Chapter 5

Chapter Five

T he paramedics insisted that Noah head to the hospital for stitches. He only agreed to go once his boss had arrived and promised not to let Violet take Annabelle from the premises by force. By the time he got back to the warehouse, the place was overrun with cops, forensic techs, and the medical examiner’s team.

They’d cordoned off the apartment as a crime scene and moved Annabelle to one of the abandoned offices on the second floor. She was sound asleep in what looked like a walk-in storage closet off the large office area. Noah greeted his team before heading straight to her, limping some as he crossed the room.

Annabelle lay on a single mattress, which was obviously brand new, placed on the bare wooden floorboards. Someone had set up a small lamp beside her, and she was still wrapped up in the heirloom quilt. A paramedic knelt at her side on the floor, changing out the IV bag attached to her arm.

“Fluids,” he said as Noah approached.

An older woman with a bob of steel gray hair stood at the end of the makeshift bed, watching the paramedic’s every move. She wore a simple black dress, and her back was ramrod straight.

“Noah Merchant.” He offered his hand.

“Dr. Mallory.” Her handshake was firm. “Annabelle’s physician and psychiatrist.”

“Dual duty, huh?”

“I was a family doctor before I trained in psychiatry, so I function as both for Annabelle because it’s easier for her.”

“I’m sure she appreciates it.” He did a visual sweep of Annabelle, checking for injuries, and was relieved to find none evident. “It’s unusual for a doctor to make house calls in this day and age.”

Dr. Mallory was clearly amused. “Some of my patients can’t make it in to see me.”

Noah smiled sheepishly. “Of course. Sorry, I took some pain meds. My brain is a bit slower than usual. Is she gonna be okay?”

“It’s purely a bad dose of the flu. Her fever had gotten a little out of hand, but the fluids will help, as will the medication we administered. All she needs now is to rest and let her body fight it off.”

The paramedic finished up, nodded at the doctor, and left the room. Noah stepped out of his way, wincing as pain shot through his injured leg.

“Sit down, Mr. Merchant,” the doctor said. “Before you topple over.”

Someone had moved a couple of old wooden chairs into the room, and Noah gratefully sank onto one of them. It groaned under his weight.

“Bullet skimmed my leg,” he told the doctor. “Took a chunk of skin.”

“Looks like that’s not the only injury you’ve sustained.” Her attention was on his bandaged head.

“No, but it’s the one that hurts the most. Does Annabelle have any injuries?”

“A few scrapes but nothing serious.” She seemed to look right into him and see things he didn’t want anyone to see. “You did a good job of protecting her.”

“It was mostly luck.” He nodded at the sleeping patient. “Have they filled you in on the situation?”

“Yes.” Her lips thinned. “Annabelle saw a man being killed and is a key witness in his murderer’s trial. Tonight, some of his gang members tried to stop that from happening.”

“The ADA wants us to move her to a safe house. Is that even possible with her condition?”

The doctor sighed and took the chair beside his, sitting just as straight as she’d stood. “Agoraphobia’s a crippling condition, and contrary to public perception, it doesn’t always mean that the sufferer is housebound. It can mean they stick only to places where they feel safe and never leave that defined area. For Annabelle, that means this building.”

Noah wished he’d had time to read up on the condition before being thrown in at the deep end. “What would happen if she’s forced to leave?”

“Honestly, I suspect she’d experience a full psychotic break and have to be institutionalized.”

“So, she can never leave this warehouse?” There went their plan to move her to a safe house.

“I’m not saying that. With time and work on her part, she could extend her comfort zone beyond this building. But forcing her out of it is something else entirely. She isn’t mentally equipped to deal with such a violation. Do you know anything of her history?”

Noah shook his head and instantly regretted it because it made the wound on his scalp throb. “We got pulled onto this job just a couple of hours ago. Been kinda busy since then.”

