The Protector (Game of Chance, #1)(13)

Not wanting to think about her ex, Carlise sighed and ran a hand over her face. At the moment, she was safe from whoever was stalking her. Even though she was exhausted, she wasn’t worried about what she might find when she opened the door or what messages she might wake up to.

She hadn’t turned her phone on once in the last two days, and it felt oddly freeing. There wasn’t any electricity to charge it, and she had a feeling she wouldn’t get a signal up here in the middle of nowhere anyway. She hadn’t realized exactly how stressful it had been to read the harassing emails and text messages on a daily basis until she literally couldn’t.

“No! Leave him alone! Cal! Are you all right?”

Carlise padded over to the bed where Riggs was thrashing jerkily, obviously having some sort of nightmare. She didn’t know who Cal was or the Bob person he’d mentioned earlier, but she guessed they were people he cared about, otherwise he wouldn’t sound so concerned.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, feeling a little awkward. It was weird trying to calm someone she didn’t even know. Her appreciation for nurses all over the world skyrocketed.

“JJ! Where the hell is JJ?” Riggs asked, bolting upright in bed and staring sightlessly into nothing.

“He’s fine. Lie back down, Riggs,” she begged quietly.

But instead, the man turned his gaze on her, and his amber eyes seemed to see straight into her soul. “Who’re you?” he barked.

They’d been through this a few times since yesterday, so Carlise didn’t take offense. “I’m Carlise. Carlise Edwards. I’m a friend. Lie down, Riggs.”

“Where’re the others? JJ? Bob? Cal? What’d you do to them?” he demanded.

His brown hair liberally sprinkled with blondish streaks was sticking up in disarray on his head. He had creases on his cheek where his face had been pressed into the pillow, and he was wearing nothing more than a T-shirt and a pair of boxers. The day before, Carlise had wrestled his sweats off him before leading him into the bathroom, and it was too much of a chore to try to get them back on him when he fell back into bed.

“We’re in your cabin. In Maine,” she reminded him. “There’s a storm outside, but we’re safe here. Your friends are at their houses. They’re okay.”

Of course, she didn’t know if that was true or not, but she had to assume the men were safe wherever they were.

“They’re hurting Cal,” he cried in a tortured tone. “We have to find him!”

Carlise’s heart hurt for Riggs. She had no idea who Cal was or what he’d been through, but it was obvious Riggs was extremely worried for his safety. She put her hand on his arm. “He’ll be okay. Please lie down, Riggs.”

She wasn’t prepared for how fast he moved.

One second she was leaning over him slightly and the next she was on the bed, lying under him. He stared down at her with fever-glazed eyes. “It hurts!” he moaned. “When will the torture stop? Why are they doing this?”

Her heart beating a hundred miles a minute, Carlise reached up and put her palm on his heated cheek. She should be terrified. But even though Riggs was looming over her—and clearly much stronger than her, even in his weakened state—he wasn’t hurting her at all. He had his weight propped on his elbows as he caged her beneath him.

“You’re safe now. You’re here in Maine. In your cabin. You aren’t there . . . they can’t hurt you anymore.” She had no idea what she was saying, just knew that she wanted to soothe his obvious pain and fear.

“You have a nice voice . . . soothing. I’ll keep you safe. I swear I won’t let them hurt you!”

Carlise’s heart turned over. Riggs sounded so earnest. “We’re safe here,” she told him.

But it was as if he didn’t hear her. “When they come back, stay still. Maybe they won’t see you. I’ll distract them, turn their attention on me. You can have my rations. We’re gonna get out of here. We just have to wait for someone to rescue us. In the meantime, I’ll kill anyone who tries to touch you!”

A tear leaked from Carlise’s eye. This man, who didn’t know her, was vowing to do whatever it took to protect her from his nightmare enemies. “Okay,” she whispered, not sure what else she should do or say right now.

He stared at her, meeting her gaze directly and with what looked like complete clarity, but she knew he was still lost in his fever-induced hallucination.

Then, without warning, Riggs’s arms collapsed.

He shifted enough at the last minute that he didn’t land directly on top of her. The bulk of his weight was resting on the mattress, but she was still trapped beneath him, his arm across her body and his legs tangled with hers. The heat coming off him was almost scalding. She needed to get up, get more cool water from the bathroom, and use the washcloth to try to bring his temperature down.

But surprisingly . . . Carlise didn’t want to move. The bed was much more comfortable than the couch she’d been napping on between taking care of Riggs. And the last few days were finally catching up with her.

The fear when she’d made the decision to leave Cleveland, the aimless driving, getting lost, walking through the snow. The terror, then relief, when Riggs appeared out of nowhere. Feeding the dog on the porch and trying, without luck, to coax him inside, and then the stress of trying to get Riggs to eat and drink while figuring out what to make without electricity so she could also feed herself.