shuffled
his feet, and her eyes locked with his. Like a freeze-frame, her body pulsed
with each beat of her heart. His eyes didn’t merely meet hers; they reached
into her chest, tugging at her very essence.
    The unfamiliar feeling left a tingle in
her belly, yet she stayed relaxed and calm. Minutes before, she wanted to run
away from everything, including herself. An evil man chased her, a mother
figure fought for her life, and she lay in a hospital bed. All this was
happening for reasons that escaped her, and a man she barely knew watched over
her. Nothing made sense.
    “I’ll get the nurse.”
    Jake’s deep voice followed by the
scraping of his chair against the hard floor penetrated her musings. “No, I’m
okay. Just thinking.”
    Jake settled in his seat. “Ask me.”
    His statement startled her.
    “I’m sure you have questions. Ask them.”
    She shrugged. “I’m having a hard time
remembering details.”
    “A situation developed. I pulled you
inside the café and shielded you.”
    The scene
unfolded in her mind’s eye. Unfortunately, the image of Marge lying on the café
floor materialized. “I remember most of what happened.” She shook her head and
fumbled with the blanket. “I don’t want to, though.” Her eyes flicked closed.
“What caused me to black out?”
    “Shock. The EMTs thought it would be
better to bring you to the ER for fluids. Their prediction that you’d be home
within a couple of hours was a tad off. The doctor ordered a CAT scan to check
the bump on your head. The results were negative. It’s not uncommon for people
experiencing trauma to black out, but when you stopped breathing—”
    “I stopped breathing?”
    “For a moment,” he cleared his throat,
“the EMTs were on the scene quickly.” He studied her a moment. “Do your lips
hurt?”
    A flush crept across her cheeks. Had she
really stopped breathing? His voice did hold a hint of mischievousness. She
held her bottom lip between two fingers, remembering the warmth before she
blacked out. Her wayward fingers fell onto the bed. “No.”
    With a gleam in his eyes, he winked, then
his face returned to the earnest expression she had seen earlier. “Once you get
out of here, we’ll talk more. With FBI agents posted along the hall and outside
your door, you’ll be safe.”
    They were supposed to keep her safe last
night. They didn’t. She rolled to her side. Pain stung her butt. Last night,
she had fallen on a rock. “Where are my clothes?”
    Jake opened a closet door, yanked a bag
from its constraints, and placed it on top of the blanket next to her.
    Pamela slipped her hands into the pocket
of her dress and pulled out a white piece of paper.
    Jake groaned. “You should have given it
to me when you found it.”
    Blood rushed to her head, and her palms
sweated. “I found it during the commotion just before I blacked out. How could
I give it to you?” Her voice elevated an octave. “And what the hell do you call
keeping me safe?” She rolled onto her back.
    Jake extended his hand. “You need to stay
calm. I figured you had been carrying it around for a while.”
    She snorted and lifted her shoulders off
the bed. With narrow eyes, she fumed, “Don’t tell me what to do. FBI agents
were supposed to protect me.” The tears that threatened, escaped. “They were
supposed to protect my café and the people inside it. Where were they?”
    Hands on his hips, Jake lowered his head,
but his eyes were glued to hers. “They blindsided us. The Black Scorpions
arrived on the street by motorcycle and on foot. The ones on foot picked out
the agents posted on the South and North sides of the street. They took them
out. They even managed to restrain the agents at the back entrance. The gang
members on motorcycles had free access to the street after that point. No one
knew that a quarter of the gang would show up. We thought we were only dealing
with a