“So I see.” The doctor smiled kindly. “I’m not betraying Annabelle’s confidence by telling you what she experienced. It’s public knowledge, and a basic internet search of her name would bring up news reports.” Her gaze rested on the sleeping woman with fondness and sympathy. “Annabelle’s mother died during childbirth, and her father raised her—with the help of his older sister. They were very wealthy—family money and wise investments. When she was in college, two men abducted her from the street on her way home from a date one evening. They held her ransom for three days.” She shook her head. “It isn’t like in the movies. It takes time to amass the kind of cash her kidnappers demanded.”

“I’ve worked a kidnapping or two in my time,” Noah said quietly.

“Then you understand,” the doctor said. “By then, her father was in his seventies and had a severe heart condition. The stress of Annabelle’s kidnapping proved too much for him, and he died of a heart attack before his daughter was returned.”

Noah cursed under his breath.

“Exactly,” Dr. Mallory said. “The ransom was paid, and Annabelle came to live with his sister, her aunt. She’s been here ever since. Anxiety and fear made it hard for her to leave the building, and after a couple of years, she stopped trying.”

Hell, no wonder she had issues. “So she hasn’t left this building in what? Ten years?”

“About that,” the doctor agreed as she brushed at a mark on her dress. “We made some progress while her aunt was alive, but her passing was a setback. There was no one left who was close enough to her, who she trusted enough to help her step out into the world.”

“How did her aunt die?”

“Old age. She fell asleep and never woke up.”

They watched Annabelle in silence for a moment.

“There’s no way we can move her from this building, is there?” Noah said at last.

“Not unless you want to render her incapable of testifying for the prosecution.”

That’s what he figured. “What about having other people in the building? Will that freak her out?”

“No. Rose, her aunt, was very good in that respect. When she was alive, the shop was open every day, and this floor was rented out to various small businesses. She ensured that the world came to Annabelle, seeing as she couldn’t enter the world. That socialization is why I have such high hopes that one day, she’ll step outside this building.”

“But the place has been empty and the shop closed for a while now?”

“Annabelle isn’t great at the business side of things. She meant to get new tenants, but she gets wrapped up in her work and forgets.”

Noah gestured toward the outer office, where his team was busy making themselves at home. “Well, she has new tenants now, albeit temporary, whether she wants them or not. No effort required on her part.”

Dr. Mallory studied him and appeared to come to some conclusion. “She’ll be safe with you, won’t she?”

“You have my word that I’ll do everything within my power to keep her safe. I’ve been with Benson Security for years, and not only are these people good at what they do, they also care about doing it right.”

“That’s all I can ask.” She stood and smoothed down her dress. “I’ve arranged for a nurse to check on her over the next couple of days. I suspect she’ll be out of it for a little while yet, so don’t be surprised if she’s disorientated and frightened when she wakes. Someone should be with her at all times to help her and explain what’s going on.”

“I’ll make sure that happens.” Because he would do it himself.

“I was good friends with her aunt,” Dr. Mallory said wistfully. “She would have liked you.”

With that, she turned and strode from the tiny room.

Noah inched his chair closer to Annabelle, leaned over, and gently swept her hair back from her face. Whatever the doc had given her ensured she was sound asleep. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other for now,” he whispered. “Sleep well. We’ll watch out for you.”

Her eyelids fluttered open for a second, and she looked up at him with an unfocused gaze. “Bulldog,” she mumbled with a smile before falling back to sleep.

At the sound of movement behind him, Noah turned to see one of the Scottish triplets, the youngest members of his new team, carrying in an old armchair. He settled it in the corner, near Annabelle’s bed.

“Boss said you’d want to camp in here tonight,” he said as Noah struggled to remember which one he was. Logan or Harris, he figured, because the other triplet, Evan, favored bad Hawaiian shirts. “I suggested another mattress, but she figured the girl would scream if she woke up to find somebody sleeping beside her—even if there was a space between the beds.”

“I can sleep in a chair.” Hell, the way Noah felt, he could sleep anywhere.

