Seducing Liselle by Marie E. Blossom Page A

visitor.”
    “Who is it?” Liselle’s voice sounded weak. John had to fight not to push past the guy and just knock
the door down.
    “It’s Gary. From the
desk. I’ve got your friend here.”
    “My friend?” Liselle asked, sounding a little
stronger.
    “ Liselle , it’s
me,” John called out, ignoring the sharp look the guy sent his way when he used
her real name. “I’m coming in.” He turned to Gary when she didn’t reply. “Give
me the key.”
    Gary frowned at him, then handed it over when John glowered. “I’m going to call the cops if you do
anything stupid.”
    “I’m not going to hurt her,” John replied,
growing more pissed as the minutes ticked by. She could be seriously injured
and he had to stand out her talking to this guy. “I would never hurt her.”
    The man must have seen something in John’s
face because he backed off. “Fine. I’ll just wait
here.”
    John shoved the key in the door, unlocked
it, and pushed it open. The curtains were drawn and it was dark inside, but he
could make out Liselle on the bed. She looked pale
and she had her eyes closed like she hadn’t just been talking through the door
at them.
    “Jesus, is she okay?” Gary called.
    John hurried to the bed, put a hand to her face. She was cool, but pale. He switched on the bedside
light. She had dark circles under her eyes.
    “You said she hurt her ankle?” he asked.
    “Yeah,” Gary said, inching just inside.
    John pushed the covers away from her legs,
recoiling at the sight of the dirty bandage covering her thigh. She had on
shorts and a t-shirt. He inspected her leg, looking for streaks or bruising,
but didn’t find anything. Her ankle looked a little swollen. He touched her
foot. She jerked awake, swinging her leg away from his hand.
    “ Shhh , it’s
okay. It’s me, John,” he said, cupping her knee.
    She stared up at him, eyes glassy. “John?”
    “Yeah. Hey, what happened?”
    She shook her head, eyes drifting shut.
“Hungry,” she muttered.
    Shit. “When was the last time you ate?” he
asked her.
    She grimaced. “Maybe …
yesterday?”
    He growled under his breath. “Gary, do you
have something to eat? Canned soup or juice or anything?”
    “Do I look like a restaurant to you?” the
guy asked.
    John glared at him and the man sighed.
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Give me a minute.” He walked out of the room and John turned
back to the bed.
    “Hey, can you sit up?” He shoved some
pillows against the headboard and propped her up. “What happened, Liselle ?”
    She shook her head, looking exhausted. “My
dad found me somehow.”
    John grunted. “He did this to you?” He
gently touched a yellowing bruise high on her cheekbone.
    She nodded. “I had to run. All I had was
my duffle.” She gestured weakly at the bag near the dresser.
    “Jesus. Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve
helped you.” He took her hand in his. It was cold, even though it was a warm
night.
    She shook her head. “Not your problem.” To
John’s frustration, she slid her hand away.
    “Here. My wife’s chicken soup,” Gary said,
walking in with a mug.
    John looked at the man, and Gary nodded
toward the bed. “See that she gets better,” he said gruffly, then left.
    John held the mug to Liselle’s lips. “Drink. You’re probably dehydrated and hungry.”
    She sipped at the soup. When she’d
finished most of it, he let her lie down again. “I’m taking you home with me,”
he said. He wasn’t sure she heard him, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t leave
her here like this.
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Seven
     
    Liselle woke slowly, every muscle in her body protesting as she
experimentally moved her arms. She groaned and tried to roll over, then gave
up. She was warm, at least, though her leg hurt. She grimaced, then opened her
eyes and gasped. This wasn’t her motel room! Adrenaline shot through her,
making her wince as she put weight on her bruised arm.
    “Hey, take it easy, you’re okay,” a
woman’s voice