“Twenty goddamn times. Holy fuck. It’s a miracle that you’re still alive,” Dante rasped, trying to control his own homicidal urges at that moment. Granted, the man had lost his wife and son, but he’d taken his grief out on an innocent woman who had only tried to help his child. And the bastard had almost succeeded in killing her.
“Had one of the nurses not come down the stairwell at just the right time, I would have died that evening. John fled down the stairs and outside as soon as he heard somebody coming down the stairs. He hit an artery in my arm, and I would have bled to death very quickly from the wounds had I not already been in a hospital. The emergency crew there saved my life.”
“The police never caught him.” Dante met Sarah’s gaze, seeing nothing but sadness in her dark blue eyes, tears trailing down her cheeks.
“No,” she verified, swiping at her tears. “When I recovered, I couldn’t bring myself to go back into the hospital. After Trey died, I was already nauseous just from walking in the door. And after all of the wounds healed from John’s assault, I couldn’t even make myself go into the hospital. I started having panic attacks.”
Unable to control his instincts any longer, Dante got up and took Sarah’s hand, pulling her up and wrapping her in his arms. “Who took care of you?” Dante asked in a low, comforting voice as he ran his hand up and down her back. Christ. He wished he had been there for her then.
“My mother. I had an apartment in Chicago close to the hospital, but I stayed with her for a while after the incident. I think it was hard for her, too, because she wanted her independent, successful doctor daughter back. But I couldn’t seem to stop the panic attacks every time I tried to go back into the hospital, and I knew I needed a change. I started looking at smaller cities around the country that needed doctors, and I ended up here. I’ve always wanted to be on the coast, and when I found out how few doctors this town had, I thought it was perfect. I still haven’t been able to go into the hospital here, but I’ve been happy in Amesport until tonight. It was like starting over for me. I never really thought he’d come after me. I thought he attacked me in a fit of posttraumatic rage and grief. If John did this, then he still wants me to die.”
“It was him,” Dante rumbled, holding her trembling body just a little bit tighter. Fuck! Who could try to hurt this woman? Every instinct Dante had was screaming at him to protect her. Sarah walked around in her own intellectual bubble, and that asshole had broken it in the most horrifying of ways. Now, instead of just feeling isolated and lonely, she felt alone and afraid when she’d never done anything but good for other people. He didn’t know much about comforting a woman, but keeping her safe he could do. She was his to protect now—had been since he’d held her soft, responsive body earlier as she went to pieces in his arms.
“I know it’s him,” she sighed. “I can feel it in my gut. Nobody around here is crazy enough or hates me enough to have done what was done to my house. I knew as soon as I saw the message on the wall. It was the same thing he was screaming the night he stabbed me.”
Dante tried like hell not to form that picture in his mind. If he conjured up an image of a crazy man stabbing away at Sarah, he was going to lose it. “You know I’m going to be your shadow until we catch him,” Dante warned her.
“I need to go to work, take care of responsibilities—”
“Fine. Then that’s where I’ll be. Consider me your personal bodyguard. He’s here somewhere, and he knows where you live. Obviously, he knows where you work. It’s not a big city.”
“Oh God, my office—”
“Your office is fine. I called Joe once you went to bed, and he’d already been by your office. Everything is fine there,” Dante informed her calmly.
“Dante, I don’t want to get you involved in this. You already have enough on your plate right now.”
He was healing, and he didn’t give a shit about the rest of his issues. He didn’t have a single thing happening in his life that was more important than making sure Sarah didn’t get hurt. “I’m already involved and I plan on staying that way until John Thompson is either in jail or dead,” Dante growled, pulling his head back to give Sarah an obstinate look. “You don’t do anything without me. You don’t go anywhere without me. If you’re stepping outside, I want to know. I’m not trying to make you paranoid, but we know he’s in the area, and it won’t take him long to find you. We need to nail this asshole, Sarah. You won’t have a damn life until we do. I’d rather have you alive and pissed off at me than the alternative.” Dante couldn’t even bring himself to think about anything happening to Sarah. If she got hurt or worse, he’d lose what was left of his mind.
“This puts you in danger, too, and you still aren’t healed. I don’t like it,” Sarah told him stubbornly as she pulled away from him and sat on the arm of the chair, her arms folded across her breasts.
“You don’t have to like it,” Dante agreed readily. “You just have to deal with it. You’re a woman who deals mostly in reality. What’s your alternative? You know you need protection, and you know we need to catch this bastard.”
“I can leave. Move again. Go somewhere else and start over,” Sarah cried desperately. “It has to be better than taking the risk of someone else getting hurt.”
Dante looked down at her, noticing that her entire body was tense, and she seemed so exhausted that she wasn’t thinking rationally—for a change. “For how long? Until he catches up to you again? Is that the way you want to live your life . . . running away? I can tell you for a fact that it doesn’t work. Leaving Los Angeles didn’t make things hurt less, and it didn’t stop my grief over losing Patrick. I’m glad I came, but the only one who can resolve those issues is me. Location doesn’t make a damn bit of difference.”