Noah had been around the brothers a week or so now and still found it disconcerting that they were basically indistinguishable from each other. They were all tall, lean-muscled, and topped with auburn hair. Their square jaws and mischievous blue eyes meant women stopped in their tracks wherever they went—individually or together. Although when they were together, it magnified the effect. Noah had witnessed women walking into walls as they stared at the brothers. As far as he knew, at least one of them had done some modeling in the past, which was no surprise.

Evan, dressed in a shirt that should have come with sunglasses for those around him, crowded into the room behind his brother. “I made signs,” he said.

Noah frowned with confusion as he settled into the armchair but watched with interest as Evan stuck a large sheet of paper to the ceiling above Annabelle’s bed and another to the wall above his chair. He grinned when he read the handwritten messages not to panic. It was the kind of thing his kids would do. Sometimes, it was hard to remember these guys were in their twenties.

“Logan thinks he was deprived of oxygen in the womb,” his brother—Harris, Noah now knew—said drolly. “I reckon he got one too many elbows to the head from the rest of us.”

“What?” Evan said. “This will help. I’d freak out if I woke in a different room with strangers all around me. Anyone would.”

“Thanks, boys,” Noah said before they could start arguing. “I’m going to get some sleep now, if that’s okay.”

Harris eyed him critically. “Have you had enough pain meds?”

“Plenty. I’m rattling from them.”

“Okay then, sleep well, and shout out if you need anything. We’re taking turns keeping watch tonight, although the place is still crawling with cops, so it’s unlikely there’ll be another attack anytime soon.” Harris glanced back into the office space. “We’re setting up beds out there, so we’ll be close by.”

“Appreciated,” Noah said, meaning it.

“Team briefing at eight in the morning,” Evan said.

“I’ll be there.” He stretched out his legs in front of him, feeling the wound smart where the bullet had grazed him. At least there was no throbbing pain.

“Night, then.” Harris left the door ajar, enough to allow some light in and for Noah to hear danger approaching. He flicked off the light inside the closet before disappearing.

For a few moments, Noah watched Annabelle sleep while listening to the muted sounds of his teammates moving around in the room outside his door. Despite her being unwell, there was no denying their new mission was attractive. Based on her coloring, it seemed she was an American mutt—just like him: a mix of races and nationalities in her heritage. Although his leaned toward Irish and Eastern European, whereas hers seemed to lean closer to warmer climes. Even ashen with illness, her warm brown skin tone spoke of Caribbean beaches.

He closed his eyes and sighed at himself. The pain meds were making him think crazy thoughts, waxing lyrical about their charge’s appearance. She was a job. Her looks didn’t matter.

He opened his eyes again to study her. There was no denying she was pretty, though…

“You’re doing it again,” his dead wife’s voice sounded in his head.

Noah wasn’t surprised to see her standing beside Annabelle’s bed. “Doing what?” he whispered.

“You’ve gone into white-knight mode. You want to save the girl.” She studied Annabelle for a moment. “She’s a gorgeous woman and feisty too. I like her. But she isn’t some puppy you can adopt, you know that, right?”

“It never even occurred to me that she needed rescuing, let alone adopting. I’m just doing my job, which is to protect her.”

“Yeah, right.” Therese was unconvinced.

“Yeah, right,” Noah whispered firmly.

“You know,” she said speculatively, “it’s been five years since I died. Don’t you think it’s time you moved on?”

“I’m sore and tired, and I need to rest. I don’t have time to talk to a ghost right now,” Noah told her, closing his eyes. Maybe if he couldn’t see his delusion, he wouldn’t hear her.

No such luck.

“I’ll admit, if you’d walked into another relationship five years ago, when my body was barely cold, I’d have made your life hell. But now, I’m worried about you. Do you plan on being alone for the rest of your life?”

“I’m not alone,” he muttered. “You’re here. All. The. Time.”

“But you can’t touch me,” she said with sadness. “And the boys would be okay with it now—you moving on, starting again with someone new. Just think about it.”

“Therese, please.” He opened his eyes only to find the room empty except for his charge, who was still sleeping deeply.

With a shake of his head at his own craziness, Noah closed his eyes again and let his battered body relax.