The Spellbinder by Iris Johansen Page B

not. What if he died before she came back? If she was here, she would find a way to pull him back and keep him with her. He
belonged
to her. She refused to let death have him. “You go.” Her arms slid around Brody, holding him with fierce possession. “I’ll stay with him.”
    Harris nodded and whirled toward the emergency room. “Keep an eye on that bleeding.”
    He barreled through the doorway, throwing the double doors wide, and disappeared into the hospital.
    “How is he?” Cass Radison’s voice was jerky as he strode into the emergency waiting room.
    Cass’s gray hair was rumpled, and his face was almost as pale as Brody’s had been before he had been taken away from her, Sacha realized. “I don’t know, they wouldn’t let me stay with him while they examined him. They took him into one of those rooms.” She gestured to a wide black door across the room. “I told them he needed me, but they wouldn’t let me go with him.”
    “Are you okay?” Cass’s eyes narrowed on her taut face and then traveled to the bloodstains on her white T-shirt. “Harris said no one had been hurt but Brody.”
    “I’m fine. It’s Brody’s blood.” She shuddered. Brody’s blood. Brody’s life in danger. “He saved my life, you know. It’s my fault he was shot.”
    “Forget it. That’s water under the bridge,” Cass said impatiently. “Right now we have to worry about making sure Brody will be fine.
Damn
those security men.”
    “I owe him my life. I can’t forget it.” She folded her arms across her breasts, hugging herself, trying to stop the chill. “What if he dies, Cass?”
    “He won’t die. Harris said he didn’t think it was serious. It was only an arm wound.”
    “Only!” Her eyes were blazing. “That’s what Brody said. What’s wrong with all of you? He was
bleeding.
What if—”
    The black door suddenly opened and a short stocky man dressed in blue-green cotton trousers and tunic strode into the room. “Miss Lorion?”
    “Here.” Sacha hurried forward. “How is he? He wasn’t hurt badly?”
    “I’m Dr. Farland. Mr. Devlin will be fine; the bullet only grazed his arm.”
    Relief surged through her with dizzying strength. “Thank God,” she murmured. “I was so afraid—”
    “Can we take him back to the hotel?” Cass interrupted. “This place is going to be swarming with reporters and police as soon as word gets out. Brody isn’t going to feel like answering questions.”
    Dr. Farland shook his head. “We’d like to keep him overnight to make sure he doesn’t go into shock. We gave him a shot when we first began working on him, and he’s still pretty groggy.” His lips twisted. “We don’t like the idea of the media crawling all over here either, but the hospital has no desire to be accused of negligence in Mr. Devlin’s case. The best we can do is arrange to put him in a private room on the VIP floor and instruct the head nurse not to permit any visitors. Some member of his family will have to sign the admittance forms.”
    Sacha aroused herself from the euphoria of relief. “I’ll sign them. I’m his sister.”
    The doctor frowned. “I’ve never read anything about Mr. Devlin having a sister. I’m afraid we’ll have to ask for some form of proof.”
    “I don’t have any proof, but I’m truly—”
    “She’s not his sister.” Cass’s words cut through her protest. “But I have his power of attorney. Will that do?”
    Sacha stared at him in bewilderment. “But I
am
his sister. I can sign!”
    Cass shook his head regretfully. “Look, I’m sorry, Sacha, but we have proof that you’re no close relation whatsoever.” He turned back to the doctor. “There’s been a little misunderstanding here. Will the power of attorney be sufficient?”
    “I don’t see why not. See the admittance clerk and sign the papers.” He sighed wearily. “And I’ll try to keep everyone away from him but necessary staff. I hate it when we get celebrities here.” He turned