Free Flame's Dawn by Jillian David Page B

it.”
    “You never know who you’re going to run into. It’s a small world.” His clipped words didn’t ring true. Speech patterns changed. He was hiding something.
    She motioned to her bony, worn-out body. “Are you glad you ran into your old army buddy?”
    “Not in this way.”
    It hurt to swallow. “Yeah. I figured.”
    Sounds of the city filled the space while she tried to find something else to say.
    Barnaby spread out his fingers as if reaching for her, then folded them into a loose fist. “What in God’s name happened to you?”
    Flashes of Thompson’s bedroom, the scent of sweaty male, and the texture of polyester double knit made her want to claw her way out of this living room. Thank God Barnaby didn’t wear Brut cologne, or she’d throw up. As it was, the more she tried to remember, the more light-headed she became.
    She had no right to feel sorry for herself. She’d gone willingly into the abyss, all in the name of the mission.
    Barnaby didn’t need to know all the details. He’d done so much already. Adding the burden of her mangled conscience wouldn’t help anything.
    Besides, once she recovered, she’d get out of his life. No need to burden him any further.
    “Can’t talk about it. Sorry.”
    “Why?”
    “How about, I don’t
want
to talk about it?”
    “I have some idea of what might have occurred, you know.”
    “How?”
    He gestured toward the folder resting on the countertop. “My friend stole your medical file and a bunch of antibiotics.”
    “Wow. I only remember a few bad pieces of the last few months. What does the file say?”
    “You’re really sick.”
    “Mentally or physically?”
    “Both.”
    “Well, then. Shouldn’t you return me to the asylum?”
    “Do you really want to go back there?” The quiet strength of his voice bolstered her.
    “Hell. No.”
    “You and I both know that’s not where you belong.”
    She shrugged. “So says the psychiatrist.” Her laugh sounded pathetic. Even more so when Elton John started belting out “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me.” Damn it, she refused to listen to the lyrics, especially during this conversation.
    “What happened?”
    It took all of her willpower to meet his concerned eyes. “Thompson.”
    “What about him?”
    “He got me committed.”
    “Why?”
    “I knew too much. About his business.”
    “Drugs? Other stuff?”
    She gave him a sharp nod, nothing more.
    “This is worse than I thought?”
    “Yeah, aren’t you glad you stepped into the nightmare with me?”
    “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    Nope—if the serious, intense stare and tight press of his lips meant anything, Barnaby was dead serious.
    She played with the sateen edge of the blanket. “Anyway. I’m fine now.”
    “No, you’re not.”
    Her head whipped up. “What are you talking about?”
    “Thompson’s not going to stop until he finds you.”
    She sucked in a big, tepid breath, and it tasted like failure. “I know he won’t stop. Man, tonight, it was like Thompson had become possessed. I’ve never seen him that mean.”
    He didn’t meet her eyes. “He’s more dangerous than you can imagine.”
    “How would you know?”
    “I just know things, okay? Our best bet is for you to disappear from anyone’s radar.”
    There was that painful truth again, but Barnaby was right. Her best hope was getting the hell out of here. Unfortunately, she could barely raise her arms, much less stand and run.
    If she waited here, eventually Thompson would find her. Then what? She shuddered.
    “You shouldn’t be mixed up in my mess, Barnaby.”
    His eyes hardened like cold, blue diamonds. “You want to deal with this on your own?”
    “No, but—”
    “Then you’ll let me help until you get stronger.”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Do you want me to force-feed you oxtail soup?”
    “What? Gross. No way.”
    “Then you work on getting better. Best you let me help.”
    “But why?”
    He ran a hand through his light